[color=#008000;]IC: Gwen -- Sentai Fortress / Battle Machine Repair Ward[/color]
[color=#008000;]I take a step aside so that they can see my latest masterpiece -- a two-foot-high, one-foot-wide cube of servos, pipes, wires and coffee beans. Thumbing the nigh-imperceptible switch on its side, I listen for the tell-tale rumblings of technological magic to begin, as the entire mass begins rattling atop the workbench (disregard the worried expressions on the faces of your audience -- they have no idea what's going on).[/color]
[color=#008000;]Steam escapes; pipes shake; modified Iron Drone arms move to and fro, regulating valves and gauges, executing procedures which probably don't entail "kill all organic life in vicinity" (assuming I remembered to connect the yellow wire to the red one, not the black one). Slowly, progressively, the rumbling travels down the machine, growing in intensity all the while. A few of the watchers retreat to a relatively safer distance, their worry growing to downright fear.[/color]
[color=#008000;]With the understated flair of a true showman, I place a styrofoam cup in the small notch at the base of the machination, pulling my hand back just in time for a cloud of steam to jet outwards, obscuring all from view. A quick wave clears the fog of mystery and allure, leaving only the scent of fresh-poured coffee and the sight of a full cup of caffeine.[/color]
[color=#008000;]"TADA!" I proclaim, "Iron Drone Coffee! A registered trademark of Tylers Inc.[/color] It's Drone-tastic!~"
[color=#008000;]A deadpan audience slowly disperses, each viewer headed back to their personal repair station.[/color]
[color=#008000;]"Humph," I mutter, glaring indiscriminately at the traitorous almost-customers as I take my abandoned coffee back over to my chair, "Bloody troglodytes..."[/color]
OOC: Anyone who needs repairs done to their mech, just come see the angry, coffee-drinking woman in the repair ward.
Edited by Dreadheart, Jul 03 2013 - 04:47 PM.