#sajael

[thunderfell]

Spike

Construct 335 stuck her hands on her hips and cocked her head sassily. “So… we get names or what?” The Tinkerer threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. “You already have a name! Construct 335!” “That ain’t a name! It’s a number!” The Tinkerer covered his face with his hands. “None of your sisters have complained about their numbers!” He walked down the line of girls, gesturing flamboyantly. “Why do you have to be so willful? None of your sisters question my orders!” Construct 335 rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Some of ya’ll need to start speaking up or something. This is getting ridiculous.” Construct 334 looked at her sideways from under drooping eyelids. “Maybe if you shut up some more, things wouldn’t take so long.” 335 ran her hand through her hair, spiking it up, sighing audibly. The Tinkerer moved down the line again, pulling at his hair in frustration, muttering under his breath. “Twenty successes, only need four hundred eighty more… must perfect the formula… can’t afford any more mistakes.” He paused in his muttering to glance at one of the constructs at the far end line. Construct 350 was bent forward, leaning on a makeshift crutch, her legs twisted at a uncanny angle. The Tinkerer made a face and continued. 335’s expression darkened. “Feller ought to be proud of his own creations. Not her fault what happened. If anything its his.” 334 sighed. “I have found it unwise to provoke the Tinkerer. He could disassemble us.” 335 folded her arms. “One gnome against the twenty of us? We could take him.” The other construct leaned forward a bit to watch the gnome’s retreating form as he disappeared inside his makeshift workshop, leaving them all standing there. “If he doesn’t start leaving us like this for hours on end, I might start to agree with you.” 335 looked to her right to 336, whose lip was curled in disgust. “Doesn’t he know we’d like to sit down?” 335 shrugged. “Well, I’m sitting down. And I’m picking a name for myself.” She ran her hand through her red hair again, spiking it up. “Any ideas?” 336 grinned dangerously. “How about Spike?” Spike returned her grin crookedly.  “I like it.”

[thunderfell]

Spellforge

The Tinkerer worked in the dark of his workshop, the only light coming from the amber glow of the massive spellforge. His nimble fingers needed little light for the task at hand, however; he had done this too many times to count. Well, three hundred and forty four times, to be precise. This time would be different, though. He would succeed!

His small body bounced around the prone skeletal structure before him, gnomish eyes glittering down at his creation as he tightened the final screwbolts and set the final reactors in place. Finally finished, he stepped back to admire his handiwork, stroking his mustache with pride. She was perfect. Bouncing gleefully to the spellforge, he activated the conveyor belt and slowly brought his creation into position under the spigot. He rubbed his hands together with inordinate excitement as he reached up to release the molten fluid. What it was exactly he had never figured out. But the Plans had told him how to make it; and make it he had. The spigot coughed as he turned the crank, belching out a clump of vicious, glowing red liquid before letting it flow freely, slowly filling up the vat around the skeleton structure. The Tinkerer watched, eyes wide with excitement and impatience. This time, he’d have it! The perfect combination… his face turned pale as sparks began to fly out from the vat. Something was wrong! “No, no, no!” he cried, leaping to pull the emergency stop lever. But the lever came off in his hands. He threw it across the room in frustration, hurrying over to the other side of his blast wall in desperation. He had gotten everything right this time, hadn’t he? There wouldn’t be another explosion? Sparks continued to fly, and the spigot continued pouring in the fluid, the glowing red spilling over the sides of the vat as it overflowed. He thanked his lucky stars he had only filled up the spellforge with a few gallons extra. He couldn’t afford a repeat of Incident 15. It had taken weeks to clean up the mess. Fluid finally stopped pouring from the spigot and the spellforge whirred to a stop. At least he’d figured out how to make the thing stop. That had been Incident 23… The liquid in the vat bubbled. What? Had he succeeded, in spite of everything? Yes, there was something moving inside! Rising up, just now breaking the surface! He stepped from around his blast wall, lifting his clouded goggles from his soot-stained face in awe as Construct Number 345 sat up slowly from her liquid prison, red liquid streaming down her skin, glowing radiantly as her newly forged skin still simmered with heat. She turned to look at him demurely, and he nearly sank to his knees in excitement. But then there was one final eruption of sparks; and suddenly spiky red hair shot rebellious out of the restraining liquid. She cocked her head curiously at him. “Hey, mister! You gonna help me out of this, or what?” He sank to his knees anyways, but it wasn’t in awe at his work; rather, it was dismay. The Compliance Manifold must have blown… and with it, the Sass Suppressor!

[thunderfell]

Draenei Duesday

Because there isn’t actually a day of the week that starts with D. 

Anyways, having posted the start of a new series of character sketches and backstories two weeks, I proceeded to immediately dash off to Italy without a laptop, making large amounts of typing virtually impossible. Note-to-self: Don’t start new projects on the eve of Spring Break. 

But the goal is to post a series of backstory snippets for my main on Tuesdays, and for my most used alt on Saturdays. 

Darazar, a draenei death knight, is my main, and will be written about on “DraeneiDuesday,”, while Sajael, a human construct warrior, will be written about on “SajSaturday”

That’s the plan, anyway!