Bartuc stood outside of Ruinils room, though they were officially a couple he could not rid himself of the feeling he would be rather impolite to be there without her permission. Ironic considering they were of one soul, shared by two bodies, but the manners of his upbringing tempered his decision making where Ruinil was concerned. Too much of a good thing was bad for you, or so the old sayings went. Bartuc had charged up the stairway when the fighting had ended, his boots aflame with the lava and tossed them aside as he followed the signs of battle and had stumbled on her and the dwarves sitting in what looked to be an armory holding a lockbox.
The only thing he remembered after that was holding Ruinil as the smoke wafted from her body, convinced this had been his fault for running off to fight the king. His passion was violence, his hobby was fighting, and his soul longed for the tranquility of the melee. But when he looked into those fiery red orbs his urges faded like a candles flame in the open wind. Ruinil made him a better person and for that he loved her as no other. His thoughts drifted as he stood quietly as he had every night since their return, refusing to rest in a bed while she yet slept. Awake she could fight anything, kill anyone, and protect herself, but the experiences with the holy men and the crossbow had made the decision for him.
Forever more he would protect her.
He glanced down at his clothing, simple wool and silk with leather boots. His armor had been destroyed but the various pouches had survived and been placed in another belt with pouches. Glodin had taken the wooden box and asked him to be patient, so Bartuc had done as told. Ruinil had informed him it was armor of some sort that needed to be studied. For now, Bartuc would gladly wear simple clothing and take recruit armor if and when the fighting re-began.
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Marcus had aided the party return to Thanremere with haste via his scroll portal trick, which he desparatly needed to replenish, and had gone about getting what he needed for Glodin. A storm elemental core was tricky to get but the priests and the covenant had summoners at their disposal so creating one had been easy. Killing it had been easier. The jagged and vibrating core of the elemental sat an iron box in Glodins forge, so now it was up to Marcus to get the last needed ingredient to make the magic core needed to power a new weapon he needed. All he needed now was the acid of a Kest queen.
Marcus strode through the tunnels with ease, unafraid of lurking threats and making his way to where the final battle had ended with the lava flow, a statue in the distance was his target now that the metal had cooled. Frozen forever in its death throes was the hive queen shrieking its end as it clawed at the burning liquid. Marcus stepped over the uneven ground and stood before the towering monster, spitting on its face as his pistol blasted into its chest, three more shots tore through flesh and steel with ease. A casual push toppled the monsters upper half into the floor to reveal the grizzly cooked innards and stomach contents of the former queen. A swirling green liquid bubbled in its stomach. As a test he tossed a small rock into the fetid pool and heard it sizzle.
Marcus wasted no time harvesting three vials of the liquid in glass vials, sealing them cautiously and putting them in his coat. His flight to Thanremere was slow as he took every precaution to protect the vials. Upon arrival he stabled his horse and made haste to the forge, not even bothering to salute any of the guards or other knights. The lockbox opened with a flick of his wrist and he placed all the vials inside, resealing it with lock and key. He turned to Glodin and bowed. "Master Stonequarry, sorry for the intrusion. You will be pleased to know I have gathered the required ingredients. Now.. as for the weapon, I had a few suggestions.."
His business in the forge completed and on schedule it was time for his last piece of business.
Marcus strode through the halls with a letter in hand, his subordinates having taken the message days earlier to the higher ups VIA swift ravens and a magical sending. The response had been prompt even for something so mundane. Didn't take long to find the young man from earlier, resting on a log and sharpening his blade with a dour mood hanging over him. Marcus understood the pain of losing friends and allies in a fight.
"Aundair Ivellos, Initiate of the dawn, On your feet at once." His tone was sharp and demanded the respect he deserved, his stance was firm and eyes focused solely on the young man before him. "My name is Marcus Kiln, but I suspect you are well aware. I have news for you, boy," He handed the letter and waited for him to read it before continuing, "As if this moment you are to be a fully fledged knight. Your armor is yours to do with as you please. Replace it, decorate it, commission new equipment. You are also to be trained under my supervision as reward for your bravery in the face of overwhelming odds against you in the fight with the Kest. I am a harsh man and you will not be given luxury until you earn it. Talk back in the slightest disrespect and I will not hesitate to discipline you. Keep up or be left behind, and enforce the rules of the order at all times. Do I make myself absolutely clear?" Despite the relatively calm speaking voice it still seemed like every word was an order.