Melted Brass
- Wayfarer's Inn, Early Evening.
A downpour outside has kept most of the hunters indoors on this Variday. The warm hearth helping try those caught out or seeping heat back into their bones, as the wind was ripping any warmth away. The last vestiges of winter, perhaps? Making its final claim.
Seeking refuge, and panting as they come through the door, is that of a soaked Eldanar man, a backpack full and clanking with metal. His hair sticks to his face, only for him to slick it back and scan about. "Go hunting, Cap says..." he mutters to himself, looking for a place to sit.
There was already a brown haired elf at one of the tables within the inn, hunched over close to the table. Schara wasn't looking the best, and more than a bit unwell, a touch exhausted based on their complexion. The table was strewn with parts and pieces, and a large bowl of stew with an accompanying mug of ale for the use of the space. They had part of their chest plate on, which was looking a bit charred before even reaching the right side, which appeared to have been melted and bent out of shape before being replaced completely by a wooden arm that had been attached haphazardly to fill the space.
Warrick moves about the space, getting himself something warm to drink from the bar before trying to find some sort of seating-
But his attention is caught by the brown haired elf. Squishy bootfalls approach Schara's table, followed by a dull thud of metal as a bag is set down beside them. "... hey Schara," he says softly, looking them over with a worried look in his visage. "Nice to see you. Mind if I sit?"
The elf looks up from their work when Warrick arrives. They blink, smile, frown, and grimace all in short succession before covering their face and coughing.
"Oh, hello Warrick, I wasn't expecting to meet you here." They answer quietly once the arm is lowered and they're able to return to a more neutral expression. "That is not to say it isn't good to see you, and you are welcome to sit here of course but I just was not expecting you out of the city."
Warrick offers a light smile as he sees one flash across Schara's face, but it drops back into a latent worry. "I get out sometimes," he dryly jokes. "Cap thought it'd be good for me to go hunting. She's also terrible at telling the weather."
Taking a moment to remove his soaking coat and drape it over the back of his chair, he sits beside them. Looks at their drink. Then motions to the keep to get Schara another one while pointing to himself: he'll pay for it.
He cuts right to the chase. "What happened..?" he asks before looking to all the parts on the table. "And is there something I can do to help speed this up?"
"Oh, that makes sense, I'll need to remember that for the future." Schara nods slowly as she considers the answer. "Is miss Slatesteel alright? I had to take time off to do work out of the city, and I don't want her getting overwhelmed. And, how are you and your daughter doing? I hope you're both okay."
The elf sighs, and grimaces a bit as she turns to the side in an attempt to give Warrick a hug. "It's not a long story, but one that happened very quickly with a lot of things happening at once." They answer as they lean back into their chair with another grimace. "I don't know what you can do to help at the moment, but I appreciate it, Warrick."
Warrick nods. "Slatesteel is good. She's fine with you taking off, she's not one to hold people back when they have things to do," he allays. His visage softens. "We're both doing well. Cinny's current interest is jousting matches. So I've been going to those as of late. But the guild work has been light. We're good."
Then Schara turns to try and hug him. A motion that momentarily catches him off guard, especially since he was dripping wet. But he finds himself wrapping the elf up in a careful, yet warm, embrace. Warrick holds it a moment before pulling back, him rubbing his neck. "... sometimes they don't have to be long stories. But I'm more than willing to listen, Schara," he says, just as another drink arrives at the table. "I can also maybe help replace some hard to reach places on your armor?"
"That's good." Schara sighs, leaning to take a sip of their drink. "I haven't even told her what happened, and now I'm worried but I can't not tell her. I'm glad that you're both doing well, but does she still like training with that crossbow? I know you went through all that work to get one made and I don't want it to go to waste but what interests them is just as important at the end of the day."
"There's someone who is smuggling animals in to Am'shere for illegal gambling. I'm trying to do what I can to stop them, but they fled to Am'shere, and are hiding out with a group of hunters in the jungle." They begin, pausing a few more times to sip on their drink. "You could help take some of the plates off my chest piece I guess, they got pretty badly melted in the process and I don't think I can reuse them in their current state."
Warrick shakes his head. "Schara, you're worrying too much. Slatesteel may be a stubborn, but she's very understanding. Besides, she doesn't want you running yourself ragged, especially if you've gone through some rough stuff. Trust me." He gives a light smile. "Oh, Cinny practices with the crossbow still. Every other day she goes to practice. Just her hobbies jump around a lot. Don't fret too much about it, she's a teenager, still figuring herself out."
Now they were talking about issues ongoing, and Warrick sips on his drinking, leaning forward and listening intently. He frowns. "... smuggling through the portal is very hard, especially considering the rock solid peace treaty between the sith-makar tribes and Alexandros..." he murmurs, rubbing his chin.
Seeing as he had some manner to help Schara, he puts his drink down, dries his hands off on his shirt, and pulls his chair closer to help with removing the melted pieces, looking for latches and straps. He wasn't an artificer, but he knew his armor. Close now, he prods the topic, intoning, "... and then what happened?"
"That's why I don't want to worry her more though. She's been through a lot of rough stuff too." Schara sighs. "You have as well, so I don't want to do anything that would cause trouble, but sometimes work does leave me ragged, so it's hard to do."
"I'm glad that she is still using it, that's good and I'm glad that you're giving her the chance to find new things she might like." The elf manages to smile again. "I didn't have a lot growing up, but I was always thankful for the opportunities I did have."
"They were using magically enchanted equipment for extradimensional storage." She explains after leaning down to finish off her drink. "We only found out because one shipment went badly and killed most of the smugglers."
The armor in question was mostly attached to the underlying components, but not dissimilar to plate armor with varying fastening points. Although there was a fair bit of spattered blood underneath where the shoulder was. "We were deciding on how to approach the group of hunters, and decided on confronting them to release the person behind the smuggling. In order to do so, we went out with some of the hunters from Am'shere to prove our own capabilities and lend credibility to our challenge by capturing some of the quickclaws for the hunters. We went out to do that, only to find that there was someone abducting hatchlings from the town we were just in." They continue, stopping to take another sip only to find their mug dry.
"Slatesteel will be fine," Warrick says firmly before shaking his head and lightly smiling. "Cinny just still figuring out what makes her, well, her. I just want to supply that curiosity as best I can. Give her what I didn't really have."
His visage grows contemplative. "That.. makes sense. Extradimensional storage. Very expensive to do, must be a profitable gambling hall to make that work..." he muses as he works. Each plate he unhooks, every now and then giving a small warning about having to wrench it off as he holds on to the armor to brace. He spies the blood on the shoulder, filing that away for later as the stack of melted plates grows.
His brows shoot up. "... do they have a death sentence? Abducting hatchlings from makari is probably the stupidest thing someone can do," he says in disbelief. Slate eyes drift over the damage, to Schara's shoulder, then up to the elf themself. "... and that's where the story gets complicated," he intones after the mug gets drained.
"I think I understand to some degree at least." Schara nods. "If you need any help, I don't know what I could do, I would be happy to do what I can."
The artificer is relatively easy to work with, save for almost every piece removed causing them to grimace. "They knew what they were doing it seemed. I believe they were abducted near the outskirts of the village, some form of druid turned into a swiftclaw, those creatures used by sith-makari instead of horses, and they were fleeing into the forest. It was only luck that Rune and myself were close enough to stop them. I wasn't letting some animal run off to seriously injure a child, or worse, but I didn't even realize it wasn't a beast at first."
"When they turned back, that's when they conjured a massive plume of fire to attempt to kill us, there is no doubt about that given the size and intensity of the flames. Luckily Rune was alright, but I was not nearly as lucky. Bronze is good at conducting heat, which left me almost burnt to death in my armor."
"And yet, I still didn't care about that." The elf continues, shaking her head. "I just wanted to make sure that the child was safe, that's all. Even after the druid was slain, there were still the other beasts we came to track down. They nearly finished me off, but it was better to be myself than the hatchling or someone else."
"I will keep that in mind, Schara," the man intones. Warrick sighs, popping off another plate and making a new pile. "If they were working with makari, then that makes sense that they knew what they were doing."
His eyes widen at the mention of Schara being cooked alive. He looks down briefly, scanning for burns. ".. shit, do you need some salve?" he asks, visibly worried. Even more so at the mention of beasts trying to finish the elf off.
The Eldanar was a sharp man, him glancing back to the blood, the ruined, makeshift arm. A few beats, then his eyes widen slightly. "... did... they destroy your arms?" he hesitantly asks, worried about the answer.
Schara was looking mostly alright, but there was still a faint discoloration to much of their skin on their right side, difficult to see at a glance simply due to how much of it was covered. "Oh, was that drink for me? You aren't drinking it." They wonder. "I'll be alright. There were clerics there with me, and while I don't like relying upon them if I can help it, they were able to heal the worst of my wounds."
Schara blinks, and hangs her head. "You're worried, I'm sorry. I don't want to worry you." They offer quietly. with most of the panels gone, the framework beneath was exposed, padding, metal and leather with various wires interconnecting everything with the runes inscribed on them. "I still have a functional arm, at least." They continue, holding up their left, hooked arm. "It's possible that it was spared due to not being directly burned, or because I already designed it to withstand further abnormal temperatures. But my right arm ceased functioning nearly immediately, as the parts and joints fused together to the point they no longer functioned."
"It's alright, though." They continue. "I, it might be hard, but I can replace it. You can't replace a living arm so easily, and I would not be able to forgive myself if something had happened to the child."
Warrick nods, giving a light smile as he pushes the drink towards the elf. "Yes, it's for you. Seemed like you needed it," he says before softly sighing in relief. "Good."
He finishes with the last of the melted panel, eyes drifting over the wires, the padding, the runes. He can't help but get a tinge lost in the intracity of it. Zero understanding on his features, but it was hard to mask the impressed look on his face. Suddenly aware that he was staring, he clears his throat, lifting his gaze with a tinge of red on his pale face. "I can be worried about my friend," he retorts. "Mostly, I'm glad my friend is alright, and is still speaking with me."
He makes some space, looking at the hooked arm. "... that is a fair point. Though I am.. sorry you had to go through that. It's... hard being put in a situation that you've had bad experience with in the past. I am like that with undead. But.. yes, better a metal arm than a child."
A pause. Him sipping on his own drink. "I'm sure Slatesteel could help you with materials for a new one," he mentions. "And... I can hang around here if you need some assistance with repairs. I know you are very independent," he holds up a hand, as if stifling a rebuttal, "but you'd offer the same for me."
Schara tilts her head for a moment, nodding once at the retort and smiling again, only to be broken by another grimace. "I can tell you more about how my armor works some time Warrick, if you would like." She offers. "I know, you're allowed to worry, but that doesn't change that I would rather not see you worried, and see you happy instead."
"I'm not good with animals. Those swiftclaws, they're like horses, and even more dangerous." They continue, reaching to grab the new drink and drop the straw in it from the previous. They consider for a moment, and smile again. "I like having you around Warrick, and I'm sure there are things you could help with. I have most of the parts, a lot of them from Am'shere and others I had already, but I may need more."
"I try to be independant because I've lived so many years relying on others." The elf sighs.
Warrick is disarmed at the smile. "I'd be interested in knowing how it works," he accepts without thinking. He hesitates a moment before reaching out, resting a hand on Schara's good shoulder, the left one. "I appreciate that. And worries are allayed since you are here."
He pulls back. "Yes, swiftclaws are no joke. I rode one once. Something about cross-discipline. Was flung off it," he shakes his head, sighing and chuckling at the memory. Taking a long drink and polishing the mug off, he sets it aside, offering a light smile. "I feel similar. I learn something new every time we talk. Very well. Maybe we can figure out some plates out here and I can help you get them put back on?" he offers.
His visage softens. "I know, Schara. And you do a very good job of doing just that. Though you /sometimes/ take it a little too far," he lightly teases. "Look at it this way; your friends want to help set you up to be independent. Want to. Not because they /have/ to. And there are some things you can do that I sure as hell can't do."
Schara tilts her head again. The elf seems to consider something for a moment, before smiling again. Though it is a bit forced, fighting back another grimace as they lean into the hand for the moment. "I'll make sure to share everything I can. But I'm sorry, I need to go back and make sure that smuggler sees justice. I promise I'll be careful, but it might make you worry more."
The artificer exhales, and nods slowly. "I'm glad you're alright, that could have gone badly." She considers. "You have a nice smile, I'm glad there's benefits to talking to me because I like talking to you."
She leans back down for another drink, considering what Warrick said. "I guess I do rely on myself a bit too much, and now that I've got friends who care about me, I need to take better care of myself. And I can't understand everything, so I should accept help that's given freely, especially if someone wants to help. That makes sense, thank you, Warrick."
Warrick shakes his head, putting his hands in his lap after clearly noting the grimace. "No. I trust in your abilities. You will do fine and succeed," he says, confident. "Deliver justice."
The compliment catches the man off guard. Said smile twisting into a weak thing, bordering shy. "... thanks. I like talking to you as well."
He sort of looks at the bottom of his empty mug, wishing he could dive into it briefly before flagging down the bartender and pointing at his for another round. "Of course," he nods slowly, letting Schara ramble their explanation. Something of a comfort. He waits a bit, until his drink gets to him. "Is there anything jabbing you? Or are you just sore?" he asks, having referring to the winces and grimaces.
"Thank you, it's good to be trusted." The elf nods again, only to stop and tilt their head again. "Why do you not smile as much when I mention it?" The artificer wonders aloud. "Actually, you don't need to explain it, I'm sorry for pressing something like that and I don't want to bother you when you came here to help."
She looks back to her drink and sips on it some more. "Well, no, it's usually like this. That's why I usually have a helmet on." Schara begins to explain quietly, turning and looking around at anyone nearby for a moment. "But the needles used for processing information from nerves cause a lot of pain and other problems and I thought you should know at this point."
Warrick blinks, him looking down into his drink. "No no, it's alright," he softly chuckles after a moment, the smile returning. "I just... it's been a while since someone's told me that. That's all."
He leans in as the elf takes a moment to see who was around, him listening. The once-guard blinks.
Looks down at the armor. Back up at Schara in bewilderment. "... you... mean to tell me," he says in a quiet whisper, so they wouldn't be overheard. "That big suit of armor you wear jams needles in you...? To... connect to your nerves?" he repeats back, just to be clear, bewildered, a tinge concerned, and morbidly curious. "Do... do we need to get you out of that thing?"
Schara frowns and nods to Warrick's response. "It doesn't jam needles in me, I do." They correct. "They're necessary for the arms to function properly and respond how a normal arm would."
A pause, and the artificer shakes her head. "No, it's, alright. It's painful, but I'm used to it. And I don't ever want to go back to being useless to people I care about, so it's necessary."
"Semantics," Warrick retorts, leaning back into his chair and sighing in slight relief. "That's... ingenious. Brutal, but ingenious. I was just worried the fight locked you in there and you would need to get out of it even...tu.. ally..."
He trails off, pondering Schara's words. "... is it the armor? Or do you have something on under the armor?" he infers, growing more and more curious, but he blinks and shakes his head. "Ah, nevermind. You said you would explain it later. Apologies," he smiles.
His gaze drifts to the parts strewn about before going back to the arificer. "Hey. So, how about this. Let's get whatever it is you need repaired in some manner before you head back, and when you get back, beers on are on me, and you tell me all about how this stuff works, okay?"
"It's not semantics, it's an important distinction." Schara huffs. "If it did so on it's own, then it would be much easier to use, and it would not be as difficult to put on. Having to do so myself makes it much more difficult, especially given the pain from doing so."
"I'm not locked in here, which is good, but I needed to be able to have at least one functioning arm to make the proper repairs. I do have clothes on underneath the armor, not much, but enough to be comfortable. But I will not go into more details until later."
The elf ponders for some time, before she nods and smiles back to Warrick. "I think that will be something to look forward to. And I would appreciate your help, once I know what parts are salvageable, I can go about making the necessary repairs."
"Sorry," Warrick concedes. "I hope you can figure out a way to automate the process to make it smoother." He pauses. Nods slowly. "I understand. If you ever need assistance donning or doffing it, please let me know."
The man's smile grows. "Excellent. I look forward to that as well. I'll be around here for a bit, so I'll catch you when you come back. Now-"
He reaches down into his bag, pulling out a deck of cards. "Ever played Dragon's Gambit?"
"I would like that, but I'd be happier if I found a solution that didn't require them, but, until such a time it's alright. I guess since you know now, it might be good to have assistance sometimes, as long as it wouldn't be too unpleasant for you." The elf considers. "Something to consider for another time, yes, I still need a functioning arm for the time being."
"I've never played Dragon's Gambit, no. I'm judging by the fact that you have a deck of cards out that it is a card game, and it is not about strategies of dragons? They do have a lot of treatises on such matters if you know where to look." The artificer muses. "But likely a card game. That sounds like fun, would you be willing to show me how to play? If it requires a hidden playing hand you'll have to promise not to look at my cards, since I can't really hold them right now, but that sounds like fun."
Warrick just laughs, a bright sound after Schara goes on their signature ramble explanation. He reaches over, sliding the pile of plates to be between them before he shuffles the deck. "Here, can hide your cards behind that. I won't look, promise. I can teach you. So, the goal is to trade cards to get the second highest value, but not to go over. Hence the gambit."
He orders another round for them, and he deals.
-End Scene-