Lastdvell [HC-Gal-x-Mageling]
 

He hesitated.. What a stupid move. And for what? The enemy? Collaborators? Yet as he sat there in the alley, bleeding, considering the misery of his position, the likelihood of death. He couldn't help but look back on it, that one moment.

Kazan was a soldier of the Varstradt empire, particularly part of a task-force that had been sent tot his small town to uproot a troublesome rebellion movement. Even as he walked up the steps of the church in the middle of the town, so deserted it all was, people hiding in their homes, the town guard long defeated, no authority was to challenge them.
Information they had suggested the church was the base of operations for the resistance, using the holy ground as a shield. It still felt wrong to bring the fight to such a place.

The squadron smashed in through the doors tot he cries of fear, the sounds of children and woman, the old, all afraid of the raiders as they raised their weapons, rifles, deadly technology, where most communities had not advanced as far, the Varstradt bore rifles and guns, even battle platforms they referred to as tanks. It made them into what was often referred to as the Steel Battalions

And he hesitated, reaching out suddenly and pushing a companions gun aside.
He barely had time to say that they were civilians before he looked back over to see the very resistance members they'd been hunting, and in their hands were Varstradt weapons.

Gunfire roared. Skin was pierced, blood flew and the squadron fell apart, taken completely by surprise.
Kazan was only half lucky. Whilst he had escaped, the gunshots had still caught him. Even as he hobbled away into the dark of the night for safety, the blood poured slowly from open wounds that only felt steadily worse.

He'd lost count of how long he'd been hobbling through the alleys in search of a safe place. He could hear town alarm bells going off, shouts and calls as they tried to hunt for survivors. And that meant him too.
Eventually he could only give up, press his back against a wall and collapse to the ground, leaning against it while he mused at his foolish mistake.
You hesitated.. He chuckled to himself, coughing, but this served only to make the open wounds more painful, the smell of blood filled his nostrils, his own blood, it didn't matter though..
At least you didn't kill civilians..

Robyn hesitated near the door. She could hear the screams of the injured outside, alongside the shouts of the would-be rescuers. At least, she hoped they were rescuers, for the sake of those injured. She was certain there would be no mercy if they were found by more soldiers. Drawing up her courage, Robyn opened the side-door entrance of the house (even though it was more like a glorified shack than anything) and looked outside. For a moment, she thought there was nobody in the alley, and she almost relaxed. Seeing nobody was better than being caught unaware by an Imperial soldier. Then she heard a soft, shuddering breath and a moan that caught her attention and made her turn to find the source so quickly that the vertebrae in her neck popped slightly. She gasped when she saw the man slumped against the wall.

It was dark enough in the alley that she couldn't make out what he was wearing, but what did it matter? He was clearly not well, perhaps even injured badly, and she wasn't the kind to stand by while someone else needed help. She wasn't sure what kind of help she could give, of course, but anything would be better than leaving him to die. She darted out into the alley, glancing around every few moments to make sure nobody was coming. As she got closer, she could distinctly smell the scent of blood hanging in the air. Distantly, she thanked god she was still wearing her working gloves. She stumbled when she tried to help him up. He was much heavier than she expected, and the armor he was wearing made moving him awkward. He didn't seem to be conscious anymore, either, which made everything that much harder.

Somehow, she managed to drag him back into her house and she laid him out on the floor. The old couch would have been more comfortable, but she didn't want it to be ruined by any blood. She was kind of fond of it, and it would be horribly difficult to replace. Once she had the soldier laid out on the floor, she set about removing the armor. Once or twice, she had to break out a pair of cutters to get him free, but she managed and used what she had on hand to get the bullets out. His armor had stopped a lot of the momentum of them, from what she could tell, but she was no doctor. All she knew was that they were shallow enough for her to pull out with a small pair of pliers.

Finally, she bandaged him up and did her best to make him comfortable. She didn't mind using a pillow and a blanket for him, those were more easily replaced. Now, all she could do was wait and see what happened.

The man phase din and out of consciousness, unaware entirely of what was happening, though at one point he was unlucky enough to awaken while a bullet was being remove which resulted in a predictable groan of pain, form tensing for a while until he lost consciousness again. That'd definitely leave a mark or two.. He would have laughed if he was awake to do it, though that probably would have hurt just as badly..
The shouting outside could still be heard as they hunted for the enemy soldiers. They'd been successful in finding a few but they were certain on was missing. Luck would have it the injured Kazan's wounds had caked over enough not to leave a trail towards his rescuers home, but if anyone came knocking and saw the armour and the torn clothing.

His luck had somehow held out though as the banging on doors to look for him died away from his rescuers home. But he remained quiet for some time. The thoughts that plagued him in his troubled sleep, the civilians he could almos thave shot.. Was this what had been expected..? Certainly the empire wouldn't kill civilian targets simply to attain victory.. If he hadn't stopped the squadron firing they would easily have cut through them, even the resistance members..
But it was the first faces he saw. Women, children.. One in particular, a little girl no more than a few meters from the door, looking up at the men in terror, a soft doll hanging behind her, gripped in her tiny hand. Her terror was clear to see, having watched as the doors were smashed open.
Could he really have shot that by mistake? Or even.. On purpose..? What if he was ordered to leave no survivors..? No.. No the Varstradt wouldn't possibly do that..!

Kazan shifted, emitting a weak groan, his eyes opening slowly. He tried to turn but felt a sharp pain from the bullet wounds, stretching across him like a bolt of lightning, which forced him to fall back for a second. However he stubbornly tried again, pushing the blanket aside as he looked down at the bandaging. It was already stained red, likely to need replacing.. But.. Who put them on him..?
He looked around as best he could, trying to get a focus on whoever was near, or what kind of home he was in.. From what he could tell.. A Lastdvell house..? Strange.. Had they already caught him and taken him prisoner..? Wait no.. No bars, no locks.. And this was a little too homely for a cell.. He could see the remnants of his armour, but they were out of reach.. The handgun still attached to the chest-piece.. That was special, not just as a gun but because it was the true primary weapon, he could forget his rifle.

After turning a little too much the pain struck at him again and he collapsed on the makeshift bed. He had to get his gun and get away from here.. Get himself fixed up proper somehow, hell if he had the right salves on hand he could have done a proper patch job.. But the medic was one of the first ones to die in the hail of bullets they'd been on the wrong end of.

Robyn came back out of the back room when she heard the man's groaning. She had meant to check on him sooner, because she was sure she would at least need to change his bandages, but she had lost track of time. She had been an apprentice to the local mechanic, before the man had been killed during a resistance sweep a few months back. Robyn hadn't even been half-done with her apprenticeship, but she had what seemed to be just the right combination of talent and skill that she was still able to take on small jobs for the community. Big, complicated things were still beyond her, though what she would give to be allowed to take apart one of the Empires machines... It would be wonderful to see what made those things tick.

Slipping her work gloves into her back pocket, she wiped one of her cheeks with the back of her hand and grimaced when she saw the streak of grease. She had a habit of not noticing when she got dirty in the workshop. She wiped the grease off of her hands the best she could, and tried her best to scrub the rest off in the workshop sink, and then went out to see if the soldier was still alive.

"Well, you're awake," she said when she saw him trying to sit up, "that's something, at least." She could see the bandages from before starting to get soaked through, and went to one of the side tables to see if there were enough to patch him up again. She only found one roll of them, which forced her to go into the side room that she used for laundry and dig through her basket of rags for something suitable. The well-worn cloths in the basket may not have been the same color they once were, but they were clean, and that was what counted. Grabbing a few, she went back out to the soldier. "Hold still, or you're just going to make yourself worse." Gently, carefully, Robyn removed the old bandages and put them on the floor. She would salvage what she could, and toss the rest later. Then she started to patch him back up with the new bandages and the rags, using the rags in place of gauze pads. "This is about the best I can do. I'm no doctor, but I can at least keep you from bleeding to death."

"I'm awake..?" The soldier asked as he finally noticed the other.. He couldn't rush for his gun now.. she'd probably be miles ahead of him in terms of speed, he'd be too slow in his current condition, "Or just dreaming..?" The soldier tried to focus on her, but then reached up to press on one of his wounds, this causing him to groan again, but it was the kind one made when they'd clearly done something stupid and realized it for themselves,
"Real.. Definitely real.." He informed himself, now wishing he hadn't done that as a burning sensation overtook the wounded area.

When she'd taken to removing he bandages, he wondered if he could take advantage of the situation to grab and pin her, interrogate her, or just tie her up and recover on his own terms, hopefully no-one was expecting her today.. Or he could just leave her to it.. But now that he thought about it, he understood quite well that she was a Lastdvellan and that, essentially, made her a member of the enemy that opposed the empire, an empire he served.
So why..?
The question had to be asked, stupid as it sounded to him,
"Why are you.. Doing this..?" He asked, staring up at her, trying to shift himself to aid in her efforts, but every movement felt like his strength had been drained, he fought the sensation off, he'd been taught to do so.

What really mattered was an answer to his question. He had to admit he never expected such treatment from a member of the enemy nation, not because propaganda suggested they would not, but rather because of what the Empire was doing, starting a war and taking over their land, forcing itself upon them, forcing their towns and cities under its rule, its laws.. Logic suggested there would be resentment of some kind..
"Surely you.. You know what I am..?"

Robyn smacked his hand away when he started to touch his wounds. Ugh, men. Always having to hurt themselves to prove a point...

"Don't do that," she said. "You'll only make infection or something set in, and then where will you be?" She tied off his bandages a little tighter, just to remind him not to touch anymore. She glanced at him again when he started to ask questions. "I don't know how things work where you're from," she said, "but around here, it's considered wrong to leave an injured man to die in an alley." Or rather, it used to be. But since the start of the invasion, many of her peers and neighbors would have left him out in the street. Robyn stood up once she was finished dressing his wounds again, and put on her working gloves so she could pick up the bloody bandages without heaving. Oil and engine grease, she could handle. Used bandages, not so much. Once she threw them away, she took off her gloves again and slipped them into her back pocket where they previously were.

To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure why she saved him. He was an Imperial soldier, after all, his kind had slaughtered hundreds of Lastdvellan people, and she was Lastdvellan herself. Still, though... she hadn't been able to just sit by and let him die. It didn't feel right.

Her explanation, though lacking made as much sense as it didn't to him.. But he wasn't about to argue about being saved, although he still couldn't fathom what would drive her to do it really.. The reasons he gave was a little too poor, too small to be considered the whole truth of it.. Much too.. Simple.. Kazan lay there for a moment, watching her as she went about getting rid of the bandages. His dull brown eyes lost focus and he squinted, trying to see again. With fresh bandages covering his wounds and make-do rags acting as gauze, he once again turned himself, this time managing to place himself on his side at first, then pushed himself a little further, raising one leg, a knee, to stabilize himself against the ground, pushing further, using his other leg to start standing, one hand on the ground to help him balance whilst the other rested on his knee, letting him get up steadily on the one leg before he shifted it to use whatever was closest to balance again, straightening his other leg.

Whatever her reasons or intent.. He had to leave.. Sooner or later his presence would be discovered, but then, as he looked at the window, he could tell that daytime had come since the night.. And there would be no way to avoid being seen.. Not in his current condition.. He instead weakly strode to where the remnants of his armor remained, hand reaching out and grasping the gun, however he simply removed it along with its holster.. He wasn't going to sit around without a wepaon to defend himself..
Even as he pulled it from its placement on his armour he could feel the strain biting at his wounds, but he remained stubborn.
"You probably would have been better off putting me out of my misery," He added after a while, staring at the gun in his hands, "If anyone finds out that you've sheltered me.. A Varstradt soldier..? Frankly I dont think I want to know what they'd say or do.."

He was really trying to get up? Not on her watch. As he managed to get to his feet, Robyn pushed him gently over to the couch, being extremely cautious of the hand that was holding the gun. Not that she would admit to him that she was worried about him shooting her... He was an Imperial soldier, he might just shoot her on principle if she mentioned it. She sat him down on the worn cushions.

"Correct me if I'm wrong," she said, "but you just got shot less than twelve hours ago. More than once, even. I didn't patch you up just so you could go and get yourself killed again." Picking up the blanket from the floor, she draped it over his shoulders. It made her uncomfortable, because doing so made her vulnerable to being shot herself, but she was counting on the theory that he could barely see straight, much less lift the gun to shoot her. She couldn't help but glance at the gun itself. The outermost parts seemed simple enough, but she knew the innards of the thing were much more complicated, and her fingers were just itching to take it apart to see what made it work.

She jumped at a knock on the workshop's outer door. She glanced at the soldier, and then turned to go back to the workshop. Just before she disappeared, though, she looked back at him one more time.

"If you try to undo all my hard work again..." she said. "Just... stay there and don't move." Then she went back into the workshop. Thankfully, the knock was only one of her neighbors, asking if she'd finished fixing the repairs on their old clock. Now that the crisis was overwith, people were trying to get back into their normal lives again. Robyn smiled and chatted a bit as she went to retrieve the clock, and then explained what was wrong and how to make sure it stayed fixed. Her neighbor thanked her, paid her, and was off on his merry way again within minutes, and Robyn went back into the main room again.

"But I.. Er..!" The man tried to argue but found himself being redirected.. It would hurt way too much to even fight her anyhow.. He let her do as she pleased, finding himself placed on the couch, he didnt hold the ugn in a manner that was threatening, it remained holstered in its separated compartment and when she placed the blanket over him, he couldn't help but feel a litle ashamed.. He probably was disrespecting her attempts to help by acting so foolish.. But what did he care really? She was just the enemy right..?

He finally drew the gun, looking up as she walked away to get the door. His head swivelled slightly.. If he could grab a pillow or something he could use it to silence the shots.. Wait why was he even thinking that..?? He froze, trying to push the thoughts out of his head, it was just as much a risk as it was a cold-hearted move on his part.. Whatever made him want to hurt her at all?
He turned the gun over in his hand, pressing the magazine release so he could slide the ammo out of the handle then bulled the slide back, ejecting the last round still buried in the chamber. He wouldn't shoot her.. She'd been kind enough to save his life.. That was worth merit and courtesy..
With the gun emptied he dropped it next to him on the couch where the mag and single bullet rested.

"Piece of advice..? Before some-one comes in here, get rid of those rags and put the armour pieces away.." He mentioned with a slight grin, "Even if I dont undo all your hard work.. Some-one out there probably might be happy to.." Kazan added, though lowered his head, sighing softly.. If he breathed any harder it would hurt him outright,
"Thank you, anyway.. My name is Kazan.. Kazan Leinfauld."

Robyn was already digging in one of the boxes by the door for one of her tarps. She kept a few, for when a project was likely to leak oil or if there were many pieces she wanted to keep track of. Once she found the right one, she unfolded it and draped it over the armor. She didn't exactly want to touch the armor yet; she had no idea if there were any kind of 'surprises' in it at all, and really, it was too awkward to carry each piece out into the workshop. She would try to do it later, if for no other reason to get it out of her main room.

She was surprised when he introduced himself. Honestly, she was surprised that he was still conscious. The bullet wounds must have still been very painful, and she had been sure he would have passed out again by now. She wasn't entirely sure whether or not she should give her own name in reply, but eventually she did.

"I'm Robyn," she replied. "Robyn Carpenter." She hated giving her surname, especially since she had gone into mechanics rather than taking after her father and working with wood rather than metal, but there it was. She glanced at Kazan. "And if you crack some joke about Robyn being a boys' name, I'll be forced to chuck a wrench at you."

The man chuckled only slightly, though in doing so it caused the pain to kick in and he grimaced, though strangely enough continued to smile,
"My mother's name was Bradley.." He responded, making it clear he had no intention of making fun of her name, frankly he thought his own surname was open to abuse, it certainly was when he was a kid, but thankfully she didn't seem to want to be mocking about it either. Thinking about his mother now he realized how she'd act if she saw him injured like this.. She could be a little over-hospitable at times..

Kazan shifted a little, sitting was causing the wounds on his abdomen to hurt, he had to straighten out. He half turned, pulling a leg up onto the couch then the other, adjusting the blanket to cover him appropriately and moving the gun and its ammo onto the ground. He didn't want to complain that he was hungry.. She had already done enough, he couldn't insist on more, but at this rate he was going to have a hard time of healing up.. He needed some proper medicine to close up the wounds better, if he could do that he could leave, he'd be able to survive on his own.

"Go to this town and just take out a resistance pocket they said.. Shouldn't be any trouble." He muttered to himself, shifting uncomfortably, "No-one said there'd be civilians in the church too.." He sighed, loooking up at the ceiling dully, "So tell me, lady-with-the-cute-name?" Kazan remarked jokingly, "What is it that you do here..? I heard those people at the door say something about a clock.."

Robyn started to drift about the tiny house, tidying up here and there as she went. It was late in the evening, by now, so it was time for her to make something to eat. She was starting to get hungry, and she was pretty sure her 'guest' would be feeling about the same way, bullet wounds or not. She paused when he asked what she did for a living.

"I'm... well, I was the mechanic's apprentice," she replied. "Mr. O'Brien was the mechanic for the community, the man could fix damn near anything." She glared at Kazan. "He was killed in a raid. All he did was help people, and you people shot him because of his profession." Okay, so she was bitter, but really, didn't she have a right to be? Didn't the community have a right to be?

Robyn stormed back into the kitchen and tried to put something together to eat. She was probably rougher with the pot than she should have been, but she managed to put together a decent soup. Ladling it into a pair of bowls, she took one out to her 'guest.'

"Here," she said, still a bit rougher than she should have been. "It's all there is at the moment."

Hearing her explanation and see the way she looked at him, Kazan couldn't help but feel a bit puzzled.. Maybe insulted, or even a little mortified. Never kill civilians, hadn't that always been a primary rule for a Varstradt soldier..? Surely he must have been a part of the resistance movement.. But then.. Weren't they still just civilians? With town guards and a poor defensive force protecting the country itself, there wasn't supposed to be a major challenge. The most major snags were dealing with the untamed wildlife, monsters and all, magic users, now these were a particular problem since people from Varstradt had poor knowledge of combat magic.
And the resistance.

If the town had a militia it would make things even more difficult. Resistance members were already smart and could set up rather cruel traps, he'd seen that last night, but if they had better trained civilian guards on the town.. Though there was still always the snag of technology, but the resistance seemed to have gottent heir hands on Vardstradt weapons, however their accuracy obviously needed work.
He was barely even aware of himself as he ladled the first bit of hot soup in his mouth, but he paused to swallow it and stare almost blankly ahead of himself before looking back down at the soup,
"Its true what they say, a home-cooked meal beats out rations any day.." He chuckled to himself rather quickly taking another two spoonfuls, the warm liquid was quickly making him feel much better but he knew feeling warmer didn't mean he was better.

The soldier couldn't help but dwell on the thoughts of civilians being targets in this long-standing skirmish with Lastdvell.. Didn't they at least have a government preparing an army for counter-attack. He couldn't exactly ask or it would sound like he was trying to gather intelligence before he returned.. Things would have to unfold while he was still on the mend.. Speaking of mending he knew his clothes were probably ruined by now, besides it wouldn't be too smart to be walking around town in a Varstradt uniform.
"Do you know if there's any cloths in my size somewhere at all..? Mine are probably a bit too messed up and conspicuous.."

Robyn set her bowl of soup down for a moment and looked him over. Obviously, his own clothes were ruined. She thought for a moment before biting her lip, hesitating. He looked like he was about the same size as her late master, but she wasn't entirely sure she wanted him wearing Mr. O'Brien's clothes. After a moment, though, she sighed softly and got up.

"Let me go and see what I can find," she said. Ducking into one of the little rooms off of the main room, she pulled an old sheet off of an even older chest. Even though the chest was old, the lock on it was new. The lock was one of Robyn's first projects, and she was proud of it. It was deceptively delicate-looking, made of mixed metals and covered in pretty near-jewelry-quality filigree work. Oddly, it didn't have a keyhole. She touched the lock gently, pushing a tiny bit of magic into it, and the lock popped open. That was something she would never admit to anyone. She didn't have any major talent, not like the big famous magicians, but she had just enough to be more than an average mechanic.

She sifted around in the trunk, her fingers ghosting over old, well-worn clothing. After a moment, she pulled out a plain gray shirt and a pair of dark workman's pants. Before she could second-guess her decision, she closed the chest again and re-engaged her lock. Then she stood up and went back into the other room.

"Here," she said, holding out the clothes. "Try these on. If they don't fit, I'll see what else I can get my hands on."

The soldier quietly contemplated things, emptying his bowl of its last contents by gulping it down from the rim. In his opinion it was the best he'd ever tasted in a long time, probably because he was so used to the front-lines and rations, the occasional poorly cooked meal that their squad-mates made. He set the bowl aside, look over at her when she produced the shirt and pants, frankly they were right up his alley, he'd never been a colorful guy in terms of clothes, the red ribbons with white stripes of the Varstradt uniform was alright but he preferred darker hues.

He took them from her quietly and looked for another room where he could go to change privately, however standing up felt like something of a chore, but he gritted his teeth and quietly grunted through the pain, letting of what was more like a soft hiss than a groan. He turned towards the room he selected and made his way over calmly, checking in it for windows but then closing the door behind him.
While he'd gotten used to changing with other soldiers he still realized privacy was key in public homes, it took a little effort, removing the slightly torn shirt and the stained pants was something of a hassle, but soon enough he was pulling up the dark work-mans slacks and stretching the gray shirt over himself. The pants were fine, though the shirt was a little smaller than expected, but at the same time the material was still comfortable. While he was not bulging with muscles unlike a soldier he'd once met serving the Varstradt, there was definite definition visible, at the same time the very mild shape of the bandages could be seen beneath, but with his less than soldier-like appearance it could easily be assumed he was simply an injured man that the Varstradt had failed to kill.

He returned to the main room as he'd come to label it, damaged clothes still in hand, walking only slightly awkwardly, he was still pushing through the pain, he was confident enough that he could walk about at least. His drill instructor would have been laughing at him about now, saying it was stupid to stay down too long if you could survive some bullet wounds.
Having been so close to death wasn't exactly his favorite experience, but he did feel a little like a dead weight, just lying around. He looked about at the home for a while, taking it in again from standing point. It all looked so different while he was on his feet..
"You said you were.. A mechanic's apprentice?" He asked quietly, not looking at her directly right away, "Well.." He turned his gaze to her, "That handgun on the floor. Why don't you give it a go and take it apart? You don't have to keep an eye on me, plus you'll have my only remaining weapon.. I wont be going anywhere or doing anything stupid like this." He moved about to the front of the couch to look down at the abandoned weapon, "You might appreciate the craftsmanship at the least."

Robyn hesitated, glancing at the gun. She was itching to take it apart to see how it worked, but she wasn't sure if it was some sort of trick, or a ploy to distract her. She looked at him, a bit suspicious.

"Really?" she asked. "You would let me take it apart? Just like that?" If it were a lock, or something more complicated like a clockwork piece, she'd have been on it in a heartbeat. But it was a Varstradt weapon, and its owner was right in front of her, and she had no idea whether or not he was capable of taking her out even without the gun. When he made no move to pick the gun up, she retrieved it from the floor and set it on a side table for a moment. Going into the workshop, she grabbed a piece of thin leather that she usually worked on, and a set of basic tools. She didn't need the tools, usually, since she was usually able to convince whatever she was working with to obey her, but she wasn't about to let this soldier know she had a bit of magic. Nobody but her late master knew that.

Going back out into the other room, she took up the gun again and spread out the sheet of leather like a dropcloth. Carefully, she started to take apart the gun piece by piece, setting each part carefully on the dropcloth. Even though she'd never seen or worked with one of those guns before, she took it apart like an old pro. She seemed to know exactly how each piece fit with the others, thanks to her little touch of magic.

"When was the last time you cleaned this thing?" she asked as she worked. "Before the invasion or something?" Using a small, soft square of cloth, she cleaned out the barrel and between some of the more stubborn pieces. The cloth came away black. "No wonder this thing jammed up on you once or twice." She didn't realize that Kazan had never mentioned the gun jamming; she'd just known it had as she worked with it.

Kazan watched as she near enough jumped on the chance to toy with the gun, he didn't mind himself, if anyone knew how to put it back together, it was him. However what she didn't know yet it seemed was that it was no simple firearm. It was for this reason he wanted her to take it apart. Sure the solid ammunition would jam but.. As she cleaned it out she would eventually come across a compartment hidden below the barrel that, when opened, revealed a strange black crystal. It was at this point that he reached out, plucking the item out and turning to rest against the workbench.

"Solid ammo is a crutch, the real power lies in these things." He stated, adjusting the tiny bauble in his hand, "They're crystals that hold magic energy and focus it." The soldier added placing the small thing on the desk, "If a soldier can learn to change from firing solid ammo to firing with the focus crystal, they have no need for ammunition, the gun becomes what you could consider a talisman I guess? The correct term escapes me." He folded his arms gently, looking aside to her,
"Varstradt has been working on ways to utilize magic and this is one of them." Kazan grinned a little, "Oh before you ask, I only emptied the bullets to make you feel more comfortable.. I can fire that gun with an empty chamber." He looked at the crystal again, "And dont try to charge it with magic while its out, I've seen several soldiers blow their hands off by being silly with it. They're not exactly stable when exposed like this."

"A conduit," Robyn corrected absently as she gently prodded the skeletal structure of the gun, looking for any more hidden compartments. Once the crystal was out of its special casing, she could practically feel its inherent power humming softly, even from a few feet away. She wasn't sure why she hadn't sensed it before, though. She hadn't even detected the special compartment for it, which she'd never had happen before. She was usually able to figure out every last piece of a mechanical device, no matter what it was. She had no idea how the crystal chamber escaped her. She looked over at Kazan when he started talking about the use of magic and how unstable the crystal was.

"Why tell me about it?" she asked. "What does it matter to me about charging the thing?" She didn't say anything about having magic herself, she didn't even hint to it. It was strange, though, that he was telling her so much. Weren't these things like special government secrets or something? Top-level security? She glanced at the crystal again. It still thrummed quietly, a soft vibration she could feel in her chest rather than with her skin. It rang against her own magic, and she prayed it wouldn't betray her secret.

"Well its nothing special, it runs on the theory that all living beings have some trace of magic in them, the soldiers are taught at the very least to try and use it but most of them could never do it. On the off-chance that you can use magic; I dont want you blowing your hands off." Kazan shrugged, looking aside to her with a slight smile as he adjusted himself slightly, "I figured sooner or later in your curiosity as a mechanic you'd want to take one apart, I'd rather you take my gun apart on my terms rather than I wake up one day to find it in pieces all over the place, your hands too. And you wouldn't make a very good mechanic without your hands." Kazan grinned a little, moving away from the desk, "A conduit, you said.. Yeah that's better than I could have put it." He added as he moved away, finding himself a place on the couch.

Why had he allowed her to take it apart? A whim, he supposed, though it was nice to see it being cleaned out, he could have done it himself, but he supposed it was a sort of gift for her, she'd saved his life so he was being open-handed with her. He shifted himself to look through to the front, seeing through the windows as people passed by occasionally. It had been a long time before he could just walk around in a city.
He wondered what it would be like, to wander a Lastdvell city, looking like just anybody else, almost anyway. He looked down to his boots for a moment before he pushed himself to his feet,
"I heal better in real air.. I'm going for a walk."

Robyn tried not to react when he casually touched on the topic of having magic. She wasn't used to having to be so paranoid about it. While she was apprenticed to her master, Mr. O'Brien had known about her magic, and encouraged its use in her work. Nearly everything he let her work on ended up performing better than before because of it. After her master had been killed, she still practiced on her own, and was able to still work her craft as people asked her to fix things. But now, there was someone else around, and she couldn't risk her secret getting out.

"My master was a technosage," she admitted quietly. The admission startled even her. People had known about O'Brien, of course, but he wasn't famous or anything. "It's why he was such a good mechanic. He could make the metal sing, if he felt so inclined." And he had, once, creating a set of chimes so beautiful that they still hung in the old church, replacing the ancient bell. She looked at Kazan when he said he was going outside. "Are you sure you should be up and about already? You did get shot not too long ago." As she spoke, she started putting the gun back together, barely even looking at the pieces as she did so. Her fingers were quick and efficient, and soon the only thing that needed to go back into place was the crystal Kazan still held.

[and soon the only thing that needed to go back into place was the crystal Kazan still held.
I'm gonna skip that bit because Kazan did place it back on the desk xD]

A technosage..? The soldier glanced back at her, maybe the Varstradt soldiers were wanting to employ him but he refused.. Still that didn't mean they should have killed him.. Technosages were highly sought after in Varstradt, in an empire that depended on better technology, they would be the masters that paved the way to even greater advancements.. But then came the demand for warfare.. Build better guns.. That would be their purpose. And as far as he knew, some people didn't want to build better guns, not if it meant taking them to war.

He smiled a little when she mentioned him being up and about but her simply shook his head,
"I can't sit still.. It drives me stir-crazy.." He grinned, "Besides, you dont have to concern yourself with me, I'm just one of the people who shot your master, right?" Kazan chuckled, "A walk wont do much harm.. I'm just curious, I've been running around and fighting for so long that I just haven't had time to walk around a town and take it all in." The man rolled his shoulder carefully, "I'll be back soon, unless you want to come along..?"
He didn't expect that she wanted to, but he knew there was probably some concern as to whether he could be trusted or not to be alone too, or maybe she didn't think about that. He really did just want to get out and about. He would get rather anxious just sitting there, a distraction like a walk would get his mind off things he hoped.
Pretending for a day that he wasn't a soldier, it was certainly something he could go for.

((And you know, I read the post four times to check for that and I didn't see it. Just pretend I wrote it right.))

Robyn hesitated, and then got up, gathering up her tools and folding them into her drop cloth. If nothing else, she could follow him and make sure he didn't collapse or something. Going over to the door, she pulled down what looked like a simple tool belt and slung it around her hips. She'd gotten into the habit of keeping a second set of tools when it got to the point that people were asking her to fix things on the spot when she went to the market, or when she simply moved about the town. A quick check told her that all of her basic tools were there, so she went and followed Kazan outside.

"Just try not to die or anything, alright?" she asked. "I doubt I'll be able to keep an eye on you the entire time." Hell, if she was lucky, she might be able to keep an eye on him half the time. She knew she'd be asked to do at least a few impromptu jobs, if not more than a few.

[Well its there, xP Post 17, Par 2 Line 2 I probably should've made it more clear, my bad xD]

The soldier chuckled quietly to himself when Robyn eventually got herself ready to go out, grabbing tools, though he wasn't sure why she'd need them.. But then again, it was better to have the tools and not need them than need them and not have the tools. She was smart to keep them on hand, it was a good trait. Kazan placed his hands calmly at his sides, though rested his thumbs in the pockets of the working slacks, waiting until she was ready before he began to walk.

It was awkward at first, it could be seen that he was a little disjointed but the more he moved the easier it became to ignore it, he eventually smoothed his walking pattern out. It was essential to regain some balance. His attention meanwhile was set on the people in the town as they passed, some not even given him a second glance, completely oblivious to who or what he was. It was odd, knowing he was Varstradt and walking amongst the Lastdvellans, like a dirty little secret a little something only he knew and wanted to snicker about behind their backs, but that would be a little inappropriate he supposed.
Besides, Robyn could have called it out at any second and he'd be dead. He certainly wasn't in any shape to fight off an angry mob..

It was funny though, as he looked over his shoulder for a moment at the apprentice mechanic. At thi s time she was the only person he felt he could trust, maybe because she'd been kind enough to take him in, try to deal with his wounds, heck, even feed and cloth him. She certainly had a strong element about her, to do all that for an enemy.. Would Varstradt do the same..? He wondered about it, unaware that he was still staring at her until he walked almost headlong into a rather beefy looking man.
The large man grunted with surprise, turning about to look up at the more dimuntive figure of Kazan. At least to the musclebound man Kazan did look comparatively smaller, though he chuckled,
"Heh-heh! Gotta watch were yer goin' young laddy." He chuckled, looking over at Robyn while Kazan stared up at the large individual,
"S-sorry about that, sir.." The soldier replied, but the hefty man simply waved his hand in response,
"Nothin' doin' lad, no wonder yer all distracted, walkin' about wi'none other than our pretty lil Robyn, 'ow are ye lass?" He asked with another hefty chuckle. He was a blacksmith, Clay "Bear" Peterson, though most people just referred to him as Bear.

Robyn followed Kazan through the main square. All of the merchant and trade shops had a storefront that faced the square, so they were all centralized when people needed them. The mechanic's workshop faced the square, with the baker on one side and the entrance to the morning and evening market on the other. By the time Robyn noticed that Kazan was about to run into Bear, it was a smidge too late. She wasn't too worried, though. For all of his imposing size, Bear was really a sweetheart.

"Bear, you shouldn't tease like that," she chided, blushing a little. Clearly, Bear was something of a tease, as well, although it was always good-natured teasing. "Taking over Master O'Brien's shop has left me busy. I'm kind of hoping to find another master, but..." She trailed off, knowing that Bear would understand. Mechanics were hard to come by lately, gifted ones doubly so. Robyn knew she was pretty much on her own. "Is that scale still working for you properly?" There were very few things in a smithy that needed a mechanic's touch, but Bear had managed to find that one thing that he couldn't fix himself. For all he was good with metalwork himself, Robyn knew that there were just some things that he couldn't do, and fixing the balancing mechanism of the shop scale was one of them. It was one of her first projects on her own, just after O'Brien had been killed, so she checked up on it every so often to make sure it held up.

"Well its doin' fine lassy! Ask me to make a sword an a shield an I'm good, ask me to work with one'o dem.. Whatcha call'em little gidgit thingies..? Clockworks'n'screwdrivers!" He shook his head and shrugged to himself, "No way no how lass, glad yer still around, pity bout old O'brien though, he were a good drinkin' buddy! Gods rest'is soul eh?" The man chuckled, slapping Kazan on the shoulder, who promptly grimaced, fighting back a small yelp of pain and instead trouncing it up simply as having not expected the suddenness of the move.
Bear looked down at the man with slight confusion but Kazan only chuckled, rubbing the shoulder with a hand,
"Heck of an arm you've got there.."
"Ach, sorry laddy! I alway ferget about me own strength!" Bear guffawed, rounding the poor soldier in a one-armed hug and sqeezing him. Bear was notoriously friendly, but it really didn't help that the overly strong smith was squeezing a currently injured man, though Kazan fought through it, finding he couldn't help but laugh a bit too, even as minor tears of pain escaped his eyes. Much like hitting ones head or stubbing their toe.

Kazan was finally released, this being the cue for him to breath a slight sigh of relief, head hung low. Well this wasn't quite the simple walk he'd expected it to be, but the smith only chuckled nearby, looking at the partially bent-over man for a moment before rubbing his chin,
"Well ah'll be a wide-eyed mongoose!" He stated, revelation coming to his face, a light of recognition sparkling in his eyes, "If I didn't know any better, this lad is..!" Kazan shot Robyn a bit of a glance then looked up at the hefty fellow,
"Robyn! Ya didn't tell me ya had a fellar hangin' round! Yer gonna get this old man jealous y'know!" Bear beamed, Kazan having to bite down on his tongue a bit. Did he just suggest Kazan was an item with Robyn..?

Kazan couldn't help but stifle a slight snort, he could only imagine the implications of having a Lastdvell woman as his lover, that alone was bizarre but then would come the accusations of betrayal announcements that he should be executed, the whole nine yards. It was still a funny thought though..