Fief Name: The Ratworks

Fief Purpose: Manufactory

Fief Layout: A massive internal open space that takes up 80% of the fief that looks like a cross between an ironworks and a mechanics garage. Chains, ropes, work stations, pits, benches, lifts, drills, conveyor belts, scaffolding, suspended walkways, generators, plugs, tool racks, lathes, cables... everything you need to make just about anything, and do it efficiently. Almost everything is rat-sized, allowing the space to house four-times the normal amount of stuff.

The rest of the fief is living quarters, recreation, admin offices, and storage. Also nearly all rat-sized. It's essentially the Lockheed Skunkworks, but... The Ratworks, instead. Sarolt's quarters are nicer than most others in the fief, but still pretty modest. A mid-sized apartment that overlooks the factory floor, compared to the studio/barracks/dorm-style housing that will eventually host future sentients and guests.

Fief Servants: Rat-shaped Golems with very dextrous hands and tails with 'tool tips' that can be swapped-out for just about any tool in the 'works, for any job. By default, usually a cutting or welding torch.

"I never even really liked rats that much. No rat-pets. Not even any rodent pets. My sister had ferrets. They were fun. But yeah, none for me, and yet here I am." Josh, or was it Sarolt? Patted their sizable rat-stomach while they toured the factory floor. A gaggle of rat-like mechanical golems clinked and scurried behind him... her? Them. The constructs couldn't speak, and even if they could Sarolt doubted that they had the mind for a decent conversation, but they could follow instructions well. They were good listeners. Sarlot need that right now.

Coming up next to a lathe, Sarlot knew instinctively how to use it, even though they had never used one in their previous life. Suddenly having the knowledge was uncanny. "They say that self-care is best-care. But, like... what does that even mean for me now?" Sarlot pulled the safety goggles over their face and mounted a length of raw metal into the lathe. "There's nowhere to go shopping. So no retail therapy. No internet, so I can't get lost in games. Not in the mood for books, and really not in the mood to go back to a warzone..." Sarlot knew where the others were: slogging around in jungles and swamps, looking for gods to kill. Josh had been to warzones. Shot at people, and been shot at. Bad memories. It wasn't fun, and it certainly wasn't self-care. Unless unhealthy habits counted: in which case they might as well just drown themselves in alcohol or drugs.

"Okay... you-" Sarlot pointed at one of the ratworks constructs as she ('he!'... so confusing) finished cutting a 5mm screw from raw iron. "-cut 56 of these. Then have them heat-treated in the arcane furnace." The rodent-shaped machine nodded and immediately got to work. Sarlot moved on, and the others continued to follow. "So anyway, I think I made like... two bits of furniture in my past life? They were functional, and I enjoyed the process. So why not get lost in my work? Is it healthy? I don't know. Maybe the new me is a workaholic?" Sarlot stopped and wheeled on one of the unthinking rat-bots. "-and speaking of the 'new me', who thought this was a good idea?!" Sarlot gestured to their entire selves, clearly frustrated. "Seriously! This is a video game, right? So why fat? And why a chick!? I mean, at least make me hot, right? Like, Gadget. Gadget was hot, and she was a mouse. Instead I'm... just a fat rat who happens to have different equipment. No material or mechanical difference I can see. Was it random? It had to be random." The construct just stared back, unblinking, which made Sarlot cringe a bit. "Okay, that's just... creepy. Moving on."

Coming to a massive mechanical device known as an auto-hammer, situated next to a forge, Sarlot pointed to a mess of scrap metal. "You, you, and you." Sarlot pointed at three constructs, including the creeper. "Break that scrap metal down into ingots, then use the auto-hammer and the roller to pull them out into 2mm sheets. Hand them off to the welding team when you're done." As the constructs jumped to their tasks, Sarlot pulled the creeper aside. "Wait one moment..." Reaching up, she ('they!') began pulling and pushing various facial features on the fake rat, until it had a permanent expression not unlike the stalker girlfriend meme. Wide eyes. Massive smile. "Your name is Creeper from now on. Congratulations. I 'hath named thee. Now get to work." Completely uncaring on the inside, yet looking like a manic mad-rat on the outside, Creeper immediately set to melting-down scrap metal. The sight of their fire-lit faces enhanced the effect, and Sarlot had to suppress a shiver that ran down their spine and all the way to the tip of their tail.

"So anyway..." The procession continued on like that, until dozens of constructs were busy at work. The sounds of their labors filled the manufactory, and yet Sarlot knew that what they were up to was only a fraction of what the massive facility was capable of.
"Therapy time." Sarlot had set themselves up in a more personalized workstation on a raised dais in the middle of the factory floor. The position gave them a commanding view of the entire space, and it was also outfitted with every tool and bit of gear they could ever need, including the infamous [Murine Satchel], which Sarlot had emptied-out and sorted onto a tool rack next to an adjustable armature that was currently set to a size and shape that matched their own.
A number of finished parts were delivered to Sarlot, who then took measurements and began riveting, screwing, and welding them together on the armature. "Self care is about doing things for yourself, really. So, the first thing I'm going to make? It's going to be for me."

Sarlot is going use the [The Ratworks], the [Ratwork] ability, the [Exosmithing] skill, and the [Murine Satchel] to build a light XO for themselves.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:43, Wed 07 Sept 2022.

[From: The Golden Artery]

The sound of smithing and banter guided Euphoria through the North wing of the Citadel. Metal against metal was a welcoming noise compared to the eerie silence inside the wall. Nails on a chalkboard would have been music to her ears. Her Shagely nose caught a whiff of sparking metal. It made her stomach growl. It was the first real pang of hunger she felt since coming to this world. And she used to be such a foodie too. She'd tried at least a dozen flavors of stovetop ramen in her day. Even the extra weird ones.

"Hello? Is anyone here?" she called. A few mice scuttled past her feet and disappeared deeper into the workshop. Were they hauling tools or materials? They moved too fast for her to tell. Everything was also very small. Like toys. She followed them because it just seemed like the right thing to do. Lots of girls listened to rats in fairy tales and it (usually) worked out for them. She even tried speaking to them but they didn't seem much for conversation. Now that she thought about it, sounded kind of crazy to expect the rats to talk back to her, then feel disappointed when they didn't.

At the far end, where the sounds of metal alight and smithing grew louder, Euphoria noticed a somewhat larger mouse, standing on its haunches, working on something. She recognized them as the Young Dwarf from before. The one she hoped might be a socialist. "Hey, you're uh, Josh, Aren't you?" Euphoria asked. She only loomed a little over their shoulder, curious what they were making. Nosey, nosey. Didn't she know a therapy session was taking place?

"That's a very good question." Josh/Sarolt didn't look up from their work at first. They were nose-deep in soldering what would eventually become the first of many circuit boards in their exo-suit, and didn't want to break focus until they could actually put the thing down. "Are you Euphoria? Or are you Lyngel? Lajos? Shage? All at the same time. Or one at any given time? If our bodies can be in two fiefs at once, can we be two different people at once? If one version of you tried to leave the Ratworks at the exact same moment that the other was entering, would you bump into yourself?"

They wheeled around on their rat-sized stool and looked up Euphoria through a pair of safety goggles. "That's too many questions. I sound like a weird anime character. Sorry." 'Josh' cleared their throat and lifted the goggles up onto their forehead. "Hi! Yes, I'm Josh. We didn't get much of a chance to speak before. Everything was so crazy! Welcome to The Ratworks. Where everything is rat-themed, and we have an entire meeting room set-up for a future rat council to brainstorm rat puns. What can, uh, we do for you?"