War. War never changes. A thousand cycles. A million units. Expenses in the billions. Reasons revise. Alliances alter. All variables known change. But, war... war never changes.

War --

"Ugh!" Injected a disgusted groan, "That's awful. So trite and cliche..." Looking into a trio of vanity mirrors, built into the rounded corner of an otherwise square room was the Guild Leader of Infactorium, Faetalis the Virago. Behind her, her Factory's Overseer, MinMaxine, sat upon her desk in a duplication of her very form; the Duplicant Slime was holding a notebook and scribbling furious notes of every word her Supreme Being spoke. Clearing her throat with a sharp, "Ahem," Faetalis continued with her audience of one in rapture, "Explore, to venture out..."

Absorbed in her own role-play, Faetalis was ignoring the notifications of her guild members logging out, slowly reducing the active number to zero, as the left. Abandonment of the servers had been announced a week ago, and they were shutting down systematically, one by one, to allow people time to host farewells, fight the World Bosses for a final time - they even increased all Rare and Artifact Gear to 100% drop rates, just to incentivize players to enjoy the last few hours of their servers running.

Unfortunately, that didn't allow much for Guild versus Guild - better known as Siege Wars - to be run, as other Guilds were queued up in a desire to hold, even if only for a few hours, endgame items with a drop chance more remote than the nearest star system. As such, the technophile known as "F4Xtalis" among the Siege War community didn't partake in the festivities, choosing craft the finest speech to send her guildmates off with, as a Guild Leader should.

Ever unaware of their exodus, as the final hour came to a close.

"...But, war... war never changes." Faetalis concluded, before grimacing. "Gaaah! I can't escape that damned cliche!" she whined, messing with her hair, as she sighed. "I thought it was okay," MinMaxine offered, as she skipped over, and morphed into her natural, compact state: a jiggly, wiggly crimson Jello with black stripes like a some kind of Tiger Slime; taking her place on Faetalis's left shoulder, where she tended to be if not serving her duties. "Thanks, Maxie, but that sucked," Faetalis chuckled, "You can say so. Anyway, I lost track of time," she brought up her HUD, and saw there was, literally, less than a minute left in her game session. "I lost that much time!?"

Faetalis rushed for the door, as the seconds ticked away. "Shit! I wanna look outside, at least once more!" she shouted, before her personal factory started to shake and rumble. [Huh!? What's going on!? The server being deleted!? I'm still in here!] Faetalis "shouted" into the server chat, confident that a GM had to be watching for stragglers.

Silent greeted her for much too long, as the factory shook. No, as all of Infactorium shook. In the distance, explosions echoed, as buildings took structural damage, and the smell of toxic waste and smoke filled the air, as her own factory was crippled. "This is Siege Damage! Are we being attacked!?" Faetalis asked, before she was, suddenly, clipped in the shoulder with a rivet, and fell in, genuine, realistic pain. However, she didn't even care about her own safety, as she noticed that MinMaxine had completely dropped all health points, but one.

That prompted her to panic, [GMs! What's --] "-- going on here!?" Faetalis "shouted", before the text became speech from her own mouth. Stunned by the next of too many back-to-back revelations, Faetalis took her eyes off the path of her mad dash, and didn't notice the uprooted flooring, until she cracked her head against the wall. Blood drained over her eyes, as she suffered from [Confusion] and [Heavy Bleed], and a [Knock Out] counter appeared... counting down from three... two... one...

Awakening with a start, as ten seconds debuff wore off, Faetalis looked around, and swallowed a mouthful of blood as she struggled to her feet, and clutched her bleeding shoulder; smushing her shaking hand into MinMaxine by accident, as she hurried through her collapsing factory.

Stumbling through a busted escape door, she gasped...

"Where the hell...?"

Infactorium, in its crippled, yet complete, entirety was inside a crater of a big mountain. Around her, several factories of the massive complex of technological marvels and several years of GvG struggles and progress were destroyed, collapsing, and burning around her. Emergency Services were saving what could be, but she wasn't foolish... Siege Damage required more resources that she had funds for, and this situation of nothing but rock for miles was not promising.

Staggering backwards, Faetalis had to take stock of what she had, who she had, before she could even question where she was. Looking at MinMaxine, she saw the Jello had a debuff status she'd never seen before, the [Comatose] status, and was sitting at 1 HP at the same time. Lost and confused, Faetalis didn't even notice she was racing through her halls, diving over holes, and under pipes, until she reached her office, and smashed the Emergency Meeting button.

Anyone still remaining in the Guild was compelled by her command to gather.

Within the realms of Infactorium, there was an office that was scarcely used, mostly since high level PCs kind of had nutso resistances and could hold cursed items like it was nothing. In it dwelt the little black dragon without any purpose to break things, and, in that little black dragon's programming was a simple 9 to 5 job that mostly involved her sitting at a desk, clicking a pen, and waiting for someone to give her something to punch. The oblivion facing the world at hand was something the players knew, but to the binary code that constructed the mind of the factory managers, it would simply be as if they never existed at all. ...That is, until a creaking groan echoed from above her, causing a massive tile of her ceiling to come off and smack her in the head, flooring the poor dragoness before a pipe descended after her, pinning her down by her torso.

Sighing, Levia Vishap would reach into one of her pockets and pull out her carton of cigarettes, only to find, after furiously shaking it up and down a few times that it was empty. In order to answer complaints about the game promoting smoking, the item had been shadowbanned to only have one charge per 8 hours. "UUUGHHHH...THIS SUCKS! First nobody needs anything broken down, then my office is falling apart, THEN I'm out of my healie sticks! This sucks...I wanna go to bed...am I being fired? Is that why my office is crumbling?" the dragoness whined, kicking her legs childishly while rubble piled atop her. Looking up at the hole in her ceiling, she couldn't help but bite her lip. It was...unfair, really. If she was getting a pink slip, that just meant she was more useless than ever. Maybe they were adding some cooler, more effective facility.

It sucked, it was unfair, she didn't get paid enough, her butt hurt from sitting, and she really, really just wanted to go home and cry...at least, until a signal in her head called for an emergency meeting. Emergency meetings only called for active employees. She was being called for. SHE WAS STILL AN ACTIVE EMPLOYEE! With nothing more than a shove the pipe atop her went flying, before one of her enlarged scaled hands engulfed it, crushing it in an instant as her sharp teeth meshed together into a toothy grin. "THEY NEED ME TO BREAK SOMETHING! THAT'S IT!" she screamed, cackling wildly as she dusted off her coat, a piece of debris about to fall on her head being split as her tail wagged ferociously.

"Don't you worry whoever pushed the button! I'm comin'!" the ditz of a dragon screamed out, before her mouth erupted in green light, a thin jet of green liquid soon coating the wall to open a hole up. By the time she'd realized she wasn't fired, the door had been blocked by debris and thus, she had to make her own exit. And she would thus make many exits as she tore her way through the crumbling facility, acid drool leaking out of the corner of her mouth as she cut her way through rubble and metal like an excavator made of fists and acid. Of course, once it came time to enter the room that Faetalis was in, she would wipe her mouth, clear her throat, and enter calmly and slowly, tail smacking the door to the point of almost sending it off its hinges as she entered. "Lady Faetalis! Did you summon me for the disposal of a Class 1 Hazardous Material? Or maybe a Class 2!?" she asked, unsure, until she saw the state that her boss was in.

Her tail drooped, her larger arms sunk, and her head swiveled around hurriedly. "I-I'm gonna go get Gammaton, you wait here lady Faetalis!" she said, before freezing, shivering, and lowering herself to a kneel before Faetalis. "I apologize. I-I didn't mean to give you orders my lady. Please, forgive me. Barring that, punish me once we treat your wounds and- I just did it again. I'LL BE BACK!" With her bumbling apology finished the dragoness would begin tunneling her way towards where she had a feeling Gammaton might be. Hivehill needed his management currently, so she had no doubt he was trapped in there with his workers, trying to tunnel a way out. She'd slow her acidic and kinetic assault on debris, just to make sure she didn't accidentally decapitate the workers trying to reach the meeting.

Gammaton Zero stirred at the base of her host's neck, the parasitic network of nerves flaring into activity.

"Oya, oya?" Gammaton commented, speaking through the host's smooth, deep male voice and shaking the dust and debris off. Though she was disoriented, as if waking from a dream, Gammaton retained her composure and poise; GrillBears was a bit of a nervous wreck and had created Gammaton to be reliable and calm. Gammaton's first thought was that Infactorium had been attacked, however there should be warnings in place, were that the case. A moment of waiting with no further disruptions, and Gammaton set to commanding the workers to begin triaging Hivehill; repair what could quickly be fixed, discard that which was beyond help, and save for later what was salvageable but too costly to deal with at the moment, in an effort to bring order and stability back to Hivehill. Fortunately, the moving of heavy objects were the ants' forte, and it wasn't long before Hivehill recovered some semblance of organization.

Gammaton suddenly received a signal. of course. Damage of this magnitude needed to be discussed, and Gammaton made her way to Hivehill's exit...which happened to be obstructed by a particularly large and stubborn piece of debris, which the ants, in their stupidity, failed to prioritize. Gammaton ordered the workers to focus their efforts on moving or destroying the obstruction. Unfortunately, it was slow-going, and Gammaton considered destroying it herself, but her current form wasn't her most powerful, and she didn't quite feel that this was a good time to transform just yet.

The workers suddenly backed off from the debris, their senses picking up the presence of extremely powerful chemicals. Before long, a hole was burned through the debris, revealing the form of the dragon hybrid, Levia Vishap.

"Ah, Levia. Always a pleasure," Gammaton greeted, offering a mild bow, "Thank you for clearing that particularly stubborn piece from my entrance. Though I assume that the reason you are here instead of at the meeting is because my presence is urgently required?" Without waiting for a response, Gammaton acted on her assumption, and went over to Levia's side, walking at a brisk pace towards Faetalis' office.

For the first time in many moons, the kitchens of the Gorging Trough raged with activity. One command had cut through its idleness to its monstrous overseer, effective immediately: she and her staff were to empty the larders like there was no tomorrow, liquidating everything that remained of their foodstuff reserves to make a grand farewell feast of such extravagance that even the most gluttonous kind in the realm would blanch in astonishment. Dutifully the ladies of the Trough leaped from their long idleness, with the ghastly Canology Mae and her vast skills leading the charge. Soon the flames of the grills and ovens roared, and the air filled with the sounds of boiling water, frying oil, and chopping ingredients.

But as time went on, and the finished dishes piled up on the immaculate tables of the Gorging Trough dining hall, not a soul appeared. No Supreme Beings arrived to sample the arrayed delicacies, nor did any of the guild minions who required sustenance. Not even the vaunted Sugi the Hammer, creator of the restaurant and its loathsome master, made an appearance. Though he dropped by in the guild's final hours to say some farewells and use what remained to him, the great warrior did not stay for long. Yet the kitchen workers toiled on nonetheless, mindlessly obeying their commands. Their labor did not slacken even as tremors began to shake the immense restaurant, rattling the utensils and shattering dishes. Meals flew from their tables to splat and scatter across the floors and furniture, creating a horrific mess. Before long the quaking grew so severe that the Maneaters lost their footing and rolled around amongst the loose debris themselves. Flames spread from the smashed-in ovens, racing across wooden furnishings and flammable ingredients alike. In a matter of moments the once pristine kitchens and halls of the Gorging Trough descended into unmitigated disaster, a filthy, burning nightmare.

Only toward the end, however, did the last chef standing seem to find it in her to scream. Mae let loose a long, low yell of utter despair, fallen to her knees in the middle of the utter chaos, until the factory settled in a final crash and sent her sprawling. With great effort the headless cook hauled herself to her feet, turning this way and that as her blindsight swept across the unmitigated carnage. “How!?” she wailed, a guttural voice resounding from the blackness within her head-bundle. She rifled her fingers through the remains of a pot pie smashed together with a chocolate mousse, letting the muck dribble miserably through her sausage-like fingers. “How could this be!?”

All around her, the Maneaters were beginning to stir. With varying degrees of dignity they extracted themselves from the wreckage, some helping others who found themselves more entrapped. Putting aside the crushing feeling of defeat for a moment, Mae moved to help the duo, Shank and Flank, who seemed to be failing to extract the corpulent Round from where she'd been lodged beneath a debris-piled table. “Stop pullin'” the blonde wailed. “Y'all're gonna pull my hands clean off 'fore I slip outta here!”

“Well, what else are we going?” Shank questioned her, exasperated. “We're not exactly powerhouses here. You could always just go Jubilant and- oh, Mae! I mean, uh, chef. Give us a hand, will you?”

With a grunt Mae strined to lift the table, allowing Round to squeeze out with a yelp. She let it fall with a loud clatter, then reached down to help the Maneater to her feet. “You alright?”

The cook nodded, wiping at her forehead with the back of her hand. “Whoo-ie! Thought I was a goner for sure there, ma'am. Mighty thankful for ya.”

Without a head Mae couldn't nod, but she laid a companionable hand on her underling's shoulder in reply. Her senses lay on the crackling flame, steadily devouring the ruined feast so lovingly prepared for. The Maneaters had gathered close by, every one of them from the peppy Roast to the cruel Tongue watching their everything coming down around them with numbed horror. It was time to go. “Don't mention it! But we've gotta get out of here.”

Her right hand man appeared before her. With shaking hands Head removed the clumsily-lit cigar from his mouth to give his report. “Everyone is accounted for, ma'am. Things are bad in the dining hall, but it's not on fire yet, and we can climb out through the collapsed ceiling.” The air was filling with smoke, and not the kind he liked, either. “Best hurry, ma'am.”

Tender was already weeping. “But what about the Trough...?” she sniffed, her lip quivering.

“It's done for,” Mae declared, accepting the face herself. “But as long as I've got you all, we can rebuild. So let's get going.”

The whole group got moving, fleeing the devastated kitchens to the dining hall. Sure enough, the room had partially caved in, with a huge slab of ceiling laid out like a crude ramp. Shank and Roast took the first tentative steps onto it, then raced to the top one after another. Head followed, clambering stiffly up onto the roof. When Chuck stepped onto it, however, the weakened material gave way, dropping to the floor with a loud slam and plume of dust. Tongue sneered at her long-eared coworker. “And here I thought you took so much pride in being one of the thinner ones.”

Afflicted by the stress of the situation, Chuck snapped back. “Like it would have lasted one second under your blood-sucking ass!”

“ENOUGH!” Before the situation could spiral totally out of control, Mae put her foot down. She summoned her fleshhooks and clanged them together, seizing her assistants' attention. With all eyes on her she point down the main hallway. “Follow me! I'll bull though anything in our way, just wait and see.” She summoned her fleshhooks as she turned, and stomped down the hallway like a woman on a mission. Giving vent to her fury, she smashed through fallen beams and broken furniture, scattered burning debris, and finally burst through the door and into open space. Mae drank deeply of the clean mountain air as she looked around, finding nothing familiar in sight save the hideously damaged wrecks of her fellow overseers' factories. Whatever happened to the guild, it had resulting in complete and total annihilation. But for all her vigilance, she spotted no enemies.

As she looked around, she felt the call of the Emergency Signal. It was time to gather with the other survivors. Good. Time to figure out what happened to us. The fact that a meeting could be had at all proved that at least one Supreme Being remained. Within her swelled an overriding desire to see the face of Lord Sugi once more, and be reassured by the magnificence of his presence. If this calamity so much as scratched him, she would be surprised.

She turned to find the Maneaters congregating a safe distance from the destruction, and Head in his Jubiliant form getting himself, Roast, and Shank down from the roof. “Watch out for any enemies,” she told them. “I have a meeting to attend.” With that she lumbered off, fleshhooks still in hand, to answer the summons of Faetalis.

It's been months since Tungsten has seen the world outside of the Big Scrap Alley. Months since he received orders from his master AlphaQ. Her final command was simple: maintain the Big Scrap Alley, do as the other Guild Members command, and ensure that she has a home once she returns. That was so long ago, and yet for Tungsten that order may as well have been told to him that same morning, as he continues to work with the same amount of effort and vigor. The Big Scrap Alley is a massive complex full of heat, billowing smoke, and roaring machinery designed to break down all sorts of inorganic matter into usable energy and resources. As vendor trash and low level equipment are obtained en masses from the guild members and item crafters, it was Big Scrap Alley's job to ensure that anything thrown away is usable afterwards, so it was always busy. Not only that but the Big Scrap Alley was home to the Bigs, the guild's own mechanized engines of war. Battle Tanks, aircraft, even Mechs were things that the Big Scrap Alley made and maintained, all thanks to AlphaQ's own dedication and contributions to the guild. And Tungsten was honored to take care of it while she was away.

It was business as unusual for him when disaster struck. While he always had defenses at the ready at any attack during a Guild War, what happened here was beyond his expectations. The guild simply... Appeared out of thin air, in a location that he did not recognized. And it did not appear safely; many vital systems in the Big Scrap Alley were compromised, as many Cyber Skeletons were killed in the destruction. However Tungsten did not spare even a second to panic and quickly commanded communications to direct his underlings into action.

"Damage report."

"Auxiliary Power Plant Alpha, Beta, and Delta have received major damage and are disconnected to the Inferno Engine. The Titan Fleet received major damage, a majority of the Bigs have been destroyed or are in critical condition. The Boneyard has been destroyed. The Inferno Engines are no longer connected to the geothermal vents and have sustained major damage. The Inferno Engine is no longer connected to the primary power grid and is currently under going meltdown. Safety protocols are unavailable due to immediate lose of auxiliary power."

Tungsten had expected as much. Whoever was attacking the guild knew how to do the most damage. To somehow not only teleport the entire guild into foreign territory, but also disconnect the Big Scrap Alley from the guild's energy grid. That means all the power the Inferno Engine, the primary system of the Big Scrap Alley that recycled inorganic materials and turned it into energy and resources for the guild, was now overloading itself due to the sheer energy output. Normally this could be contained using a coolant system, but that too was disabled due to the destruction and disconnection of the auxiliary power plants. And with a vast majority of the cyber skeletons killed in the attack, many of them were too far away to immediately take action.

Only Tungsten could do something about this before the Inferno Engine melts down and destroys itself, and possibly the guild. And so he acted. Turning around Tungsten became one with his battle armor, the Darksteel Colossus, and commanded all Cyber Skeletons to immediately head towards the Inferno Engine and grab all coolant tanks en route. Tungsten sped through the halls, grabbing coolant takes from what few storage areas weren't destroyed in the teleportation. His great strength enabled him to carrying up to ten, each one already weighing close to a hundred pounds due to how dense the chemical solution inside of them was. When he arrived to the Inferno Engine he was among the first, with what few Cyber Skeletons working in tandem to carry individual coolant tanks. Tungsten looked at these Cyber Skeletons. Many of them were severely damaged, dismembered, even dying. But they continued their duties even to their deaths. As he approached the engine, he heard something form them. Humming. Song.

Cold: the air and water flowing
Hard: the land we call our home
Push to keep the dark from coming
Feel the weight of what we owe

They needed to be strong.

This: the song of sons and daughters,
Hide the heart of who we are.
Making peace to build our future,
Strong, united, working 'till we fall.

They needed to be fast.

And we all lift, and we're all adrift together, together.
Through the cold mist, 'till we're lifeless together, together.

They needed to succeed.

Soon hundreds of Cyber Skeletons swarmed the Inferno Engines, dumping coolant into the system in order to prevent the meltdown. So many had arrived and were not only cooling the engine down, but actively trying to repair the damage, that Tungsten had little to do. All he needed to do was sing. To inspire, and empower, his kin to restore the Inferno Engine. Their song echoed throughout Big Scrap Alley and could even be heard from the center of the guild. A resounding cry of hope despite the tragedy inflicted on them.

In short time the Inferno Engine was stable, albeit inactive. Without those geothermal vents Tungsten will need to repair and reconnect the auxiliary power plants to resume operations, at least in the short term. But to return to full efficiency they must have some other power source that will provide long-term energy requirements, an enable the Inferno Engine to focus it's energy to recycling materials and eventually become self-sufficient again. And that's not even including how Tungsten would need to see the Boneyard rebuilt, where all of the Cyber Skeletons are produced and housed. And Tungsten dreads what had happened to the Bigs at the Titan Fleet. He may shed his first tears in existence if any of AlphaQ's personal vessels were destroyed.

But he would have no time to do a diagnosis. As the Inferno Engine was restored Tungsten received a command to find Faetalis. Of course, surely whoever is attacking the guild must be attacking the guild master as well! Tungsten rallied what few Skeleton Soldiers were in good health to arm up and follow him to the Infactorium Sanctum. Tungsten moved swiftly, his soldiers keeping pace behind him thanks to his Aura of Alacrity. They would first go to the Big Scrap Alley's launchpad, which fortunately didn't receive too much damage. At least not enough to damage the catapults: these devices were normally used to launch aircraft but could also launch troops within range of the guild. This would enable fast travel for Tungsten and his soldiers.

Tungsten and his troops flew through the skies. From the air Tungsten was able to see all of the guild and the damage it sustained. It horrified him: there was no sight of any large force, and the area around the guild was completely unknown to him. It was as if they were teleported to a new world. But in the process many facilities received massive damage as worse if not more so than the Big Scrap Alley. And the guild's Sanctum didn't look at better. There was a section of the wall that had collapsed, and so Tungsten and his troops would direct their bodies to that opening for rapid entry. They landed in sync, the height and length of their launch not affecting the robotic soldiers. They hit thew ground running and burst into the room where their Guild Master, Faetalis the Virago, laid in a catatonic state.

"Set up a defensive perimeter. Question but allow other Infactorium members here and keep aware of potential threats." Tungsten commanded his Cyber Skeletons in a low but calm voice. He could not allow emotions to cloud his judgement. Instead he went to Faetalis's side, activating his Aura of Vitality in order to begin healing her. But in case she was suffering from some sort of debilitation, he needed to boost her resistances as well. His Aura of Protection was already providing that, but Tungsten was not going to hold back. And so he began to sing, to empower Faetalis as well as provide an audible source for others to follow and find him.



As he sung and healed Faetalis's wounds, he held her head up and began to use his hand to radiate positive energy that would provide additional healing. Specifically he used his Healing Hands to remove any negative ailments she may be suffering from, as he was uncertain what sort of injuries she may have already sustained before she arrived here. Any poison, injury, or mental pollution would quickly get purged while his Aura of Vitality would continue to heal her wounds. All the while, Tungsten held the guild master close in his arms, protecting her from the world around her. He wasn't going to lose her. He wasn't going to lose another master.

In Dante Alighieri's Inferno, the Italian poet would give one of the most detailed and unique depictions of Hell at his time. Where most described it as a valley of ash and brimstone or a endless realm of darkness and despair, Dante described Hell as growing colder the closer one traveled to its lowest realm. His version of hell still had those previously mentioned descriptors in other parts, especially within the fourth circle that was Wrath and the first where the realm of Limbo resided, but the final ninth circle was described as an icy cold tundra, with temperatures dropping low enough to freeze a man solid. Satan himself was trapped there with all of the other sinners, suffering just as much as any of them, unable to ever escape the punishment God had bestowed upon him.

Infactorium, though, was not Hell. In it's final level, the guild leaders seemed to almost take Alighieri's depiction as a challenge and went about creating what they believed to be the absolute opposite of Dante's Hell. It was the hottest level they could have ever possibly designed. Where the ninth circle had been unbearably cold, here in The Mór Brionnú it was incredibly hot. There were volcanoes that littered the landscape of the world that would be jealous of the temperatures the forges often reached as the man that stoked the flames below went about his work. A man that loved what he did and stayed here because he felt trapped in any other location, whether it be another level of Infactorium or underneath the blue sky of the outdoors.

Speaking of the forge master, Cormac McIntosh was hammering away at what would assuredly be yet another masterpiece to add to Infactorium's weapon vault when he felt the room around him begin to shake. It was a familiar feeling, he had been through plenty of Siege Wars in the past, though as pipes came loose from their placements in the wall and items clattered to the ground from whatever high place they had been previously stored, he grumbled to himself. Why had no one bothered to warn him of the incoming attack? Had no one seen the forces coming to invade? How could they have let this happened? Doing his best to ignore the chaos around him, Cormac would try to finish his work hammering away his irritation before he would go looking for a neck to wring for disturbing his work.

Just as the large man had finished hammering away the last dent in the metal, beating it into a perfectly flat shape that need only be sharpened now, he would hear alarm bells begin to ring within his head. An emergency meeting had been called. "About damn time someone let me know about de attack," Cormac said in his usual, gruff voice. Rising from his seat, he started to make his way out of Mór Brionnú, trudging toward Faetalis' office, feet dragging along the way. He hated leaving his domain in such a sorry state, but when his superiors called he had little choice but to obey.

Levia would bite her lip as her and Gammaton walked side-by-side, answering her companion's question quickly with: "Its lady Faetalis! She was injured and I didn't have any skills to help her, so I went to get you ASAP, since you have those cleric spells and all." She wasn't even aware of whether Gammaton had access to their cleric skills in this stage of life, and, if need be, knew that it was her solemn duty to offer her life to Gammaton if need be. Though, a blood transfusion might be difficult since her blood was poisonous...

Anyways, Gammaton's jaunt wasn't quite up to the speed that a medical emergency required, and as such the queen of punching took it upon herself to gently pick Gammaton's host body up, saying: "Sorry, just, faster if I carry you," she said, having embarrassingly enough the highest agility of any factory manager, save for Gammaton's fullest power. With her legs and extra set of arms, the way forward would be simple, as they kind of just needed to follow the trail of rocks smashed to pieces or melted by the dragoness.

Upon stepping near the ruined building, Levia would gingerly place Gammaton back upon his feet, panicking the entire time as the metal skeletons asked their questions. She then dragged Gammaton inside and, hearing the healing song of Tungsten and seeing him cradle their leader, the dragoness couldn't help but feel a tinge of jealousy. But that didn't matter right now. The guild leader was top priority, and as such she would approach Tungsten Jazz. "I'm glad you were able to get here fast. I brought Gammaton too," she said, looking around as the other factory overseers became audible. Mae and Cormac weren't exactly small enough or quiet enough to not be noticed.

Not until Mae left her distracting entourage behind and she drew near enough to other buildings to use her blindsight did she truly start to get a feel for the scope of the guild's devastation. Scattered around were the rattled husks of the other Overseers' domains, none having escaped some damage. Yet a couple of the installations appeared almost unscathed, like Cormac's forge, and Mae couldn't suppress a pang of frustration. After the fire still raging through the Gorging Trough finally burned out, she would be lucky if there was enough of a shell left of the once-grand restaurant to bother using it. Sure, her department wasn't the most valuable, but the effort for repairs would be immense. The realization that some of the factories fared better than others helped to finally dispel in her mind the possibility of an earthquake or some other natural disaster, since such a calamity couldn't possibly be so selective. But if this was the work of an enemy force, why couldn't she detect a single hostile among the rubble, no matter how far she probed with her blindsight? Any invaders should be pouring over the ruins right now, looking for survivors to exterminate. It just didn't add up. Then again, her blindsight went only so far. She couldn't afford to assume safety.

Too wary of further assault -and too cumbersome- to rush, Mae neared the Guild Sanctum a little after the others. If she had a face, it would have been riddled with annoyance when she found her progress impeded by Tunsten's Cyber Skeletons. Her booming replies could be heard even within the structure. "Shiny little pests, quit buzzing around! No I don't know anything!" By a good margin the largest among them, and figuring that just about everything was written off anyway, she did not hesitate to shove aside or smash through fallen debris on her quest to answer her summons. The resulting noise made for a raucous and ill-fitting follow-up to Tungsten's song, but with her precious domain kaput, artistry was the last thing on Mae's mind. A few moments later the headless cook barged into the innermost chamber, where she found a number of her comrades already present.

"Hey, hey! What's shaking?" She was pleased to find Levia, whose passionate and gung-ho nature rivaled her own, no worse for wear. Though not much overlap existed between their domains, they remained good acquaintances. Gammaton appeared to be a little more excited and disheveled than usual, but otherwise alright, which was good considering that Hivehill and its never-ending tide of insect minions represented some of the Trough's most consistent clientele. The intense yet stylish Tungsten Jazz also caught her attention, not out of surprise given the presence of his minions outside, nor out of any particular extant camaraderie, but rather because of who he was holding. There was no mistaking that white dress, that pink hair. Mae quickly stowed her flesh hooks. "Lady Forex! Ma'am?" Given her limited magical knowledge she could barely tell that some treatment had taken place thanks to Tungsten, but the Supreme Being had yet to rouse herself. Well, Mae couldn't do much about that. Even if she had any consumables on her, her method of healing (if stuffing food into an unconscious body could be deemed as such) would be unwieldy compared to that of a dedicated medic's.

She swept the inner sanctum with her senses, but turned up nobody else of Faetalis' stature. "Master Sugi...?" came a low rumble from her neck, unbidden. Maybe she should have been thinking more about the Supreme Being before her, but Tungsten had her covered, and she couldn't help but think of her own creator. Had he escaped the destruction? Where was he? Oh, of course! Always the stunning pinnacle of a go-getter, he surely must have left at the first sign of trouble to take care of whatever caused this mess. And if he had sallied forth, there was no need to worry. No doubt that was why she found no enemies probing the factories--Sugi had already mopped them up. Mae relaxed, secure in the knowledge that her master was on the job, and waited for Faetalis to awaken.

Faetalis was embarrassed for a moment, as Tungsten gathered her into his arms; his massive body dwarfed hers, imposing and immense, yet his actions were the purest opposite of. Instead, the Battle Bard cradled her in his arms of steel, and warmed her soul with song, as he started to heal her injuries and clear her mind of pain. However, it was slowly lulling her to sleep, as well, from the overwhelming comfort that she was experiencing.

If not for intrusion of other members, she would have probably fallen completely asleep. Drowsily, her eyes opened to take in the sight of Levia, Gammaton, and Mae. “Cormac is missing,” she croaked, as her brain kicked back on; trundling along the path to recalling her situation. It was with a fierce scrambled, and a hellfire red dusting upon her cheeks, that she extracted herself from Tungsten’s bedside manner. “Th-Thank you, Tungsten Jazz. I-I am we-well enough, now,” she stammered.

Not the best first impression in this current state of being.

“I’m sure everyone is more than curious about our current state of affairs,” Faetalis started, clearing her throat. “It would seem we’ve been trans - Ah, Cormac, punctual as always, I see,” Faetalis took in the lumbering Blacksmith; a man harkened to her own trade, but satisfied to ply it in the more traditional means. A simple nod in acknowledgement was all she needed to carry on.

Infactorium, in spite of her attempts, was gathered, now, in its full power...

“As I was saying,” Faetalis picked up where she left off, “I am unsure how, but we’ve been transferred - not teleported, as I can’t sense transient magic - to a new world of some sort,” she says, allowing a moment of silence to take it all in. “Here is what I know...”

Faetalis extended her hands, and they split open into a messy tangle of metal-coated wood, carbon fiber wires, and shimmering, silver goo that reeked of magic. “My magic still functions,” she says, as she directed the wires and the goo into a form of a door-like construction. “However, I can’t draw on the full range of it. I can’t open a Gate. However,” she deconstructed the door into a puddle, and formed that into a rocket launcher that crackled with balls of fire, as she hefted it, “I can use low-Tier magic like Fireball, and even enhance this with Metamagics.”

Faetalis sucked the launcher back into her hands, and wiped her goopy blood onto her cheeks. “So, this is what we need to start with,” she says, “How have you all been affected?”

Tungsten was glad to see Faetalis among the living. If anything were to have happened to her he would have killed everyone in this room and then himself. Probably. When she stirred and wished to stand on her own feet Tungsten gently let her go and continue to kneel by her side, listening obediently. She was quick on the uptake and has already surmised that the guild has not merely been attacked, but transported. Tungsten suspected as much but he was glad to know he was correct. Additionally her powers still functioned, something that Tungsten did not consider: it was very possible not only have they moved locations but worlds as well. Tungsten has only heard of such a phenomenon from the Creators, tales of heroes transported to another world with realities far different from their own. For all Tungsten knew some of his own abilities may not function in this world. Or even some technology. It was something he needed to check on.

Faetalis wanted to know how the others were faring. Even in such a disaster, she cared for the Factory Lords. Tungsten bowed his head and spoke. ”The Big Scrap Alley is in critical condition. We are separate from the guild’s power grid, unable to receive or provide energy to guild resources. The three auxiliary generators are nonfunctional due to damages. The Titian Fleet has sustained critical damages as well. The entirety of the Boneyard is destroyed. Finally the Inferno Engine is no longer powered by geothermal vents and without the auxiliary generators it is entirely nonfunctional.” Tungsten hated to only be able to report bad news. Even if he told Faetalis how he and his skeleton soldiers prevented a meltdown, that was hardly worth praise considering that is simply an expectation of their duties. However he knew he could somehow turn this into a more positive twist.

”The three auxilary generators are still functional however, and merely need repair and reconnection to the Infernal Engine, which is within the ability and resources of Big Scrap Alley. Once the Infernal Engine reawakens we can resume recycling duties and convert any scrap or unneeded remains of the guild into fuel or raw materials to rebuild.” While Tungsten never hopes it would come to this, it’s entirely possible for the Inferno Engine to even recycle the remains of the various faculties or even factories. He wasn’t certain of the efficiency of it: without at least the power of three auxilary generators, the Inferno Engine cannot do a 100% recycle. But it can at least push for 80% with one generator, which was leagues better than what other recycling plants are generally capable of.

Additionally there are still 104 Cyber Skeletons available for any labor or military uses, and Creator AlphaQ’s personal armory has sustained no damage. Rebuilding and repairing Big Scrap Alley is doable with its own excess of raw materials, and we can provide additional support to any Factory that needs our assistance. We are at your command Creator Faetalis.”

Levia would pout, hiding her face under her hat. She wanted to be thanked for her speedy arrival...but instead, Tungsten had stolen the show by being, well useful. But even if she was upset at not being a big hero, she was glad that her master was alive and well. Kneeling once the question of how everyone had been affected, Levia would recall the extensive damage her facility had received. It was already fairly small, so it wasn't like it had a massive amount to break, but still...any breaking had to be approved by a form filed in triplicate! "At my best estimate, my facility has lost about 90% of its Slimes, with my total numbers now only at about...four. Two Reslimeclers, one Inslimerator, and one Neutraslimer, Levia said, spouting off the nonsensical names her three slime jobs had without shame or hesitation.

"If its a priority I can try and get more breeding to supply materials, but since everything we need to move is mostly like...rocks...I imagine that's low priority. If my lady permits it, I'd like to help clear the rubble and get the other facilities up and running. Until hazardous materials become apparent, I can function as on-site assistance for rubble clearing and excavation.

After realizing that she had prior given Faetalis an order, and violated Gammaton's personal space, the dragoness bowed her head completely, feeling absolutely stupid for making so many blunders in one day. Admittedly Gammaton moved at the speed of a larva inside a dead guy, but still, it was rude of her to scoop him up like that...

Though Gammaton was a bit surprised to be picked up and carried by Levia, she couldn't say that it was unpleasant. As a general, Gammaton exuded strength and dependability, so people rarely treated her like a princess even in her butterfly form, let alone her egg form. Besides, given that their master was injured, the urgency was warranted.

However, upon arrival, it seemed Tungsten was already in the process of healing Lady Faetalis, though Gammaton did head over and offer some healing as well. However, Gammaton wasn't the greatest healer outside of combat, since her abilities primarily revolved around sharing her vampirism. She would be more effective if she challenged someone like Canology Mae to a duel, used her kinsect to steal Mae's highest stat, health, and transfer it to Fatalis, and then proceed to drain Mae's health, allowing the shared vampirism with Faetalis to top her off. Of course, such a setup was a bit more complicated than the urgent situation would have allowed, and Mae might balk at being challenged to a duel during such a stressful moment. Regardless, Faetalis was soon back on her feet, so Gammaton backed off to stand at attention.

"I would say that Hivehill is very much in the same condition as the other factories," Gammaton reported, "The brood queens have gone into hibernation to conserve resources so our military force has been significantly impacted." The brood queens were not actually units, and according to the old system, were actually considered 'furniture'; barely mobile parts of Hivehill that were part of the production cycle, that is, consuming resources to make eggs that would later hatch into the various insectoid forces of Infactorium. They were not very strong, and any attacks they could perform to defend themselves were considered 'traps'. With little to no energy coming into Hivehill, the higher tiers of brood queens cocooned up, leaving only the weakest to produce a rudimentary force. "The workers, on the other hand, are mostly unscathed and are ready for leased deployment should any of the other overseers require a few additional helping mandibles. The biologically-inspired architecture of Hivehill makes it slightly more resilient to tremors, and since most of the workers were resting during the celebration, they were within the safety of the tunnels during the...forced transport." Gammaton looked around at her other overseers, and though her host's mask hid her expression, offered a melancholy smile, glad that they, at least, were safe and present, though the shadow of the absence of the other great beings loomed.

In only a few moments, Tungsten's magic proved its worth, and before Mae's eyes Lady Faetalis regained her senses. She took stock of the situation even before her faculties fully kicked in, after which she removed herself from her underling's grip with as much dignity and haste as she could simultaneously manage. If Mae had a face, she would have cracked an appreciative smile. Even in such dire circumstances as these, the conscientious Supreme One was kind enough to offer her underlings a less-than-perfect composure, to let them know they weren't alone in their uneasiness. That supposition faded when Faetalis began to speak, replaced by attentiveness. Cormac's arrival created a momentary interruption, but Faetalis recovered and quickly worked to address the general concerns. In doing so she dropped a nugget of information that took Mae alone by surprise.

"We did?" Mae murmured to herself in the allotted moment of silence. She did not question her superior's declaration, of course, and in fact accepted it out of hand given the limited range of her Blindsight. Rather, it was a lot to take in. If the guild had been displaced, that meant no supply lines. No certain ways of getting the resources to make repairs or the goods that a repaired kitchen would need to function. Would they have to explore this new world? Mae couldn't conceive of a worse job for her inferior senses. Blindsight allowed her to perceive every inch of her kitchen in glorious detail, but anything beyond her effective range was as good as nonexistent.

Shaking herself, Mae put aside her concerns. This wasn't the time to go nuts over logistics. One after another, the overseers gave their reports, and with each one the headless chef grew more uneasy. When her turn came around, Mae gave a guttural cough and launched into her own report with as much vigor as she could muster. "Well, uh...AHEUGHM. The Gorging Trough's messed up six ways from Sunday, ma'am! All staff's accounted for, but we were in full swing when things kicked off, and we everythin' caught on fire. Don't know what'll be left when it burns itself out, but it sure won't be much. So uh, basically, we got squat for food 'n equipment. 'Course, I got my Master Chef skill, so I can whip up anythin' on my own if I get the ingredients 'n a pot or somethin'. And fire, though I guess I got plenty o' that, huhuh..." Angry at herself for making light of her failure, she rocked back and forth on her feet. Well, she's made her excuses, so there was left to do but take responsibility. "Er...my apologies, ma'am. It'll be a while before the ol' Trough's up and runnin' again, I'm afraid. Real sorry situation." Although the others had offered, she didn't dare hurt her pride further by asking for their help.

Cormac was the last to enter the meeting room, something he didn't need to notice for himself as Faetalis commented on his tardiness. In response, the large man let out a gruff, "Hrmph." Considering he had the largest distance to cross, shouldn't it have been expected for him to be last? Of course, there was also the factors that he hadn't exactly been sprinting up the flights of stairs, but he would argue that she should have been glad he didn't take the time to finish sharpening the blade he had been working on earlier before coming.

Faetalis would then go on to explain their new predicament. Not merely attacked, but transported, lifted off their previous plane of existence and plopped down somewhere entirely new. It certainly explained why they had received no warnings before the attack. As long as they still had easy access to things like water and coal to keep the Mór Brionnú running, he wasn't too concerned by the new location, but he understood the many issues that could crop up from this beyond his precious forge.

After everyone had finished speaking of the status of their respective floors, Cormac would do the same. "By comparison with everyone else's facilities, De Mór Brionnú is perhaps in de best state. Many of de pipes funneling smoke and such have become disconnected, leaving a lair of toxic smog to rest near de ceiling. Some furnaces completely collapsed and need to be replaced altogether, especially de larger ones. Most annoying of all though, my tools have been shaken from their resting spots and fallen on de ground. I've no clue where anything that wasn't nailed down is anymore and it'll take me hours to reorganize everything."

For a moment, he considered asking if he could borrow any of the staff from his fellow overseers in order to speed up repairs and reorganization. After all, he was the sole occupant of the Mór Brionnú. The idea was quickly shot down though. When he realized that they would most likely start organizing things through some insane pattern like size or function, it almost send a chill through his spine. No, he needed to put things exactly how he liked them, in an order that made sense to no one else but himself. Otherwise, he'd never be able to sleep at night.

Faetalis listened intently, carefully. From the sound of it, everyone had gotten off in different degrees of severity; some were merely scraped and bruised, while others were put near to ruin. In her mind, it was necessary to restore internal means of supply; that meant getting food and power back in working order. “First things first, we need to restore power and supply to Mae's Factory,” Faetalis announced, “In times of strife, there is nothing more important than hot food and running water. In order to do that, I'm likely going to have to cannibalize unattended factories... that means, destroying the homes of our friends.”

Faetalis allowed time for reactions, before she cleared her throat, and set to it. “These are your orders, henceforth,” she says, steeling herself to destroy years of struggle in wars that built and tested friendships she thought lifelong. Accessing her maintenance terminal, she brought up a 3-D map of Infactorium, and all but their working factories lit up red, “Levia. Gammatron. All highlighted factories are to be recycled into components - that means, do not melt them, Levia - and, do so from the apex to the foundation; leave naught a single tile nor rivet. Take all organic material to Mae and all inorganic material to Tungsten.”

Faetalis turned to the two in question, “Mae, immediately start to process all organic material brought to you into whatever food you can with exceptional shelf life. Jerky. Rations. MREs. I don't care about the taste, as long as it's the utmost best quality you can provide and will last us for a while,” she says, “Tungsten, and Cormac, you are to take the inorganic material are start repairs - however, Tungsten, you have a technological advantage over Cormac's traditional means. As such, you are to split tasks according to your strengths. Tungsten, you will handle all electronic wiring and cabling, whole Cormac will handle construction lacking technological prowess.”

“As for myself,” Faetalis turned to her maintenance terminal, “I'm going to scout what lies beyond the ridges. If I'm not returned by sundown, do not deviate from your tasks to find me until you are all finished. Then, and only then, are you to leave Infactorium unguarded to seek me out.”

“This seems to be our new home, now. Strange, but familiar. Regardless, you have your orders. Go, as Overseers of Infactorium, and complete them.”

Faetalis waited for everyone to leave on her dismissal, before she looked to MinMaxine, and took a look at her through her HUD, and saw the same status affliction, [Comatose] and her HP static at 1. “What is going on with you, Max. Everyone else is awake, and you're out with this status I've never seen before...” she laments, as she set MinMaxine on the maintainence terminal, and looked to the exterior cameras. There was nothing on the horizon in all directions, but rock. “This couldn't be more difficult. I'm setting off, Max. Hopefully, you'll wake up soon...” she sighed, before setting off to the Western Gate, and looking to the middle distance.

Stepping back into her heels, she took it all in. All of it. Minutes expanded to hours, mentally, as she tried to rationalize it from top to bottom. “Infactorium exists. The Overseers exist. My magic exists. This must be YO, right?” Faetalis asks herself, as she focused her eyes on the world; her HUD materialized, and information scanned in - mostly to tell her the dirt was, indeed, made of dirt. However, that was unimportant. Her HUD still existed. “I have to be in YO, somehow. Not the Alpha Release, but some Beta Release, or a junker copy on a pirated server,” Faetalis told herself, needing to believe that she was still human, still an avatar, and not her avatar, and not inhuman.

Faetalis needed to be able to believe she was still a plain, forty-two-year-old woman that worked a 9-to-5, dead end, wage slave "accounting job" as a sidetracker of dirty money for the local Yakuza; boring woman with a calm head on her shoulders and the sense to keep her month silent, so she could continue to afford an upper middle-class existence and the eventful luxury of her second life in YGGDRASIL Online nightly, unlike some of her old guildmates in less "fortunate" circumstances.

As long as she continued to believe she was in some pre-Alpha Release version of 'YGGDRASIL Online: Valkyrie Downfall', Faetalis could carry on with that same calm that saw dozens of GvG victories and thousands of won Skirmishes. She just needed to do something bigger than reality would allow.

Incite Genesis.

Focusing, Faetalis set her heels apart, and spread her legs, as she clapped her hands together, and took a power stance...

“[Craft Senses: Life Seeker] [Craft Senses: Magic Hunter] [Craft Self: Hollow Bones] [Craft Self: Tyrant Muscle] [Craft Self: Tyrant Scales] [Craft Form: Tyrant Wings] [Craft Form: Tyrant Tail]” Faetalis ran through a list of crafting spells that did little in seperation, unless crafted together with her [Divine Artisan] Class.

“[Divine Artisan Synthesis: Tyrant Dragon Haven, King of Haven Skies]”

And, given life with her [Genesis] Class.

“[Rebirth: Genesis]”

Locking the blessed crafting into place, Faetalis flooded herself with magic, and her skin opened to a mass exodus of metal and wood - simple bronze and fir wood - that cocooned around her as a trembling mess of planks, wires, plates, rivets, and screws. After a minute, a massive leg exploded from a side, and slammed into the ground; draconic in nature, taller than a house, and wider than a tree. Another joined it, and the cocoon trembled, before lengthening and widening in mass, and presence - a giant head like that of a pit viper crossed with an alligator burst free with a proportionally massive tail that slammed into the ground. The final piece surfaced, as wings as long as the torso best free of the shoulder blades, and buffeted the surroundings with gale-force wings.

Stripped of all but her core body, Faetalis was fused into her craft as its heart; from her knees and elbows down, her skyclad form hung as a sentient power source and pilot of the YGGDRASIL Online Lv80 Guild Raid Dragon Boss - many times defeated, and now, recreated at a meager third of his true power.

Still, it was enough to accomplish her goal, three-fold, to scout the surrounding area, create an efficient deterrent - if needed - and prove she was still within the logical confines of her video game of choice.

She just had to find a way to logout.

Dropped into her haunches, Faetalis launched into the air without a sound...

At the orders being given to the various factory overseers, Levia was beyond delighted that her's actually pertained to her job. Like, her FAVORITE part of her job. So what if she wasn't allowed to dissolve anything? SHE GOT TO BREAK THINGS INTO TINY PIECES ON DUTY! Levia's amber eyes positively sparkled, her obsidian tail swished to and fro behind her, and the large lizard hands connected to her hip clenched. "YES MA'AM RIGHT AWAY MA'AM!" she said before hurriedly rushing off to one of the designated facilities to be destroyed. Even if she didn't get to melt anything down, the mere act of breakin' was enough to get her knees quakin'.

Standing atop the first of many facilities that were to meet her end, the dragonic chimera had not waited for Gammaton before beginning her work. She was that eager to go ahead and get to doing it. Taking in a deep breath, Levia would hold her hands out, fists clenched, and elbows at her side as she took a deep breath in. She had to temporarily disable her Ki's poisonous properties, lest she wind up melting the building's materials with her fists. With her ki now very un-dangerous for the time being, the chimera's left humanoid hand would raise and begin shining with a golden light. Blood pumped through her body rapidly, her heart itself circulating at such speeds that it was damaging her body to fuel the Planet Rocker that was being charged up.

In the dark of the cave, that light shone for a fair distance once a loud crack resounded, 5% of her HP being converted into raw damage that broke through every part of the facility in need of demolishing. Breaking from just the wind generated by her fist, a hole formed, then, the aftershock resounded. Concrete cracked, steel bent, and whatever this place that was formerly a building was, it was now a pile of junk to be processed. There wasn't anything left standing but Levia, who was quivering with excitement. "YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! I LOVE MY JOB!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, furiously pummeling the concrete to let off a bit of excess steam, before poisonous steam exited her nose. "Ahhh this is the best! Simply the best! Lady Faetalis is the BEST!" she said, jumping up and down, her feet stamping down the rubble into more uniform chunks before stopping and standing.

Sticking an envenomed nail of her finger into her mouth, Levia drooled at the thought of getting to destroy a lot more buildings with official approval, while also poisoning herself to heal back the miniscule damage that she'd taken. Sadly, she had to deliver the materials first and foremost, getting to deliver some of the largest pieces of rubble with many small pieces stacked atop it to be processed by Cormac. On her way back she would spot the figure flying into the air, her tail slapping the ground once in excitement. "Is that...Lady Faetalis!? I didn't know she was a dragon!"

As expected by a supreme being, Faetalis picked up on the crisis facing Mae without the horror having to spell it out. Not only that, but Mae was surprised to see that her boss gave the Gorging Trough of all facilities priority. In the grand scheme of things not all of the myriad entities serving the guild needed food to stay alive, and not all of those that did chose a visit to the designated cafeteria over whatever they happened to have on hand for greater convenience. If there was one thing Mae knew about the supreme ones, it was how they valued their time. They were always teleporting everywhere they could, even short distances, running anywhere they couldn’t teleport, facilitating automation and efficiency, and so forth. Even Master Sugi seldom visited his creation for anything other than for specific dishes that could provide the boons he needed.

So putting the Gorging Trough first, and to the extent that other facilities would need to be sacrificed, made Mae’s black heart swell with pride. The sacrifice of other factories she did not question, for their end meant she could begin anew in her vital duty. Besides, if a supreme being declared that it was necessary, then it was. Mae’s management skills ended at her restaurant’s doors, after all. As the others processed the idea in their own ways she stooped forward in as sincere a bow as she could manage without having a head. “Thank you, ma’am! Big choice to make, and you’ll be glad you did!”

Faetalis manifested a complex shape from light. The chef’s blindsight wound around its effulgent contours, and she recognized the a rather detailed recreation of the guild’s entirety in miniature. A couple at a time, the technomancer gave her overseers their orders. With the fruits of the scrappers’ labor the crafters would pursue their art, reviving the Gorging Trough from a burnt-out husk to an operational factory once more. Mae harbored no delusions about restoring its former glory, but as long as she could do her job, the niceties could come later. While the others reconstructed the physical structure she would push her own portable cooking skills to the limit, a veritable one-woman army in the war against hunger. “You got it!” she declared. “Me and mine will make you proud!”

When dismissed, Mae thundered back out into the open at a brisk jog. On the way she belted out a few useful tips for the sake of her compatriots, since neither Tungsten nor Cormac had even been inside the guts of her domain before. “The kitchen’s the important part!” she told them. “If anythin’s still standin’ it’ll be the kitchen walls, ‘cause they’re brick. If we can get the ovens, stoves, grills, prep tables, washers, and larder fixed, with walls and a roof, we’re in business. The restaurant can come later.”

Long before she got close enough to see her staff she knew their eyes were on her, so she yelled out, “Up and at ‘em, Maneaters! The whole guild’s rallyin’ to save the Trough! And while they’re fixin’ the place up I’m gonna cook for everyone. So get in there an’ salvage everythin’ you can! Look for cans, containers, unburned boxes, pots and pans! Anythin’ not melted to hell! We gotta set up a cookfire right about here.” She found a clear patch of ground away from the ruins and stomped her clog a few times. “Once the ingredients start comin’ in, I’m gonna be busy, so do whatever the other Overseers say!” Having launched into action the moment their boss’s voice hit them, her staff scrambled to get to work. They rushed to and fro, into and out of the remains of the Gorging Trough where ashes still smouldered, digging through and overturning wreckage to find anything that might be of use. Mae bent to the task of readying the makeshift cookfire herself for the use and abuse of her Master Chef skill, and she was pleased to see a steady trickle of her underlings coming her way with salvaged goods, starting with Roast. The fiery girl's willingness to brave the Trough's searing embers netted her a cache of almost untouched canned beans and meats, protected from the destruction by piled debris. Aromatic smoke was spiraling into the sky well before the scrappers arrived to bring her organic materials.

Gammaton couldn't help but agree with Faetalis' decision; Hivehill thrived on food, and Gammaton could feel her host becoming a bit peckish. But one sad truth remained unspoken; if Faetalis was this willing to tear down so much of the guild, it heavily implied the absence of the other Supreme Beings, or at least, the ones whose domains were being reduced to scrap. Though Gammaton was long used to GrillBears' absence, she could tell that this sudden and violent event may have awakened in her comrades the vain hope that their masters would return. She didn't want to see them disappointed, but she feared it would be a hard truth they would have to face sooner or later.

"I hear, and obey, My Lady," Gammaton's host said in his characteristically deep, smooth voice and bowed bombastically in an attempt to hide the regret of having to deface years of Infactorium's progress and infrastructure. With the meeting concluded, Gammaton paced back to Hivehill, deep in contemplation. Once she had arrived, she went into some of the deeper areas that more resembled research labs than a giant anthill to find some parchment and a quill. Gammaton quickly penned some instructions for Levia in case she forgot how the ants behaved. Pasting the instructions to the randomly chosen 'leader' of a handful of worker ants, she ordered them to aid Levia in her duties, bringing a trunk of pheromone bottles that had fortunately survived Infactorium's violent transport. Sure, she probably didn't need any help when it came to deconstruction, but the ants would spare Levia the banal task of moving the material to their destinations, allowing her to continue doing what she loved with minimal interruptions.

Gammaton took the remaining workers and headed to the opposite end from Levia of the parts of Infactorium that were slated for destruction. As an Insect Master, Gammaton could command the workers with her thoughts...well, not exactly. Her commands to her minions were converted into intricately woven pheromone signals. The trunk she had sent to Levia was a simplistic version that involved three types of vials representing three signals, color-coded for ease of use: red for harvest - to break down into small chunks, blue for move - to pick up without destroying, and green for destination - the location where objects marked with red or blue pheromones were to be moved to. Applying a pheromone to the antennae of an ant let it know it was about to receive orders relevant to that type of pheromone, leaving the vial let the ant know that it is to perform its task at that location. Marking a pile of inorganic material with red, and marking a trail of green that led to The Big Scrap Alley and Mór Brionnú would be sufficient to have the workers carry out the automated task of deconstructing and carrying the material to the where they were intended. The same could be done by marking a pile of organic material with red and a green trail to the Gorging Trough. With this, Gammaton and Levia could work efficiently at deconstructing the 'unnecessary' parts of Infactorium, though Gammaton had no illusions that she would finish her task before Levia. Though Gammaton could feel the pangs of nostalgia stabbing her heart, she understood the need to excise unneeded parts for the better health of the whole.

"As you command, Creator Faetalis. We will proceed with operations immediately!" Tungsten saluted Faetalis after she had given the Overseer their orders. Whatever concerns and regrets Tungsten had were immediately washed away: Now he had orders and planed to follow them without hesitation. Indeed, there could be no hesitation as their goal was simple: repair the guild. Whatever was broken needed to be fixed, and if it didn't need to be fixed it needed to be recycled. There was no time to mourn what was lost and instead they must focus on what can be saved. Tungsten in particular needed to be quick about repairing the Big Scrap Alley: even if it won't be at 100% efficiency anymore, with so much destruction and recyclable materials that are about to come his way he must return to operation. "Do not let perfect be the enemy of good, as they say."

Tungsten and his soldiers would return to the Big Scrap Alley quickly, and once he did reach his area Tungsten was quick to divvy out orders. All Cyber Skeletons were to immediately begin repairs to one of the generators. Just one will be able to ensure the Big Scrap Alley can resume operations at 80% efficiency for a week, more than long enough to get the other generators going and enabling the Big Scrap Alley to maintain steady operations for up to even a year if they lower energy costs. Additionally, he commanded the skeletons to take and destroyed or damaged nonessential Bigs to be scrapped: they simply do not have the resources to maintain and repair all the Bigs in the Titan Fleet right now and they must prioritize quality over quantity. What few essential Bigs they have which aren't scrapped may be kept, but even those could very well be fed to the Infernal Engine if necessary. Additionally the entirety of the Boneyard will be cannibalized to repair the damages to the Big Scrap Alley. Even if this means that his facility cannot produce any more Cyber Skeletons for now, that was a small sacrifice to pay for the good of the guild.

Of course, Tungsten doesn't plan to sit around and do nothing. Even though most of the operation will be carried out by Cyber Skeletons, they will work harder and faster as long as Tungsten leads them. And lead them he shall. Firstly, he had all damaged Cyber Skeletons work alongside him as he moved rubble from the ruins and transported them to various carts and trolleys to be moved. He was singing as he did so, to activate his Song of Rest as well as his Aura of Vitality to heal his minions so they too can work at full efficiency. It was here that the Cyber Skeletons truly shined: because each were helping each other, their Helping Hand ability allowed them to easily repair damages simply with tools and materials on hand. And because each Cyber Skeleton was being assisted by fellow skeletons, their Teamwork ability also activated, increasing their overall speed and ability to work. And as destruction and repairing the facility was nothing unusual for these Cyber Skeletons, Standardization would be active and ensure that the Cyber Skeletons and Tungsten will have one of the generators repaired and powering the Infernal Engine within the hour. An astonishingly fast feat considering the sheer damage the whole Big Scrap Alley has been inflicted with. At this rate all three generators will be repaired before the day's end, and Tungsten can ensure the facility is recycling and producing materials for the guild in short order.

However while the Cyber Skeletons worked, Tungsten knew there were a few tasks only he had the ability to handle. As the Cyber Skeletons really were only good in both mass, and focused on a single project. Repairing the Big Scrap Alley was important yes, but there were other facilities that needed help as well. And thus, once Tungsten was certain that the Cyber Skeletons would be able to repair the Auxiliary generator without his oversight, he took a handful of Cyber Skeletons around to other parts of the guild to repair other damaged infrastructure, such as communication towers, power stations, and automated entrances. These locations were easy for a few skeletons to fix, but they needed the speed that Tungsten can grant them via his Aura of Alacrity and fast movement. Physical infrastructure such as walls and floors would be left in the hands of Cormac. While Tungsten's minions are certainly capable of basic repairs like that, Faetalis had ordered Tungsten to focus on more delicate electronics first, and that is what he will do. With any luck within a day, once the Infernal Engine comes to life and can begin sharing power with the guild, much if not all of the guild's technological devices ought to return to working order, if only for a while.

Breaking down the domains of the other overseers was far from ideal. Even Cormac, with his sometimes rather abrasive and grouchy personality, seemed to furrow his brow upon hearing this plan from Faetalis. He understood plenty though that practicality outweighed sentimentality. As much as he might miss the other factories, their own survival mattered the most, and that meant repairing the most vital areas and bringing necessities like food production back online.

Hearing Faetalis' orders for Levia though, Cormac couldn't help but worry that his reptilian coworker would go overboard, even if she was told to only recycle and not to melt everything down. It wouldn't be the first time. Seeing the excitement in her eyes, the blacksmith said, "Just remember that we have a job to do and don't get lost in de fun."

With everyone's orders now received, the hulking brute of a man turned to his designated partner, Tungsten, only to watch the automaton leave for Big Scrap Alley, most likely to coordinate his army of Cyber Skeletons. For a second, Cormac considered if doing things on his own as he always had was really the best way to go about things. Having mobs like the other overseers could come in handy. At the very least, maybe an apprentice to pass down his knowledge to?

The second passed though. A silly thought, especially with the dire state Infactorium was in. Perhaps it was something to look into once the guild was back to operating at peak efficiency. If that wasn't possible, at least the best it could be in their bizarre, new circumstances. Lumbering back to The Mór Brionnú, Cormac would collect the tools necessary, searching the floor for his scattered things, before going about and fixing whatever he could on the floors above him.