Emergence 2.10b (Brief Preview)
After Armsmaster's question, you start to respond in the affirmative. However it occurs to you that no, you aren't nearly set to proceed. Shaking your head, you hold up a hand and bolt for the stairs, calling down at the heroes, "Hang on! I need to get the paperwork for the school transfer! And...well, other stuff!" Scrambling and scrabbling your way up the steps you barrel into your room to start dismantling your dresser and desk in order to begin collecting the necessary documents.
You set one partition of your mind to cataloguing the necessities, even as you feel the mild fuzz of weariness from your interrupted sleep beginning to bleed off the edge of your mind. You decide to look into that more later. Checking that the windows are shut and the blinds are drawn, you send your mind-tendrils out teasing their way through stacks of paperwork, sifting through the detritus of years even as you shout down to your Dad, "Can you get those for me?"
He calls up in the affirmative, and before long you can hear his steps on the stairs then heading back to his room. Collecting the remnants of what documentation you needed from your room, you rush down the steps and into the armored chestplate of the local Protectorate leader. You start to ease past him, trailing a tendril-towed tornado of documentation which is laid in perfect order and organization on the table's edge by the lashing limbs of light. You stop a moment, goggling at the hero, unable to help the question that comes to mind: "Wh-why the hell did you do
that when you were putting this together? It...what the he-how does that even work?!" You blink, turning bemusedly to Miss Militia. "Are all Tinker methods as bullshit as his? I...isn't science supposed to be able to be duplicated? I...I'm pretty sure you could repeat every step he did in making that, and it
just wouldn't work right. Even though you did
the exact same things." You scowl furiously up at Armsmaster, daring him to explain why his armor is in defiance of the very principles of science and the scientific method itself.
"Maybe if I tried disassembling a gauntlet I could doublecheck that," your mind-hands move to try to grasp one of Armsmaster's armored gloves, only to stop as your father's hand comes down firmly but gently on your shoulder. You blink, looking between the ashen-faced Armsmaster and your father's amused expression.
"Taylor, don't terrorize the poor hero. He clearly doesn't want you disassembling his gear."
ooo
So I was working on the update when this happened.
I'm starting to think @landcollector may be right about us being a botch magnet, since Taylor managed to botch a temperance roll to ignore the logic-defying nature of Tinkertech.
Given that, I've updated my signature appropriately.