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4 yrs ago
Current Goodbye Miura. One of my favorite fantasy authors of all time has gone too soon.
13 likes
5 yrs ago
Don't forget, they made another new hero named Screentime. A meme loving superhero who got his powers from exposure to internet gas. He has the ability to basically be a smart phone.
4 likes
5 yrs ago
Sometimes I open up a new tab on my browser and I forget what I intended to do with it... What am I doing here again?
6 likes
5 yrs ago
When did I do that?
7 likes
5 yrs ago
Whenever you're feeling down, just remember that this man is cheering you on: youtu.be/KxGRhd_iWuE
2 likes

Bio

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It was a good thing that the others mentioned the dragon and the effect it was having on Infactorium and Anzelgard, acting like some much needed exposition for the old man who'd fallen asleep through the movie, because before then he had no idea why this meeting had even been called. Ever since the last meeting of the Raid Council, the other factory overseers had barely seen Cormac as he toiled away in the bowels of Infactorium, giving himself project after project to take up his time. And with the serious lack of any windows or natural light within The Mór Brionnú, he might as well have been living under a literal rock.

"I hadn't even considered that, but ye're right Gammaton," the giant said after the Vermin Lord had finished giving their piece. "Though de question then remains, how do we bring de dragon down to their level so de humans can feel like they won rather than watch us do all of de work?" He placed a hand on his chin to think over it for a moment before recommending, "Perhaps some bait? A large amount of treasure it can't help but try and collect to return to its lair? Or plenty of food to fill its belly? Then I could craft some cannons to fire harpoons to pin it to de ground so it doesn't take off again. Though we'd need something heavy on de other end of de line so it doesn't fly off."
Cormac accepted the jacket, albeit with a quizzical expression on his newly attained face. He hadn't expected Faetalis to gift them... Well anything beyond these new skins, and even then they felt like a boss giving their employees the company's new uniforms. A requirement for the new standards created by upper management. These jackets though, despite being much more similar to the earlier analogy in the sense that both we attire meant to appear mostly invariable from each other, felt much more personal. These felt much more like gifts. Especially with the new, specifically chosen skills attached to them.

"Hmmm," was his initial response, before pulling it on to find that, unsurprisingly, it fit like a well-tailored glove. "I... appreciate it, lassy," he told her. For anyone who didn't know Cormac, such a response might have been disheartening to hear. Most would probably expect something along the lines of, "I love it," or "Thank you so much." However, coming from the often grim and serious man, a floor guardian they had all come to know through years of daily cooperation, the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips spoke volumes over the underwhelming words he had managed to string together into an adequate response.

With Faetalis dismissing them all, Cormac would return back to his domain, The Mór Brionnú, thinking about testing out his newly gained ability given to him by the jacket, as well as get used to his new skin. Climbing down the many, many flights of stairs that led to the pipe-filled and cluttered forge gave him plenty of time to think and reflect on the day's meeting, and one thought he settled on was how glad he was to be a part of Infactorium, with its many eccentric members. Sure, they may argue or go about their tasks in very different ways, but between each of them was respect and care. No matter what hardships lay ahead for them, the giant was confident that they could weather them together.

The first item Cormac would decide to craft would be a fairly simple iron great axe, curious to see how this [Soulflame Forge] would work. Just as with everything he ever would create, the Fomorian would put his heart and soul into his work, beating away at the iron with the enthusiasm that only an old man that had mastered his craft through decades of hard work could ever show. And sure enough, with each strike, he watched the quality of his materials grow, unnaturally so, until the rough iron axe that he had begun with now shined with the caliber of the best damn steel one could possibly find.

Looking at the axehead for any imperfections to hammer out, Cormac couldn't help but spot his handsome reflection looking back at him, a warm smile on his lips that only he could ever see here in the privacy of his forge. "Enjoy the beautiful face Faetalis has given you, Cormac," the reflection would say. "It doesn't change what lies beneath the surface." And like that, the smile was gone, replaced by a grim frown as the old man tried his best to ignore the intrusive, self-deprecating thoughts plaguing his mind by beating the steel axe into his anvil. After shattering it into pieces and throwing in with the rest of his scrap metal, the old man wondered why these thoughts on his usual appearance were suddenly bothering him so.




"Hrrrrm," Cormac groaned as Faetalis answered him. He still didn't quite see the point in wearing a disguise over his own skin that appeared already so close to human, but if this was her command, he saw even less of a reason to put up a stink about the whole affair. "If ye insist, lass," the giant agreed.

The ease in which he agreed was the result of several factors. Part of it was his still remaining respect for their former leader, even if she asked them to see her as their equal. Part of it was because his relationship with his creator hadn't been as close as the other Factory Overseers had been with their own creators, the two's interactions often brief and with long stretches of time between each. There was certainly respect for the man, but not the blind praise one would expect. But most of all, he had never been as attached to his form as the others. Call it modesty or call it self-loathing, Cormac had always been aware in his lack of beauty. If it was something B;oodAndGuts93 had programmed into his awareness, the man was a cruel progenitor indeed, though it had the direct benefit of only making him even more proud in his own work. The effectiveness of a tool, weapon, or even another person mattered much more to him than its visual appeal.

And so, Cormac would strip out of his clothing with ease. Just because he had little pride in his appearance, didn't mean he was ashamed of it. Perhaps it would remind Faetalis of the seniors of the old world one would often find in the restrooms of public gyms who saw no reason to cover themselves during their walks between lockers and showers. It would make the time he took to choose his new skin much more awkward for those around him than he probably needed to.

"Hmm. This will do," Cormac finally decided. The skin that soon enveloped him was one that looked much more traditionally handsome and still kept the Gaelic-theme that the giant was fond of. He was still large and muscular, standing taller than the average human, but not several heads more as he had been. The monstrous giant looked more like a heroic giant slayer now. "Thoughts?"
Following everyone into the Dollhouse, Cormac wouldn’t be as disturbed by the sight of the flayed victims covering mannequins as Levia, but would certainly not find them as impressive as Mae. Flesh was weak and prone to sickness, but it was necessary in order to create the element he truly preferred. Steel. Eventually, their bodies would decay and fail them, even the long lasting dragons and elves, unless Tungsten had some ideas for half-automaton cyborgs. However, the swords and hammers he crafted could last for generations, handed down from wielder to wielder. A legacy that would outlast even his giant form.

Speaking of his giant form, the Raid Council would hear a crash as Cormac accidentally bumped against one of the mannequins, causing it to fall against another which bumped that one against another, creating a short domino effect as a dozen mannequins fell against the floor. A gruff, ”Sorry,” was muttered before his large arms scooped up the mess he made

While standing the dummies back up, Mae would make her transformation behind him, giving the blacksmith quite the shock when he turned back around. “Jeez, you look just like de humans. Can’t even tell the difference.”

He then turned to Faetalis and asked, ”No offense, lass, but do I even need a disguise? I’m already able to blend in with de humans without trouble.” The giant wasn't against the idea, but other than maybe making him shorter so he didn't need to duck beneath the door frames of human buildings, Cormac couldn't find a purpose behind a disguise for himself.
Hearing both Gammaton and Levia vote in favor of performing scorched Earth tactics upon Anzelgard would be upsetting for Cormac to hear, to say the least. He would almost have to physically bite his tongue to keep from speaking out of turn and announcing his disagreement with their opinions. In fact, if not for the support of Mae and Tungsten, he may very well have made his disapproval known in a rant which would quickly devolve into curses, leaving the giant appearing very unprofessional after his promotion. Finding that his subjective belief was not alone within the newly refounded Raid Council would help significantly ease his intense temper.

"I guess that makes me de tie breaker than?" Cormac began, seeing as how Faetalis had purposefully excluded herself from the voting process. "I won't bother being dramatic or leaving ye on de edge of your seats. I think wiping out Anzelgard is a terrible idea. Even with little to offer in way of support or resources for our future wars, wiping them off de map is more likely to cause us problems in negotiating with other nations. We may be de strongest player on de board as far as we know, but can we really be sure that remains de case past de nations we've interacted with? Besides, I imagine we'll lose more resources and time trying to wipe them out than we could possibly gain. Humans are like cockroaches, pesky little buggers that don't take no for an answer and won't stop bothering ye no matter how much ye may try. No matter what we try, I'm sure there'll be survivors making themselves a nuisance in de region for years." Tungsten would feel a nudge from the giant's elbow as he said, "De lad's got de idea. Trick them into following us and they'll find a way to make themselves useful." The blacksmith knew the others well enough to know a logical reason to keep Anzelgard standing would be more convincing than any impassioned, emotional speech he could give, and so kept everything as practical as he could, hiding his own personal connection with the people.
As Faetalis brought up the situation in Anzelgard, Cormac began stroking his chin in thought. Looking at things practically, annexing them or leaving them to their own devices had their benefits and downsides. On one hand, bringing them under their protection would give them more resources to work with as well as more soldiers. Though with Tungsten's Cyber Skeletons, one could make the argument that they already a vastly superior source of foot soldiers, the giant felt that a diverse army could only be beneficial as long as they had the resources to support it. However, while conflict with Nyll was inevitable, taking Anzelgard was sure to bring war upon them much sooner. Sacrificing Anzelgard could give them valuable time to prepare. Looking at it practically was a tough decision.

However, Cormac was not some compassionless machine (no offense to the automatons and androids of Infactorium). He was a giant and one that still had a heart. If they could save Anzelgard from destruction, he would plead their case to the other Overseers as best as he could.

Before Faetalis would begin listening to their thoughts on the matter though, she would announce to them the intention to grant them even more responsibilities. It was a great distinction, the giant couldn't argue with that, as he said, "I'm honored, lass," already switching to referring to his former supervisor informally to better grow used to the change in position. However, ever the crotchety old geezer, he couldn't help but still have some complaints. Would becoming a supervisor further pull him away from his metalworking? Most definitely. For now though, the great reward for his service outweighed his preference for isolationism, and he made no verbal remarks. His large hand would wrap around the key as he took it from Faetalis, unintentionally testing its durability despite his best attempts to be gentle with it.
A couple days late because I hadn't been on the RP Guild for Christmas or the day after, but Merry Christmas to you all as well.
Heyo everyone. Sorry for the long absence. Tree and Enkryption were already made aware that I'd be gone and, eventually, return and that time is now as can be seen with the new post. Hope everyone's been well.
Cormac's assigned position had proved to be both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it was somewhat refreshing to return to the basics with a new forge. Much of his equipment had been left behind in Mór Brionnú as it would have been much too complicated and brought too much attention to the foreign blacksmith. Not that he didn't have plenty of attention already. Setting up his business overnight thanks to a generous donation from Faetalis, selling his services at a noticeably lower price than the only other blacksmith shop in the village to entice his rival's loyal customers, the strange accent that he never elaborated on the origin of, and the amazing quality work he was capable of producing on his own made him the talk of the town on their own. Having so much work to do helped the giant feel comfortable in this new place.

The downside though was how many distractions there were. So many people wanted to talk to him, learn more about him, ask the same questions over and over again. It was maddening. And he couldn't just shoo them off since Faetalis had specifically requested he get to know the people here and gain their trust.

Speaking of distractions, here came one now. Looking up from his anvil, Cormac could hear the mutterings of a very pissed off man stomping his way over. He knew why Ignaz was coming. Mr. Woolworth had managed to rip hinges off his door while moving furniture the day before, and Ignaz had offered replacements at a completely reasonable price. So Cormac offered to replace them at cost. A capitalist would call the giant a clever businessman, building up his clientele and taking losses now to ensure high profits in the future. The real reason was to relieve some boredom.

Cormac began to grumble to himself, not looking to get into an argument with his fellow blacksmith. Lucky for him, an excuse to leave before confronting Ignaz would present itself as the head overseer in all of Infactorium would send out an emergency summons that he couldn't ignore. Putting down his hammer and tongs, Cormac would do his best to make his way to the gate Faetalis had left him to use for fast travel back home without being followed. A difficult task given the man's large size, but one couldn't fault him for trying.
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