((This can actually be found floating around Starnet, on some monitoring website she subscribed to long ago. Only she forgot. The one person who would have immediate access to the cameras would be Onyx, Firehawk, Cateth, Malanne, Veon, and whoever found Asa's stolen phone)) Day 1. *What most people would see first is a rather fair sized workshop, with more than a few objects covered by leather tarps. On the walls of this ropy room would be more than a few designs, as well as the occational fresh drying painting, as well as the odd hanging blast metal sheets. Off to one side was a drawing board, easel, covered in the odd trinkets and a lot of half burnt mood candles. Beside this setup would be a few monitors placed together, six in total, with the top three opened up to an individual game each, with the bottom three opened up to an ignored to-do list, a correspondence chatline to several different people, one of which is Solour. The final monitor is a Starnet browser, only twelve different tabs are open at the same time, one of which is a podcast by a rather cynical British man in square shaped glasses, a well groomed beard and a classy hat, ranting about modern games industry. There were several post-it notes next to all of the monitors reminding her to eat, sleep, and to fill in the orders, which she hasn't even put the time to getting done. At the same time, Mute would be switching between the three upper monitors, from digging in a sandbox environment, to a historical turn based strategy game, and a game about a man carrying more ordinances than an attack chopper. Not once did she pause between flipping through the three upper monitors, as she would play with both hands, like normal people would play a musical piece on a piano. Clearly nothing productive would be done...again. Behind this amazing, and frightening feat, would be a half covered machine, a small metal box that simply sat there, like the rest of her forgotten promises, next to a large crane, and more than a few metal sheets, 100mm thick, and already rusting due to the mist machine that sat next to it. Notably, whatever she had in mind was forgotten, turned into a makeshift bedding that was also covered in plates, and other dirty dishes. To top it all off, Petaldancer's ((The original one)) cat would be on top of the mattress, simply snoring there as its new owner was once again ignoring her job, like she did with most people who only still help her because she almost always manages to get things done at the last minute. Almost In the background would be playing this song: Spoiler: Song
Day 2. When people log in this time around, it would be in the den of the house; a mostly wooden house adorned with trophies, dusty and each with a unique story. That or its probably store bought, who knows. Either way, it was a straight face cliche of a room, if it wasn't for the piles upon piles of unread books, and mailed awards, most not even unwrapped from their packaging. Cups of coffee and other substances sit on counters, over books, and of all things, dangling from the chandelier. Off to one side would be a whiteboard, filled with outlandish ideas, and pictures of a robot dinosaur, trying to eat a stick figure of a grumpy Sheffler. Next to this whiteboard would be a tiny box, the size of a computer tower flipped on it's side with treads on either side of it. It was some idle remote control plaything, half finished and just idly sitting in it's stand. Meanwhile, the fireplace in the middle would adorn a oriental red sheet, written with the names of forgotten people; deceased family members, and more recently, deceased spouses. A few cremetic jars sat on the mantelpiece, with names such as Asa, and a few other familiar names. Like the rest of the house, this room would also have a bed, this one large and circular, with the 5'3 midget sitting in the middle, wearing a bathrobe snugly tucked closed. She'd be pointing a rubberband gun at the Chandiler, shooting up at dangling cups, as she once again ignores the orders of other people. Interestingly, she'd be idly swiping at a holographic screen with messages to a man named Braydens, who only seconds ago would of transferred 7500 pixels to her account. Mute would simply toss aside the rubber band gun, idly wondering why her new maid Jebe hasn't cleaned what was frankly her messiest room in the house. She'd sip from a clear glass of brown liquids, looking to the door to the lobby, stacked with crates upon crates of swords and guns, meant to be shipped out long ago as she sighs. This was becoming a problem. A carbon disc would be spinning on a hightech player, Spoiler: Song
Day 3 On a dead planet, cooked by the sun, was the rubble of a once familiar castle. What was once the snow filled courtyard, and battlements was now just covered by ash, and sand. The Former Wolves Den, weathered and forgotten by time; the stone steps are cracked and broken, though it doesn't deter one traveler from slowly entering the once silk covered halls. It was Mute, in her sandblasted cloak, who traversed the once ice covered corridor, into the once music filled main hall. It was the only room that seemed to be well kept, thought the once large glass windows would be covered up by large bricks, painted with a false scenery of ice mountains and snow. Electronic candles, sit on every table from corner to corner, casting eerie lights and shadows. The floors around the carpeted area of the room would be filled with flowers, hiding every inch of the cracked stone floors. The centerpiece of it all was a large stone monolith, carved with an ever growing list of names, some familiar, while others foreign and worn beyond repair. Mute would place a flower in front of the monolith, next to the picture frames of worn out faces, letters, journals, notebooks and more. The long shadows seemed to make ghostly visages, the haunting of former friends, long since passed from this side. Oily shadows of those who once walked this den of violence and greed. Even then, Mute simply knelt there, calm and collected, remembering the better days of those who no one would remember these days. Spoiler: A Broken Recorder Would Play
Day 4 The feed on the camera would static for a moment, before revealing a part of the Wolves Den that few people ever laid eyes on; the garage. The place was one of the few parts of the place still preserved from the toils of time, with the machinery within still functioning properly, thought barely. A singular floodlight lit up a workstation, filled with a few blueprints, and tools scattered about. Should people look carefully, a few outlandish items would be placed on a nearby table, on top of their respective blueprints. Some of those include: A pair of gauntlets, with all the fingers tipped with clawed ends. There is also a wrist mounted grappling hook, and pilot light. Beside this pair, sits a transparent cylinder, filled with foam balls, coated in tar. A canister of nitrogen is fitted with an insulated hose, with a pressure gauge on one end. At the end of a hose, is two barrels, one fitted with a fire hose nozzle, while the other is a pneumatic gun, able to fire whatever was loaded within (Coated in ice of course) A portable saw with seemingly nothing holding the circular sawblade in place, but a magnetic field. Mute would hold it up, and accidently launch the sawblade towards a foam target, before smiling devilishly. Her PDA would be playing a quiet tune Spoiler: Song
