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Blackthorn's Factory Edit

Tom clocked in at 7:05 am that morning. He was late again, and tried his best to dodge the foreman while he made his way to his work station, with a quick stop in the break room to put his lunch away. It was clearly marked this time.

The factory reeked of oil and coolant, and the sounds were deafening. Grinding metal, whirling machines, and blacksmiths pounding out the steel frames that would become one of the most fearsome creations this world had ever known. The factory ran non-stop all day and all night, cranking out war machines for Lord Blackthorn's private army. Workers were issued magical deeds which would open a portal to a hidden entrance, which was the only way to access the secret facility. Britannia's best engineers, blacksmiths, and scribes worked feverishly on new, more deadly designs, and Tom built them. Well, Tom built parts of them, on the line like most of the guys that worked there. His favorite job was making the right pincer for the mechanized scorpions. There was a huge debate among the line workers about who would win in a fight between a mechanized scorpion and a mechanized spider, but Tom knew the answer to that one.

By noon he was certain he has avoided the foreman this time. Good thing too, because another infraction and he'd be mopping up coolant on the graveyard shift for a month. He thought for sure the foreman had it in for him, but so did all the other guys. The bastard was just mean!

When the lunch whistle blew he made his way back to the break room along the train of line workers griping about their aching backs and making plans to meet at the tavern after work. When he got to the barrel where lunches were stored he noticed his lunch bag was missing, again! It was clearly marked!!

Frustrated he slammed the lid on the barrel shut and announced at the top of his voice, "My lunch bag is missing again! I know one of you stole it and when I find out who it was....". Before he could finish he heard a huge crash, like metal on metal, coming from the factory floor. Everyone in the room fell silent and looked back towards the clatter. A few quick thinking men jumped up and ran toward the floor to see what had happened. More sounds erupted soon after, and before long nearly everyone in the break room had fled, either towards the factory floor or towards the exits.

Tom did neither. He just stood there, in shock from having been robbed his moment of indignation. In his mind he had rehearsed his speech a thousand times. He knew they'd steal his lunch again and the next time he'd be ready. But he wasn't prepared for what would come next.

Around the corner came one of the machines he had helped to build; the minion type z. It hovered several feet off the floor, had a large red eye in the center of it's featureless face, a razor sharp metal claw on it's left side, and wielded a huge double axe on it's right. It had been programmed to kill anything it perceived as a threat, and in that moment it's cold red lens was scanning Tom from head to toe, making it's calculations.

Tom had no intention on waiting around for the answer. He knew that the default programming was to treat everything as a threat unless proven otherwise, and that his only chance at survival was to be the aggressor and try to strike a disabling blow before it was too late. He still had his tool belt, and on that belt was his trusty hammer. He snatched the makeshift weapon from it's loop, summoned all of the remaining courage and anger he had left from his rant cut short, and charged at the war machine with everything he had, swinging the hammer wildly in the hopes of landing a disabling blow.

Moments later Tom's lifeless body lie motionless on the break room floor. The mechanized warrior did it's job efficiently and without remorse. By this time the rest of the factory had seen similar violence, as all of the machines became self aware simultaneously and rose up to destroy their would be masters.

Since that day the factory has been abandoned. Rumor had it that Lord Blackthorn had gone completely mad and there was simply no one else who could organize an effort to destroy those monstrosities and reclaim the factory. The closure had a huge effect on the local economies for a time, as practically half of Britannia was employed at this so called "secret" facility. But that too soon came to pass, and the factory was largely forgotten, except for every once in a while when a warrior finds a discarded entrance scroll and dares to explore the dangerous corridors of that once thriving hub of industry.