ironhands | Time for a Break [Open Post]

Time for a Break [Open Post]

Fredrick was finding retirement both interesting and boring at the same time. Interesting because he has plenty of time for his projects and tinkering rather than building machines until heavy fire and swinging swords. But it is also boring because of said explosions and constant stress. How does one find a new normal when most of your life was anything but normal.

So when his shop gets to be too much, or things get too quiet he leaves the shop in Sal's capable hands and can be found wandering the market looking for bits of junk or bits that merchants might just throw away but that the tinkerer can always reuse. He is moving slowly because the warmer weather makes his weaker leg cramp but he's always up for a chat should anyone see him.

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Gorn's Clockwork's and Curios is a smaller then other shops in the city, but it's owner knows how to draw a crowd. A diorama of clockwork heroes is currently being built in the window. Once the heroes are set the toymaker plans to add a clockwork five headed version of the Dragon Queen that will breathe simulate fire if he can get it working.

Currently he is trying to get the figure of the fighter on a broom to hang right as he works in the window. He hears a sound and turns around to call out. "I'll be with you in a second," he says.

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Out of all the places in his shop, Fredrick prefers his workshop. It's small and quiet and allows him to focus on whatever gadget has captured his attention that week. He is bent over one of his music boxes. He is known for these delicate creations that make a child or adults idea reality. His current commission is giving him a bit of trouble. The client wanted the dog to sit up and bark the song instead of just playing music and he can't get the sound to come out right.

Suddenly a sound catches his attention from in the shop proper. Grabbing his cane, he speaks it's command word changing it into his longsword and sneaks up to the front growling. "Who are you and what do you want?"

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Zevlor has been in and out of the city many times since the battle with the Netherbrain, rarely settling for long. He has a few Hellrider contacts, and they are gradually forming a network of guardians for the roads between here and Elturel. There are a few refugees out there, still, outcast tieflings trying to go it alone, and there are gnolls and cultists and even a few mindflayers that slipped through the cracks. Plenty to protect, plenty to fight.

He is not the man he was, but he is growing, slowly but surely, into something better.

Right now, he's tracking the Zhentarim. After the defeat of Bane's Chosen, one would think they'd stay out of this city, at least for a while, but one would be mistaken. They're bold, and their organization is too big to be defeated with one swoop. A growing presence in Baldur's Gate spells trouble, and he's disinclined to stand by and let the slightly-more-trustworthy-but-not-really Thieves' Guild handle it alone.

And so, he's tracking the trio of Zhents when they break into the shop. Mere thievery isn't usually his preoccupation, that's for the Fists to worry about, and he's considering hanging back just to track them, but the moment he hears the proprietor's voice he snaps into action, because that's a living person in danger. Zhentarim are ruthless.

So, Frederick is met by the clicking sound of two crossbows being aimed at him, followed by the soft hiss of a dagger emerging from a sheath, but a split second after that, there's a blaze of light from the window as Zevlor enters, sword drawn and flaming.

"Stand down," he says, ostensibly warning the thieves rather than the victim, although it's up to interpretation. "Unless you prefer to leave this place in several pieces each."

A brief pause and then: "...Freddy? Good gods! How long has it been--"

Nevermind, nostalgia can wait. "You fools really chose the wrong place to break into, didn't you?"

The second Fredrick recognizes who the thieves are he fights a groan. Val Thorne was determined to ruin his life in any way he can no matter what and it's driving the toy maker slightly crazy.The Fists have barely done anything to help keep trouble away from Fredrick's customers and only Zevlor being here is keeping him from sending these fools heads back to Val in a box.He smiles at the other teifling and then turns to the thieves. "And this time there is two of us so you have a choice. Turn around and go crawling back to Thorne again or risk going back to him in pieces. Your choice."He nods at Zev. "I hope Sureshot is still an apt nickname my friend. I'd hate to have to explain why I couldn't open the shop tomorrow."Sent from my Galaxy

Zevlor laughs out of pure nostalgia, although his attention is still on the Zhent intruders. "Indeed, but I hardly need good aim in such close quarters. Except to spare your inventory."

The truth is that his night vision is failing him terribly. Decades of working close to the Companion, coupled with the aging process, and well...no one leaves the Hellriders unscathed. Retirement isn't meant to be an option. Or, at least, it wasn't until Elturel fell and tieflings were cast out. Now, there's no one to tell them what they must and must not do for their honor. Stripping it from them, ironically, gave tiefling Hellriders more power over their Oaths than ever. Now they swear to their own ideals alone.

But that is neither here nor there. One of the burglars makes a just the slightest move of his trigger finger, then yells in pain and drops the bow entirely, clutching his wrist. Somewhere along the way, Zevlor learned the heat metal spell. The distraction enables him to crouch low and sweep the legs out from the second bowman, but the one with the dagger will be left to Freddy to handle.

Fredrick sighs and shakes his head flipping his long sword around to swing the hilt at the wrist of the thief with the dagger.

He casts a Fire Bolt into the weapon hoping the heat will cause the idiot to drop his weapon and then Fredrick can knock him out with the hilt and dump these morons on Val's doorstep. He might even toss that feather symbol that the Zhent seem to be afraid of at the moment.

His hit connects and the boy drops the dagger with a scream. "Last chance go back to Thorne under your own power or we will send your bodies there instead," he growls.

Zhentarim are thieves and smugglers first and foremost. Some have special skills, there are even wizards and paladins among them, but this trio began the evening with being in over their heads. One of them makes a break for it, and Zevlor lets him, because he'll take the information back to whoever sent him. The other two remain, one still prone on the floor, and he knocks him unconscious with a kick.

The dagger man seems inclined to surrender, but he's also woozy from that hit, and he takes a confused step toward Zevlor, as if he's not sure whether he's fleeing or planning on attacking him bare-handed. In either case, he fails, stumbling and collapsing over the body of his downed accomplice.

Zevlor waits a moment before sheathing his sword and looking at the other tiefling. "I wish I had known you were here, old friend. I'd have come to you without the excuse of foiling a burglary."

Fredrick sighs and looks at the bodies on the floor before returning his cane back to it's normal form and limping to a shelf. "Knowing you Zev you would have brought trouble no matter what."

He removes a small toy solider and sets it on the ground sending a burst of magic into it. In moments it grows almost tall enough to brush the ceiling and looks at Freddie as he points at the bodies. "You know where to take them. Then return here and set in the window and watch for trouble."

The solider nods with a grind of gears as Fredrick opens the door and watches as his Steel Defender drags the thieves out.

"It is good to see you. I was hearing worrying things recently," he adds shutting the door and coming over to hug Zevlor. "I was considering hunting you down but I was convinced by others my skills would be better used here."

"Oh come now! I've mellowed some in the last ten years," he says with a little snort. "I was Commander for the last nine of those. Until the Exile."

Don't think that doesn't weigh heavily on him, still. It aches and it burns, but for the moment, he can bear the sting in silence. He moves back half a step at the sight of the soldier, as if remembering the Steel Watchers. But it's clearly under Freddy's control, and a mere automaton, not a mix of necromancy and artifice, so after his first knee-jerk reaction, he calms and makes a curious noise. "That's a new one. You've expanded your skill set, haven't you?"

He hesitates at the mention of worrying things, but the hug seems to soothe him. He leans into it for a moment, squeezing tight as if he needs it. "I've had better years," he admits. "But I am on my feet and my Oath still holds. Renewed for a better purpose."

Bel loves a good curiosity as much as the next man, and he's inclined to watch the man set up the front display until he was acknowledged. "No hurry. I don't mind watching you work."

Fredrick blinks at the sight of the drow and fights the urge to flinch given his history in the Underdark. But he is always willingly to give people a chance and he smiles instead.

"Thank you," he says as he grabs his cane and eases himself to the floor. "It's a work in progress but it should be the talk of Balders Gate once everything works."

He holds out his hand."Fredrick Gorn. How can I help add some wonder to your life today?"

Bel would have sympathy for the reaction; he's a lot kinder to people who have actually met other drow than people who just know their reputation. He offered his own hand. "Belantar Vivalfin. And, well, I was just curious. My partner's an artificer, so I take an interest in such things."

Fredrick brightened up as he shook the offered hand. His hands are surprisingly callused for an artificer and in places that speaks to a life holding tools and weapons. "Truely," he says, "if your partner is interested in comparing ideas my shop door is always open. I love sharing ideas."

Bel noted the calluses. His hands have at least some of the same ones, from a lot of using knives and a sword. Any new ones from learning skills like lace-making and knitting are far less obvious.

"I do plan on telling him. But... hmm, do you think it would be rude to give him a gift of some of your wares?"

Fredrick laughed and started walking over to the counter. "Of course not. I am not going to say no to a sale. Does he lean more to weapons smithing or machinary? I do toys as well but I'm sure he does his own clockwork."

"Honestly, I've seen him dabble in a bit of everything," Bel said. "Typically I've seen him as an alchemist, but that means a fair hand at weapons-craft. But at the moment... the city has seen a bit too much use of force. I wasn't here for the whole mess, but he was. Ended up in a leadership position for his troubles."

Bel likes that Barcus is the sort who steps up when things clearly need organizing and no one else is -- well, except that Barcus's ex was clearly making things worse -- but he also knows that Barcus would rather be in his workshop than trying to get the Ironhands and the Gondians to form some kind of relationship that won't dissolve five minutes after Barcus steps down.

"Ah I see," Fredrick said with a nod. "I'd heard about the trouble in the city from some of the refugees that settled here." He reaches up to grab one of his clockwork dragons. "Perhaps just a sample of my work then. Something to bring your friend some joy in the midst of whatever he's going through."

The dragon gives a clicking grinding roar and flies around their heads for a moment before landing on the counter.

Bel watched the dragon, a wistful expression on his face. "I wouldn't mind that one for myself. I knew a dragon."

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