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03-15-2014, 09:14 PM
ULRIK & KIRCHOFF
Each point in space (and time) is associated with a vector that determines what force a moving charge would experience.
Each point in space (and time) is associated with a vector that determines what force a moving charge would experience.
Ulrik had missed out on quite the commotion in his brief absence. The stallion was never one to let anyone know where he was going anyway, and he had no rank or tie to hold him in one place for a prolonged period of time. While the Aurora Basin was still home, the Engineer still wandered from time to time, specifically to gather bits and pieces of what he would need for the machines. Illynx's idea to make two, massive sentinels at the narrow entrance was... simply perfection. He had sorely underestimated the mare, but he would never admit it to her face.
As he quietly strode into the fray, hearing his cousin, Torleik, give some speech about self-defense. Ulrik smirked and raised a brow, eager to see how that worked out. Some of these unicorns here were as lazy as they were fat, doing nothing but eating and sighing at the mention of work. Still, he had to give Torleik credit for trying of course, especially for how well rehearsed and heroic his recitation was.
On his way up, he had caught a few of Illynx's words - something about he and Farenjer being weavers. Ulrik was not at all insulted by this position. Working with textiles and cloth would only add another, glorious element to his creations, and he was looking forward to utilizing these skills. His mind began to churn at the thought of cured, mechanical wings, but alas, everyone was just too fat. Still, he could add a proper, cloth brush mane and tail to the sentinels, and now they could have bags with which to carry the metal pieces he would need. Naturally, he would need a tend too... ideas, ideas.
Naturally, the soft little blossom of a mare, Lena, would be the healer. He tried to hide the grimace on his expression as he imagined what a brain full of flower petals would be like. As he stared at her face, he could almost imagine dandelion fluff sprout from her ears - at least she was well spoken. Deodat was also a welcome face in this incredibly small gathering. Was this all that was left? Pathetic. Recruiting would have to be a priority, and maybe he could get his trigger happy cousin and the other weaver to help him sway the minds of newcomers.
The entire idea of a sickness or illness having driven out the herd was entirely lost on Ulrik, and he stood naively as if they had never left. Yes, he was confused as to why the ranks were all changing, but he assumed that Illynx and Deimos had just pulled their noses from their asses and decided to promote those who actually worked and showed up. Ah well, he could dream.
"I can help Torleik spar with others if he needs another body," the stallion rumbled in his wild, guttural tones. "First, though, Farenjer and I need a project. Might I suggest our primary goal be bags and metal collecting for the guardians at the entrance?" he asked, eager to get started on his massive, beautiful machine.
As he quietly strode into the fray, hearing his cousin, Torleik, give some speech about self-defense. Ulrik smirked and raised a brow, eager to see how that worked out. Some of these unicorns here were as lazy as they were fat, doing nothing but eating and sighing at the mention of work. Still, he had to give Torleik credit for trying of course, especially for how well rehearsed and heroic his recitation was.
On his way up, he had caught a few of Illynx's words - something about he and Farenjer being weavers. Ulrik was not at all insulted by this position. Working with textiles and cloth would only add another, glorious element to his creations, and he was looking forward to utilizing these skills. His mind began to churn at the thought of cured, mechanical wings, but alas, everyone was just too fat. Still, he could add a proper, cloth brush mane and tail to the sentinels, and now they could have bags with which to carry the metal pieces he would need. Naturally, he would need a tend too... ideas, ideas.
Naturally, the soft little blossom of a mare, Lena, would be the healer. He tried to hide the grimace on his expression as he imagined what a brain full of flower petals would be like. As he stared at her face, he could almost imagine dandelion fluff sprout from her ears - at least she was well spoken. Deodat was also a welcome face in this incredibly small gathering. Was this all that was left? Pathetic. Recruiting would have to be a priority, and maybe he could get his trigger happy cousin and the other weaver to help him sway the minds of newcomers.
The entire idea of a sickness or illness having driven out the herd was entirely lost on Ulrik, and he stood naively as if they had never left. Yes, he was confused as to why the ranks were all changing, but he assumed that Illynx and Deimos had just pulled their noses from their asses and decided to promote those who actually worked and showed up. Ah well, he could dream.
"I can help Torleik spar with others if he needs another body," the stallion rumbled in his wild, guttural tones. "First, though, Farenjer and I need a project. Might I suggest our primary goal be bags and metal collecting for the guardians at the entrance?" he asked, eager to get started on his massive, beautiful machine.
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