03-20-2012, 06:47 AM
"You do realize sir, I've never truly tended to a firearm before. At least not in the manner you've requested."
The young tinkerer's words were met with a scoff from a thickly built Gilnean man, who flicked a hand in the air. It came to rest on his chest soon after, fingers curled into a fist. "It matters not. The gunsmith is vacant for the week, and I direly require my hunting rifle once again." This hand of his would reach out, lovingly stroking the barrel of the battered and beaten gun resting on a countertop. It was more of a clockwork design than the average firearm, gizmos and cogs twitching in painful attempts to move properly.
Versich's brow lowered at this, fingers running through hair in thought. "You realize I work on watches, sir?"
"I do."
"... And you do not care?"
"I do not." The Gilnean swiftly held up a small sack of coins, jiggling it in the air before dropping it on the counter. The engineer's eyes widened.
"... Sir. I implore you reconsider. I would rath-."
"I expect it in a week."
The door slammed shut as the Gilnean departed, gadgets shaking on their shelves, man behind the counter wincing. With a heavy sigh, he brushed aside a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind his ear before drawing a magnifying glass. His fingers gingerly ran the course of the weapon, prodding at its bits here and there as if the slightest error would cause a catastrophic explosion.
Grumbling in annoyance, the man rose from his stool, two hands on the counter. "Bloody thing's going to cost more than it's worth." Shoulder slacking slightly, his eyes widened as the door gently opened, a woman clad in sleeveless white dress entering.
"Is something the matter?"
A slight smile spread across his lips, cold air filling the chamber through the doorway. "Somewhat. Got a job, which is good, no doubts there. But unfortunately..." He silenced as he saw the woman's lips part, fully prepared to dote on her every word.
"You've found a job, Sir Devosh?"
Snow began to drift in, through the open entryway.
"... I've had this job for years."
He finally noticed the woman's sharp ears. Her fel-green eyes.
"I didn't realize you repaired runeblades."
He looked down to the counter, rifle replaced by the greatsword he wielded. Its edges were dulled, cracks in the cobalt metal as plain as ever. The blue runes running across the blade glowed dully in the dark chamber.
"... I don't."
The young tinkerer's words were met with a scoff from a thickly built Gilnean man, who flicked a hand in the air. It came to rest on his chest soon after, fingers curled into a fist. "It matters not. The gunsmith is vacant for the week, and I direly require my hunting rifle once again." This hand of his would reach out, lovingly stroking the barrel of the battered and beaten gun resting on a countertop. It was more of a clockwork design than the average firearm, gizmos and cogs twitching in painful attempts to move properly.
Versich's brow lowered at this, fingers running through hair in thought. "You realize I work on watches, sir?"
"I do."
"... And you do not care?"
"I do not." The Gilnean swiftly held up a small sack of coins, jiggling it in the air before dropping it on the counter. The engineer's eyes widened.
"... Sir. I implore you reconsider. I would rath-."
"I expect it in a week."
The door slammed shut as the Gilnean departed, gadgets shaking on their shelves, man behind the counter wincing. With a heavy sigh, he brushed aside a loose strand of hair, tucking it behind his ear before drawing a magnifying glass. His fingers gingerly ran the course of the weapon, prodding at its bits here and there as if the slightest error would cause a catastrophic explosion.
Grumbling in annoyance, the man rose from his stool, two hands on the counter. "Bloody thing's going to cost more than it's worth." Shoulder slacking slightly, his eyes widened as the door gently opened, a woman clad in sleeveless white dress entering.
"Is something the matter?"
A slight smile spread across his lips, cold air filling the chamber through the doorway. "Somewhat. Got a job, which is good, no doubts there. But unfortunately..." He silenced as he saw the woman's lips part, fully prepared to dote on her every word.
"You've found a job, Sir Devosh?"
Snow began to drift in, through the open entryway.
"... I've had this job for years."
He finally noticed the woman's sharp ears. Her fel-green eyes.
"I didn't realize you repaired runeblades."
He looked down to the counter, rifle replaced by the greatsword he wielded. Its edges were dulled, cracks in the cobalt metal as plain as ever. The blue runes running across the blade glowed dully in the dark chamber.
"... I don't."