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02-24-2015, 07:26 PM
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ULRIK the ENGINEER
The Engineer raised a thick brow at the shout of his name, and he leaned out from where he had been working on one of the sentinels. His glittering, mad bronze eyes settled on a form he only truly knew in passing. Now that Deimos was ruler of the herd, Ulrik could focus on more important things – like creating magnificent, glorious machines. He got lost in his word for days, often disappearing entirely. The herd meeting was the only event he could really remember in the recent past, and he just now, as he stared at the warm landscape of the Basin, remembered that Arah had been there. He insulted others without even trying, it would seem. He cleared his throat, trying to rid the white beauty from his mind as he approached the golden stallion who knew him far better it seemed than Ulrik knew this stranger with two horns. Thranduil. He was pretty sure that was his name, but he couldn’t be sure. Regardless, the man spoke again, and Ulrik listened, eyes sweeping his armored form curiously. Seemed as if he had gotten rather famous for his mechanisms, and the Engineer smirked slightly, dirty, tangled forelock tumbling over the brunt of his masculine face. The stallion shifted his weight and let his mind disappear, burrowing deeply into his wild imagination. With a few ideas in mind, the stallion stepped close – much too close for normal socialization. An intrusive, whiskered nose shoved forcefully against the collar bit of his armor and then glanced over the weapon. “Cumbersome,” he agreed. The marking on the side of his leg seemed to glint in the sun as he activated his powers, deconstructing the weapon into nested spirals that expanded and collapsed rather easily. It was an elementary mechanism – not requiring any electricity, and he shoved his nose against a button once it was finished, showing Thranduil how it could be easily tucked away and accessed. “Simple,” he replied, then looking to the collar. The Engineer added spikes rather easily. Again, the mechanism was simple. “Careful with this one. They will pop out when you jostle them too thoroughly. I would suggest striking the ground hard if you need them immediately,” he suggested, the depth and cruel accent to his voice strange to the ears. “That all?” he asked, the question not meaning to be rude, though easily interpreted that way. [[Mechanized the pole arm with a button to expand/collapse and added spikes to the collar that pop when jostled]] |
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