Member
BlazingBark
rabidbacon
swift
Chronic
FaithfulMuse
Noctis
Master EffeX
Carlyle
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.
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.
