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What a Blast

 
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Dair McRae
Young Wyrm
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PostPosted: Wed May 20, 2015 5:33 pm    Post subject: What a Blast Reply with quote

It was a quick and easy in-and-out affair, committed during the dead of night when witnesses were sparse. Besides, Iron Clad had been in business for years without incident, any surveillance in this part of town was slack if even existent. The open-air forge had lived on the edge of the great Marketplace, near to Old Towne, since before Oliver could even pick up a hammer. Now young Oliver was old Oliver, and owner of the shop.

But Agni and Pork didn't give a *** about Oliver. They cared even less about history. Agni carried a canvas rucksack over a shoulder and Pork strolled alongside him. Together, they looked casual, a couple of young (albeit rough at the edges) guys heading home maybe after a long night of hitting the pubs. They weren't going home though, and soon they arrived at the forge.

Pork came to stand behind a workbench. He looked around, then snorted with derision. Good riddance to this ***. Really they were doing everyone a favor.

"We'll put one here," he said to Agni, who had knelt to open the bag. Pork moved around the stall, assessing. "And here. And of course here."

Agni mostly ignored the guy as he unpacked the dynamite. "Uh huh. Nh," he grunted in the appropriate places.

They didn't spend much time with idle chatter but set to work promptly, tucking the explosives into different hiding places that would ensure a chain of small blasts that would create huge destruction. It would, Pork knew, ruin pretty much everything, and maybe harm some neighboring stalls too. But most importantly, it'd kill that *** Scottish asshole. Kill him dead.

Their mission finished, they slipped away like shadows.
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FinMack
Adult Wyrm
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Joined: 12 Aug 2014
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PostPosted: Fri May 22, 2015 12:52 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

It was a normal sort of quiet morning around the Marketplace section where Iron Clad stood. There was that lazy sort of hush that lingered on the horizon just before the sun appeared, blanketing the movements of those shuffling slowly around in a bleary haze, even if this was a habitual routine of decades. Sometimes the mind could still be asleep while the body moved, muscle memory serving when conscious thought failed.

Master Oliver was always first to the forge, always there to make sure that nothing had been stolen from the small hut that served to keep their tools and currency from trade. Promisory notes and scribbles regarding future jobs or debts owed were kept neatly in a roll top desk that was scavenged from a shipwreck years ago. Tools hung neatly on pegs or from hooks that dangled from the ceiling because Oliver was a neat man, feeling that a cluttered work space led to a cluttered mind and shoddy work. Never trust a slovenly merchant.

This morning was no different than any other of the hundreds of mornings he unlocked the door to the hut and got things situated. No different when he stoked the leftover coals and lit some tinder to get the fresh firewood going for another day at the forge.

But...there. A faint...was that hissing? Oliver had turned away from the fire to collect some notes about what was coming up ahead for the boys when he caught that strange sound like air being pushed through a small opening. It was prolonged, not heat or moisture escaping from wood, he knew those sounds too well and they wouldn't nag at the back of his mind like that. The man was staring in consternation at the built up hearth, trying to figure out what could be wrong with the fire when flame and a sharp burst engulfed him and that was the last that the world knew of Oliver Sigurd.
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FinMack
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PostPosted: Fri May 22, 2015 2:04 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Fin and Dair were coming down the street toward the forge, the former having just caught up with the latter after snagging a pasty for breakfast. Brief pleasantries were exchanged and a comfortable silence fell while Fin chewed his food and Dair chewed over his thoughts. Per usual.

Fin smiled and nodded to the few merchants he knew by frequent association or just working side by side for three seasons. The smithy was usually one of the first to open because the fire had to be prepared and allowed to reach a certain temperature before real work could begin but there were others that still beat them there. A baker halfway down the block, a weaver that mixed her own dyes in the early morning light and a handful of others that made up the gritty morning crew.

The pair was about two stalls away when they were suddenly thrown backward by a tremendous blast. Fin hit the ground and bounced, skidding backward a few inches through rubble before coming to a stop near a textile cart. Clothes were torn in some places, the pleats of his kilt askew and limbs akimbo, lying unconscious for many minutes before he finally came to. Eyes opened slowly and there was a very loud ringing in his ears like he was standing inside a great bell using his head to beat the sides. Covered in fine dust and bits of wood, he lay for a few minutes longer, taking stock of himself. Everything hurt but the Scot forced himself to sit up. Slowly did blue eyes survey the damage around him, trying to play catch up to reality. An arm was laying under some thatching and Fin flipped himself onto hands and knees, wincing as he crawled. One of his thighs hurt worse than the other but he would check it out later, first he had to make sure Dair was still alive.

Thatch and bits of wood were lifted off the one-eyed man and Fin could see he was still breathing. Good. Lucy would kill him if Dair didn't make it. Sagging on his knees, head bowed for a moment as he let relief wash through him before lifting his chin to look around. What the bloody hell just happened?
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Dair McRae
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PostPosted: Sat May 23, 2015 4:16 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Distracted by his own thoughts, he'd been frowning at the ground as they approached the forge though his expression didn't translate into a bad mood. It'd been an emotionally turbulent week but it looked like things were going to calm down. Still he was reviewing what had been done, what had been said, even at this early hour in the morning, his mind restless with possibilities and resolutions.

He was looking forward to work. There, at the forge, he could escape the insanity of his own rambling, he could get lost in the labor, become someone different, someone whose only concern was the metal and the hammer and the fire.

Feeling a little lighter in step the closer they got, there was a moment where it seemed his feet were not on the ground at all. Wasn't that funny? Oh. No. No, it wasn't. Though maybe he looked like a funny ragdoll when the blast shoved him off his feet and gave him a toss like a bratty kid tired of its toy. It all happened quick, too quick for the Shard inside him to react. It, too, was stunned by the impact and reacted sluggishly to protect its host.

Dazed, Dair lay there until Fin came to his side. He pushed himself up to sit, squinting at the mess all round them as he touched his head. "What..." But he couldn't bring himself to finish it. He didn't really need to be told.
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FinMack
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PostPosted: Mon May 25, 2015 3:13 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

Everyone within a half mile radius came to see what had caused the noise and the ground to vibrate. Spectators were milling about at the edge of the destruction, others were running to fetch help or calling for the local guards on mobile devices.

With his wits slowly coming back to him, Fin looked in the direction of the forge. He had to squint through the dust that still lingered thick in the air, black smoke eddying through it in slow swirls as it rose steadily from the wreckage. There was...nothing left as if it were never there to begin with. Fin didn't even know if Master Oliver had been there yet, thought to brave the area to check but a glance down reminded him that he had to get this piece of metal out of his leg first. Easing back onto his arse, Fin saw that Dair was already on his phone, probably calling...Lucy, if he had to guess. Should Fin call anyone? Who would be awake? Eva - yes, she could help. Tried her at home and then her clinic before reaching her, giving a quick run down of the situation and that a doctor was needed for those others injured.

The guard arrived and questions were asked, triage was set up and people with official titles were swarming the scene.

A few hours later, Fin was leaving Eva's clinic in the company of Dair and Lucy with a bandaged leg and one less job than he had when he woke up this morning.
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FinMack
Adult Wyrm
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Joined: 12 Aug 2014
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Can Be Found: at Iron Clad forge
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PostPosted: Fri May 29, 2015 2:31 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

The next day, in the wake of the explosion, Fin remembered something and sighed, picking up his phone to find Crispin's phone number. Knowing the man as he did, Fin knew this would garner a spoken conversation and not just a text message.

It rang and the moment he heard someone pick up, Fin didn't even say hello, just launched into what he wanted to say.

"Eh....Cris....I do no' know how to tell ye this. Yer shoes...were blown up."

"Define blown up."

"Eh...they were bein' kept at the forge. To work on. The forge was blown up."

"What happened?"

"Dunno, really. Master Oliver be dead, one other. Do no' know anythin' yet."

"Dead. By the Angel.... You're all right, yes?"

"Mostly, aye. Leg was hurt a wee bit but Eva patched me up."

(lots of silence) "Do you need anything?"

"Eh...well, we will need a new place to work," said wryly with a light chuckle.
"But for the now, we be alrigh'."

"I've another friend I can ask about this, if you'd rather focus on reestablishing yourselves."

There was a light frown. "Well...I would no' want to lose the work but I do no' know how long it will take us to find another spot." Build another forge, buy new tools.

"You're not losing it. Postponing it. I will more than likely need other things, more pairs."

"More pairs?" Color him amused. "I appreciate it, Cris, I do. I will keep ye posted on how long it will take an' I will reimburse ye for the shoes lost."

"You can never have too much armor."

"Don't worry about them, Fin. Take care of yourself first, yes?"


The price would come off the next pair of boots, then. It was made up in Fin's mind. "Aye, I will. Thank ye. An' ye take care o' yerself, as well." A man that needed that many knife-boots didn't exactly lead a safe lifestyle.

"I will."

Click.
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