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st-just · 5 years ago

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Cities, Conquests and Tributaries of the Federal Republic

Because I already did one for the Empire, and world-building continues to be at least mildly engaging/keeps me writing, anyway.

The Free Cities: The core of the Federal Republic, and the beating hearts of cultural, economic, and political power. Beautiful and rapturous parasites, which trade ephemera and mesmerizing baubles for all the treasures of the world. Unending and many-coloured chaos, joyous festival turning to bloody riot in the blink of an eye. Without censor or police-spy, they are the generous refuge to every heretic and dissident in need of one, provided they bring a sharp knife and a friend to watch their back.

Quepta, Chirtial and Celmy itself all share a coastline, though travel by land is rendered deeply impractical by steep hills and the lack of convenient rivers. Inara totally dominates the island on which it sits, and Khasal sits on the opposite coast of its sister cities, but shares an easily navigable river route with Celmy. In all cases the cities’ hinterlands have been thoroughly mastered, but each has grown to the point where only daily shipments of grain and rice can sustain their populations.

The Broken Coast: The core of the Republic’s mercantile empire isn’t particularly impressive at a glance – vast stretches of rocky islands and small coastal planes, isolated from their hinterlands by mountains or plateaus. Its trade winds do, however, ensure safe and easy shipping up and down its lengths – ensuring that the small trading ports that dot every viable harbour capable of supporting a population can trust that ships will arrive regularly to buy everything worthwhile they can transport from further inland, and provide everything they lack. Formally, the vast majority are ruled by boqors or rajahs – whether extracting tribute from distant inland principalities, governing a federation of coastal towns, or ruling an independent city-state – but in every real sense power is held by the merchant factors and trading captains, and their Celmean friends and partners.

The Piper’s Wake: Before they were free, the cities were the troublesome and distant trading ports of an ancient empire. The specifics have long since been lost under the weight of a thousand different dramatizations, but what was once the empire’s rich and fertile core bears witness to how the matter was finally decided. Burned and brutalized (so they say), the fleshweavers and skinchangers of Khasal made common cause with the ecstatics and mad mystics or Chirtial and conducted one of the grander rituals of the age. A Caller of the Host, grander than any who have walked before or since, was made from the sacrificial flesh, and life rebelled as she played. The demon herself was slain by the crown prince as his empire tore itself apart around him (as the tale goes), but regular expeditions are still launched into the region – both to cull the goblin population, and entice or bind more advanced specimens for use or sale.

The Spine of the World: A range of inhospitable and imposing mountains that would be difficult to cross even if they weren’t Drake-infested, mainly notable as serving as a hard northern border for the Republic’s influence for cartographers, with its few major passes serving as something of a trade artery for luxury exports to the Illyrin empire. More recently, mining prospectors have begun swarming the area like flies after the discovery of major silver deposits – and, with the increasing ease of transit, certain thrill-seekers and would-be dragonslayers have taken to braving the peaks. Being fair, they still have a high survival rate that the particularly zealous devotees of Askopar, who attempt to convince the wyrms to accept their inheritance as a Prince of Demons – something they are rarely amenable to, as they’re happy to quite lethally explain.

The New Cities/The Colonies: Past the farthest edges of the Broken Coast, and weeks of open ocean beyond that, lays the most remote real centre of the Federation’s power. Acquired through a (by now thoroughly mythologized) mixture of trade, fraud and force, the islands and coastline the dozen cities (glorified town, in most cases. Only barely glorified, in a few) are scattered across are a the source of untold fortunes for many back in the Inner World. Each city sends a steady stream of extraordinarily valuable imports back to its parent – rare furs, plantation crops, precious metals and jewels – and in exchange receives the weapons, tools, and especially people they need to sustain and expand their dominions. Enticing new colonists with land grants or the chance for riches is entirely commonplace, which does require regular low-level warfare with each other and the native populations to make good on them. And, although no upstanding citizen of the metropolises can be known to take part in it, the colonies lack both the freedom loving mobs and temperamental patrons of their parents, and so quite a few interests wasted no time at all making a fortune in the trade of indentured labour.

The Shipbreaker Isles: Given its utter dependence on maritime trade, as a general rule the great and the good of the Free Cities have a decidedly draconian view of piracy (the mob’s opinion may differ, given how popular epic and romantic tales of their exploits can be). But, in the final analysis, this really amounts to taking offence at pirates targeting their ships (the existence of a ‘Federal Navy’, the only officially existing common institution of the Republic, can be largely attributed to no one trusting their rivals to stop attacking their ships the moment they were out of sight of port without a sword hanging over their heads). Hence, the Isles, where pirate queens and kings can repair and recruit in safety, merchant factors on hand to buy any and all loot they can carry, their ships returning with a steady supply of gifts, luxuries, and fresh meat (naive young things with a penchant for violence, or people who have burnt every possible bridge but still have debts to run away from, generally). All with the tactic understanding that they only target Esheri or Illyric shipping, of course. Every settlement on the isles has been destroyed at least three or four times from punitive expiditions, and the Celmean willing to cut them loose without raising a finger is the only reason a general war has not yet resulted.

The Ashen Steppe: Only slightly more habitable a place than the name implies, this vast and lightly populated expanse has mostly served as a hard border for the Federal Republic’s influence, rapidly consuming all effort and attention paid to it buying off various nomad tribes rather than dealing with their raids, paying tribute to the appropriate leaders along the major caravan routes to the Commonwealth, and suffering the occasional invasion searching for land or treasure. In recent years, Esheri expansion has seen some growing hostility form the nomads, which Celmean agents have been more than happy to help arm and organize, culminating in two cities officially recognizing their chosen candidate as Khagan of the whole steppe – an entirely aspirational claim, at least for the moment.

The Kayal Empires: Conquest states in the purest form, this region represents the other major bridgehead of Celmean influence in the outer world. ‘Influence’ rather than ‘power’ or ‘rule’, as this is a region that makes cartographers weep and war profiteers grin. The result of a particularly ruthless and ingenious mercenary-adventurer who parlayed a civil war in one the continent’s more impressive empires into employment, power, and eventually a chance to claim the throne himself. It was quite possibly the most lucrative mercenary contract in history for his soldiers, as grand estates and piles of gold were freely distributed as reward for their loyalty. That was just under fifty years ago. Technically speaking his granddaughter is still empress, largely because she married a prince of the old ruling house and used the residual legitimacy of both names to rally an army to retake the old capital. Of course, there are a dozen other would-be emperors – both newly arrived and well armed adventurers, the now partially assimilated conquerors, or various flavors of native rebellion - and all manner of small principalities and over-mighty pirate chiefs in between. If it wasn’t for how rich the land was, they might just be left to it – instead, the supply of over-ambitious and ruthless new arrivals hasn’t slowed once.

The Soya Principalities: The most powerful and organized states which lay inland of the Broken Coast trading network, the principalities – which really have rather less in common then the Celmean travel guides imply, and in many cases would take great offence at being lumped together – are, officially speaking and as far as their rulers are concerned, entirely free of foreign control. While this is entirely true as far as your average peasant is concerned, in practice a few rather fundamental transactions have been made – Khasali court mystics and physicians, a particularly dashing trader from Chiritial who won the princesses’ hand, Celmean mediation over the succession ensuring the more pliable child inherits – and, in all cases, the most important of all – foreign control over ports and tarrifs, and free navigation of rivers and coasts, in exchange for generous gifts to sustain the royal court without resort to taxation.

The Paramountcy of Joyi: The other major outgrowth of Celmean power inland form the Broken Coast, the Paramountcy is a new and intentional creation – stabilizing trade routs upriver and overland to the increasingly valuable mountains to the north. Originally the scheme was to subsidize and glorify some chieftains near the waystations and trading posts on the route – but, in the sort of luck that you usually get for praying to archdemons, one of the chiefs chosen had ambitions of his own, and has used the sponsorship and support to conquer vast swathes of the region, and been recognized as ‘paramount chief’ by his allies for his efforts. The partnership is undeniably mutually profitable, though both parties are certain the other will betray them at a moment’s notice.

#writing #worldbuilding #abhari #this is theoretically a writing blog

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sparkwell · 5 years ago

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I thought I might include a little about the mechagnomes as a people, where we came from and how we came to be part of the alliance!

Origins

The mechagnomes were created by Mimiron (also referred to as "The Grand Architect") within Ulduar, apparently as servants and caretakers much like the earthen. When their creator was struck down by the corrupted Keeper Loken, the mechagnomes scrambled to save his fading soul by transplanting it upon a giant mechagnome body, though they could do nothing to help his deteriorated mental state. Alongside the earthen, a number of mechagnomes left Ulduar and became caretakers of the facility of Uldaman.

Like the rest of the titan-forged, the mechagnomes were struck with Yogg-Saron's Curse of Flesh, though the ones at Northrend appear to have been unaffected. The mechagnomes of Uldaman, however, suffered the full blunt of the Curse 3,000 years in the past, where they degenerated into fleshy beings which would later become simply known as gnomes. Physically and mentally debilitated, these creatures lost all sense of purpose, abandoning the halls of Uldaman and fleeing into the surrounding caverns and mountain peaks. Only a handful of mechagnomes remained in the facility, still driven by their titan-forged imperative.

Traits*

Mechagnomes are immortal. This does not mean they are invulnerable, just that they can't die from aging. They can, however, malfunction. When they do, they require someone else to repair them. Additionally, mechagnomes can be taken apart without being permanently damaged (as long as they are put back together properly).

Matching their appearance, mechagnomes act very robot-like; their behavior is marked by a pragmatic, objective and sometimes commanding way of thinking, and they seem to have a habit of meticulously analyzing their surroundings." While this trait often may seem odd to the mortal races, it often makes it very easy to understand mechagnomes and pick up the information they give. When performing an action or a choice, mechagnomes often utter their reasoning out loud. From what they are saying, the minds of mechagnomes are clearly much similar to a computer-program, processing variables and executing commands.

Now...one thing to keep in mind is that Mechagnomes now have changed a little bit over the years, following the effects of the Curse of Flesh, especially those that were cut off from Mimiron for as long as they were. The ones Sparkwell comes from are from the Rustbolt Resistance, an area on the island of Mechagon, within Kul Tiras.

As the opening statement made by Prince Erazmin states: We mechagnomes spent years in isolation, tirelessly enhancing our bodies and minds. But this relentless quest for perfection nearly brought us to ruin. Now we realize that balance is the key to happiness. We can improve ourselves without losing our individuality in the process. It is time to leave Mechagon and rejoin our gnomish cousins. Together we will forge a brighter future. For the Alliance!

History

Long ago, a faction of zealous gnomes set out on a quest to improve their bodies and minds. Settling on the isolated isle of Mechagon, they experimented with ancient technology to reverse the Curse of Flesh and become living machines. After facing the perils of full mechanization, they found the ideal balance between flesh and steel. Now reunited with their gnomish cousins, the mechagnomes bring both tenacity and ingenuity to the Alliance.

The mechagnomes seek a balance between flesh and steel. Emerging from years of isolation on Mechagon, they bring both ingenuity and aptitude to the Alliance.

They left Gnomeregan to construct a metal metropolis, Mechagon. However, their once wise and ambitious ruler King Mechagon now ruthlessly rules over them with an iron fist.

Now that the Mechagnomes have joined the Alliance, who knows what’s going to happen!

#Sparkwell #mechagnome #world of warcraft #battle for azeroth

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mortyandcarlsbespokesalvage · 5 years ago

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Day 2 Sequence 0

Oh you Nameless!

You, children of the world outside of time. You, forgotten subjects of Kings long gone.

Stay but a while, and be welcome.

No mere beasts of land or sea or air are you. No mere sprites of elemental chaos!

You are our brothers!

You who toil here alongside us. You who sweat and burn under the same sun, the same sky!

Are you not also children of the Great Storm?

Stand with us! Let us make our stand upon this cast off, forgotten isle.

Let us make a New World!

Attributed to Shakeer Matumla, at the ceremony of ground-breaking of the temple of the Four Kings.

Year 0, of the New Common Era.

****

To the reader,

It may be to your further benefit, to provide you with some grounding in the social fabric of the city beyond this archive. A vital point of clarification that may be helpful to you, is that in Artisan, humanity may not be as you know it. Phenotypes within the same human genus remain within a single classification. Ergo, the Oruk, Gobbish, Dwarphen, Elvan, Bestal, Iowan, and other peoples, are merely ethnic subgroups of humans that have mixed among one another for generations in the city.

****

The dawning sun rose into a clear sky, shining over city and glinting off the Barrier Wall like a blinding beacon across the far horizon. The Wall towered over the city, its bronzed, coppery surface rising a thousand feet towards the sky, and casting a long shadow over the inner ring. In the early morning mist, the curved, circling wall filled like a colander, vents slowly steaming as the fans pushed the cloudy air from the inner ring to the outer rim and the sky beyond.

For three hundred years since its emergence, the wall has shielded the inner ring from the wind and waves of hurricanes and ruinstorms. Its emergence yet another of the city’s mysteries. Three centuries past, the founders of the city of Artisan prepared for the worst as a grand wave appeared from the south, poised to wipe the city clear of its people. As all gathered inland, scrambling and in panicked distress, a deafening klaxon sounded from the citadel, and the earth shook as the wall, once thought a highway around the city, pushed up through the piled jetsam and arose, roaring into the air. The wave broke hard against the wall, flowing swiftly around the shielded inner ring.

Generations hence, the Wall still shields the city proper. Piled against it are mountains of scrap, pushed from across the island into three massive Yards that encircle the inner ring. Only the Three Ports persist outside its protective embrace, gambling against the mercurial odds of another great wave.

Within the Wall itself are the domains of the protectors and stewards of Artisan. The precincts of the Artisan Sanitation Enforcement Corps (A.S.E.C) and the Artisan Mechanical Engineering Corps (A.M.E.C). Each corps with its own vital contribution to the maintaining of a city in constant need. Artisan is alive, in a thousand different ways; the vibrant colors of its people and their crafts, the lush gardens of its high towers, the surging life of its waterways. But the city is dangerous; the beasts of the lower Undercity, the behemoths of the Deep-Down, and the shifting lifelines of the city itself.

If the Department of Sanitation acts as a bulwark against the monstrous terrors below, then the Engineering Corps are the stewards of the precocious landscape above. Artisan has power, water, and natural gas for a thousand years and more, but none of it given freely. The city as it stands, its towers and streets, were grafted by the founders onto the Citadel and shifting plates of the floor of the inner ring. An entire grid of utilities, built atop, around, and spreading from a powerful beating heart of unknown providence.

Perhaps then it is fitting that the price paid for this plentiful bounty, is that the lines of water and power and fuel, like wild vines, must be carefully pruned and realigned whenever they shift or grow outside their bounds.These departments of Sanitation and Engineering are the glue that holds Artisan together, the soul of the Barrier Wall.

****

The main street of Southport was broad. Wide enough for a pair of Heavy Sweepers to pass through with their attendant squads at full spread. It shot like a ray from the Barrier Wall, meeting the base at the massive South Gate, and continuing through Southport to the harbor. The morning mist was thick, cascading down the Wall, and billowing over and through the Port and the surrounding Yards. The gate had opened before dawn, time for fishmongers and merchants to pass through on their way to the markets of the Inner Ring. Squads of Trashmen and Engineers from the nearby precincts had passed through the gate and begun to assess damages in the dark hours, taking statements about both the storm, and the artillery damage. The streets were still marred by craters from the previous day’s attack, and the Heavy Sweepers and repair teams of the Engineering Corps would not arrive until after the assessments were complete.

Raven stood in the morning mist, the colossal South Gate towering before him. He could still smell the sea air and feel the winds of Southport at his back, he felt the rising sun burning away the lingering fog and heating up the day.

He was going home. It was a relief, but also strangely sad; like he’d come to the end of some adventure. Like nothing was going to be the same…. What was he getting so mushy about? It had only been a day! A long, busy day, sure, but a day nonetheless. He turned back to look down the road to the harbor, just a mile away. The sea was still there, blue green and vast beyond reckoning. Looking up from it he saw the open sky, uncluttered by the towering buildings of his home borough, or the long, deep shadow of the Barrier Wall. He felt the slightest of pulls, somewhere deep in his gut. Thinking of the people who had bought him drinks and cheered him, the people who had worked and fought so hard for their homes… he would have to come back. And it was not even that far? Now that he thought of it, he had never ventured beyond the Southwest Quarter where he and Abby had grown up. Never crossed the Southern Spoke. It had never occurred to him. And was it that unusual? There were plenty of people in the Old Quarter who never left it. But was that going to be him?

“Kid. You awake there?” Carlos’ question stirred Raven back to the world like a prod in the ribs. That’s right. He had to get back to the Third Precinct and report on the old man and the Walkers. He had to see if Cortez was alright. His thoughts again veered to reflection as he stepped forward. Beyond the wall was so different. How had he never heard of the Griefers? And he still did not understand why Marie had talked about them the way that she had. He would ask the Chief about it once things were settled, he decided as he strode towards the massive gate.

Raven had been woken that morning by Carlos, who had shushed him as they had navigated through the unconscious patrons and towards the door. Some ways down the road they had been joined by Marie, who had appeared at their side on a motorcycle drawn rickshaw with “Fortuna’s” painted on the side. How had she managed to appear so abruptly riding something so loud? How half awake had he been to have missed that engine?

She dismounted and began walking the bike alongside them. Raven moved to help but Marie grinned like his Captain again, like she was going to bite part of him off. “Gotta restock after a party like that!” She had said with a smile. And that was that.

The three of them approached the Gate. They passed several Trashmen as they entered the dark of the Barrier Wall. The Trashmen had been surprised to say the least to see Raven in his battered Sweeper Armor coming in from the Outer Rim. One had begun to open his mouth when Raven interrupted, frantically asking to use their radio. They obliged.

Raven was fit to burst with anxiety. With his heart in his throat, he called in. “Ahem, this is Sweeper Raven Daniels. Squad 13 Trash Panda. I,hm, I’ve been separated from my Squad. Has anyone from Trash Panda made it back to the Precinct?... Over?”

Static. And then…

“Daniels?” asked an incredulous voice. “You- you’re listed MIA, presumed deceased! Good to hear that isn’t the case! Over.”

“Yes, um, thank you? I washed up in the Outer Rim. I’m just now getting in through the South Gate and am enroute to Precinct 3 to report. Is Commander Hobbs going to be available at all, today?” Raven choked down his excitement; Carlos had at least taught him that it wouldn’t do to go off like he’d been drinking with the merpeople in the canals. A little restraint would be wise. A little less panic. Even if he was panicking. Just a little. “Some of my report, well, it’s better if he hears it sooner rather than later. Over.”

“We’ll pass along the request asap, Sweeper Daniels. For now, just get back to your precinct. Over.”

“Thank you, … um,over.” Raven breathed. He’d just have to hope Hobbs would see him today. He didn’t know how much longer his news could wait. He thanked the Trashmen for their radio, then returned to Carlos and Marie. They’d stayed with him, standing a few feet away to give him privacy, but they were watching him and Raven could tell by their glower and smile respectively that they’d been talking about him.

“Got that squared away?” Carlos asked with a raised eyebrow.

“That was very nicely put. I’m sure if you keep your cool just like that, they will take you very seriously when you give your report.” Marie nodded with apparent satisfaction. Raven felt comforted… but also patronized? Like she was about to offer him a sticker for keeping his bunk tidy.

Nevertheless, he felt a measurable decrease in his tension. His message delivered, Raven resumed walking. The South Gate passed through the Barrier Wall, across the bridge that spanned the seemingly bottomless chasm below the wall. He spared a glance for the abyss. Only a day before, he had stood on a platform, being lowered into the Deep-Down. Even that deep, he still hadn’t seen the bottom. And then, with a few more steps, they were in the Inner Ring.

All at once, Raven could smell the rich, sweet air of the Inner Ring. Its many blended scents of food and worship and industry came together to form a smoky, fragrant musk, that was altogether different from the salt air of Southport. He had never noticed before just how thick the air was in the city he had always called home. Raven had missed it. But, he realised with a twinge of regret, he’d miss the sea air as well. He would visit. He had to.

Carlos and Marie were being awfully quiet, he realized suddenly. He spun swiftly to look at them. Marie was smiling benignly at him. Carlos was very pointedly looking at the road. He noticed Raven’s narrowed gaze and acknowledged it with a mild eye roll. “You’re certainly set on chasing down this guy, aren’t you?”

“Of course!” Raven struggled to understand why this was even a question. “I know what I saw was unbelievable, but it’s true. It’s happening right now, and even if I don’t understand...most of it, I can recognize that this has the potential to put everyone in danger. I have a responsibility to, to at least tell people about that danger. Even if that lands up being all I can do.”

“And if they don’t believe you,” Carlos asked leadingly.

“I’ll make them,” Raven said.

“And when that fails,” Carlos said.

“Then I’ll go down there and stop him myself if I have to!” … Raven stopped, considering his own words. He caught himself looking away for just a moment, but quickly returned his gaze to Carlos, who seemed to be regarding him carefully.

Finally, Carlos said, “you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“This is my home. It’s in danger. I’m probably gonna die from it anyway and I’d rather do so on my feet, helping.”

Carlos considered him, then threw his head back and groaned. “Four Kings, Kid. You’re something else.” The older man seemed to shift through a series of emotions as he looked down, shaking his head, scowled at Raven, then looked away to hide a half smile. “You, Kid, had better hope you didn’t use up all your luck getting washed down the right storm drain.”

They had come to a stop in the middle of the road. Raven was vaguely aware of traffic moving around them, the influx of morning merchants and refugees making their way into the city, but he was waiting for the old man. Somehow, he knew, this was important.

Carlos looked Raven squarely in the eye. “You’re set on this.” It was not a question. “May the Great, the Strong, the Wise, and the Just watch your back, Kid.”

Raven stood agape for a moment, then smiled toothily. “You take care of yourself too, .. Pops”

“Pops?!” Who are you calling ‘Pops?’” Carlos snorted.

“Would you rather I called you ‘Old Man’?” Raven laughed.

“Hey, HEY! I’m 37, dammit,” Carlos snapped. Marie chortled behind him. “I’m not old,” he said in a smaller voice, scowling. Marie exploded in laughter.

“Thanks for everything, Miss Fortuna. Bye, Pops!” Raven smiled as he waved, then turned towards the municipal entrance to the engineer’s stair and began his ascent into the heights of the Barrier Wall.

“You okay with letting him go like this, Carl?” Marie said quietly as they watched Raven make his way up the stairway and out of their sight.

Carlos’ face was somber. Contemplative. “Kid has to do his own growing up.” He said flatly. “You alright with your inquiries today?”

“We shall see!” She grinned. Her smile faded. “If a Mercer Consortium foreman has been making new friends inside the ring, then they’ll be outside the normal movements. I just need to find out who’s been breaking routine, and we can go from there.”

Carlos nodded. “Just you -”

“I’ll be discreet!” She smiled again. “Honestly, that boy has you worrying all over, hasn’t he?”

“I always worry.” Carlos growled. Then he looked back over his shoulder after Raven. The young sweeper had vanished into the heights. “Seems these days I just have more urgent things to worry about. I have a stop to make, then I have to go see Henrie. Meet you at the Tower when you’re done?”

Marie nodded. “You mentioned that last night. You said it could be related to Raven’s story about the man controlling walkers?” She looked worried. “Then you be careful too.”

Carlos nodded and started walking. He could hear Marie’s engine as it faded into the distance. She was right. He was worried. He had a lot to worry about right now. And it was already looking to be a long day ahead.

#Arpage #Children of the Storm #raven daniels #Carlos Desocrates #marie fortuna #that's a big wall

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grillpartsfactory-blog · 7 years ago

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vixieevox · 5 years ago

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The Grand Rebranding

There were only twenty minutes before noon, and for the first time in months, I was afraid.

It wasn’t the kind of fear that you might feel if you were facing down a pack of geists while waist-deep in snow. For a warrior trade princess like me, that was just another weekday. It wasn’t the fear that some might feel when facing down someone much larger than them in a hand to hand duel, that was just life as a goblin. It wasn’t even the fear of being penniless since I had hit rock bottom before and dragged myself out of it by my thumbs and could do so again if need be.

I was afraid that my fiancee was going to be late for the biggest day of my life.

I know that sounds selfish, but you have to understand. The plan was months in the making and it’s the biggest gift a goblin could ever give to another.

If Pexi had read the note I left by the steak omelet I cooked for her before heading out, she’d have found a simple message that said “I need you in Bilgewater today at noon. Just go to Shatt and talk to the Draenei named Boorus, he’ll tell you what happens next.” The note shouldn’t have been missed since it was black bold letters on ugly gold paper. The directions should have been clear enough that even if Pexi got distracted, she wouldn’t forget it. I love my fiancee, but she’s not the smartest Troblin on Azeroth. Anyway, after she talked to Boorus, he would teleport her to Orgrimmar where one of my flight-boys would give her a chaperoned ride to Bilgewater isle, that I had rented for the morning and early afternoon for today’s announcement, that my parent company was a rebranding.

No longer would Vixiee Bootsguard be the owner of Bootsguard Productions, she’d be the co-owner of Fiercefuel Fabrications. Same business but named after my fiancee.

I pictured that she would see the brand new sign and marquee that I had secretly designed over the past few weeks and would turn all sorts of shades of red, rush the stage, tackle me, and kiss me until she realized we were making out on stage. We’d have a laugh, mingle, and slip away for some private dining on the Y.A.C.H.T. that I had built and hidden in the Bilgewater warehouses for the day.

But here I was, about to have to make the announcements with the real star of the show nowhere to be seen. If I had to be honest, I was about five seconds from crying. I wanted to cancel the event, tell everyone to take all the snacks and drinks as an apology, and just hide in a room and bawl my eyes out.

But I couldn’t.

See, I’m a trade princess and the world’s strongest woman. So publicly, I have to always be in control. I have to look the part of a proud leader who would never be phased by anything. I wanted to be just like my hero Gazlowe and be honorable and good to my people except for way stronger and more successful. How could I do that if everyone saw me snotting all over the blue sequined dress that I had ordered custom woven from a Silvermoon tailor? It’d be the biggest scandal as one of the new trade princesses on the scene broke down. Even with the recent cooperation deal, I struck with Steamwheedle, I can just see that affecting business deals until the next big scandal drew eyes away from me.

So I had to go through with the rebranding…no matter what.

I shook off the feelings that made my heart hurt and sashayed my way up to the podium in front of the tarp-covered marquee. Every step was graceful, with my thighs slipping out from the slit just enough to draw eyes from the fellas and ladies that fancied amazons like me. My lips were curled in a winning smile and my purple eyes shined reflecting the carefully positioned stage lights and fireworks that heralded my appearance. The band I hired to play Kezan show tunes blared their horns and banged their drums, matching my pace and the sway of my hips.

I’ll admit it was vain as all hell, but when you look as good as me, you can show off at least a little.

Flikk, the MC I hired for the event smiled and shook my hand before the younger goblin turned towards the crowd.

“Yeah, you’re right boss! Enough ‘bout the sandwiches! Let’s give a round of applause to Trade Princess Bootsguard!” Flikk said before leaving me alone on the stage.

I winked at Flikk then grabbed the edges of the podium for support as I scanned the crowd to see if I somehow missed my blue-haired love. I winked at guests as I met their eyes and tapped my skull-shaped hairpin when I saw one of my fans showing off her limited edition recreation. I even feigned a blush when the orc in the back blew me a kiss.

But no sign of Pexi.

I don’t know how I kept the smile on my face, but the show must go on.

“Ok ok fellas,” I said, “I’m happy you are all here but let’s get this show on the road.”

I paused and waited for the whoopin’ and hollering to die down.

Someone in the back coughed and I think someone had gotten drunk on volcano punch and set something on fire when I heard a scream and the distant smell of burnt hair. Someone shouted about the Samoflange. It was good to be home again.

“Three years ago, I opened up my first solo operation,” I said, “Bootsguard productions were always about brand name adventurin’ goods so you could fight bad guys or delve in tombs in style. The devices I made were also a hit, includin’ the Bootsguard Body Blocker Electro Shield. Nevah thought I’d be a trade princess, but careful savings, smart investin’, and bein’ a badass princess like me makes it easy, especially with the help of every one of ya.”

I meant it too. Unlike Gally-bag-of-dix or other losers like him, I cared about the people that worked for me. I didn’t know everyone by name, but I don’t think a single person at that event doubted that I would have jumped to their defense against anything and everyone. I was truly the denmom for this cartel and I loved it.

“But,” I said “there comes a time when a rebrandin’ is in order. And that’s what we’re here for today to announce that—”

I heard a whipping sound and a sheer whistling sound. My ears flicked as I tried to pinpoint the source. The crowd heard it as well, as most the goblins and others there turned and murmured to see what was going on.

The sound was closer then. The whipping sound was a gyrocopter blade chopping through the air and the whistling sound was a familiar voice shouting from the horizon.

“….waaaaAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIT!”

I have to admit, my heart leaped into my throat and I felt like I had to cry. This time, it wasn’t out of frustration or disappointment. It was from the voice of my Fiancee as she clung for dear life on the landing bar of the gyrocopter while the pilot was navigating the burning sparking thing towards the island. I had a ton of questions about what exactly happened to make the thing spark and sputter like that, but I didn’t care at the time. Pexi was there at the nick of time.

As the Gyrocopter reached the island, Pexi threw herself from the burning sparking machine as the pilot swung it around for an emergency landing on the P.I.L.L.O.W. that deployed whenever scanners detected a crashing ship nearing the island. So basically about seven times a day.

“YEEEEEET” shouted Pexi as she activated her rocket boots to try for a safe landing inside of the gathered group.

The guests screamed and shouted as they made way for the troblin expecting the larger woman to crash in on them and break an arm; hers or someone else's. But I stayed still since I designed her propulsion system myself and knew about the para-soles deployment system that would make a perfectly soft and safe landing.

“Hey, doll! Ya made it!” I said to Pexi.

Pexi landed with a soft pat on the earth, her face red and sweating.

“Heya babe,” Pexi said, “Sorry I’m late. The ship had to get repairs since a bear slapped it when we were flying too low and we had to take out the passenger seats so that it could fly again and…”

I raised my hand and shook my head to quiet her. I loved my fiancee, but if I didn’t stop her, she’d explain every minute of the journey and we were already behind schedule.

“Don’t worry about it”, I said as my guests returned to their places, “You’re just in time.”

“In time for what?” Pexi asked.

I smiled at her and sashayed to a rope that trailed down from the tarp that covered the marquee.

“Hey, stop droolin’ at my fiancee”, Pexi said. I heard her slap someone in the back of the head and giggled. I don’t know who she caught, but they had to know better. This princess belonged only to Pexi. Lookin’ was free, but so was head slaps if she caught them.

I ignored the slap and turned around.

“Well doll, I said I was gonna give you the ultimate wedding gift. So…I’ll has to think of something else since our weddin’ is delayed. So call this a ‘cause you mean the world to me’ gift instead.” I said.

I jerked the rope and the tarp rolled off the marquee.

The sign was a flashing neon thing powered by my own eco-friendly pneumatics pumps. It featured Pexi and my faces with an arm outstretched welcoming visitors to whatever building we hung it over. Our faces dangled over the left side of the words “Fiercefuel Fabrications”, with my mascot, the mouse Bullion sleeping inside of the o. The S had a pair of tiny troll tusks sticking out of it to represent half of my fiancee’s parentage, while a pair of bombs dangled beneath, representing that the co-owners were a pair of bombshells.

I waited for Pexi to take it all in, then looked at her with a cheeky smile.

“So doll, what do ya thi—”

Pexi cut me off by leaping over the podium and tackling me to the ground for a big smoochin’ session.

Maybe this plan didn’t go wrong after all.

#goblins #goblin #fanfiction #World of Warcraft

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shellheadtmarc · 6 years ago

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actually, because i really need to finish my new theme and need new verse blurbs, here’s a more in depth look at my current/in-use verses, with links to full writeups as available.

mcu: this is boilerplate. i’m a canon tony, this is a canon verse. follows the events from iron man through infinity war for the moment, including the tie-in comics iron man 2: public identity, iron man 2: agents of shield, iron man: the coming of the melter, iron man 3 prelude, marvel’s avengers: age of ultron prelude - the scepter’d isle, marvel’s captain america: civil war prelude infinite, marvel’s avengers: infinity war prelude, and marvel’s avengers: endgame prelude. also includes the post-iron man 3 short about the mandarin. everything not covered/discussed in mcu canon is plugged with 616 continuity canon.

616: what it says on the tin. covers most of the runs from about 2008-present, including the new tony stark: iron man, against my greater judgment, though that may change in the future if it keeps tanking in story. in reality, this actually covers everything post-heroes reborn, but to make it simple we’ll say it’s wibbly wobbly because comics. also includes heavy snippets still in play from classic invincible iron man.

classic: from his first appearances in tales of suspense up to the inception of heroes reborn. or, if you prefer, original flavor tony stark, the cool suave businessman with the aloof nature, party boy ways, and injured heart, reliant on his rechargeable chest piece, as he also has a double identity as the golden avenger known as iron man. poses as his own bodyguard. jetsetter. people love or hate him, but most want to be him. if only they knew how much his bum ticker isolated him. a ton of fridged girlfriends. later physical ailments include: paralysis from the waist down. degenerative nervous system. a cranky ticker more than you can shake a stick at. literally dying and being cryogenically frozen.

616 meets mcu: this covers any time comicverse tony is thrown at mcu versions of the people he knows. things to note include being taller. he has blue eyes. his tech is more advanced. his speech patterns differ heavily. recovering alcoholic, coffee is fine no matter how shitty it is. he has more years as a superhero under his belt at this point. his fears and points of stress differ from mcu tony’s quite a bit, and his reactions are different. he and pepper are barely on speaking terms (generously speaking). he’s different, and it’s obvious he’s different.

broke: mcu-based verse that includes corporate espionage and tony stark having to keep his head down and learning to live under the table paycheck to under the table paycheck until he can muster what he needs to make a frontal assault on regaining what’s rightly his. a verse where tony’s at his absolute lowest, still determined to retain the phoenix metaphor and rise from the ashes of the misfortune thrust upon him.

superior iron man: hiding the fact that he’s still under the scarlet witch’s inversion spell, tony goes full tilt diva, his main concerns being money, power, and fame. he starts drinking again. he makes san francisco his own personal big brother state, where he watches the city like a hawk by day while shilling extremis as a beauty enhancer, and parties like it’s 1999 at his new home on alcatraz island by night. is still iron man, as long as there’s something in it for him. will partially be at fault for the destruction of the 616 universe (it gets better).

hypervelocity: tony’s attacked in his own lab by the mind-emulationware mechs known as “beautiful garbage”, and his newest iteration of the iron man suit forced an upload or a copy of his brain patterns to get him out of there. the wetware is damaged, and the suit dumps it before it bleeds out in the suit cavity, and thus that suit, with the ability to walk, talk, and think exactly like tony stark (albeit full of bugs) is born, to unravel the mystery of the attack and attempt to stop the emulation program that caused it.

ai: after being punched into a literal coma during a battle with captain marvel/carol danvers over the fate of miles morales and concerning an inhuman by the name of odysseus’s increasingly violent visions of the future, and with even hank mccoy being afraid to even draw blood on tony after seeing what tony’s been doing to himself over the years, tony’s ai comes online, as a mentor to riri williams/ironheart and to help against the clone captain america with those of the mount. he’s twice as sassy with quadruple the processing speed, and he’s got some weird feelings about being the recreated consciousness of a living person suddenly finding itself with no physical body.

noir: a businessman who likes to play adventurer for a men’s magazine, along with his best friend james rhodes and their new reporter pepper potts, writing under a male pseudonym, tony stark on the surface has it all in the late 1930s. beautiful women, exciting adventures, and loads of money. but all it does is hide his desperate search for a cure for his dying heart, as he’s forced to wear a metal chest piece that has to be charged frequently to even keep himself alive.

director of shield: mcu-based version of tony’s time as the director of shield. after everything that occurs after captain america: the winter soldier, and the fall of shield, an attempt is made to resurrect it with tony stark at the helm as fury’s replacement (hand-picked). he stresses transparency, he stresses equality, and most of all, he just wants to find a way to balance being iron man with having to deal with the day-to-day bullshit of international bureaucracy.

sorcerer supreme: based on the 90s “what if?” one shot comic. tony was the cause of the accident that injured stephen strange’s hands, and, feeling supremely guilty about the entire thing, searches for ways to give stephen his dexterity and life back. it leads him to becoming the sorcerer supreme, despite that inherent dislike of magic he has, and he combines the iron man technology with the mystical forces he gains a hold over in that quest for a cure.

guardians of the galaxy: mcu flavor for tony’s time as an active gotg. after civil war, on a break with pepper, and feeling about as great about things as someone laying facedown in a gutter possibly can, tony puts his mobile armory into space, tinkers together a suit for deep space exploration, and takes off, losing himself for a while among the stars. threat is going to come from there, sure, but there’s going to be opportunity, as well. it’s a useful thing to find out who’s friend, and who’s foe, and see what there is to see in the black expanses of space.

supernatural: the other family business. being a founder of shield and everything he took to his grave wasn’t the only secret he was keeping, and this was one maria was in on as well. too bad tony doesn’t stumble across it until after he’s already become iron man, where saving the world is so tied into his moral code he can’t look away. if he goes missing for a few days, it’s fine, it’s chill. he’s just taking a breather, not poking around at things he only still half-believes in even when he’s seen them with his own two eyes. the biggest skeptic hunter you’ll ever meet.

fallout prewar: mcu continuity up to the beginning of iron man 3, against fallout’s prewar as a backdrop. tony stark is who he is, he does what he does, but he also is someone certain government agencies would love to tear down, because he’s a rabble rouser against the war, and has no problem hogging the iron man technology for himself instead of sharing with the military. he also has no problem sharing the dirty secrets he finds out with the press. full write up can be found here.

fallout new vegas: tony as the infamous courier six. left in stasis in a vault in california, tony comes to years and years after the devastation of the bombs to a world vastly changed from the one he remembers, and in a vault full of ghouls. once topside, and once reoriented into the world, he ends up something of a jack of all trades until he takes that fateful job with the mojave express, and gets two to the head for his trouble. independent path with the yes-man aligned ending, details of choices and all dlcs available as needed until i get off my ass and do a full replaythrough and write up. keeps the spine from big mt, but his heart and brain are back where they belong. locked elijah in the vault. nuke launch stopped (ed-e repaired after). evacuated the sorrows.

fallout 4 sole survivor: still needs a full write up, but tony as the sole survivor. does not take the shock at the change in the world well at first. eventually pulls his shit together enough to get shit done, but can’t touch a suit, can’t think about the suit, will take some time to even toy with the idea of possibly touching a suit again before he actually can. minutemen and railroad aligned, destroys the bos and institute. peaceful ending with all far harbor factions. spares the mechanist. destroys the raiders at nuka world and turns the parks over to the minutemen. question information as needed until i get a full write up done.

fallout 4 companion: tony’s been in new york since the bombs dropped. there are huge chunks of it that are still uninhabitable, much like boston’s glowing sea, but the parts that are? he’s started on a grand rebuilding project, because he’s got nothing but time: the arc reactor’s kept his heart pumping well past its expiration date. when the bos slow rolls past new york, he follows them into boston, mostly because he’s paranoid and cagey (with good reason in the wasteland) and partially out of curiosity. available as a companion for sole survivors, some restrictions apply, please see this write up for more details.

fallout 76 dweller: locked up with a bunch of other big brains after the bombs, tony’s that guy. you know. the one you read about in the terminal. the one that kept hacking things. once topside again, he sheds that vault tec blue and yellow as quickly as he can and sees about setting things right. a member of the responders. a mole in [redacted]. fire breather. rebuilding the world has to start somewhere, so it might as well be west virginia.

dwemer: the last surviving dwemer, finally peeking his head out of his lab in its pocket plane of oblivion to find the nords are at it again, dragons are still doing their thing, his people have just flat out vanished, and that skyrim is still cold as balls. often gets mistaken as a very tall bosmer. still calls the dunmer the chimer out of sheer smartassedness. swung on rolf in windhelm and ends up in jail more times than you can shake a stick at.

single parent au: handed off a baby under some shady as hell circumstances, unable to find out anything and secretly glad he can’t find out anything about her in the end, tony pulls some strings and sophie stark ends up hitting the jackpot as far as adoptive parents go. tony had thought just being iron man was hard, but now he’s balancing ballet practice and pta meetings with saving the world.

#⚛ (array: verse info)#long post

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michiganandback · 7 years ago

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Aug 6 AM – Aug 7 AM

We broke Camp early and headed over to the glass bottom boat tour to wrecks in Lake Superior, actually the Bay of Munising the cruise was interesting, if not exciting. We saw to ship wrecks, one an ore hauler that got stranded on a shallow shelf and a salt ship carrying table salt. The ore ship was hauled out of the shipping lanes and scuttled. Several years later a Canadian company salvages the ore which was worth millions. The salt ship had been taking on water so the captain put in to harbor for repairs the next morning. When he and the first mate got up, the ship was gone. They found it in ab0ut 60’ feet of water. It had floated away from the dock and when it sank so fast, it blew the main cabin right off the deck. That’s why they didn’t see where the ship had sunk right away. Three crew men died, but they did recover the bodies. We met Jim, retired combat engineer in the Marines and Dorothy a pediatric urologist nurse who are traveling with their two grandsons for a short trip out of Lansing. Dorothy is also a flute player so she and Elizabeth had something to talk about. Jim works for Black & Veatch, a huge Consulting Engineer firm, as a project engineer overseeing water and wastewater treatment plant construction and repairs. Talk about coincidences, that's what I did when I got out of college. I didn't get to go into the combat engineers when I was drafted because I was too blind. We saw some interesting sites other than the wreck of two ships, which included a nesting bald eagle, some old summer homes on Grand Island and more rock formations. Jim and Dorothy told us about some other sites that were must do's. One was a spring about an hour south of us in a state park that created a 45 foot deep, 45 degree temperature pool for the last hundred years or so. It was very interesting they had 3 foot 20 lb + Lake Trout floating around in the pool. They bring the fish into appeal to the tourist. The trout are 12 to 14 years old and past the reproducing age so they are brought in from the fish hatchery nearby to live out the rest of their lives. They also told us about a place we're going to see in a week or so at the end of the tunnel of trees Road called the Legs Inn. It has one of the largest Bloody Mary’s in the land. Ironically, when we were in the Line to see the springs, a couple in line us and another group told us we should see the same things. They also told us some of the roads we will be driving on after the reunion to get home are very busy touristy areas. We might go back inland instead of taking the scenic route. We found a nice inexpensive campground run by Pat and her daughter Loretta. Pat’s a feisty 77 year old who was out mowing her grass after 7:30. The office is in a 110 year old barn that has logs for the ground floor, cut my two young men, allegedly, and then stacked up with cement around them. I don't think the ceilings are over 7 feet tall. A couple from Chicago who now live in Wisconsin walked by and we talked to Bill and Regina for about an hour. He spent 6 years in the Marine Corps from 1980 to 1986 and is now a firefighter paramedic. After 911, the Marine Corps called him back to active duty even though he was not in the active Reserves. It was a voluntary return for him and he almost has enough points to get his retirement. He had some interesting stories and Regina is a retired software engineer and trainer. They now live in their motor home most of the time. They also had a Mercedes Sprinter and he had some very good fixes for the instability of the vehicle rocking back and forth on bumpy roads and to improve the comfort. Both things I can do myself, if I choose to after buying the parts online. The pictures you see below I think will be interesting and we hope you're still enjoying the blog. It is early morning August 7th as I write this. Later, we continue onward toward the Keweenaw peninsula and our trip to the Isle Royale National Park.

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ourxcountryadventure · 4 years ago

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July 26, 2021: Un Jour des Brises Bises

Today we were hopeful to get a spot to go whale watching, but as we are last minute kind of people there was not availability for all three of us to go (Mom and Dad opted out when they saw the picture of the zodiac boat). We didn’t let that get us down and in the words of Doug Ford we « made a pivot » and decided to explore National Park Florillon a bit in the morning. The Park is a beautiful part of the world to be sure. There are cliffs and beaches and forests. We visited the Visitors Centre and went in search of our first red chair of the trip with a walk along the beach and then the boardwalk. Unfortunately we didn’t walk quite far enough and so it was Red Chairs 1 and Jane/Syl 0. We then went on to Grande Grave which is a « site patrimonial » with Hyman’s Store and the Blanchette House (some of Sylvin’s ancestors). We took some time to visit the museum in the store which was a replica of what it would have been like in 1920 according to the store’s ledger of the time, and found a couple of red chairs!! We walked out on the pier and took in the beautiful vista. We learned that the park had been created in 1970 and in order to do so, the federal government expropriated land from the residents many of whom were fisherman farmers and had immigrated from Ireland and the Isle of Guernsey. According to the Park Interpreter, it was quite controversial at the time (I can well imagine!).

Our stomaches started to rumble and Dad was intent on Fish and Chips. A quick search of the best in Gaspé led us downtown Gaspé to Brise Bise (Gentle Breeze) and a lovely lunch of fish and chips with a yummy salad - honestly the BEST dressing ever. We went for a little drive around town that is approximately the size of Lindsay although with a greater area and so the density is not the same. We stopped to see the Christ le Roi Cathedral de Gaspé, which is the only completely wooden cathedral in North America and was built in 1968-1969 in a “shed style”. It is perhaps the ugliest church I have ever seen. No, scratch that, it IS THE UGLIEST church I have ever seen 😳.

The weather turned and the thunder started to roll and so we headed back to the campground for a wee rest and a game of Yahtzee.

Our campground is in need of a little TLC as the pictures will show. The infrastructure was all there at one point: stairs to the beach, 18 hole mini golf course, motel overlooking the Gaspé Bay but now all is crumbling and in need of repair. It served our purpose, however and the washrooms/shower rooms and laundry were clean and sufficient and the proximity to Gaspé was great.

Dinner was a chicken stir fry served over rice. We ended the day with what might have been the world’s most hopeless campfire but it gave lots of laughs! We finally gave up and went in the bed. It was another wonderful day.

😂Funny memory: Mom came to breakfast and shared that she watched a hopeless movie the night before in the trailer. She thought it « might have been porn » After we finished laughing at her we started to quiz her about what exactly she knew about porn...her face went red and she ended the conversation. BAHAHAHAHA.

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