Sarpedon — Roleplayer Guild

Lucius toiled away gleefully in the makeshift mobile workshop that had been put together for him. A band of gentlemen of questionable morals had put it together at his request after they'd noted his myriad of mechanical talents. He was technically working for free right now, but in return, they covered any costs he might incur. Plus, when he got to play with weapons all day, the heretek wasn't going to argue. The only problem with a mobile workshop was that it tended to move around a lot. A binary shriek left his vox caster as they hit yet another pothole, causing a vicious lurch that had probably thrown off his latest adjustments to the heavy stubber clamped to the workbench in front of him. Someone had decided it was a brilliant idea to flee at top speed for Nab's Holdout when a rival group of similar gentlemen had caught up with Chroam's band for a little overly violent competition. Lucky for whoever that had been, the heavy stubber was actually perfectly adjusted now, and having been rebuilt, it should be good for another ten thousand rounds or so, before it needed to be refitted once more. Unfortunately, it was about to get a head start on those numbers.

He hefted the weapon with his servo-arm, positioning it so he could snap the barrel into place, and attach a box of ammunition to the side. His binary chitters were meaningless to the mercenaries waiting for his latest engineering feat, however, and they ignored the nonsensical noises, much to their detriment. "Em-gee up." he barked crudely across all frequencies after he realized he wasn't using the right language. That got their attention. The hatch in the ceiling popped open almost immediately, and the largest of the mercenaries, one he'd mistaken for a gun-servitor the first time they'd met, reached down with his own massive servo arm to accept the much-needed heavy stubber. Another unexpected pothole delayed the weapon's activation, but their lurching about also caused the latest volley of rocket fire to miss, so that was a bonus. The tech-priest just hoped they wouldn't ruin that poor machine gun. The first burst he heard immediately shattered any hope he might have had. 

The servo-armed mercenary emptied the entire belt with a single squeeze of the trigger. The massive, custom-designed slugs obviously had the desired effect, as Lucius could feel his workshop slowing after the gun fell silent. But he knew exactly what was going to happen next. The hatch opened again, and the warrior that really should have been a servitor started grumbling at him. Something about the gun not working again. A swarm of mechadendrites lashed out at the man, seizing the heavy stubber as the heretek screamed in binary. He hurled every insult he could think of at the man before slamming the hatch shut in his face. He supposed now was as good a time as any to begin work on the poor girl. Whispering his binary love-song to the gun, he set to work. He had no plans of letting it fall into that fool's hands again.

The weapon's unsurprisingly primitive machine spirit relented quickly under the heretek's dirge, and he managed to save most of it without any trouble. The only problem was the distinct lack of a serviceable barrel. The deliciously simple heavy weapon only needed a few precision parts, and the barrel was one of them. After firing two hundred and fifty hot-loaded rounds in a single burst, the current barrel, which had been iffy to begin with, was now beyond saving. He supposed he had the time, though, since obviously the other mercenaries had been driven off, and the tech-priest employed a few unapproved techniques to set up a plasma kiln and a lathe just precise enough to do the job. Of course, he wasn't about to start cutting out a barrel in a moving workshop, but they had to be almost there by now. A little patience, and the task of moulding a new barrel from the old one and some scrap metal took up the rest of the trip, and once they rolled to a halt, he began the delicate task of machining rifling into the fresh blank immediately.

It went without saying that Lucius' "employers" tried to interrupt him part-way through his work. They'd done it before, and he was not at all surprised that they hadn't learned. This time he didn't bother with a warning, and immediately opened fire with his combat-capable mechadendrites. Whoever it was had the sense to slam the door and leave him in peace. Once the obvious sounds of him working away stopped, though, they kicked in the door in and stormed the tiny shop. There were four of them. The big one, their leader, and two goons he had trouble differentiating. They were staring down the chrome heretek with shocking composure. All of his mechadendrites were out, hovering in the air as if waiting for a reason to do something horrific. He turned slowly to face the quartet, wondering why they always insisted on such inane chicanery. He made for an intimidating sight in the dim lighting of the trailer, but that didn't seem to phase the mercenaries, yet. In his left hand was the custom barrel he'd just finished. It was shorter than a normal heavy stubber barrel, but heavier in profile, and fluted for improved cooling. In his right was the icon of his office, why he was holding it wasn't quite clear. Then he let go of the symbol of the Adeptus Mechanicus. It descended two feet, and he tightened his grip once more, this time on the shaft attached to the icon. Energy crackled down from his potentia coils into the icon, and the mercenaries took a step back. In such close quarters, a single swing of such a weapon could end all of them.

"I believe our contract is fulfilled?" it sounded like a question, but it really wasn't. The leader nodded slowly in agreement, but the look on his face wasn't what Lucius was expecting. He was pretty sure that one was called confusion. "I will be keeping the heavy stubber as payment for improving your workshop." he stated when no one else had anything to say. The leader frowned at that. He was pretty sure it was called a frown. It was the expression that got made before things got unpleasant for people not made of metal. When the leader opened his mouth, Chroam sent another crackle of energy down the length of his arm, and got the head of his weapon glowing with the power contained by it. His opposition made their exit then, and he would have smiled, if he still had a face. Lucky for him, he didn't have such mundane concerns any more. "It was a pleasure working for you." he voxed at their backs, but they obviously weren't listening. The door closed behind them, and he took that as a sign to take his time. The heretek wasn't done rebuilding his machine gun, after all. 

Headspacing it on the masterwork barrel he'd created was easy enough. Then he timed it as slow as was practical, mostly out of personal preference. Once it was set up properly, he field-stripped it and packed it neatly into a container designed just for such a purpose. The gentlemen he'd been working for weren't going to need it, since they didn't have a heavy stubber any more. And as a final warning against the practice of abusing venerable weapons, he made sure anything he left behind would be worse than useless to anyone who thought they could use it. Lucius was careful to keep this inconspicuous, however, as he'd been told that the surprise was the best part. Once he was satisfied, he slung the last belt of ammunition he'd reloaded for the mercenary band over his shoulder, and headed out. He had no intention of ever using the heavy machine gun he'd just saved from a short lifetime of abuse, but neither did he even consider parting with it. The ammunition, on the other hand, was going to have to pay for whatever it could, at which point he supposed it would be back to working for disreputable folks unable to care for their own weapons. He figured he could get at least a week of "easy living" in, though. Anyone who knew the value of frangible armour piercing ammunition would happily pay whatever price he could come up with, especially on this backwater. Then again, he wasn't sure anyone else on this backwater had a heavy stubber to call their own. Nab's Holdout wasn't exactly the pinnacle of security. He supposed there was no harm in trying though. Maybe things had improved in the short weeks he'd been gone...

Oliver shrugged when Sanguine declared that the impossible had happened. That was a good thing, wasn't it? Now they had time to spend with one another instead of wasting away in their boring lives. He certainly didn't see anything wrong with it. Now he had magical powers, and he could actually feel the woman he'd been falling for. He had yet to encounter any downsides to this new reality. He followed his companion as he pondered the merits of actually seeking out downsides, and decided to take everything at face value. Right now his goal was to get the Guild Master somewhere safe, comfortable, and private, and maybe they could celebrate the fact that they weren't going to never see one another again. Of course, that didn't seem to be anyone else's priority, so he kept that to himself.

The Paladin chuckled when they got outside and Sanguine immediately encountered an issue. She solved it pretty quickly, though, and had her umbrella out and open before he could think of any other suggestions. The other vampire seemed concerned by their leader's pause, but Oliver was pretty sure she was just getting the hang of their new reality. He didn't know why he wasn't so worked up about everything, but he supposed it had something to do with the fact that he'd always wanted to be a larger-than-life hero. This was his opportunity. He just needed something to direct his heroics at. For now, he was left wondering what was going on. No one really knew, though, so he figured this would be his time to shine, assuming he could figure something out first.

They got to the gate to see what they could see, and sure enough, there was a forest waiting out there, instead of the much more menacing swamp that had been keeping wayward adventurers at bay for a very long time. "What do you mean, different?" he asked when Sanguine commented on her ability to cast silently. He followed up her frozen-tree trick with some magic of his own. Channelling divine power through his gigantic sword, he gestured at the tree, and with his arm outstretched, clenched his fist. Holy flames washed over the tree, freeing it from its icy prison, but charring it in the process. He switched hands, snapping his opposite fist open at the now-dead tree, and heavenly light restored life to the hardwood. It even grew several feet upward as Pelor's grace restored its vitality.

"It does feel kinda... Strange..." he agreed, having tested his powers. "I like it, though. It's a rush." he added, licking his lips as he revelled in the memory of the sensations. "So what now? We've moved, obviously, but I don't see anything hostile out there... Should we send out some scouts?" he figured that the next logical step would be to get a decent lay of the land. Ideally they'd need to find a cartographer or something, but a group of scouts could likely give them a decent idea of their new surroundings. Unless someone had managed to find the Spymaster and he'd worked some kind of magic. He was full of surprises at the strangest times...

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