Post by TheEnd on Jan 18, 2014 15:44:39 GMT
there's nothing wrong with just a taste
Back in the real world, Felician Ender had not been one for festivals or banquets or the like. He was rich, yes, and the head of the company, but it was well understood by his peers that he was a worse companion than almost everyone that could appear around in the party. It was because he was so intelligent, he supposed. He had gained his position based on his birth, yes, but he had also put in more than enough effort to prove that he had earned the right to govern Ender Technologies and Telecommunications. Every project that came out of his Research and Development department had his hand on it somewhere in the design, provided that you knew exactly where to look. But of course, he was TheEnd now, and the festival was possibly one of his best chances to find some people who would be willing to work with him. He needed a Blacksmith at the bare minimum for some metal, and if he were given the chance, he'd like to have a Scribe for blueprints as well and an Alchemist for trying to use mana in place of electricity. It might not be bad to get together some people who were willing to help him invent things like he would in the real world. Of course, on that end, he should probably find some other mechanics too, a thought that made his brow furrow down into a scowl. He didn't want to bring in other mechanics, simply out of the memory of how the research and development people would sometimes cause trouble for when he would try to tweak their designs, and he'd managed to win that argument mostly by firing them, and since the company was the one holding the patent, there hadn't been anything they could do to stop him. Now though... patents didn't exist here, and he did not like the idea of having himself questioned just because some pompous idiot was too proud to accept that someone younger than they were had managed to solve a problem in a simpler way. Of course, he still needed the Blacksmith for some metal, so he just sighed and pressed his lips together irritably and dealt with it, hence why he was currently making his way through the crowd at the festival, his ears turning every which way alongside the sounds and his eyes skillfully searching through the crowd for someone with the skill level that he was looking for. A Blacksmith would be useful since he could have customized parts, while a Scribe was something that he was rather hoping that he would find. The ability to make blueprints would come in handy, especially given that he didn’t have his old design table anymore with the holograms that he could easily manipulate with the touch of a finger. Which meant he’d need a Scribe with either some skill in the field of mechanics or architecture or one who was willing to learn. A headache started brewing right above the bridge of his nose at the thought of it, and he resisted the urge to let out a loud groan. Somehow he had a feeling that this was going to be a long day. | Words;; 538 Tags;; Open Notes;; And thus End sets about trying to create his group of inventors without actually realizing that he's just as much of an ass as the people he's describing. *shot so hard* Also this is during the set-up, so it's still nice and bright and early and no one's drunk yet. *shot more* Lyrics;; "The Ballard of Mona Lisa" by Panic! at the Disco Template by Kuroya |
of what you've paid for!
