[OPEN] we're the first ones to starve, we're the first ones to die

[disgracedvoid]

Characters: Darkleer and YOU.
Setting: Workshop like he's ever in any other floor, sob
Format: I'll start with action, but I'll match you.
Summary: STRONG troll attempts to take on the cold. The cold wins this round.
Warnings: Darkleer being a god tier passive aggressive bitch, since he's in a foul mood. Exploding things. A troll that will snap your spine like breadsticks if you piss him off.

[The first rule of making anything is choosing the right materials for the task. The problem here is that the right materials for the task are busy shattering because it's cold and they can't really withstand Darkleer's casual strength. That's new. Though he's got the theoretical knowledge for why this is happening, it doesn't make it any less frustrating.

So by the third time the frame of this heater-to-be breaks, Darkleer is seriously considering punching something. Or someone.

That and he's growling. Never a good thing when the dignified, snotty asshole troll is growling in the back of his throat. It only heralds impressive amounts of wanton violence.]

Comments

[warriorscribe]

*Well, at least the name was self explanatory.*

How do you make one?

[disgracedvoid]

There are several ways, depending on the materials at hand.

[warriorscribe]

All right. How are you trying to make this one?

*Maybe he can help with something...*

[disgracedvoid]

There is no trying involved in this.

[He's got issues with that word. Ask Equius. Darkleer shakes his head.]

Given the materials accessible right now, the best chance would be a structure filled with oil and heated by a battery. But of course, before I can get to that, I must shape the appropriate alloy.

[warriorscribe]

Ah...do we have oil?

*That's the only component he really recognizes...*

[disgracedvoid]

Certainly.

[...well, industrial oil, anyway.]

[warriorscribe]

Ah. Then...I'm afraid I wouldn't know very much about the rest...

[disgracedvoid]

I do not require assistance, anyway.

[There's a pause.]

Do you require anything of me?

[Is that why you're pestering him?]

[warriorscribe]

No, I was only concerned about the...sound. I thought you might need help.

*He's just inclined to help...*

[disgracedvoid]

There are always various sounds in a workshop, it is to be expected.

[He's still not going to acknowledge the fact he'd been growling. So undignified, sob.]

But no, I do not require any particular assistance.

[warriorscribe]

*Not that sound, but he doesn't bring it up.* If you insist...

*Back to his cloaks though. And hoping that he doesn't eventually have to dodge debris or something.*

[disgracedvoid]

I do.

[Clank. Please ignore the hammer hitting the table almost dismissively. It's okay, Enoch, you won't have to dodge debris unless you startle him and he somehow breaks the table or something.]

Do not let me get in the way of your own work.

[Which is a nicely, passive aggressive way of asking you to mind your own bloody business. Isn't he a ray of sunshine?]