Fun with Guns and Bombs [Cambie]

[Alegretto]

Darjak stepped through the darkened streets of Uthlyn with a sureness in his gait born form the knowledge that he had several pounds of black powder secreted about his person in the form of explosive weapons. It was a cool evening and the dwarf reveled in the nice breeze that blew through the city. There always seemed to be a breeze in Connlaoth, so different from his own dwarven homeland.

Darjak had traveled to the city of knowledge in hopes of improving his bangpowder formula and finding new and purer materials. He had quickly hit a promising lead. One of the old maps at the university spoke of a mine not too far from the city that contained "some strange yellow rock with an odd smell." Darjak could almost smell the sulfur from inside the library. It had to be good stuff for an ordinary human to perceive the yellow color so strongly. The dwarf was actually heading to the mine now, unable to contain his excitement.

He was almost to the city limits when he heard a sound he knew and loved. Gunfire. The dwarf was instantaneously sprinting towards the direction the report had come from without so much as a first thought. Every manufacturer of bangpowder used a different formula, and Darjak made it one of his passions to collect this information wherever he could. The sound of gunfire meant that someone had a gun, which meant new bangpowder to test. The dwarf grinned gleefully and not a little psychotically as he ran. He always looked forward to dissecting a new bangpowder recipe.

[Cambie]

A hundred hours or more per gun.

Eight guns.

Fletcher couldn't remember the last time he felt like he wasn't completely drained of all energy. The order had come in less than two months ago, the letter sealed by the wax insignia of some wealthy noble in Uthlyn, the handwriting contained within impeccable. He recognized the seal immediately: the nobleman was one of the richest men in the entire country and one of his most generous benefactors. The last pistol that Fletch had handcrafted for the man had been hailed as a masterpiece by all the masters of the college, had been the gun of choice in an award-winning shooting performance in Reajh, and had finally bestowed upon this young man the title of "Master".

Of course, the small chest of gold sent his way was a nice afterthought as well. With his name known throughout Connlaoth now, Fletcher's tiny little bank vault threatened to burst at the hinges.

These latest eight guns, he dared say, were even greater achievements in artistry and engineering than the pistol. The metallurgy of the gun barrels were some of the finest metals he'd ever crafted. The wooden stocks were meticulously carved and inlaid with ivory and horn to depict the soaring hawk that adorned the nobleman's crest. The wheellock mechanism functioned perfectly, and he bore the barrels to the perfect diameter, for the greatest accuracy.

These would cement his status as the greatest gunsmith in the land. No doubt the nobleman's sons would treasure these gifts for life.

But as he rode through the dark streets of Uthlyn now, the weapons secure in their lockboxes in back of his wagon, he couldn't but get a sense that his fame might've caught up with him. He only had his single lantern illuminating his way forward, so he didn't catch sight of the black-cloaked bandits until they were right upon his wagon.

With a shout, Fletch dropped the reins and instinctively went to his belt where his own guns quietly sat in their holsters. Always loaded and primed for emergencies, he was able to pull the trigger just as the first knife-wielding bandit came upon him with a snarl. With an incredible bang and a cloud of smoke, the shot knocked the man clear off his feet and to the pavement here he lay unmoving. Startled, his horse gave a panicked whinny and took off with the cart in tow.

Desperately Fletcher dropped his spent gun and grabbed for the reins, trying to control the runaway horse while simultaneously clutching the grip of his second pistol. With all this commotion he wouldn't have the time to reload his first gun. Not with the three other bandits shouting and running in pursuit. Two of them cut left through an alleyway, presumably to cut him off.

"H-help!" Fletcher shouted into the night.

[Alegretto]

Darjak was still running toward the source of the gunshot when he heard the wheels of a wagon and the sound of someone yelling "help!" from down the street. A wagon came barreling around the corner at the end of the road and started heading toward Darjak.

Two black-cled men slipped out from an alleyway between he dwarf and the charging cart. One of them pulled out an ancient-looking crossbow and fired a bolt. The horse went down with a scream, the projectile protruding from it's shoulder. The wagon's inertia kept it going and when it hit the stricken horse it pitched forward.

The two men stood still a bit, watching their handiwork. A lethal mistake. Darjak pulled out one of his blast eggs and used the flints attached to his glove and bandolier to light it's fuse. The sound of the cart's overturning covered up the noise the dwarf was making and the men had no idea what danger they were in as the blast egg came flying in-between the pair.

Darjak had timed his throw perfectly and the egg exploded in mid-air at right about ankle level. The two men went down, their screams of pain covered up by the noise of the explosion. Darjak ran up to the two stricken men and stooped to check their condition. Not however, with the intent of helping them but rather to view the effect of his explosive. one of them had their leg blown clean off and the other was so full of shrapnel that he was already dead. Darjak filed away a note in his brain. Clay from the Risling mine created effective shrapnel.

Research concluded, the dwarf looked up at the over-turned cart. He saw a man stirring in the wreckage but he seemed to be trapped under a larger piece of wood. He ran over to assist, never noticing the third black-clad figure sneaking up behind him, dagger at the ready.

((OOC: Presumed a bunch of stuff. I can edit this if you want.))

[Cambie]

Fletcher almost flinched as he heard the twang of the crossbow. His heart sank even further when he heard the death whinny of his horse, the bold embedding itself in his neck. He almost wished it had hit him instead.

But he didn't have time to think, for at that very moment his cart overturned and threw him to the hard pavement. He landed with a thud that knocked the wind completely out of his lungs, and then felt the rest of the cart topple over him. Shutting his eyes and preparing for the worst, instead he found himself pinned underneath it, unable to move, the cart on its side with its wheels still spinning. He let out a groan.

Through the haze of his blurred vision, he somehow saw his other gun sprawled out on the ground, just out of reach. All around him, in haphazard piles, were the eight lockboxes containing his prized creations. Feebly he reached out to desperately grab at them, only to realize he still had his second gun in his hand.

When the explosion went off, it nearly deafened him. Coughing in the smoke and hearing nothing but a ring in his ear, he caught the silhouette of the dwarf just in the distance, standing over the two fallen bandits. He didn't have time to think about whether or not this new character was a friend or a foe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he did register for a brief moment that this one was dressed differently than these other scoundrels...

When the dwarf approached him Fletch tried to pull himself from under the cart only to find that he really was stuck. His eyes watered in all the smoke, but he had enough sight to lift his gun up and point it at the approaching figure.

And then that second man, cloaked in back, rushed at the dwarf with a dagger in hand. Instinctively Fletcher shouted, "BEHIND YOU!" Just as quick his gun moved several inches to the left. With another deafening blast and an explosion of smoke, the gun discharged its iron bullet directly over Darjak's shoulder and into the head of the bandit, dagger upraised. In a shower of blood and brains, the bandit toppled over in a heap.

All the while, on the other side of the cart, the two trailing bandits arrived at the scene of the crash. Their eyes widened when they saw the carnage, but quickly and quietly they snatched up four of the lockboxes.

[Alegretto]

Darjak flinched back as the trapped man help up a gun. "Whoa!" he shouted holding up his hands. "Wait I'm..." He never had the chance to finish as the sound of the gun discharging drowned him out. The dwarf closed his eyes, expecting the worst, but didn't feel the extreme biting pain of a bullet hitting flesh.

He thought he heard something behind him, but it was hard to tell since his ears were still ringing from all the discharges and explosions. He turned to look. There was a man laid out, a neat hole placed in his head and a dagger in his hands, a few feet behind the dwarf. Darjakf, wide-eyed, turned back to the shooter. This man was good! to hit a small target like the man's head was no mean feat, especially while pinned under a cart. Unless he was trying to shoot at Darjak. Then he was probably the worst shot ever.

The dwarf decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt, and stooped to help him. It took all of his dwarven strength to lift the huge piece of wreckage a few inches off the man. His eyes bulged and his muscles were suddenly threaded with pulsing veins fro the effort. "Hurry!" he gasped out.

With all the activity, Darjak failed to notice the thieves picking up the lockboxes behind the cart.

[Cambie]

When the dust had mostly cleared and the dwarf strained his muscles to lift the fallen cart off of him, Fletcher wasted no time in scrambling clear of the vehicle. As the cart came slamming back down on the pavement, he lay on his back staring up in the sky, gritting his teeth and breathing heavily from the exertion and the excitement. The gun was still tightly clutched in his hand, discharged and empty. By some miracle, he'd survived this mugging.

His exhale of relief caught in his throat though when he finally spied the two men picking up the lockboxes containing his newly crafted guns.

"Wait, NO! NOO!" he screamed as they looked at him and then took off down the street and into the night. Fletcher scrambled to his feet and took off after them, though they had a large headstart.

About ten paces past the fallen cart, Fletcher took a knee and fumbled to pull out the bottle of refined blackpowder he kept in a pocket under his coat. There was a grim deftness with which he loaded the muzzle with a perfectly eye-measured amount of powder and a perfectly round iron bullet. The silver ramrod came out just as quick, as did the spanner to cock the wheel lock mechanism into place.

It all took about thirty seconds or so before the gun was ready to fire again. But by this point the two men were so far down the street with his prized guns that he really didn't have a hope of hitting either of them with the pistol.

In despair he sank to his knees and watched them flee into the night.

[Alegretto]

Darjak was finally able to set that cart piece down with a crash as the man finally crawled clear. He had to bend over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath, before he could even consider doing anything else.

A moment later, he heard the other man's shout and looked up to see the fellow loading his gun and two figures in black sprinting down the street carrying four rather large packages. Watching him, Darjak thought the same thing he had earlier. The man was good! The dwarf didn't think he knew any other man who could load a weapon that fast. Still too late though. The pair were running faster than a lead ball out of a barrel.

The dwarf noticed that there were four boxes scattered on the street similar to the four the pair had been carrying. He surmised that the pair were thieves and the gunman in front of him had just been robbed. The man sunk to his knees, clearly distraught, and the dwarf decided that this was not the time to ask the man if he could get a sample of his bangpowder. He'd have to put the man in a better mood for that. So Darjak decided that it was time to employ his excellent comforting skills.

He walked over to the man and patted him on the shoulder.  "Sorry for lettin' those rats git away with yer boxes. I shoulda checked to see if there were more 'fore I tried to help you. But you gotta remember, whatever was in those cases can't be as important as yer life. See, as long as yer alive you can get them back." The dwarf flashed the gunman a menacing grin. "And you can take revenge too." In Darjak's experience, the thought of revenge was always comforting.

[Cambie]

Fletcher almost didn't notice the dwarf standing next to him, and barely felt the pat on his shoulder. All he could think about was all those hours of painstaking labor and love, every etch and carve he made to make those guns. He almost wished the ground would open up and he would sink down into it.

Somehow though, this stranger's words struck a chord in him. Slowly he turned to glance up at Darjak, a slight frown on his face. But then the frown deepened into a scowl and he said emphatically, "Damn straight, I'm getting them back!"

And climbing to his feet, he stalked over to the two men laid low by the dwarf's explosive device. One of them was still alive, albeit with only half of his lower extremities intact. The man was still half-screaming half-whimpering in his pain, and it only worsened when Fletcher gave the man a solid kick in the side.

"Where are they taking my guns, huh? You tell me now or I'll fill you with more metal than you already have in you," he shouted down at the man, pointing his gun at the bandit's chest. The sight of all the blood almost made him queasy, but it was easily overpowered by his frustration.

[Alegretto]

((OOC: Lol the bombs are ceramic  ;D))

The fellow looked up at the gunsmith with so much pain in his eyes that it was obvious he wouldn't be able to answer. Suddenly, the man seized up and his breaths became short and ragged. and his eyes totally defocused.

Darjak sighed. Looked like his attempts to calm the man down had only riled him up. Carefully, he peeled the gunman away from the shivering wreck of a man. "Look, he won't be able to answer you, he's going into this thing called shayawck, and people can't talk when they're like that. Trust me, a doctor once told me that men always go into shayawck when they lose a limb. But lucky for you he also told me how to fix it."

The dwarf pulled a metal rod and some pitch from his bag. He grinned maniacally. "Watch and learn." He poured a little bit of the pitch on the road and without so much as a second thought lit it on fire. He put the rod over the fire for a second or too before unceremoniously jabbing the red-hot implement into the man's bleeding stump of a leg. The fellow screamed as the smell of burning flesh filled the air. He definitely wasn't in shock anymore.

[Cambie]

Although acting on impulse and anger before, Fletcher was entirely unprepared for what the dwarf did. The sizzle of skin brought about a horridly acrid smell of burning flesh to his nose, and he nearly gagged at it. Catching a glimpse of the maniacal look in the dwarf's eyes, Fletcher was forced to back off and turn away, almost retching from it. He clutched his gun in both hands now, finger hovering over the trigger.

All of a sudden, he wasn't so sure about his new companion.

The man on the ground let out another bloodcurdling scream of pain before waving two trembling hands at the dwarf.

"P-please, m-m-mercy! No more!"

From his spot well away from the two of them, Fletcher called out, "Where are they taking my boxes?"

The man chattered out a reply. "We were paid to t-take your guns... to the old Silverlight m-mine outside of town... Oh God, take me to a surgeon, p-please!"

[Alegretto]

Darjak kept grinning. He turned to the gunman. "Told ya I could fix him." He then wheeled back around to face his unfortunate patient. "You sure 'bout that? A surgeon charges. I do it for free. You sure that's what you want?"

The man's head bobbed. "Yes, yes, by Ansgar yes!" Darjak nodded. "Alright then, but you should be thankful to me, I saved yer life with this poker." He hefted the bar. "You'd have bleed out by now if I hadn't."

He hoisted the man over his shoulder before wheeling to face he gunsmith. "Where's the nearest surgeon? I don't know this town very well. We can drop him off on the way to the Silverlight mine. I'm heading there anyway and if this fellow is right then I might need some help, and you might too."

[Cambie]

Fletcher stammered out a response. "Two blocks back from the way I came..." He gestured in that general direction as well, before quickly stepping over to his overturned cart.

Grabbed the side of it with both hands, his face nearly turned red from trying to flip it back upright, but he didn't have the strength alone. It wasn't until he'd spent a good thirty seconds at the task before he coldly remembered that his horse was dead. With a scowl and a curse, he let the cart drop back down to the pavement.

"Drop the injured man off first, then we head to the college," he insisted as he went about collecting his remaining four lockboxes. He knew they were sturdy enough to protect the guns inside, but shuddered at the thought of the other four firearms being removed from their custom casings. Or worse, removed and then used...

"I need to keep these safe, collect some gear. And maybe hire some more muscle."

[Alegretto]

Darjak started walking in the direction that the man had indicated, before he realized that the other man wasn't coming along. He went back, and watched the gunman futilely try to lift his cart. He knew it was a pointless actions because he'd picked up the thing himself and he could barely get it off the ground. Even the two of them wouldn't be able to right it.

The fellow gave up, and began collecting his lock boxes. When the man recommended they go to the college first instead of the mines, the dwarf asked why. His answer satisfied Darjak, it made sense, except for the last part. The dwarf scratched his head in confusion, "What kinda muscle can we hire at a college?"

[Cambie]

Fletcher had his arms wrapped around the four boxes, trying to keep them secure in his grip as he hurried down the street and back toward the huge tower in the center of Uthlyn. His eyes darted left and right into every alleyway he passed.

"The kind that accept coin," he answered quickly. "The college is filled with academics, but this city has its fair share of people looking to get paid..."

At the end of the road, they passed a two-storied building with a signpost hanging above the door that boasted the apothecary's symbol. The young man gestured briefly with his fingers to the building and said, "There's a healer in there."

And without stopping, he hurried right past.

[Alegretto]

Darjak threw the man down in front of the apothecary's shop and banged very loudly on the door before running off to follow the gunman. He caught up to the fellow, though it took a bit of effort considering his smaller legs.

"What's *huff* your name? *wheeze* Can't remember *puff* if I introduced my self but, *wheeze* I'm Darjak."

((OOC: Sorry for the short phone post))

[Cambie]

Each of Fletcher's strides might have been two of the dwarf's, but the young man didn't slow down his pace one bit. His eyes were still locked straight ahead to the tower, hands clutching tightly to his precious mastercrafted guns. His eyes had a look of shock, but also a tinge of determination... and anger.

Finally, though, after keeping his torrid pace for a few blocks longer, he slowed up enough for the dwarf to catch up and catch his breath.

"Darjak," he slowly repeated before glancing down at the dwarf. "My name is de Villiers. Fletcher de Villiers."

"But... ah... you can call me Fletch."

[Alegretto]

Fletch. Darjak went over the name in his head. He was finally able to walk alongside the man without running. They were still moving faster than he would have liked, but at least he didn't have to sprint. "Well Fletch it's a pleasure to meet'cha."

The dwarf was silent for a few moments before he started up again. "So what was in those cases that was so valuable?" He asked, genuinely curious.

[Cambie]

Fletcher tensed up at the question, and glanced cautiously at his companion. Unconsciously, his pace quickened slightly as he quickly turned his eyes back to the tower up ahead. His grip on those boxes became a little tighter.

How could he answer the dwarf? He'd already been confronted once this evening.

He didn't know who 'Darjak' was.

But then again, the dwarf had saved his life. And if he was really after Fletcher's life, or his wares, then he would have taken either or both a long time ago. Fletch let out a slow exhale.

"They're, ah... they're guns," he finally said. "I make guns."

The finest guns in the land.

[Alegretto]

Darjak'a eyes lit up. A gunsmith! Maybe he made his own powder! The dwarf could barely contain his excitement. He had to ask. But maybe it was too soon. He probably shouldn't ask yet...

Darjak couldn't resist. "So you're a gunsmith. Do you make yer own powder. What'ya Connlaothians call it? Brack powder?"

He awaited the man's answer eagerly. If this fellow was any good, Darjak might be able to improve his recipe. This was turning out to be a good trip after all!

[Cambie]

Fletcher frowned again. He turned down one street, and then turned right on another. They passed several closed bakeries and a familiar smith's workshop. He knew they'd be arriving momentarily.

"...Blackpowder, yes. And I do make my own," he replied without looking over. The boxes were beginning to slip so he stopped momentarily to readjust their weight.

"I make all of it on my own."