It was the second night this week that the boss got us together. Not our Boss, but rather the...
Unexpectedly Talented Shopkeeper (RWBY/Warframe)
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Chapter 1.01 So it begins (Minion, Roman 1)
Skelethin
Barebones Writer
It was the second night this week that the boss got us together. Not our Boss, but rather the man who had paid the Boss for some professional help, which currently made him 'the boss'.
And unlike some of the bozos that had paid for this sort of professional help in the past, this man was worthy of the name boss. Reminded me a lot of the previous Boss, Junior's father. That was a man that wouldn't have gotten suckered into destroying his own club by a pretty face and a nice rack.
Shameful, that was.
The current boss, one Roman Torchwick, was a consummate professional, enough so that I had heard a few of the guys comparing notes on how to emulate him to be better themselves. And I can't blame them, he was a good choice to emulate. Especially with the most important aspect.
He learns from his mistakes.
No blaming, no insulting, just a calm professional treatment of the situation.
The fact that he had taken extra measures since the clusterfuck that was the heist at From Dust Till Dawn only proved it.
Like the target for tonight. No customers. The staff on shift wasn't a huntsman. From the eye patch and tattooed over scars, he might have been something in the past, but there was no record of him in any huntsman records. He was likely some kid that got lucky enough to survive a Grimm attack with everything but some facial adjustments and his depth perception.
The Lotus Emporium was odder than most of the places we had hit, but the rumors that it specialized in the exotic, especially Dust crystals, had gotten the boss's attention. And all the research into the shop keep.
Like I said, a good man to emulate. And tonight was going to go off without a hitch, I just knew it.
~~~
I walked through the door of the shop for tonight, and was somewhat impressed. The center part of the store was clearly set aside for dust, with the array of cases for the different sorts of Dust crystals all clean and orderly. The shapes and colors varied, with several colors I had never seen before, which confirmed the rumors that had lead me here to begin with. The left half was filled with various fancy gadgets, including a fancy new model scroll. The back wall hosted a large door with the label 'Clem's Warehouse' over it, while the right side was filled with bookshelves.
All in all, it matched the information I had been able to dig up about this place. While not having ties to any major Dust companies was odd, but made sense looking at the display now. Whoever ran this place made sure it was the definition of a Specialty Shop. Even display in the bookshelves was special, with the newest edition of A Gentleman's Guide to Theft: All the Money, None of the Blood. Good taste.
I certainly had my eye on a few pieces for my own use later.
The men that followed me in like good little minions were quick to scout the shop to make sure there would be no surprises tonight. One run in with little Red made sure that mistake wouldn't be repeated. With the size of the shop, it took a bit of time for them to filter through which just gave me time to take everything in properly. After they nodded that the shop was otherwise empty, I let the smirk bloom on my face as I walked up to the shopkeeper.
Other than the fancy eyepatch covering one eye, and the tattoo of some sort of stylized triple petaled flower over the scar mostly surrounding it, the kid didn't look that impressive. His visible green eye seemed to have a slight glow, possibly from some faunus genetics, but otherwise unimportant. Kid looked like he was barely on the cusp of adulthood, scar or not. He only gazed at me with a mildly curious expression despite the men flanking me.
"I really am grateful you stayed open just for me." My voice filled the shop, calm and professional.
One of the minion helpfully aims his gun at the poor kid to help finish the setting the atmosphere properly.
"Afterall, I really am in need of all this Dust."
To my surprise, the only response I get is a raise eyebrow. His expression utterly unconcerned.
"Are you… robbing me?" His response was calm, with an undertone of concealed amusement.
This prompted the rest of the goons to visibly aim their weapons at him as well.
Not the expected response, but one I could work with.
"Why yes. Yes I am." I nod, then turn to the men at my side. "Grab the Dust."
"And if I refuse?"
His voice froze the men in their tracks, his amusement blatant for all to hear.
I aimed Melodic Cudgel at his face and growled, "You don't really get a choice in the matter."
"Oh." The comment was short, but somehow sounded extremely pleased. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise with his next words.
"Alright then."
There was a flutter of movement, then nothing.
~~
With a gasp, nothingness turned into sudden awareness.
Looking around, I apparently was in an alley, neatly surrounded by a pile of the men I had walked into the shop with. All unconscious. I barely noticed any more before a voice cut through the fog of the headache I woke up with.
"Thanks for the laugh, friend."
It was the voice of the shopkeep, his amused and somewhat pleased voice rousing some movement in the men around me.
"You might want this back." He threw me my cane. "And take this as thanks."
I catch a case, more confused than anything. The prompted words coming out nearly on automatic.
"For?"
His smirk was pure, evil amusement. "Dispelling the boredom." He shift slightly, his eyes playing over the alley and my men.
"I think you should get going now."
It wasn't a suggestion, despite the affable tone he said the words in. A chill crept down my spine, as my brain finally caught up to everything that had just happened. I look carefully at the man in front of me, dismissing my earlier judgement of him being on the cusp of adulthood. Whatever his age, he was clearly vastly more experienced than I had suspected. I looked further for any hostility, but finding none. That didn't quite the instincts that were screaming at me to leave in the least.
"And next time? You will be paying for it."
The man walked away, his dark hair disappearing last around the corner, leaving me with an alley full of unconscious help.
I looked down at the case in my hand, to find one of coin shaped dust crystals, the color of the purest gold. Precisely the one I had been hoping to get for myself earlier.
But what froze the blood in my veins was the grinning face in red on the outside of the case. My symbol, perfectly set to appear centered on the coin inside.
~~~~
Thank you all for joining me on this, the latest of the plot bunnies that burrowed into my skull and refused to leave. And since I have to suffer, so shall all of you.
Any help is appreciated. Still getting used to more dialogue in my writing.
As a final note, this is not an SI. The Tenno may be based on my own in game, but he is most certainly not me.
And unlike some of the bozos that had paid for this sort of professional help in the past, this man was worthy of the name boss. Reminded me a lot of the previous Boss, Junior's father. That was a man that wouldn't have gotten suckered into destroying his own club by a pretty face and a nice rack.
Shameful, that was.
The current boss, one Roman Torchwick, was a consummate professional, enough so that I had heard a few of the guys comparing notes on how to emulate him to be better themselves. And I can't blame them, he was a good choice to emulate. Especially with the most important aspect.
He learns from his mistakes.
No blaming, no insulting, just a calm professional treatment of the situation.
The fact that he had taken extra measures since the clusterfuck that was the heist at From Dust Till Dawn only proved it.
Like the target for tonight. No customers. The staff on shift wasn't a huntsman. From the eye patch and tattooed over scars, he might have been something in the past, but there was no record of him in any huntsman records. He was likely some kid that got lucky enough to survive a Grimm attack with everything but some facial adjustments and his depth perception.
The Lotus Emporium was odder than most of the places we had hit, but the rumors that it specialized in the exotic, especially Dust crystals, had gotten the boss's attention. And all the research into the shop keep.
Like I said, a good man to emulate. And tonight was going to go off without a hitch, I just knew it.
~~~
I walked through the door of the shop for tonight, and was somewhat impressed. The center part of the store was clearly set aside for dust, with the array of cases for the different sorts of Dust crystals all clean and orderly. The shapes and colors varied, with several colors I had never seen before, which confirmed the rumors that had lead me here to begin with. The left half was filled with various fancy gadgets, including a fancy new model scroll. The back wall hosted a large door with the label 'Clem's Warehouse' over it, while the right side was filled with bookshelves.
All in all, it matched the information I had been able to dig up about this place. While not having ties to any major Dust companies was odd, but made sense looking at the display now. Whoever ran this place made sure it was the definition of a Specialty Shop. Even display in the bookshelves was special, with the newest edition of A Gentleman's Guide to Theft: All the Money, None of the Blood. Good taste.
I certainly had my eye on a few pieces for my own use later.
The men that followed me in like good little minions were quick to scout the shop to make sure there would be no surprises tonight. One run in with little Red made sure that mistake wouldn't be repeated. With the size of the shop, it took a bit of time for them to filter through which just gave me time to take everything in properly. After they nodded that the shop was otherwise empty, I let the smirk bloom on my face as I walked up to the shopkeeper.
Other than the fancy eyepatch covering one eye, and the tattoo of some sort of stylized triple petaled flower over the scar mostly surrounding it, the kid didn't look that impressive. His visible green eye seemed to have a slight glow, possibly from some faunus genetics, but otherwise unimportant. Kid looked like he was barely on the cusp of adulthood, scar or not. He only gazed at me with a mildly curious expression despite the men flanking me.
"I really am grateful you stayed open just for me." My voice filled the shop, calm and professional.
One of the minion helpfully aims his gun at the poor kid to help finish the setting the atmosphere properly.
"Afterall, I really am in need of all this Dust."
To my surprise, the only response I get is a raise eyebrow. His expression utterly unconcerned.
"Are you… robbing me?" His response was calm, with an undertone of concealed amusement.
This prompted the rest of the goons to visibly aim their weapons at him as well.
Not the expected response, but one I could work with.
"Why yes. Yes I am." I nod, then turn to the men at my side. "Grab the Dust."
"And if I refuse?"
His voice froze the men in their tracks, his amusement blatant for all to hear.
I aimed Melodic Cudgel at his face and growled, "You don't really get a choice in the matter."
"Oh." The comment was short, but somehow sounded extremely pleased. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise with his next words.
"Alright then."
There was a flutter of movement, then nothing.
~~
With a gasp, nothingness turned into sudden awareness.
Looking around, I apparently was in an alley, neatly surrounded by a pile of the men I had walked into the shop with. All unconscious. I barely noticed any more before a voice cut through the fog of the headache I woke up with.
"Thanks for the laugh, friend."
It was the voice of the shopkeep, his amused and somewhat pleased voice rousing some movement in the men around me.
"You might want this back." He threw me my cane. "And take this as thanks."
I catch a case, more confused than anything. The prompted words coming out nearly on automatic.
"For?"
His smirk was pure, evil amusement. "Dispelling the boredom." He shift slightly, his eyes playing over the alley and my men.
"I think you should get going now."
It wasn't a suggestion, despite the affable tone he said the words in. A chill crept down my spine, as my brain finally caught up to everything that had just happened. I look carefully at the man in front of me, dismissing my earlier judgement of him being on the cusp of adulthood. Whatever his age, he was clearly vastly more experienced than I had suspected. I looked further for any hostility, but finding none. That didn't quite the instincts that were screaming at me to leave in the least.
"And next time? You will be paying for it."
The man walked away, his dark hair disappearing last around the corner, leaving me with an alley full of unconscious help.
I looked down at the case in my hand, to find one of coin shaped dust crystals, the color of the purest gold. Precisely the one I had been hoping to get for myself earlier.
But what froze the blood in my veins was the grinning face in red on the outside of the case. My symbol, perfectly set to appear centered on the coin inside.
~~~~
Thank you all for joining me on this, the latest of the plot bunnies that burrowed into my skull and refused to leave. And since I have to suffer, so shall all of you.
Any help is appreciated. Still getting used to more dialogue in my writing.
As a final note, this is not an SI. The Tenno may be based on my own in game, but he is most certainly not me.
Chapter 1.02 A Badly Needed Drink (Junior, Roman 2)
Skelethin
Barebones Writer
Might be a bit less polished than the last one. Suggestions welcome.
~
I eventually found myself back at Junior's lovely establishment. It was definitely in the midst of repairs from the brawl I had happily skipped out on, but the bar was still open. Mostly, anyway. I had been a well paying client, and at least part of why I was here was business.
The majority was that I seriously needed a drink.
It had been a few days since my terrifyingly failed heist, and I was working on figuring out why my intel had been so horribly, miserably wrong. I had selected it as the last place to hit while still working with actual professionals before my boss switched me to the zealots of the White Fang. It was supposed to be one last job to get done crisp and proper before I would need to train those idiots how to do things correctly.
And I still shudder when my mind goes over exactly how close everything came to crashing down around me. Things had gone wrong before, even failing horribly. The run in with little Red and her huntress backup in the form of Glynda Goodwitch was all the proof of that happening. If his boss hadn't been there, he would have been screwed. It wasn't failure that troubled him still.
It wasn't even being out classed. Glynda Goodwitch was more than enough to remind him that he wasn't as much of a big shot as the recent string of success may have been making him feel.
It was a simpler, more primal feeling that had been haunting my steps these past days. Something that had grabbed hold my every thought since to remind me again and again of such a simple thing.
How utterly vulnerable I had been in that alley.
The closest I had come had been when my current boss had taken exception to my behavior. Her reminder was cloaked in a barely leashed fury, and the promise of pain. It was a familiar echo of lessons learned throughout my life on the streets, writ large.
But perhaps that is why this time was so impactful.
The clink of a glass being set on the counter interrupts my thoughts before they can spiral away from me again. I look up, only just now noticing that my current glass is empty, and the club's owner is watching me calmly.
"He has that effect on people."
My confusion must have shown through, as Junior chuckled at me.
"Let me guess, you researched into him and only found some no-name kid that had no traces in any huntsman records? Which would be why you even considered robbing there in the first place." I just give him a flat look, take a good sip from my fresh drink.
"The men gave me their report. You aren't the first one to buy that cover, as real as it is. He isn't Huntsman trained, nor is he in any of their records. And since he looks like he belongs in the school up on the hill at the oldest, people don't look any further. Which is his entire goal, I figure."
His voice trails off, likely reminiscing about his own experience with the man.
"I didn't believe my old man when he told me about him either. This was back when I was just setting out on my own, so a few years ago now. He gave me some tales about that little shop keeper, the type that is generally dismissed as rumors or urban legends. The type that only those truly in the know would be able to filter the truth from. And, since you now have a story of your very own, I figure it would to let you in on the rest." He stops, and continues somewhat sheepishly, "At least, what I know of it."
And didn't that just raise more questions than it answered. Questions I didn't want answers to until I was significantly less sober than I was currently, so I motioned him to give me another. He graciously obliged.
"That kid with the eyepatch isn't just a shopkeep of Lotus Emporium. He owns it. And another just like it in the capital of any kingdom you care to name. Which is only more impressive because he is regularly seen at all of them. But that wasn't the story my old man spoke of. Tell me, Roman, what do you know of what happened to Mountain Glenn?"
I blink at the odd direction this was going. I shrug and tell him what I remember.
"Well, just the basics. Vale expands, Grimm attack. The people move underground. All is fine until the Grimm bust in and wreck the place. The council nearly wrote off the entire city as lost until a team of Huntsmen went in and cleared out enough Grimm to get the surviving citizens through the reinforced doors before they were locked behind them."
He nods, seemingly pleased. Not sure what he was looking for, but I set to work on finishing my drink anyway.
"And that is all true. Except for the team of Huntsmen. All the Huntsmen available were already working to try and keep Vale itself from being overrun. I don't know how they managed it, but the council was convinced to not close the doors until either all the citizens were through, or they simply couldn't hold the door any longer.
"A short while later, a lone figure disappeared down the tunnel. Not long after, the Huntsmen at the door could put more work into getting the people out of the damned tunnel instead of keeping the Grimm out of Vale. No record was made of who he was, or where he came from. Just the record that Ozpin personally vouched for him, and apparently, that was enough."
Considering the sort of political weight Ozpin could throw around here in Vale, even without including him being the Headmaster at Beacon, it would be enough. I had dealt with men that barely escaped that hell hole before everything got locked up tight and heard their stories. That was not the sort of mess even a pair of elite Huntsmen teams would be able to make a dent in.
That certainly put things into perspective, doesn't it? One man capable of doing the work several teams of elite Huntsman on his lonesome. Him being able to hand me my ass is no surprise.
I found myself laughing, realizing that at least a part of the dread the past few days had been lifted from my shoulders. Not all of it, not nearly, but enough.
I raised my latest drink in a toast.
"To overly talented shopkeepers. May I never again be against them."
Junior raised his glass with a smirk and drank with me. I think we both were going to get good and properly plastered tonight.
~~~~~~~
Here be butterflies. Watch how they flap. See how the hurricane blows the canon rails away...
~
I eventually found myself back at Junior's lovely establishment. It was definitely in the midst of repairs from the brawl I had happily skipped out on, but the bar was still open. Mostly, anyway. I had been a well paying client, and at least part of why I was here was business.
The majority was that I seriously needed a drink.
It had been a few days since my terrifyingly failed heist, and I was working on figuring out why my intel had been so horribly, miserably wrong. I had selected it as the last place to hit while still working with actual professionals before my boss switched me to the zealots of the White Fang. It was supposed to be one last job to get done crisp and proper before I would need to train those idiots how to do things correctly.
And I still shudder when my mind goes over exactly how close everything came to crashing down around me. Things had gone wrong before, even failing horribly. The run in with little Red and her huntress backup in the form of Glynda Goodwitch was all the proof of that happening. If his boss hadn't been there, he would have been screwed. It wasn't failure that troubled him still.
It wasn't even being out classed. Glynda Goodwitch was more than enough to remind him that he wasn't as much of a big shot as the recent string of success may have been making him feel.
It was a simpler, more primal feeling that had been haunting my steps these past days. Something that had grabbed hold my every thought since to remind me again and again of such a simple thing.
How utterly vulnerable I had been in that alley.
The closest I had come had been when my current boss had taken exception to my behavior. Her reminder was cloaked in a barely leashed fury, and the promise of pain. It was a familiar echo of lessons learned throughout my life on the streets, writ large.
But perhaps that is why this time was so impactful.
The clink of a glass being set on the counter interrupts my thoughts before they can spiral away from me again. I look up, only just now noticing that my current glass is empty, and the club's owner is watching me calmly.
"He has that effect on people."
My confusion must have shown through, as Junior chuckled at me.
"Let me guess, you researched into him and only found some no-name kid that had no traces in any huntsman records? Which would be why you even considered robbing there in the first place." I just give him a flat look, take a good sip from my fresh drink.
"The men gave me their report. You aren't the first one to buy that cover, as real as it is. He isn't Huntsman trained, nor is he in any of their records. And since he looks like he belongs in the school up on the hill at the oldest, people don't look any further. Which is his entire goal, I figure."
His voice trails off, likely reminiscing about his own experience with the man.
"I didn't believe my old man when he told me about him either. This was back when I was just setting out on my own, so a few years ago now. He gave me some tales about that little shop keeper, the type that is generally dismissed as rumors or urban legends. The type that only those truly in the know would be able to filter the truth from. And, since you now have a story of your very own, I figure it would to let you in on the rest." He stops, and continues somewhat sheepishly, "At least, what I know of it."
And didn't that just raise more questions than it answered. Questions I didn't want answers to until I was significantly less sober than I was currently, so I motioned him to give me another. He graciously obliged.
"That kid with the eyepatch isn't just a shopkeep of Lotus Emporium. He owns it. And another just like it in the capital of any kingdom you care to name. Which is only more impressive because he is regularly seen at all of them. But that wasn't the story my old man spoke of. Tell me, Roman, what do you know of what happened to Mountain Glenn?"
I blink at the odd direction this was going. I shrug and tell him what I remember.
"Well, just the basics. Vale expands, Grimm attack. The people move underground. All is fine until the Grimm bust in and wreck the place. The council nearly wrote off the entire city as lost until a team of Huntsmen went in and cleared out enough Grimm to get the surviving citizens through the reinforced doors before they were locked behind them."
He nods, seemingly pleased. Not sure what he was looking for, but I set to work on finishing my drink anyway.
"And that is all true. Except for the team of Huntsmen. All the Huntsmen available were already working to try and keep Vale itself from being overrun. I don't know how they managed it, but the council was convinced to not close the doors until either all the citizens were through, or they simply couldn't hold the door any longer.
"A short while later, a lone figure disappeared down the tunnel. Not long after, the Huntsmen at the door could put more work into getting the people out of the damned tunnel instead of keeping the Grimm out of Vale. No record was made of who he was, or where he came from. Just the record that Ozpin personally vouched for him, and apparently, that was enough."
Considering the sort of political weight Ozpin could throw around here in Vale, even without including him being the Headmaster at Beacon, it would be enough. I had dealt with men that barely escaped that hell hole before everything got locked up tight and heard their stories. That was not the sort of mess even a pair of elite Huntsmen teams would be able to make a dent in.
That certainly put things into perspective, doesn't it? One man capable of doing the work several teams of elite Huntsman on his lonesome. Him being able to hand me my ass is no surprise.
I found myself laughing, realizing that at least a part of the dread the past few days had been lifted from my shoulders. Not all of it, not nearly, but enough.
I raised my latest drink in a toast.
"To overly talented shopkeepers. May I never again be against them."
Junior raised his glass with a smirk and drank with me. I think we both were going to get good and properly plastered tonight.
~~~~~~~
Here be butterflies. Watch how they flap. See how the hurricane blows the canon rails away...
Ooooh, an operater made it to remnant and didn't immediately join beacon. Far too many stories just surf on the cannon's plot but what's making me watch this is Clems warehouse.
I was expecting the exotic dust to be argon crystals. But the problem with that is that argon crystals disappear. 1 crystal in a pile of argon instead of the entire pile itself.
I was expecting the exotic dust to be argon crystals. But the problem with that is that argon crystals disappear. 1 crystal in a pile of argon instead of the entire pile itself.
Skelethin
Barebones Writer
To be fair... Beacon didn't exist when the operator landed.
And while certain parts of cannon are still around... butterflies don't just help those we like...
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Oooh a world filled to the brim with unrelenting enemies that just was want to kill you, it's like the operator never left home. Though seriously this is gonna be interesting to see especially the butterflies that come with a tenno's existence in the world.
It's an intriguing start, but the use of first person perspective is questionable to me (especially when it looks like you'll be jumping between POV anyway).
The transition from minion to Roman also needs work, it isn't immediately clear there is a POV change.
I'd suggest making the whole first chapter from the minion's perspective and mark it as a prologue, then jump to Roman (in third person perspective) getting his Tenno exposition from Junior.
The transition from minion to Roman also needs work, it isn't immediately clear there is a POV change.
I'd suggest making the whole first chapter from the minion's perspective and mark it as a prologue, then jump to Roman (in third person perspective) getting his Tenno exposition from Junior.
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Skelethin
Barebones Writer
I originally tried to do the first part from the minion's perspective, and it felt wrong writing it. At this point, I'm looking to do some work on the first part to eliminate the minion's perspective all together.
For now I am planning on keeping first person throughout, although I will be marking them better as different viewpoints are used. Going to be going over the next one to make sure it doesn't have any perspective mess-ups and flows well before putting it up, then going back and working on the currently posted stuff.
Alright.
Something you should consider: rather than just labeling a POV change with a header or name, be sure to include cues in the first couple of sentences of the new paragraph for the next perspective.
For example, something to identify Roman would be for him to think about his minions as he walks in the door of the shop (establishing him as the boss the previous pov was talking about) or doing some kind of personal habit to mark him for the reader (lighting/putting out/puffing his cigar, swinging his cane or using it to push open the door, etc).
This sort of thing helps the reader keep track of multiple viewpoints and also develops characterization.
Something you should consider: rather than just labeling a POV change with a header or name, be sure to include cues in the first couple of sentences of the new paragraph for the next perspective.
For example, something to identify Roman would be for him to think about his minions as he walks in the door of the shop (establishing him as the boss the previous pov was talking about) or doing some kind of personal habit to mark him for the reader (lighting/putting out/puffing his cigar, swinging his cane or using it to push open the door, etc).
This sort of thing helps the reader keep track of multiple viewpoints and also develops characterization.
Chapter 2.01 Taking Off Again! (Jaune 1)
Skelethin
Barebones Writer
Here we go, the last of the 'pre-written' stuff(I totally rewrote parts of this), though I now have more planned out. Hopefully you all enjoy.
~
My name is Jaune Arc, and I… am about to die.
This is not the first time I have thought this. This past week has been a huge string of times I would swear were going to be my end, but so far I managed to get through everything with the help of my new partner Pyrrha and the rest of my team.
And then today, to end our week, we were introduced to our spiffy equipment lockers, which happen to double as a rocket powered delivery service for our gear that brings it to us out in the field. Everything was going great.
And then my buddy Cardin decided he would help me test out my new locker.
I would like to note that I did not agree to this arrangement, but that doesn't really change what happened next.
Which is that I'm flying. Again. For the third time this week.
Thankfully I am encased in a solid metal shell. That is an improvement, right? It feels like it should be. Beacon wouldn't make their lockers weak if they were meant to be deployed and then land with their cargo safely. Of course they would.
The fact I have been going over what dumped me in this mess is only slightly more helpful than the way my voice echoes strangely due to my manly calls for help during my totally under control descent.
Sadly, its not under my control.
The landing jets interrupt any further thought, as the sudden deceleration bring all of my attention to my imminent demise. A solid thump, I get slammed into the bottom of the locker as it lands. The door promptly pops open, and I can feel a great sense of relief as I all but pour out of the locker and onto the nice, safe, solid ground.
"Are you alright there?" A male voice cuts through my still recovering thoughts, prompting me to glance around my landing site. I appear to have landed in a respectable looking part of the city of Vale proper. I don't recognize where I am specifically, but that's not a surprise as I haven't had a chance to explore much.
I do manage to get out an affirmative sounding grunt before the question lingered too long, so that was nice.
"Do you want any help?" The man's voice was tinged with equal parts concern and amusement.
I can't really blame him for being amused, as I was sure me kissing the ground in thanks was hilarious.
"I think I got it." I manage to place actions to words, get to work on standing up properly. I take in the sight of the latest witness to the great misadventures of Jaune Arc. He looked about my height and around my age, perhaps a little younger. His hair was long and so dark that it looks almost black, but with hints of dark green running throughout. His outfit consisted of black dress pants and shirt, good black leather boots, with a soft, pastel shade of violet as his tie.
But his most distinguishing feature is the dark metal-looking eyepatch over his right eye, with a tribal flower in three petals centered around the upper corner. A nasty looking scar seems to go from beneath the tattoo to under the eyepatch.
Oh, also a glowing green eye. That is rather distinctive.
"You could take a picture, you know."
"Huh?" My confused response slips out before I realize it.
"You are staring. If you want, you can just take a picture." He posed slightly, like he was trying to present his good side to the camera. "I don't mind."
Oh. I don't really know how to respond to that.
"But if you're not interested in that, I can check over your gear to make sure everything is fine. Then I'll give you something to help take the edge off." He motioned to his shop behind him, The Lotus Emporium. "I have a room set aside for weapons and other gear. Come check it out, and bring your weapon with you."
That is rather nice of him, actually. I quickly grab my gear from the locker and follow him inside.
The main room of the store is divided into several distinct sections. "Natah Electronics" covers most of the left side, book shelves lead out of sight on the right, and an interesting collection of Dust Crystals in the middle. I'm not too familiar with actually using crystal Dust, but everything looks high class to me. No weapons in sight though, but he leads me through a set of doors that cover a good chunk of the back wall, under a banner declaring it to be "Clem's Warehouse".
Once inside, one entire wall seems to be covered in a series of lockers. Excluding a few workbenches, the rest of the room was split between a pair of sparring arenas and a good sized firing range. Other than the couple of practice dummies along the wall, it was otherwise empty of weapons. Turning to my host, he motioned me to set my gear on an advanced scanner of some sort. After doing so, I was treated to a wireframe display of my gear, with special annotations for several different aspects of my sword and its expanding shield sheath, including obvious markers for size and weight.
"Oh good. Everything is fine, and not too complicated." I frowned at his words, feeling a need to defend myself, but he continues before I can interrupt. "Some Hunters focus too much on having their weapon do everything. Focus too much on special dust enhancements, not enough on their own skill with using it as a weapon."
I nod at that. I have seen some students that have weapons that seem more effective due to Dust use than any actual skill. Not that I have much room to talk anyway.
"And it's also good because then I can do this." He reaches over to open one of the lockers, and it nearly instantly extends nearly 30 feet into the room, revealing row after row of need, orderly swords. They appear to all be single hand swords, each with minor variations in size and design. He grabs one at what appears to be random, before another button press pulls that rack back into the wall, only for another extend out. This one is instead filled with shields of all descriptions. He quickly grabs one before it retracts into the wall as well.
He tosses me Crocea Mors, and while I catch it, I'm still lost. "What are we doing?"
He pauses, having already gotten his sword and shield out and ready. Looking at them like this, they look eerily like my own.
"I didn't explain this part, did I? Sorry about that." He looks sheepish. "I can get carried away. But I hoped you would be up for a little spar." He motions to the room around us. "I have this room to help Huntsmen train their weapons. Not like they do up in Beacon, student against student with Semblances and Dust. I like to test Huntsmen with their own weapons, in their most basic forms." He hefts the weapons in his hands. "Like this."
He gives me a happy grin. "And since you decided to drop in, I figured you wouldn't mind indulging me for a while. Don't worry, I will make it worth your while."
Well… since I don't really want to hurry back to Beacon anyway… what could it hurt? Pulling Crocea Mors from its sheath and deploying the sheath into shield form, I take my stance and give him a grin. I do have some frustrations to work out, and this poor shopkeep is literally asking for it, so this should be fun.
~~
It was very much not fun.
~
My name is Jaune Arc, and I… am about to die.
This is not the first time I have thought this. This past week has been a huge string of times I would swear were going to be my end, but so far I managed to get through everything with the help of my new partner Pyrrha and the rest of my team.
And then today, to end our week, we were introduced to our spiffy equipment lockers, which happen to double as a rocket powered delivery service for our gear that brings it to us out in the field. Everything was going great.
And then my buddy Cardin decided he would help me test out my new locker.
I would like to note that I did not agree to this arrangement, but that doesn't really change what happened next.
Which is that I'm flying. Again. For the third time this week.
Thankfully I am encased in a solid metal shell. That is an improvement, right? It feels like it should be. Beacon wouldn't make their lockers weak if they were meant to be deployed and then land with their cargo safely. Of course they would.
The fact I have been going over what dumped me in this mess is only slightly more helpful than the way my voice echoes strangely due to my manly calls for help during my totally under control descent.
Sadly, its not under my control.
The landing jets interrupt any further thought, as the sudden deceleration bring all of my attention to my imminent demise. A solid thump, I get slammed into the bottom of the locker as it lands. The door promptly pops open, and I can feel a great sense of relief as I all but pour out of the locker and onto the nice, safe, solid ground.
"Are you alright there?" A male voice cuts through my still recovering thoughts, prompting me to glance around my landing site. I appear to have landed in a respectable looking part of the city of Vale proper. I don't recognize where I am specifically, but that's not a surprise as I haven't had a chance to explore much.
I do manage to get out an affirmative sounding grunt before the question lingered too long, so that was nice.
"Do you want any help?" The man's voice was tinged with equal parts concern and amusement.
I can't really blame him for being amused, as I was sure me kissing the ground in thanks was hilarious.
"I think I got it." I manage to place actions to words, get to work on standing up properly. I take in the sight of the latest witness to the great misadventures of Jaune Arc. He looked about my height and around my age, perhaps a little younger. His hair was long and so dark that it looks almost black, but with hints of dark green running throughout. His outfit consisted of black dress pants and shirt, good black leather boots, with a soft, pastel shade of violet as his tie.
But his most distinguishing feature is the dark metal-looking eyepatch over his right eye, with a tribal flower in three petals centered around the upper corner. A nasty looking scar seems to go from beneath the tattoo to under the eyepatch.
Oh, also a glowing green eye. That is rather distinctive.
"You could take a picture, you know."
"Huh?" My confused response slips out before I realize it.
"You are staring. If you want, you can just take a picture." He posed slightly, like he was trying to present his good side to the camera. "I don't mind."
Oh. I don't really know how to respond to that.
"But if you're not interested in that, I can check over your gear to make sure everything is fine. Then I'll give you something to help take the edge off." He motioned to his shop behind him, The Lotus Emporium. "I have a room set aside for weapons and other gear. Come check it out, and bring your weapon with you."
That is rather nice of him, actually. I quickly grab my gear from the locker and follow him inside.
The main room of the store is divided into several distinct sections. "Natah Electronics" covers most of the left side, book shelves lead out of sight on the right, and an interesting collection of Dust Crystals in the middle. I'm not too familiar with actually using crystal Dust, but everything looks high class to me. No weapons in sight though, but he leads me through a set of doors that cover a good chunk of the back wall, under a banner declaring it to be "Clem's Warehouse".
Once inside, one entire wall seems to be covered in a series of lockers. Excluding a few workbenches, the rest of the room was split between a pair of sparring arenas and a good sized firing range. Other than the couple of practice dummies along the wall, it was otherwise empty of weapons. Turning to my host, he motioned me to set my gear on an advanced scanner of some sort. After doing so, I was treated to a wireframe display of my gear, with special annotations for several different aspects of my sword and its expanding shield sheath, including obvious markers for size and weight.
"Oh good. Everything is fine, and not too complicated." I frowned at his words, feeling a need to defend myself, but he continues before I can interrupt. "Some Hunters focus too much on having their weapon do everything. Focus too much on special dust enhancements, not enough on their own skill with using it as a weapon."
I nod at that. I have seen some students that have weapons that seem more effective due to Dust use than any actual skill. Not that I have much room to talk anyway.
"And it's also good because then I can do this." He reaches over to open one of the lockers, and it nearly instantly extends nearly 30 feet into the room, revealing row after row of need, orderly swords. They appear to all be single hand swords, each with minor variations in size and design. He grabs one at what appears to be random, before another button press pulls that rack back into the wall, only for another extend out. This one is instead filled with shields of all descriptions. He quickly grabs one before it retracts into the wall as well.
He tosses me Crocea Mors, and while I catch it, I'm still lost. "What are we doing?"
He pauses, having already gotten his sword and shield out and ready. Looking at them like this, they look eerily like my own.
"I didn't explain this part, did I? Sorry about that." He looks sheepish. "I can get carried away. But I hoped you would be up for a little spar." He motions to the room around us. "I have this room to help Huntsmen train their weapons. Not like they do up in Beacon, student against student with Semblances and Dust. I like to test Huntsmen with their own weapons, in their most basic forms." He hefts the weapons in his hands. "Like this."
He gives me a happy grin. "And since you decided to drop in, I figured you wouldn't mind indulging me for a while. Don't worry, I will make it worth your while."
Well… since I don't really want to hurry back to Beacon anyway… what could it hurt? Pulling Crocea Mors from its sheath and deploying the sheath into shield form, I take my stance and give him a grin. I do have some frustrations to work out, and this poor shopkeep is literally asking for it, so this should be fun.
~~
It was very much not fun.
"For training today, we're going to play dodgeball."
"Dodgeball? Isn't that like kid stuff?"
The shop keeper smiled as giant flaming balls of gas bloomed to life behind him.
"Not my kind of dodgeball. Now. DODGE!"
Vaalintine
Wild Wondorous Wolfalope
I have to ask, what Frame did he run in? Evwn if he isn't using it at the moment, it gives an insight into the character.
Chapter 2.02 (Jaune 2)
Skelethin
Barebones Writer
So this slightly got away from me. Not sure what I was expecting letting this go here, but I finally got it cleaned up and ready enough to share. Turns out job hunting really cuts into time for anything else, who knew?
Anyway, comments, advice and critiques all welcome.
~~~
"Good morning, good morning, good morning!" A bright and cheerful sing-song voice destroyed any pretense of sleep. The bane of my mornings. Of every morning since the team moved into the same room. How anyone can be this chipper this early?!
"Nora." The cool, calm voice of reason stated calmly.
"Yes Ren?" The ball of cheerfulness that sometimes went by the name of Nora Valkyrie replied expectantly.
"Its Saturday." Her childhood friend kindly informed her.
"So?" The unperturbed bundle of cheerfulness that sometimes is referred to as the Bane of Mornings countered.
"Its 6 am."
"And?" Her voice expectant.
"It's the day to sleep in." Thank you Ren.
"Psh, that's just what lazy people say." Nora dismissed brightly.
"Nora." Ren sighed heavily, like he was forced to pass a judgement down from on high. "No Pancakes."
A gasp of utter betrayal shook the room. "But…"
"I am going back to sleep. I'll reconsider making pancakes… tomorrow. Just… let us sleep, ok?"
The sigh of the defeated resounded throughout the room. "Ok Ren."
A bit of quiet shuffling, as Nora attempted to settle herself in to at least pretend to sleep. I tried to roll over to go back to sleep as well, but I winced as all of my muscles cried out to me in agony.
I do mean all of my muscles. Some of which I didn't even know I had until now. And they were all the aching due the sparring match that sneaky, sadistic shopkeeper put me through yesterday.
"Are you ok, Jaune?" The soft voice of my partner, Pyrrha, asked me quietly, likely equal parts to help hide my wince as to avoid the attention of the mounting Storm Nora.
I had managed to get back to Beacon, and into bed without any real questions being raised, but I guess my luck was only going to last so long anyway.
"I'm fine." I manage to not-quite lie. "Just sore."
She gives me a rather skeptical look. "From training." I insisted.
Her look upgraded to disbelieving.
"From after I went on a locker joy ride." I finished.
Her look of sympathy returned after a moment of thought.
"Where did you end up?" She asked the concern plain in her voice.
"At some shop. I took a picture on my scroll.." I reached over to its normal location, only to find it missing, my memory from yesterday filling in where I left it, "...that's in my locker."
Pyrrha looked at the rising gales of Hurricane Nora that had completely given up trying to sleep, and had moved onto quietly, for her, trying to convince Ren that "The Pancakes Must Be Made!" on the other side of the room, and after a quick moment of indecision, she motioned for a discrete escape so we could continue the conversation.
While my muscles ached horribly, and I really didn't want to be explaining any of this to anyone, it still sounded like a brilliant idea considering the alternative. With a glance of apology to Ren, I nodded to her in agreement and then we quietly escaped the room.
~
My locker was exactly where I left it the evening before, none the worse for wear from its unexpected journey. It still contained the several new additions the shopkeep had given me after the spar as payment. Not sure if 3 books and a new scroll were payment for that torture, but I hadn't offering more than a token refusal before accepting. Only part of which was due to how exhausted I was.
Pyrrha Nikos, my partner for my time here at Beacon Academy, was exceptional even among the usually exceptional huntsmen in training. Her combat skill was easily best in the class. I am still not sure why she went out of her way to select me as her partner, either. While being about my height, her long, bright red hair and a body many women would be jealous of, she managed to hold herself in a way that was almost demure. The fact she had a tendency to apologize after literally wiping the floor with her sparring opponents in class was endearing though. It made her more approachable, even if she was scarily skilled. Even still, amused look over the three books I had been given was embarrassing..
Pointy End in Enemy and Other Sword Strategies, The Wall Between Self And Pain - Effective Shield Techniques and finally Sword and Board - For More Than Just Bread. All by a guy with the name of Teshin Goldtower. Kind of pretentious name, but at least he could make book titles interesting.
My old scroll had been damaged slightly during my flight into town. Once he noticed, the shopkeep insisted on giving me a new scroll that, now that I had a proper chance to look it over, was a work of art. While the majority of it was white like most other scrolls, that is where the similarities ended. Edged in what looked like pure gold, with breathtakingly intricate details etched into a flowing pattern that were also filled with gold. It was beautiful. It was amazing.
It… was probably worth more than everything that my entire family owned.
I opened the scroll in a daze, absently noting that all the settings matched my old scroll exactly. Except, of course, for a series of little icons for videos that helpfully stated 'watch me'.
Still in shock from realizing what type of gift I had been given, I opened the first video, only to wince when I realized it was part of the 'spar' yesterday. I continued watching, slightly entranced, as I saw myself charge the boy and have him calmly, and simply, place his shield directly in front of where the charge was going to put my face.
And here I thought he slammed it into me. Maybe he is less sadistic than I thought?
The video paused to highlight the movements done, and matched it to a page number in one of the books I had received. The clip then resumed movement and I winced in sympathy to the video-me slamming face first into the shield. The process repeated for at least another 5 minutes before it ended.
"Jaune." I jumped, having forgotten that Pyrrha was even in the room with me. I turned to look at her, and she had apparently been watching the video over my shoulder the entire time. She also had an odd glint in her eye that made more than a small part of me more than a bit scared.
"Yes?" My reply is nearly cut off as she grabs me by the front of my onesie.
"We are going to that shop." She commanded. "Right now."
"Uhh… couple things about that Pyrrha." Her glare only intensified. "One, we haven't had breakfast yet. Two, I don't think it's open yet." I hesitate, her glare's intensity not having lessened in the slightest.
"And third, I would kind of like to change out of my pajamas before going into Vale."
She froze instantly, the last point punching through seemingly returning her to reason, and her grip on me lessened noticeably.
"Umm, right. Change clothes. Then breakfast." She seems rather embarrassed at her actions for the moment, before the glint in her eye, and grip on my clothes, returned full power. "Then the store."
I can only nod fearfully, thankful that I at least talked this scary Pyrrha into letting me eat and get dressed first.
Anyway, comments, advice and critiques all welcome.
~~~
"Good morning, good morning, good morning!" A bright and cheerful sing-song voice destroyed any pretense of sleep. The bane of my mornings. Of every morning since the team moved into the same room. How anyone can be this chipper this early?!
"Nora." The cool, calm voice of reason stated calmly.
"Yes Ren?" The ball of cheerfulness that sometimes went by the name of Nora Valkyrie replied expectantly.
"Its Saturday." Her childhood friend kindly informed her.
"So?" The unperturbed bundle of cheerfulness that sometimes is referred to as the Bane of Mornings countered.
"Its 6 am."
"And?" Her voice expectant.
"It's the day to sleep in." Thank you Ren.
"Psh, that's just what lazy people say." Nora dismissed brightly.
"Nora." Ren sighed heavily, like he was forced to pass a judgement down from on high. "No Pancakes."
A gasp of utter betrayal shook the room. "But…"
"I am going back to sleep. I'll reconsider making pancakes… tomorrow. Just… let us sleep, ok?"
The sigh of the defeated resounded throughout the room. "Ok Ren."
A bit of quiet shuffling, as Nora attempted to settle herself in to at least pretend to sleep. I tried to roll over to go back to sleep as well, but I winced as all of my muscles cried out to me in agony.
I do mean all of my muscles. Some of which I didn't even know I had until now. And they were all the aching due the sparring match that sneaky, sadistic shopkeeper put me through yesterday.
"Are you ok, Jaune?" The soft voice of my partner, Pyrrha, asked me quietly, likely equal parts to help hide my wince as to avoid the attention of the mounting Storm Nora.
I had managed to get back to Beacon, and into bed without any real questions being raised, but I guess my luck was only going to last so long anyway.
"I'm fine." I manage to not-quite lie. "Just sore."
She gives me a rather skeptical look. "From training." I insisted.
Her look upgraded to disbelieving.
"From after I went on a locker joy ride." I finished.
Her look of sympathy returned after a moment of thought.
"Where did you end up?" She asked the concern plain in her voice.
"At some shop. I took a picture on my scroll.." I reached over to its normal location, only to find it missing, my memory from yesterday filling in where I left it, "...that's in my locker."
Pyrrha looked at the rising gales of Hurricane Nora that had completely given up trying to sleep, and had moved onto quietly, for her, trying to convince Ren that "The Pancakes Must Be Made!" on the other side of the room, and after a quick moment of indecision, she motioned for a discrete escape so we could continue the conversation.
While my muscles ached horribly, and I really didn't want to be explaining any of this to anyone, it still sounded like a brilliant idea considering the alternative. With a glance of apology to Ren, I nodded to her in agreement and then we quietly escaped the room.
~
My locker was exactly where I left it the evening before, none the worse for wear from its unexpected journey. It still contained the several new additions the shopkeep had given me after the spar as payment. Not sure if 3 books and a new scroll were payment for that torture, but I hadn't offering more than a token refusal before accepting. Only part of which was due to how exhausted I was.
Pyrrha Nikos, my partner for my time here at Beacon Academy, was exceptional even among the usually exceptional huntsmen in training. Her combat skill was easily best in the class. I am still not sure why she went out of her way to select me as her partner, either. While being about my height, her long, bright red hair and a body many women would be jealous of, she managed to hold herself in a way that was almost demure. The fact she had a tendency to apologize after literally wiping the floor with her sparring opponents in class was endearing though. It made her more approachable, even if she was scarily skilled. Even still, amused look over the three books I had been given was embarrassing..
Pointy End in Enemy and Other Sword Strategies, The Wall Between Self And Pain - Effective Shield Techniques and finally Sword and Board - For More Than Just Bread. All by a guy with the name of Teshin Goldtower. Kind of pretentious name, but at least he could make book titles interesting.
My old scroll had been damaged slightly during my flight into town. Once he noticed, the shopkeep insisted on giving me a new scroll that, now that I had a proper chance to look it over, was a work of art. While the majority of it was white like most other scrolls, that is where the similarities ended. Edged in what looked like pure gold, with breathtakingly intricate details etched into a flowing pattern that were also filled with gold. It was beautiful. It was amazing.
It… was probably worth more than everything that my entire family owned.
I opened the scroll in a daze, absently noting that all the settings matched my old scroll exactly. Except, of course, for a series of little icons for videos that helpfully stated 'watch me'.
Still in shock from realizing what type of gift I had been given, I opened the first video, only to wince when I realized it was part of the 'spar' yesterday. I continued watching, slightly entranced, as I saw myself charge the boy and have him calmly, and simply, place his shield directly in front of where the charge was going to put my face.
And here I thought he slammed it into me. Maybe he is less sadistic than I thought?
The video paused to highlight the movements done, and matched it to a page number in one of the books I had received. The clip then resumed movement and I winced in sympathy to the video-me slamming face first into the shield. The process repeated for at least another 5 minutes before it ended.
"Jaune." I jumped, having forgotten that Pyrrha was even in the room with me. I turned to look at her, and she had apparently been watching the video over my shoulder the entire time. She also had an odd glint in her eye that made more than a small part of me more than a bit scared.
"Yes?" My reply is nearly cut off as she grabs me by the front of my onesie.
"We are going to that shop." She commanded. "Right now."
"Uhh… couple things about that Pyrrha." Her glare only intensified. "One, we haven't had breakfast yet. Two, I don't think it's open yet." I hesitate, her glare's intensity not having lessened in the slightest.
"And third, I would kind of like to change out of my pajamas before going into Vale."
She froze instantly, the last point punching through seemingly returning her to reason, and her grip on me lessened noticeably.
"Umm, right. Change clothes. Then breakfast." She seems rather embarrassed at her actions for the moment, before the glint in her eye, and grip on my clothes, returned full power. "Then the store."
I can only nod fearfully, thankful that I at least talked this scary Pyrrha into letting me eat and get dressed first.
PAGDTenno
Verified Warmind. Probably on fire.
- Location
- South Carolina
*Laughter intensifies*
Orion Zete
[verify weaboo]
- Location
- Malaysia
100000K MILLION ON THE SHOPKEEPER (AKA THE TENNO)
Or ask for an autograph.
- Location
- The West Marches
I really don't understand why so many people go the route of "mysterious, powerful shopkeeper" but then disregard the whole shopkeeper aspect. Honestly I've only seen it work once, and that was in Bleach.
Of course we realise that he wants to help huntsmen, but he can still do that while making money. It mostly seems like you introduce a fix-it character with no drawback whatsoever.
Of course we realise that he wants to help huntsmen, but he can still do that while making money. It mostly seems like you introduce a fix-it character with no drawback whatsoever.
Skelethin
Barebones Writer
Part of it was honestly the sheer amusement of the idea of Torchwick attempting a dust robbery from a Tenno that spawned this entire thing. Then further thought went into important questions, like 'why hasn't he just wiped out all the Grimm?' and 'why does Salem still breathe?' and ' why be a shop keep when slaughtering Grimm as a huntsmen pays better?'
Simple answer is he can't. Well, he could be a huntsman but there is a limit to places he can be.
If all the Grimm could be wiped out, even if just from a continent, Ozpin would have done that with the forces from the Great War when he still had all the nations ready to do anything he said.
If Salem was so easy to stop, Ozpin would have trained teams specifically for that, rather than dealing with entire huntsmen academies and picking a team here or there to help him in his cause.
And most of all, he is retired. This part specifically will show up with Roman next, but he is enjoying his down time. Literally centuries of war, a millennia long nap, then back to the grind of war where the stakes can be measured in millions to billions of people caught in the conflict between Grineer and Corpus. And Infested.
So he's a shop keep who likes to be a bit active, and enjoy himself when he can. He helps those who can use a bit of a boost as he sees them, but he doesn't directly interfere much.
But his history on Remnant had left scars that have yet to heal, and will be showing up to be problems later.
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That he came to Remnant for vacation just shows how conflict never really leaves the Tenno mindset. He'd probably go stir crazy in an Eden like garden world for retirement. Remnant's probably low key enough to not be a blip on the galactic conflicts scale while still being chaotic enough for Tenno retirement plans.
... I'm actually surprised there aren't more Tenno on the planet. Or are there?
??? ummmm... Warframe isn't even interstellar, as far as we know nearly the entire Sentient/Orokin War happened in one or two systems. (there is a single reference in the Mag Prime Codex to a "Blue Star" my response to anyone going "Tau Ceti isn't blue" is a. "Tau Ceti is considered by the community to be the most likely place for the Tau System, but this has never been confirmed" and b. "The Orokin turned the greenhoused hell that is Venus into an iceball and made Pluto, PLUTO habitable, I would not be shocked to learn they cna make a star blue." and finally, some people argue that the Orokin Empire was interstellar, as far as I recall there was all of one suggestion of this even before we had a name for the old enemy or a hint as to the origin of the Grineer and the Corpus, and that was again the Mag P Codex entry, everywhere else was almost obnoxiously vague and never actually confirmed anything one way or the other.)
My bad, I just came back from watching Star wars and I mixed up some concepts. Their conflict is still in a higher tier on the Kardashev scale though.