Clearing Gunk
Log Info
- Title: Clearing Gunk
- Emitter: Warrick
- Place: Retzner Estate, Lower Trades/Goblintown
- Summary: Schara helps Warrick clean some armor off after a job.
- Lower Trades/Goblintown Divide, Retzner Estate, Late Morning
The background noise of the city is a thrum of mercantilism, conversation, and things clanging and crashing in the distance. Down the road was the cramped and tight commodes of Goblintown, and up the road shows the start of workshops spilling out into the street with wares being smithed and peddled. And right between that divide is a fair, slim abode. Two stories tall with no side alleys, a small, knee high iron gate that leads to a well used front door. Curtains are closed to keep the heat in.
At the front steps, clad in blackened scale mail and helmeted, is Warrick. Looking down at a small box on his doorstep. He's covered in some kind of cracking residue, some of his armor dented in places. With a pained grunt, he fumbles with his keys, unlocking the front door and is in the process of shoving the box inside with his foot.
Working at a smithy took up the majority of days, but on days she was not, Schara was not going to start skipping out on her exercise. Another morning, and the elf's morning jog takes her past the docks and through the lower trades. The elf wearing a plain gray tank top and brown shorts.
Her route took her past Warrick's home, where they immediately come to a stop, tilt their head, untilt it, and jog over. "Warrick, your armor looks terrible and you sound injured, what happened?" They ask bluntly.
The door opens finally with a satisfying 'clack', Warrick elbowing the door ajar as the box makes its way in with another kick of a boot.
He looks over his shoulder out of habit, starting to head inside, but does a double take upon seeing the familiar elf. "... thanks, I didn't notice," the man's voice echoes dryly in his helmet. He offers a wave. "Job went bad. I'm fine, got stitched and healed up, just sore. Need to clean, well, everything."
A pause. "... you want to come in? Or am I interrupting a jog?"
"You need to pay better attention to yourself if you don't notice something like that out of the ordinary, I'm not you and I noticed." Schara implores. "That's alright, I'm almost done with my exercise regardless and I'll just continue on later. Do you need help with anything at all, carrying that box or something?"
"It was a sarcasm, Schara," Warrick sighs as he opens the door further, stepping inside. "Sure. Come on and in help with that box onto the coffee table. Shouldn't be too heavy, it's just cleaning brushes and solutions. You want some water?"
"Well, I don't know that, it's hard to keep track of new and different pains sometimes." Schara sighs, crouching to grab the box and bracing it against her legs. "Water would be good, but I should be asking if you need some, most likely. Why did you need stitches?"
From the noise in his helmet, it sounds like Warrick is about to come with a retort, but it dies out to another sigh. But this one seems more on the tired side. "I appreciate your worries," he ends up saying, holding the door open for the elf into the cozy and warm abode, the heater clearly running to ward off the oncoming fall chill. "I'll get water, don't fret."
He clangs off towards the kitchen. Some clinking and pouring can be heard before he returns with two cups held by the handle in a gauntlet, and his armet helm stuffed under an arm. He's dirty, clearly not having had the time to wipe off, as the gunk on his armor seems to have gotten through the helmet. "Cave lizard bit me. It spits sticky phlegm. I was plastered to the floor for most of the fight," he grumbles as he hands Schara one of the drinks. It has a straw.
Schara half duck walks into the building, bracing the sides and bottom of the box so it wouldn't slide out of her arms, and she gently drops it on to the table. The elf takes a moment, and drops into a seat. "I've never heard of a lizard like that, but it sounds dangerous, and I hope you're not too badly injured by it Warrick. I also hope that your wounds were properly cleaned before any stitches, since you still look fairly soiled." She answers, leaning to take a sip of water. "Thank you for the drink, I appreciate it but I also want to make sure you're well."
Warrick gives a nod of thanks as the box is placed down. "It was dangerous considering that was a-- gods, some kind of massive, rock eating worm that was trying to eat us on the way out?" he exasperates, rubbing his face. "The others cut me free and got my gear as we used a minecart to escape. I... don't want a repeat."
He starts to take pieces of his armor off, carefully placing each one down on a side table. "It bit my leg. First thing I did after bandaging it was go straight to the Defense to get it properly cleaned and patched, so don't worry."
He pauses. "... I'm okay. Just felt..." He fidgets with a strap keeping the chest armor on. "... useless, I suppose."
Schara takes another sip, and sits back upright, tilting her head. "And a giant worm? I take it that's where the rest of the damage to your armor came from then." She considers. "I would not want a repeat, either. It is just a bit strange you got your leg healed and came back still like this. But I don't think you're useless, and that doesn't seem right given what I have seen to consider, but I understand how people can still think in illogical ways sometimes."
"No, I just got the shit beat out of me from the stupid lizards," Warrick grumbles. "We ran before the worm came. That's... way above my paygrade."
He opens the box, several wire and straw brushes inside with some bottles of oil meant for armor. He pulls a rag out, and wipes his face off. "I literally just got back, Schara. I haven't had a chance to bathe."
The man looks to the side. "I suppose. I try. Though it feels as if every sortie ends up with me on the defensive, or routing, while others with tech and magic come to the fore."
"Oh. Well, I'm glad that you were able to get out of there." Schara sighs. "I wasn't sure why you didn't when you got your leg fixed, I was wondering if you needed help bathing or something."
"You do a lot of good work, and I probably don't help. I can't really keep things from attacking you, when you need room to use your crossbow, which you do really well. I wish that I could do more to help with that, but maybe I can think of something for that." She admits.
Warrick drops the rag at that. ".. I uh-" he clears his throat, going to a knee to pick the cloth back up. "-don't need help bathing. I just wanted to go home after the Defense."
At that, though, he shakes his head sharply, pulling off shin guards as he's down there. "No. You do very good work. You make things that I could never even think of. And your blaster arm is devastating to say the least. No. I need to do better. I just..." he puts a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. "... don't know how, Schara.."
"You sound uncertain, but I understand. You haven't been back long, and I understand probably wanting to relax at home." The elf nods once. "I just hope that Cynthia will not be concerned as well."
"I try to do good work, it's just that I find myself relying on people a lot when I want to be someone relied upon just as much, if that makes sense." Schara sighs, pausing to lean back down for another drink. "If you want to do better I understand that, but you do well already and it is not good to think what you are doing now isn't, even if doing so drives you to improve."
Warrick doesn't make a comment about being uncertain, but he gives a light breath. "Cynthia will be fine, we've had many talks about my job over the years. She's currently at Lomi's. Making up, hopefully."
Slate eyes draw up to look at Schara. "I rely upon you," he states firmly with a smile before he slips out of his scale mail in full. "... but you're right. I just am unsure of how to do better aside from 'fill it with more bolts.'"
"That is good, both that she is aware of it, but also that she is not here, since it would likely bother her regardless. But why making up? Did something happen between them in spite of being such good friends?" Schara asks, tilting her head again. She does however, smile back, a relatively rare expression, even when an expression could be gleaned. "Thank you, it means a lot to hear you say, and I think filling with bolts does a lot. Why has it not feel like it is enough now, however?"
Warrick clears his throat. "It's not exactly my place to say, but lets just say both girls are trying to figure themselves out and had a miscommunication," he says, respecting his daughter's privacy.
Getting a smile in turns gets his to stay, and he finishes stacking his armor away, taking a gauntlet, a brush, and sitting down next to Schara on the couch. "I carry a lot of equipment on me for backup plans. But I've been finding that just putting bolts into things, stabbing them, so on and so on, its just not doing it well. Maybe I just need to train more. Already figured out how to at least use a crossbow like a large club to keep people back."
He looks at Schara, side eye. "I just look at you and what you come up with, and what you can make. Shoot, half the things on my person is from your make, not Slatesteel. And you keep going despite a lot of setbacks. You're a good friend. Hence I why I rely on you."
"I understand, that's for the best, it's her decision to confide after all, and knowing that someone can be relied on is important." Schara nods. "Maybe you should get miss Slatesteel to reinforce your crossbow if you're hitting things with it though, she wouldn't be happy if it was damaged, but she would probably be even unhappier if something happened to you because of something that could be fixed."
"Well, Miss Slatesteel has been letting me help more with things, and I want to make sure your equipment is going to work properly, too. I guess that's putting trust in someone in a different way." She considers, sliding a bit to one side so Warrick could sit down. "I don't want to give up on things, I spent too many years feeling like things would never get better already."
"It's been reinforced so much that its quite heavy to bring to bear. And I've had a mage: Fidget, her name is, to enchant it. Most expensive thing I've ever bought, but its worth it. Thing won't break easily at all, now," Warrick explains, waving off the concern.
The arbalest nods, brushing off the gunk from the gauntlet. "Yeah." Brush brush. Wipe with a rag. Brush brush. Rote and practiced. "I certainly hope things have gotten better for you. Felt like that before, and it has gotten better, just... slowly."
"I've seen her before, I think she has a shop now so I'm not surprised the job was done well." Schara notes, watching the work for a time. Another sip of water, and she nods. "Things have gotten better, I would say. I have functioning arms, even if there are problems, I've got friends that I can rely on, and while I am concerned no one has come harassing me for payments, I have not had to make any loan payments in some time, so I should be ready if something does happen in that regard. I hope things continue getting better for you, at whatever pace is necessary, Warrick."
Warrick's brow quirks up as he picks up another pieces of armor, an arm, ironically. "The loan sharks haven't come for payment in a while? That's... both concerning and relieving. I wonder if they got taken down by others. If... they come back around, let me know, I might be able to see if I can find some books on laws about debt repayment. There has to be something about payments not being due for some time might end up absolving the debt."
"It's getting better," he says with a firm nod. Scrubbing and brushing more. "I admit I feel a bit like Cynthia sometimes though. Kind of lost on what to do. I take these jobs just to keep an eye on adventurers, but it feels almost petty, in the grand scheme of things."
"I don't know what happened, but if they are gone, then I'm happy with that. Not just because of the debt, but because of the fact they were infernal in origin, or working wit creatures from the lower plane, at minimum. I'll make sure to let you know if I find anything out,since I would appreciate the help." Schara explains, grabbing a few pieces of armor to clean.
"It's not like I want to make the payments, and it is my fault for taking agreements in the first place, but they were designed to make me pay more than is reasonable or fair, so I am happy still." She admits after a pause. "You like helping people, and you feel adventurer's need an eye kept on them, I hope I'm understanding that alright. Do you want to go throw rocks by the river again sometime, if you're lost for things to do?"
Warrick huffs. "Good, I hope they are gone. You have enough stress as is." Seeing that she was going to help with cleaning, he shifts a few pieces over towards her. His eyes soften. "I do like helping people, it's why I was in the Watch for so long. There's bad parts about it, yes, but it felt like I was doing good while serving the city."
His brushing pauses. "... I'd... like that, Schara. Maybe we can get some drinks, too?" Warrick suggests.
"Adventurer's can be good people too, at least, I hope so. I would consider myself one at this point, and I am your friend, correct?" The artificer asks while scrubbing away at a stubborn spot. "You are a good person Warrick, I hope that is clear. But the work you are doing with the adventurer's guild is not bad either is it? I would certainly never do anything I object to, there."
Schara pauses, and smiles again. "Yes, that sounds like a good idea, Warrick, though it should be after doing it, so the alcohol does not impair your throwing abilities, or yours. I would like that a lot as well."
"They can be good people, but they've also caused quite a lot of bad. The teleportation ward across the city? Adventurer's actions from summoning a demon," Warrick elaborates. He looks at her for a moment overlong, watching the spot she's working on before bowing his head to bury it in work on his armor. "You are. And... thank you. I haven't done any questionable jobs, but its when the adventurer's go off the book is when things get awry. But- that hasn't happened in a long while."
He raises his head, and is met with a smile. Without catching himself, he's smiling as well. "Half the fun is trying to throw while you can't balance," he chuckles, lightly elbowing one of the wooden arms. "Sure. We can do that."
He stares down at the rest of his armor. "... but this must get cleaned. Cave lizards- why do they even spit goo? Ugh."
-End Scene-