The junkyard workshop (Ask Rumble)

https://filerepo.net/rp/boards/the-junkyard-workshop/gate.jpg _⁽⁽ᴬʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᴬˡᵉᵈᵒⁿʳᵉˣ, ᶜᵒᵐᵐᶦˢˢᶦᵒⁿᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ˢᵒᵒʲᶦᵐᵃˢᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ᴬʳᶦᵃ ᵒᶠ ᴵˢᵒˡᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ, ᵘˢᵉᵈ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵖᵉʳᵐᶦˢˢᶦᵒⁿ ⁻ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃʷᵉˢᵒᵐᵉ⁾⁾_ _Grime-stained windows sparsely illuminated the gloomy room, and fine dust floated in the air, undisturbed by any breeze. Slowly, it coated every item in place, a thin layer as a proof of recent abandonment and negligence. The room looked rundown, stuffed with things most would consider garbage, ranging from large and small cogs, metal plates and bars of varying sizes, hydraulic pumps, canisters, countless devices in more or less questionable condition, to screws, bolts, rivets and springs, everything either thrown together in a large pile of scrap in a corner or gathered in various boxes standing around or stored on an arrangement of shelves. Occasional splashes of oil spill on the ground shimmered in a great variety of colors, remains of the often messy work done in this workshop._ _The site was equipped with an impressive number of different tools, contrary to the sort of mess around however neatly aligned on a tool rack mounted at one of the walls. A large workbench was loaded with papers, blueprints and notebooks containing countless sketches of machinery, inventions and other contraptions, some only showing specific parts in greater detail, others showing general overviews. On most of them were notes scribbled all over… and occasional drawings of small figures, some of them being crossed out in what must have been an outburst of furious rage. The silence was absolute, an eerie atmosphere._ _The ramshackle brick building was located in the center of Bandle City’s junkyard. A secluded place, mountains of rust and decay erupting amidst a wide clearing in an otherwise forested area, at least a mile away from any civilization. A large iron fence surrounded the premises, though the old gate's lock had given up the fight against the elements and neglection a long time ago._ _Suddenly, the stillness was disturbed as rumbling could be heard outside of the seemingly abandoned hut. Something big was approaching and its heavy, muffled stomps let the ground shake, causing one or another scrap piece to fall down from the big pile of parts. The perpetrator stopped directly in front of the building and the silence returned briefly._ _After a few seconds, a mechanism on the big garage door gave off sparks as it started and slowly opened the gate with a screeching sound, able to cause goosebumps to any overhearer. An annoyed voice accompanied the cacophony._ "…Ugh! Damn thing’s on the brink of breakdown again. Should get it oiled up soon…" _The room gradually lit up as the door continued to open and gave way for the sunny day to flood the dark workshop with its almost blinding brightness. A silhouette could be seen standing in the open doorway. It was small, almost impressively little even by yordle standards. The Mohawk hairdo appeared to be a fairly desperate try to create the impression of a greater height._ _After the garage door was securely locked in its completely opened position, the figure disappeared again only to return shortly after, on top of a massive, roaring bipedal machine that stomped through the gate into the room. Seemed to be built from random scrap parts, it was standing on two thin, rickety legs with feet that could remind of giant suction cups._ _Contradicting its overall unstable appearance, the sturdy, round body of the mech was armored with thick metal plates and bearing multiple weapons. A broad, double-barreled muzzle attached on its right and, mounted on a movable piston pump arm, an oversized steel ball of spikes on its left. In addition, two large javelins protruded out of the steel corpus' center, not to mention several rockets mounted on the back. It was obvious that this construction was a war machine, meant to intimidate and kill._ _The small, cobalt blue furred yordle sat on a worn-out chair in the cockpit on top, showing a toothy, fanged grin and controlling the metal hunk by frantically pulling levers and kicking pedals. The monstrosity seemed to struggle to stand upright, yet even walk, the powerful engine roared and spat dark smoke out its exhaust pipes as the whole construction vibrated with mechanical life._ _The small pilot intricately positioned his construction in one of the very few free corners of his workshop, and with a last pull on the levers, the spindly legs folded together and brought the heavy mech into a crouching position. With a decreasing whirr, the motor finally came to a halt and thus, the mech was deactivated. The operator jumped off agilely, landing on the ground with a short huff. He adjusted his red glassed goggles on his head and slowly, almost lovingly patted the metal plating of his battle suit._ "Tests completed, results satisfactory. Yah did well, Tristy," _the diminutive engineer said proudly. He paused and his grin turned to a malicious grimace, his amber colored eyes glistening in the twilight._ "They underestimate me, they always did. I saw ‘em pointin’ at us, unbelievin’ of our capabilities. Bet they laughed as well, lookin’ down on me. They’ll see who’s laughin’ and lookin’ down at the end!" _he nearly shouted out the last part._ _His voice resounded from the walls as if they were answering him, the only person present. The only one all around. Being alone, a circumstance he had gotten used to. Almost. His high mood faded quickly. Thoughts, memories buried deep inside threatened to seep into his mind. Unwittingly his right hand, hidden under a thick protective glove, wandered to his chest to carefully clutch his left side._ _Not much time had passed since he had made his way right to the Central Plaza of Bandle City, to show off the mighty war machine he had built in the past months, and declare his dedication to prove the worth of his kind to the world. Nobody knew where he had been in that time, but one or another yordle he had known before could see that he had changed. Not to his best though, that was clear even to himself._ _The short and slender yordle shook his head, as if doing so would free his mind from the thoughts he didn't want to have like dust from his fur, his large ears swaying along the motion. He tried to focus, Tristy needed him now. It was a two-day trip they had returned from, she was dirty and desperately crying for maintenance. He switched on the small desk light which he used whenever he sat down to draw blueprints or tinker on smaller inventions at his workbench, and removed the gloves from his hands._ _The inventive mechanic picked up a wrench from the table, slowly turning it in his left hand. His slit-shaped pupils rested on the tool as his thoughts continued to stray. His hand clenched the familiar metal. With unbreakable dedication, he returned to his trusted machine to start the much needed repairs._ --- ((Welcome to Bandle City’s junkyard, the empire of rust, the dominion of decay… and Rumble’s solitary place he calls his home. **Further information about this thread:** - Naturally, the [universal](http://boards.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/c/site-feedback/QMLzFo0N-universal-rules-updated-6242014) and [community](http://boards.na.leagueoflegends.com/en/c/roleplaying/owK1mAtE-community-rules-guidelines-for-the-future) rules also apply here. - This is an Ask thread, which means Open RP. Letters and visitors are equally welcome! - There are exceptions though. If you play an OC, please contact me via a short OOC post or better via the methods mentioned below before posting a starter. I want to take a look at your character first. - Beware that RPs and/or characters **can** and **will** be declined if deemed inappropriate. - Blacklisted characters: _none yet_ **Further information about this champion:** - Rumble is a wayward social outcast and he acts accordingly. Expect unfriendliness, doubtfulness and resentments, especially when dealing with humans. - There are no “skins” available (yet), no Rumble in the Jungle, especially no Super Galaxy Rumble. That might change in the future though. - Due to him being the literal runt of the litter, Rumble was born with the least innate magic compared to any other yordle known. The most notable effect is that he, unlike other yordles, doesn't appear as something or someone different to other species. **Further information about the author:** - I am content to play along with any stage of the lore. While initiating a roleplay, please specify the current time as either 1st, 2nd, or 3rd era: -- 1st era: Ye olde lore, the Institute of War existing as the central political power -- 2nd era: Post-IoW, pre-rework of yordle lore (Bandle is located in Runeterra) -- 3rd era: The most recent one, post yordle lore rework (Bandle is located in another plane of existence) - English is not my native language. I do my best to express myself properly, but errors of course may and unfortunately will occur. - For lengthy OOC discussions, questions, or anything else you don't want to post here, don't hesitate to contact me outside of the boards: -- Email: rumble[at]bandle.msgtx.net -- Discord: Rumble#0001 -- Twitter: @RumbleTheMenace Thanks for reading!))
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