Clean Up Crew

The day is cool but pleasant with winter in full retreat. A gorgeous blue sky plays host to a pale moon rising and a brilliant sun making its slow descent to retire for the evening. Few of the tradesmen are at work and are enjoying a lazy Eliday afternoon making this particular western district relatively quiet.

Somewhere off the beaten path-- far from what anyone would describe as a 'prime location'-- is a plot that's little more than a neglected forge, an unpainted wood awning, and piled debris. The debris are under attack, a large, red-skinned Cerenzan past his prime and two younger goblins are shifting the junk out from under the awning and into a cart attached to an idling donkey.

The donkey wears a bright yellow caparison painted with a bell and the words "Goldbell Rentals: When You Need to Haul, Ass."

The gobbers have stopped working and ogle some forgotten, rusted tool. They debate its merits as salvage versus junk. There's some back-and-forth snatching, tongue-sticking-outing, and then some descriptive gestures. Their productivity falls to zero.

"Fellas," Robert grunts, pushing his forearm across his high forehead. "If you stand around all day with your teeth in your mouth we'll never finish and you won't get paid." He sighs, blowing a brief spray of sweat, and tosses a few bits of rotted crate and moldy tarpaulin into the back of the cart.

Oblivious to the ongoings of those around him, and obviously somewhat lost a tall man in dark clothes comes wandering around the corner to this forgotten part of the district. He smells heavily of drink, and aside from the weapon on his back, and the armor beneath his coat, he might have been easily mistaken for anyone else on the street. Well that and the fact that there's not a ton of other people on the street. The man stares at the work going on with a blank expression on his features, thinking of something else perhaps, or just stimied by having taken a wrong turn.

A white and rust red winged woman glides in at an intersection just over yonder. She lands with a little jog to bleed out her speed, the ribbons on her arms and wings trailing behind her. Coming to a stop, she pants and puts her hands on her knees, hunched over. "Oh heavens... if I keep this up..." she chitters to herself before looking over at who is working.

She perks up, her letting her wings lazily stay open to help vent as she takes her time to amble on over to the working group. "Well, well, well. Good day beauties!"

"Please. The job listing at the guild was paid by the task, not by the hour." The arvek-nar who was tagging along with the moving service grubles from behind a small mountain of junk that was being gathered up. Gone are the fanciful dress, the hobgoblin instead wearing a simple sleeveless shirt and loose fitting pants. "By the way, you sure you should be doing this, old man? I'm pretty sure that was more than just lubricant and other alchemical bits that were leaking out of your armor the other day."

Fine weather has pulled Dolan out of his hidey hole to enjoy the sun, and now wanders the streets, lacing his fingers together and stretching them over his head and backwards past his head to stretch his shoulders. It's an aimless wander, to be sure, but appreciation of sunlight requires no particular goal and no particular direction. Not much to say, for the moment, a man simply enjoying the day.

"I'm right as rain, young lady, and not THAT old," Robert laughs breathlessly. He chucks the blade-end half of a shovel and a destroyed bellows in with the rest of the junk, pausing then to brace his hands at the small of his back and stretch with a prolonged groan. "It'll be years yet before I'm dancing with my Yetta again."

A heavy sigh and he walks over to the goblin assistants, confiscating the ruined bulb-handled pokey-tool and tossing it in with the rest of the trash. "Not what I mean when I said 'give it your awl...'" he explains, pointing to some rotted canvas sacks of coal that have long since turned to sludge. "How about you two work together and get those into the cart. If we finish before sundown I'll spring for icewater and some sweet candies as a treat." The two goblins look between each other and then eye the human dubiously. "On top of the coins you were promised, of course." The goblins attend to the sacks.

Robert offers a wave to Slixvah as he laughs quietly to himself, then heads towards a pile of junk around a barrel and bucket that looks to have something nesting inside. "... nice of you to drop in," he greets.

The man watching the ongoings of the cleanup seems to abruptly realize that he's staring and backs up a step. Directly into the line of Dolan's path. Not that he seems to notice this either. Instead he ducks his head as Robert goes about directing the others in their clean-up efforts and turns away to peer blearily at the rest of the street.

Slixvah gives an up-nod in lieu of a wave. "Rather drop in than fly-by," she snorts, slowing to a stop to lean against the side of a building to rest.

Her gaze lands on Zofi, and she chirps a whistle. "Heya Muscles. Soldier-turned-chef-turned-laborer? Building out your resume, shug?" she teases.

A glance to the stumble. The birdwoman tilts her head to the side. "... hey, I remember that guy..."

"Old enough that you aren't as likely to bounce back quickly from blows like that." Zofi grumbles, Trying and failing to drag a sack along in vain as the stitching was disintegrating. The hobgoblin steps over to the cart to pick up the discarded shovel handle, which she uses to scoop the junk into the cart instead. "So I don't want you in a rush to destroy yourself if that's the case."

She stops, and looks to the egalrin, and blinks. "It's a job, it's paying. Better than yesterdays." She responds. "I think I remember him too. The one from the tavern the other day?"

Aaaaand, at the last minute, someone steps into Dolan's path. Enjoying a lungful of sea breeze, he doesn't catch the obstacle in his path until he's staggered right into it. "Hey!" he shouts at the collision. "Ai, sorry mate, didn't see you there," he adds quick, holding up a hand. "Really had ought to be looking where I am going." He backpedals a step, and shakes his head, seeming to finally well and truly look around him.

Kard stands the streets using a quarterstaff like a walking stick. He wears a heavy suit of armor, but the ancient magitech is quiescent for now, barely augmenting his own movements.

"You're absolutely right," Robert agrees with Zofija, satisfied that the gobbers are back to work and paying closer attention to what he's doing. Specifically, he's testing the pile of debris with his heavy workboot while one hand against the cold forge helps him keep balance. "But the Soothing Tenderness in Medicine (or STiM) blueprint is a contraption I've had mastered since before you were born..." He kicks at the barrel, sending it bouncing, and then hops back behind the forge in case something is to scurry out. Thankfully, nothing does!

"And someone was kind enough to recommend the massage artistry available at one of the local taverns," he glances to Slixvah and nods gratefully. A walk back around and he starts collecting bits from the latest pile. "Regardless," he looks again to Zofija, "it's nice of you to worry about a stranger like that and I'll thank you for it."

It's only as he's dropping the latest load of junk into the mule cart that he notices the two men talking in the street. Kard, too. He smiles a friendly smile and nods to all and sundry.

Kard drifts in the direction of the junk, scanning it idly. "What is all this?" He asks. "Where did you get it?" He pauses and then repeats in a lower octave. "I mean... is this a garbage collection of some sort?"

The slight bump between Dolan and the dark-haired man causes the later to twist toward the other man and growl irritably. "Watch where you're going!" He grumps loudly, his voice recognizable enough to confirm that it is the same man that Zofija and Sixvha had encountered in the bar recently. Same grumpiness. Same vaguely arrogant tone. "What's with folks these days not keeping their eyes on the road?" He grumbles some more but the half-words are indistinguishable aside from the fact that they sound vaguely insulting.

Slixvah winks at Robert in return. "Zofi's a nice gal," she props the Nar up with words.

Her attention shifts back to the newfolk. She shrugs lightly at Kard. "I think so, sugar. Cleanin' up and what not. Not my gig though."

Then to the dark-haired human. "Hon, you good? Do you need a nap?" she calls out.

Munch wanders out from the alley to Goblintown, peering around with idle curiosity. The cart of junk catches his eye, but as the golem starts that direction, grumbles and insults catch his ear. Well, he doesn't have ears, but you get the idea.

"Yeah. Sorry." Dolan holds up both hands, backpedaling another step, and changes his route so that his now-much-more-purposeful walk carries him in a different direction. He doesn't greet anyone else, and doesn't seem in the mood for a fight, his steps carrying him quickly away.

"Yeah, you're welcome." Zofi grunts with a small shrug as she pulls the shreds of sackcloth to toss them into the cart. She stops and considers for a moment, before using the shovel to fling another of the sacks in before it had a chance to fall apart this time. "Not surprised Slix knows where to get a good massage in Alexandria."

The commotion makes her stop and stare at the street. "You know, it takes two people for a collision. Maybe not to the same degree, but you both have to not be paying enough attention for something to happen." The arvek-nar offers.

Bob stands up from shouldering the old barrel into the junk cart, looking between Dolan and the stranger. He hangs back, a stern look smothering his smile until the one-eyed inquisitor says his apologies and leaves it alone. The older man is impressed.

That distraction set aside, the Cerenzan turns and smiles anew, wiping his hands on his pantsleg. "Just rented this old forge and need to get it cleaned so I can start work," he tosses a thumb over his shoulder at the three goblinoids. "Beggle, Snark, and Zofija are helping out for a fair day's wage; 'many hands make for light work.'" There's a nod to the egalrin, "And Miss Unmesi has swooped in to brighten our day with her sunny disposition."

He steps around the wagon and offers his hand to Kard, "Robert Ilife. Judging by your titan armor I'd say we share a few similar interests."

The unnamed man glares after Dolan, but the look in his purple eyes is not half so irritated as the one he throws at Slixvah and Zofija. He murmurs another curse under his breath and shakes his head. Seems he's not interested in fighting the women. Instead he makes his way after Dolan, as if perhaps he intends to make trouble for the other man.

"Yeah." Kard replies. "Kard the... Adventurer." He swerves last minute, still affecting a deeper voice and slow speaking pace. "Titan armor. That's a good word for it. Do you know much about it's construction?" He reaches out a hand to pick at a promising piece of junk but stills his hands before he gets there.

Munch buzzes quietly, peering towards Kard. "Wear it, but don't know how it works? Not sure if that's brave or foolish. Most guys I know were that sort of stuff built it themselves."

"Happy to be sunny!" Slix chirps before she raises a feathered brow at the altercation before her wings shrug and fold behind her. Her attention turns to the older human. "What'cha work on, sugar?" she asks, looking between both men. "You make stuff like that?"

Her gaze falls on Munch finally. And she slowly blinks. "... my my, aren't you a work of art."

Kard responds to Munch's words by lifting his chin proudly. "I know how it works." He insists, though the evidence suggest otherwise. His gaze behind that three-quarters helm slowly transitions from challenging to intrigued as he takes Munch in. "Wait. You... how old are you?" Again he slips up, having to drop his voice an octave mid-sentence.

"Reminding myself about it," Robert admits with a nod, lowering his hand when it isn't taken and turning back to his worth. "Lost my commission and drummed out of the Dragonieri military because I had my head so full of artifice back then. When the wheels on the carts were still square," he laughs, smiling again at Zofija.

Another nod-- this one for Munch-- and then he's kneeling by the remainder of the pile and pushing his hands through it. There's a battered container that looks like some sort of milk crate and some assorted scraps and slag. A deep breath, a proper grip, and a mighty groan proceeds the attempted lift but the old wooden box isn't equal to the task.

There's a crack and clattering crash as Robert stands with a box that no longer has a bottom and its contents scatter across the floor.

Kard unbuckles the breastplate he is wearing and ducks, allowing the oversized gauntlets to rest on the ground and the pauldrons to rest atop those. The armor stands by itself after Kard disengages from it, though the interior carapace wetly glistens as if waiting for its next meal.

Kard hurries to help accumulate the junk, a little distracted by examining each piece as he returns it to the owner. This isn't altruism, just an excuse to see what sort of junk artificers of Alexandria find worthwhile.

Munch blinks with a soft click, metal shutters sliding over magicite eyes as he peers towards Slixvah. "Not a description I'd use, but guess it depends on your definition of art." He blinks again at Kard's question, considering a moment before shrugging. "Hell if I know, lost count. City disappearing into the Mists for a couple years doesn't help. Somewhere around twelve years experience after activation. Why ya ask?"

Slix tilts her head to the side at the way Kard hurries about, as well as stepping out of his sweat slicked armor. Such attention is yanked away towards the crash as crown feathers stick up in surprise. "Oh sugar! You good? Little feetsies okay?" she asks, walkng over to help play '100 bolt pickup'.

Though, she does fire off to the war golem, "Everyone's a work of art, hon. Just gotta know what brush they use."

"Artifice stuff, yeah? I'm not one to mess with it, but it seems to work alright." Zofi shrugs. "Sure they were, and I bet that The gods wswere still walking the earth while you were a toddler." The Arvek-nar snorts. "The pay is fair, for certain. Not even being stiffed a fair share for taking up the contract work even, which is a surprise."

"Ah, shit. I really hope they weren't selling you this land with the idea you could make a smithy out of what was left. Seems like you're going to need to basically gut its entirety."

"True enough. I like to consider myself somewhat statuesque at times." The hobgoblin chuckles as she moves over to shovel up the debris as well.

"I just need the space and a forge, I'll be happy to put the rest together; I like having projects." Robert laughs, shaking his head as he holds up the crate to look through the bottom when he answers. The crate goes in with the rest of the junk. The cart is almost full but the space is nearly clear, too.

"Of course. You can't work without the proper footwear," he tells Slixvah, shuffling back as he pulls a pair of gloves off his belt and slides them on. Kneeling, he starts to pick up the chunks of waste metal and brace them against his sweat-soaked workshirt; trying to pile up a stack worth a trip.

"Ah, well, I spent my toddling years in the Vast... so the gods walking with us would've been an uneventful, prosaic day among the Faring Folk." Robert admits for the hobgoblin. "Though, if I'm being honest with you I'd have to say they usually showed up to sit for dinner and drinks." His smile sprouts wider and he stands, taking his load over.

Kard gestures toward the armor, now standing on it's fists behind him as he scrambles around collecting bits to aid Robert. When he reaches for the same piece as Slixvah he draws back uncertainly. Cautious, not afraid. "To you that could have been built when you were." He claims. "Which explains..." He has a hurried excited tone to his voice, completely dforgetting to pace himself and continue to affect that baritone. "Why you think I should know how to buiuld soemthing like that. It's as old as you are probably. Can anyone build like that today? That's what..." He gathers himself and the bits in his hands. The baritone returns. "That's what I came here to find out. Do you know an artificer with that skill today?" That last question is half-directed at Robert as well.

Slixvah laughs at Zofi. "And what a statue to look at!" she teases playfully.

She looks up at Robert, her idly putting pieces away without looking. "Good, good! I can't fix broken feet, but I can if its for dancing! I look forward to whatever you piece together, cupcake."

She reaches for the same piece as Kard, and brushes his sleeve. She glances back, then chuckles. "... sugar, sweetheart, babycakes," she coos to Kard, "you don't ask a golem their age without telling yours."

Is she joking? It's hard to tell, she's just got a beak behind that veil. But her eyes sparkle with mischief and fun.

Munch shrugs. "Couple artificers 'round the city with skills. Most keep to themselves. Can find some in Charn, I'm sure, but doubt they're the sort want to chat with. I was made in Gustav, but those guys are almost as bad as Charn." He buzzes softly, considering. "...you ever heard of Sage Brew?"

Kard's sleeves are short enough to show that a casual touch causes him to tense for action. There's no telling what will set him off apparently. He does show some restraint though, hurrying to follow Robert with a smaller handful of cogs, wires and metal scraps. "The Sage Brew is a bar?" Kritr asks. "Or an alchemist's shop?" Clearly he's new in town.

"Well if you need more stuff hauled around, then you know who to call. As long as you're still paying." Zofi chuckles, moving to more of the debris that needed to be discarded. "Yeah, all covered in destroyed coal and grime and who knows what else, it's only my good looks that makes me still something to look at." The hobgoblin snorts. "If I'm a statue, then I'm more defaced than those god awful vampire ones that still manage to pop up in Blar time to time."

"Wish I could help, but Alexandria isn't where I'm used to, and Artifice isn't super common where I'm from. Seems there are people here who could help you better, though."

Munch shakes his head. "Poison. Sorta. Alchemic brew that makes you smarter. Like, scary smart. But. when it wears off, you get dumb. Real dumb. Dumb as you were smart. Wears off as well, but fries your brain a little, never quite as smart as you were before. Havn't seen it around here much, but back in Gustav, were expected to keep putting out ideas. Some guys get old, slow down a bit, glory days behind them, they brew up a batch to go out with a bang. Usually literally. Smart enough to build something dangerous, then too dumb to remember how to use it." The golem buzzes quietly a few moments. "Guys who made me brewed up a huge batched, worked for days. Then crashed so hard they were literally too stupid to live. My first memory is some guy grinning stupid at me, slowly turning purple as he forgets to breathe."

"A life without dancing isn't a life worth living," Robert smiles, slapping his hands roughly against each other and then his thighs in an effort to loose and flakes or clinging slivers. "Someone very wise told me that and the Muse confirmed it... not that she saw fit to fix my two left feet."

The work is nearing completion: the goblins are hefting the last congealed sack of canvas, mold, and coal into the cart. The last corner Robert and Kard were working on is clear. The place looks nearly empty but it's fit for a proper start.

The Cerenzan sighs, going to a pack he has hanging on the side of the cart and extracting a waterskin. He gives Munch a look as the wargolem explains its origins.

Then, to Kard, "I can. My mother was one of the great scholars of her day and we had access to the towering libraries of Dragonier." He pauses for a drink, then pours a little over his head. "My suit's construction was based generally on Kulthian design but I took no small amount of inspiration from Runic innovations of the time." He closes his eyes, enjoying the splash of water and leaning against the wagon. "But the aetheric accumulator and redistribution module holds little in common with items recovered from old Kulthus.

"I plan to poke my head into the Engineer's Enclave once I'm up and running here. Seemed like a good place to start getting setup in town," he suggests for his fellow.

Slix shrugs with her wings at Kard as her question goes unanswered. She rises to her feet, laughing in a soft trill towards Zofija. "You're a treat, muscles."

She turns her attention to Munch. And she slooooowly tilts her head to the side. She's not sure what to say to that. "Well goodness me, that's fucking morbid honey buns." Well, that. She can say that.

Shaking her head, she hums towards Robert. "You can say that again, shug," she chirps, swaying a bit on the spot as some song pops in her head.

The shop talk, however, goes completely over her bird brain.

Kard is in no hurry to leave though. He lingers, unattached to his armor. Perhaps if he waits around long enough Robert will knock something else over for him to clean up. "So uh... you're not... that old." Kard says to Munch. "But made with older parts I bet." Wash says. "I want to learn how it all works, but I have to be real careful about taking it apart. I might not have the tools or time to put it back together." It is probably not a coincidence that wherever Slix moves Kard positions himself on the opposite side of the cart from her.

Munch buzzes and shrugs. "Maybe? Guess depends how you measure it. Know my power core was made from a dragon, dragon wasn't young, though I don't know how old. But pretty sure there wasn't like, a spare arm laying around they used. Don't really know. They only kept a few notes, then spilled wine all over them. So whole mess have no clues about. What little there was got sealed away. State secrets and stuff. wanted to take me apart, see how I work. They weren't too concerned about getting me back together again. So jumped on a cargo ship, came here to Alexandria. Place been good to me, so I stay."

"Yeah, can't say that sounds particularly pleasant." Zofi grunts as she tosses the last of her things into the carts. she pulls a corn broom out of the cart, and works on sweeping up. "And I thought I had a shit go of things, least no one has tried to tear me apart for any reasons aside from people who were fighting me."

"Don't worry about it too much. Slix doesn't bite, beaks are pretty bad for biting things." The arvek-nar chuckles.

The Eglarin woman has found something. No, not a doodad. She busies herself with finishing up, but her feet eeeeeever so slowly inch towards Kard. And when the space is returned to its fixed distance, she waits a beat, then finds something else closer to tidy up. Shift around. Nudge.

"Actually! Au contraire, I /do/ bite! Some lil' gobber got their lil' fingies nibbled when they got too close!" she chirps happily, looking to Kard for a moment before directing her attention to Zofi. "Bad at bit-, how would you know? Need me to take a chomp outta you to test that theory, muscles?"

She clacks her beak at the hobgoblin threateningly (which wasn't very threatening, the eaglefolk was laughing too much).

Kard not-so-casually rounds the cart until he's back to where he starts. Then he takes a step backward and with a duck, puts his titan armor back on. It will take a moment to be fully ready, but the weight of it rests fully on his shoulders. "Dragon. Never slew a dragon." He says. "They called me Kard the Monster Slayer where I am from. But I knew better than to tangle with dragons. They are too smart to tackle solo." He eyes Slix warily, he's probably at his most vulnerable right now, as the armor re-engages with his body. "Beaks can be dangerous." He says in a tone of voice that means all business.

Dipping under the yoke of his armor, Kard straightens, lifting the armor off the ground and settling it about his shoulders. With a meaty chunk, the armor animates folding around his upper torso like a breastplate. The fingers in the oversized gauntlets flex, one by one as if to confirm that they are all working.

Munch buzzes seriously. "You're not supposed to bite people. They get really upset about that sort of thing. It's okay if you're trying to kill each other, but not socially." Things a golem needs to know.

"Alright, lads," Robert says, turning to find the goblins waiting expectantly in his shadow. He corks the waterskin and reaches back into his pack. He offers both a small box wrapped with twine and a pouch that jingles. "We'll have to find some ice wa--" but the pair have already snatched their pay (and the boxed sweets) and are running off. Maybe they're trying to avoid sweeping! "You should drink something! Water is important!" The Cerenzan calls after them, chuckling.

"You can call it a day, Zofija, and a job well done." He takes out another pouch and another box, holding it up.

Then, oh-so-casually, the big man takes a step in between Slixvah and Kard so the latter can armor back up in peace. He gives the egalrin a look that says 'leave your little brother alone.' It might need some fine-tuning for casual acquaintances.

"Slix, you do realize that I've been working with a griffon since it hatched. I guess I should be more clear. They're more of a puncture risk really, but I digress."

The hobgoblin stops and blinks, then sighs when the others run off. "Glad they didn't run off with my pay, I really don't feel like pummeling it out of them." She chuckles, accepting the box and the pouch, which she stows away. "Don't worry about it. Better to work somewhere clean."

Tease successful, Slixvah giggles to herself before pouting (a bird can pout? somehow Slix can) that her fun was halted by dad. She puts her hands on her hips, squinting up at Robert before smiling with her eyes and giving a wink. She whistles innocently.

She shrugs with her wings at the golem. "They do! And sometimes they prefer if you try and kill 'em! Pride, I swear."

She snorts at Zofi. "You know what I mean, sugar."

Kard feels more confident weraing a hundred pounds of semi-autonomous magisteel. He fixes his gaze on Slix and asks: "What are you, anyway? I don't think I've ever seen a talking bird. How do you do that without lips? Some kind of multi-vibrational harmonies? Do you have a gizzard? Could use that I suppose." He has a natural curiosity about these things, but it carries a hint of learning through surgery if necessary.

Munch buzzes and shrugs. "Little pride is okay. Drives you to be a better you, if done right. Done wrong and pride makes people keep doing really stupid things, too proud to admit they were wrong. Got a lot of guild jobs because someone was too proud."

Kard says, "What guild?" Kard asks. "Adventurer's Guild? I joined that. Monster Slaying isn't a growth industry around here.""

Slix's brows pinch together, a rust red feather on her crown puffing out before she slicks it back with a hand. "Eglarin, sugar," she coos, the wings behind her spreading out some to unfurl the ribbons tied to them. Her head slooowly tilts to the side. "... asking a woman if she's got a gizzard, good heavens, sugar, you must really need that suit to walk around."

She chirps once playfully. "Lil' Slix is just fuckin' with you, cupcake. Bird people was probably on the bottom of your 'crazy stuff to figure out' list. I talk just like you! Though I gotta little bit more goin' on in here-" she points to her throat, it making a few bird calls before resuming speaking- "than you. You should hear me sing!"

She leans off to the side to Robert and Zofija, a wing hiding the side of her beak as she stage whispers loudly. "I can't sing to save my life."

The waterskin goes away and Robert smiles and nods at Zofija. Kard's line of questioning draws a side-eye and a furrowing of his brow. He finally closes his eyes and snorts a quiet laugh. One that grows into a belly laugh at Slixvah's antics.

Recovering, the Cerenzan closes his pack and buckles the straps, moving up towards the rental ass. "I should get this load carted off and get some supper in me," he decides with a hand raised in parting. "I'd be happy to show you my rig and compare notes sometime, Kard. I'll have the forge hot and some repairs underway by tomorrow afternoon."

"I've got a cozy little place three blocks south of the Flightwright if you ever fancy a cuppa," he offers to all. A hand wraps around the donkey's reins and he starts pulling it south. "Tsura taught me to always have an empty chair for company..."

Munch nods. "Explorer's Guild, technically... unless they changed the name again. Good money, good networking, and they usually do a good job of assigning work that won't get you killed. I mean, mistakes happen, but the assignment guys are really good at figuring out how much you can handel and only giving jobs you can survive. Still get hurt a lot, but it works out. Helps get the temples involved."

"It doesn't walk around without me." Kard informs, like that is the most important point to clarify. "Birdpeople. Eglarin. Slix." He is taking mental notes. He's obviously not socially adept enough to know how to respond to Eglarin's toying with him. "I'll be by tomorrow. See what similiarities we can find. I haven't got the coin to sign up for the Artificer's Guild. Not yet anyway." He doesn't follow Robert of course, but he's also not giving Slix the sideeye any longer. Instead he turns his attention back to Munch. "I got tasked with timing chickens. Six foot tall chickens. That was weird."

"And what about my ice water? I'll surely melt to death out here without it." Zofi asks, before bursting into laughter herself. "Don't worry about it. I'll get something to drink on my way back somewhere. Thanks for the offer, I'll keep that in mind. You aren't too bad, not that old man."

"I'll save you the trouble as well, since I did get asked about it the other day. No, I'm not related to goblins, even with the ears. We just work together often." She offers. "Yeah, explorer's guild, there's plenty of work there. Even if some of it is just odd jobs around town. not very adventurous, but it keeps food in the table."

Slixvah snaps a finger gun towards Robert as a wing salutes in lieu of an arm. "Sounds good shug, might take you up on that," she coos, giggling as her antics were well received by some of them in the group.

"Did a job for 'em once or twice. Good work. But I'm /terrible/ with any sword work. But I could probably time a chicken! Maybe. Dunno!" She shrugs though, and puts her hands on her lower back to streeetch it out. She looks up to the sky. "Oh heavens, look at the time! I'm almost late for me-o'clock!" she chirps, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. "Catch you lovies later, this bird's gotta worm to catch."

A beat.

"Dinner. It's dinner." She sticks a tongue out and ambles on off, whistling some birdsong to herself.

Munch nods to Zofi. "Guild work pays well, but it's not very regular. Good to have a second source of income to keep day to day bills down." A wave fare well to Slixvah.

Kard says, "I don't get that bird's sense of humor." He confides in Munch. "I can tell she's making jokes, but someone is going to have to tell me when to laugh. Maybe it's the beak."

Munch nods to Kard. "It's not a bird thing, it's a girl thing. Some are weird like that. I don't get it either."

"Oh no, they've got a lot of postings for odd jobs at the explorer's guild. Seems like they realized a lot of people go there for work, so sometimes people just make offers for various odd jobs." Zofi shrugs, and chuckles. "Don't worry about it. Slix is just messing with you and a lot of other people for fun. If you can't tell what the funny thing is, sometimes you're the joke."

"Right, it's weird with war golems. You're only twelve, right, munch is it? I dunno, you might understand it when you're older." The hobgoblin chuckles while she works on sweeping up the area.

"That was a girl?" Kard is surprised by that. He has his own blindspots.

Munch nods to Zofi. "Munch TerrorMaw, yes. And maybe." he considers a moment, and shrugs to Kard. "I think so? I'm really not certain. Come to think of it, in most brid species the males are the colorful ones. Not sure with eagles."

"Munch TerrorMaw." Kard repeats. "Nice to meet you." He has manners, even if they are minimal and perfunctory. "That's awesome. Way cooler than Kard the Monsterslayer. I mean, that's ... the best."

"Yeah, that maw is pretty terrifying." Zofi nods. Only to chuckle just a bit more. "Trust me, she is. Not just messing with you or anything either. Hard to tell with Egalrin, I guess, but yeah."

"Ah, right, shit manners on my part. Skyguard Zofija Vogt." She adds when she realizes a lack of mentioning her own name.

Munch nods. "Most names tend to suit. I mean, it's your name, but other people are who use it most. Usually someone else gave it to you in the first place. Can pick your own name if you really want, but that can get weird."

"I don't think the bird person's gender really mattters." Kard says without even realizing how callous that sounds. "What's a skyguard?" Yup, it's like he's never been to a big city before. "Do you have... how do you fly? Or does skyguard just mean that you are a really good archer?" He also seems far too eager to change the subject away from names.

"It matters, you know, so they don't get offended by how you address them, or that it isn't used against you when you get it wrong. And if you're asking someone out for drinks of course." Zofi shrugs. "Ah, skyguard? Right, aren't really many around here, it's more of a Myrrish kingdoms thing." Zofi chuckles. "No, I can't fly, and my aim with a bow leaves a lot to be desired. Griffon is the preferred way, Myrrdion has a lot of them there that they train for mounted knights, like myself."

"But I'm not thinking about asking her out for drinks." Kard answers blankly. "You tamed a Griffon? That's awesome!" He's either easily impressed or goes from unresponsive to enthusiastic in a heartbeat. "What is your griffon's name? Did you name him like a cat, or like a bird? Or both. Catbird? Birdcat?"

Munch buzzes a moment. "So trained in Myrrdion, what brought you to Alexandria?"

Kard says, "Eaglion. Leagle."

"Well, okay, your loss. She's fun to go out drinking with." The arvek-nar shrugs. "I named them like a griffon. Well, not really. Their name is Screech, since that's the name they gave me, though they aren't old enough for any actual flying. Almost, though. So, that's the name. Most skyguard tend to raise one from an hatchling, since that's the best way for them to be receptive to training."

"Well, a lot of things all conspired to bring me out this way. To be honest, not nearly drunk enough for that talk."

"Screech is a bird name. That's a bird name." Kard decides, like he is some authority. "If we ever came across a griffon nest, we always checked in for fertile eggs. Those are valuable. Never found any, but I figure the skyguard would be the ones that buy them. If for no other reason than to broaden the breeding pool."

"Yeah, I suppose it is a bird name, specially since they gave it. And, you might be right. Wild griffons aren't easy to tame, but even wild eggs, much as it isn't great to steal them from the nest, sometimes there isn't a choice, and it's for the health of the griffons kept too to have new blood. They're pretty serious about their care, and with good reason. Can't do their job without them after all."

"Dangerous work that. I wouldn't want to go checking wild griffon nests personally, that's just asking for trouble."

Kard points to his helmet. "Monster slayer." He notes. "Part of the job description. But I would like to trade it in for Artificer. If I can ever figure out how to do more than just maintenance on this thing."

"Not many people get to call themselves monster slayers for any significant amount of time." The Arvek-nar chuckles. "Artificer is, well, people are looking on them better these days again. They're allowed to operate in Alexandria, so if you can save up for admission, I can think of much worse things to call oneself."

"It was nice talking to you both, but I really should go and get a drink. It's not good to be working out in the sun this long without em, and I don't think the ground is getting much cleaner without a proper scrub down, and I wasn't paid for that." Zofi adds, looking to the street.

Kard blinks owlishly one time and then nods. "YEah. Yeah it was kind of nice." He realizes belatedly that he's not doing the voice and says again in his baritone: "It was good to meet you. I am glad there are bird people and gobbos out there that don't need slaying."

Kard is partcularly adept at sticking his foot in his mouth, which might be why he doesn't wear the lower half of his armor.