Post by The God-Emperor of Gemkind on Nov 25, 2017 1:56:22 GMT
The Fuscite Encampent, rural New Zealand. 12:34 EST
Fuscite approached the table with a confident stride, taking a seat and tapping two fingers on the sturdy wood. The table was sturdy and constructed of mahogany, shaped in a circular manner. Also seated at the table were several other Fuscites - members of her crew who were currently taking a break from the scheduled maintenance their ship was undergoing. They were playing a rather large game of Go Fish, and unfortunately most games of Go Fish ended in a brawl between two or more gems in the encampment. "Deal me in, Mint." Fuscite proclaimed, resting an elbow on the table. "I'm going to beat your collective butts and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Roughly fifty feet away stood Old Ironsides, Fuscite's ancient yet unfailing Homeworld cruiser. Around the ship lay tables full of parts and scraps and doo-hickies and various mechanical fluids, in a constant state of flux as clusters of green uniforms brought materials in and out of the ship in a sort of metallic tide. Gems skittered about the interior of the craft, meticulously inspecting every inch of space and removing any imperfections from the ship with mechanical precision. On the outside, a dozen gems were busy polishing, buffing, and cleaning the various plates and windows that comprised the exterior surface of Old Ironsides. Those few gems not working on the ship found themselves playing odd games like Fuscite and her table, or patrolling the borders of the camp in an attempt to stave off boredom. There was a game of catch-the-grenade going on, but that was cut short when someone dropped the grenade instead of catching it and the thing nearly went off.
The camp itself had grown a fair bit in the time that had elapsed since Fuscite had used the Fountain to bring her compatriots back to the land of the living - most notably was the formation of a large hangar used to house both Old Ironsides and part of the camp's population. There was a small building in the western side of the camp that sheltered the warp pad from the elements, bordered by the armory to it's left and had a warehouse about thirty feet to it's right. The center of the camp was taken up by a large dirt circle used for a multitude of purposes, and an assortment of small houses littered the remainder of the premises.
Fuscite approached the table with a confident stride, taking a seat and tapping two fingers on the sturdy wood. The table was sturdy and constructed of mahogany, shaped in a circular manner. Also seated at the table were several other Fuscites - members of her crew who were currently taking a break from the scheduled maintenance their ship was undergoing. They were playing a rather large game of Go Fish, and unfortunately most games of Go Fish ended in a brawl between two or more gems in the encampment. "Deal me in, Mint." Fuscite proclaimed, resting an elbow on the table. "I'm going to beat your collective butts and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
Roughly fifty feet away stood Old Ironsides, Fuscite's ancient yet unfailing Homeworld cruiser. Around the ship lay tables full of parts and scraps and doo-hickies and various mechanical fluids, in a constant state of flux as clusters of green uniforms brought materials in and out of the ship in a sort of metallic tide. Gems skittered about the interior of the craft, meticulously inspecting every inch of space and removing any imperfections from the ship with mechanical precision. On the outside, a dozen gems were busy polishing, buffing, and cleaning the various plates and windows that comprised the exterior surface of Old Ironsides. Those few gems not working on the ship found themselves playing odd games like Fuscite and her table, or patrolling the borders of the camp in an attempt to stave off boredom. There was a game of catch-the-grenade going on, but that was cut short when someone dropped the grenade instead of catching it and the thing nearly went off.
The camp itself had grown a fair bit in the time that had elapsed since Fuscite had used the Fountain to bring her compatriots back to the land of the living - most notably was the formation of a large hangar used to house both Old Ironsides and part of the camp's population. There was a small building in the western side of the camp that sheltered the warp pad from the elements, bordered by the armory to it's left and had a warehouse about thirty feet to it's right. The center of the camp was taken up by a large dirt circle used for a multitude of purposes, and an assortment of small houses littered the remainder of the premises.