TEXT; USER: JT

[hexrot]

If there are any other engineers or tech-savvy Drifters among us that aren't waterbound, Viktor and I won't dismiss the assistance with the generator. We're doing our best to get it running, or at least construct temporary vehicle augumentations to reinforce our defenses in the mean time. They'll be bare bones and have a short life span, but it's better than nothing. That being said, my current projects will be temporarily postponed until further notice. If I'm not working parts, I'm gathering wood, and I can only step outside at dusk.

[ or if he snows in the damn place but uhhhh no thank you! ]

Donnie and Danse, you'll hear back from me when your respective requests are finished. I haven't forgotten any of them.

In the meantime, if you come across any generator parts, bring them to us as soon as possible, please. Any remnants of metal, elements, chemicals or hands to help with the wood would be valued if you can find or offer— I'll trade my work for it, if you have the patience for a queue. I can do minor fixes where needed.

Any questions, you can ask them here or come to the forge. It's hard to miss.

[ it's the only lisa frank pick up for miles. the thing is hard to miss, especially when jayce is working the little cargo bed forge he's built over the last two months. characters are welcome to come visit directly while he's working at night; smoke signals and his hammer (hand sized, not the big one) pounds throughout the late hours, while he's asleep or within the convoy from sunrise to sunset. ]

— JT

Comments

[coffinturk]

[ Caution is always good. And yet so are breaks. Vincent's approach invokes no sense of danger to the senses. Calm and ordinary approach, no subterfuge. His eyes are red and seem to glow. His skin, as much as it can be seen between the high cloak collar and the crimson scarf wrapped around his brow, is pale.

He'd been like that since arriving though. The night ensures signs of fatigue aren't plaguing the gunman and his new fangs? Easily hidden. What changes Vincent has suffered probably aren't evident to ordinary senses.

Acute smell might pick up the hint of blood. But it's not human and given the fights with monsters, that's probably ordinary. ]

That comes later. [ Vincent's gaze studies the components of the forge then return to give Jayce a similarly observant once over. ] Given our circumstances, capacity and skills came first.

[ He finally focuses on Jayce in a manner that is more conducive to conversation than pure observation. His tone remains calm and without much emotion; his manner suggesting the pragmatism is guiding his words than enthusiasm. ]

Ammo is limited. Even if molds are made, there's the chemical components to worry about. Better to modify guns so they can use and handle the power of the most common calibers that get salvaged. And repair some of the parts from firearms.

[ He snorts slightly; for a moment breaking the realist's stance with the resigned disapproval of many salvaged guns' condition when they were in the hands of those raiders. ] Most aren't in great condition.

[hexrot]

[ jayce stares blankly for a moment. two. his stare goes frigid. to distract any possible interjections, he returns his attention to a log, picking it up by the base and setting it on the chopping block. it is a very brief flicker in the dead cloudiness of his eyes, lacking proper bloodflow to make them shimmer with life: his eyes roll up. blink back into place. they've been on the generator for nights. rolling through formulas. the convoy rejecting everything that wasn't the specified parts (rigged, if you ask him). he's a bit irritable, now with the weather, the chronic pain as blunt as ever. getting a stranger who quite clearly just got here to doubt his efficiency in this particular situation, and tell him about everything he's already known for months doesn't help his mood.

he takes a breath, thinks and nearly retorts as he chews on cracked, scarred lips don't know why you're asking me, then. you can make your own artillery at this rate, go ahead. by all means. i'll even let you borrow the forge. but he holds his tongue between his teeth. ]

Like I said, [ jayce empties his bloodless lungs and replies, with fabricated calm and an almost cervid snort, complete with a flick of a single ear: ] stopping power or speed?

[ he'll guarantee the rest. ]

[coffinturk]

[ Vincent is not unaware. Jayce may look more like a corpse than a human being, yet he still has human shape...roughly. And human emotion. Vincent is trained to watch for inconsistencies and ready body language.

He doesn't know what exactly has triggered the irritation but he can suspect the workload plays a part.

There is little of Vincent's expression visible. In fact, very little flesh remains unobstructed by fabric, metal, and leather. Ruby eyes are sharp and attentive and the elegant brow rests level and calm. There is an impassive set to his pale cheeks and perhaps Jayce's comparative height- the gunman himself standing at six feet- could allow him a glimpse of lips which seem to neither smile nor frown under the high, wrap-around collar of the cloak. Even when he speaks they barely open, giving only the minimum of effort needed to do so.

That might be to minimize display of fangs but given how hard it would be to see them normally, it does appear to be a form of apathy that runs through his bearing and manner.

For all intents and purposes, there really is nothing that seem to be behind his words other than calm statement of intent. It's unlikely it's Jayce's skill that's in question despite a 'can you' but is it possible with the tools at hand. ]

It'll depend on the individual. I'll bring the order and weapons later.

[ He's not a fool to have done so right now, when Jayce's efforts should be focused on the shield's restoration. That matter seems settled in the gunslinger's mind. After a moment of watching the rote action of wood chopping, Vincent then asks. ]

You're also researching the symbols and powers of this world. Blake informed me. What else do you do?

[ An engineer, a scholar. What other hats does the man before him wear? ]

[hexrot]

[ after coming out of that ravine, jayce frequently found himself in a pit of blame or sticking others in it when it was too much for him to handle. on top of everything else, he is not the man he used to be— periodically, his maddened calculations and violent outbursts were echoes from within the fractures of his mind. his leg had not been the only victim of breakage and . . .

he'll eventually regret his tongue, sharp as blades ready for war, and his mood so on edge. vigilent, even at times where he needn't be. for now, vincent helps deter an escalation. jayce is left chewing the insides of his cheeks, and resisting the urge to scratch at his wrist and the gem within it. it takes a moment longer for him to respond, his taut shoulders to rest and his tone to change, considerably. the tightness in his jaw eases a little. ]

I build. Design tools, test theories. Run the numbers until something breaks, then figure out why. [ with a drop in his shoulders once more, but a considerable lack of breathing in between his pauses; he only inhales when he notices, or when he needs the words. ] Harnessing the Arcane was my foundation.

[coffinturk]

[ Vincent knows little and perhaps nothing of the terrors this man has gone through. Whether those apply to the world he came from or the one he's in now or both.

As cruel as it may seem, he is not here to learn about it either. Though he remains watchful for signs of anxiety, unease and tension. Or its lessening that suggests there won't be an outburst, an attack... At least, not in the moment. Perhaps the next.

His head tilts in thought. The Arcane. With its expressed capitalization it might be a specific rather than general conceptualization. Like the Lifestream. Is it something he needs to know about? Would it help? ]

Sounds like that is its name.

[ It's almost a question. It invites Jayce to elaborate more if it's important to give the context. If it's not then they can move on. While he gives the man space to respond, Vincent will reach under his cloak. There's plenty of belts; and where there's belts there's probably pockets or utility pouches. From one of those is drawn a stoppered test tube. At the very bottom, there is about half a teaspoon's worth of a slightly red liquid. It's not the ichor from the thornscrub, though. Something else. ]

[hexrot]

[ spending more than enough time around serph has reenforced one thing: not everything that is clear for him may be clear for others. luckily, in another life . . . he could've been a good professor. ]

"Magic", for most.

[ he'll that sink first, as not everyone, he's found, is actually real for the hundreds of little worlds around his own. but, since there's little to no way of harnessing that here (oh, and he's tried, with terrible results), he's reached a dead end eith that one, and with it, a hard pill to swallow. jayce was always one to fix things; wrangle ideas to life and drag them into reality by the horns. they can move on. answer is for clarity, and not elaboration.

the test tube is a familiar face with tempting contents. his mind immediately goes to one thing, causing his discolored nose to twitch and his ears to rise with alertness. ]

What is that?

[ better to ask than jump to conclusions, even if his body is already reacting. blown pupils. more attention than ever. ]