Josh and John Drink Scotch

[Breaker]

“Like I said, just in town for the ball,” Breaker chuckled. Either the giant was hard of hearing, or the man's constitution did not match his frame. “My date wasn't feeling well this evening so I decided to have a drink while she gets some sleep.” He swirled his next mouthful of scotch around in his mouth, enjoying the warming sensation in his mouth and the distinct flavors on his tongue.

“I'm a prizefighter and martial arts instructor by trade,” he said, “but what you do sounds far more interesting. Do you have much experience infusing metals with magic or say... fusing a pair of bracers to a man's arms?”

Josh was thinking of Flint Skovik, the boulder-shouldered Salvic native he'd faced in Sei Orlouge's cell. The man had worn a pair of heavy vambraces that clicked and whirred with alchemic integrity. Breaker had always wanted to understand what had gone into the construction of such devices.

“Depending on the kind of knick knacks we're talking about,” he continued, “I may be able to bring some business your way.”

[redford]

John stared blankly at Joshua for a long moment at his comment . More than a few of his years of exile from his home country had been spent in study of armor and the possible magical properties that could be applied to them, but none had ever gotten him close to deeper understanding of how his own armor was bound to him, much less what the strange liquid metal was made of. Flashes of memory tugged at the back of his mind, distracting him. The armor was cold, suffocating, dark. It had covered his nose, eyes, and mouth once, a quicksilver hood that had nearly killed him twice. Despite its obedience in recent years, John was now intensely aware of its capacity to harm the weilder. He took a deep, calming breath, forcing himself to pay attention to Joshua. One could kill oneself with a sword, just as easily as he could with this armor. It was no different. He took a large gulp of whiskey.

"I uh," he began, gaining momentum as he spoke, "I've been a smith by trade for some years now, magical and plain work both. Most of my infusing is done with sigils, I don't have much talent for raw magic. It's easier when the shapes are already there, and just need to be filled with power."

John looked down to pour himself another glass. he wet his whistle and continued. "I was a fighter for money once, but I'm a little too old for it now. Though sometimes I do get down to the citadel and have a go. As for fusing metal to man, I haven't found a remedy for that yet."

"not for lack of trying," He finished with a mumble to himself, and drained his cup. he held up his almost-empty bottle, hoping someone over at the bar would get the hint.

"I make nails just as much as I make magical breastplates, any intriguing smithing business out there in the world?"

John stopped himself from cringing. 'intriguing smithing business', yeah that's the best way to put that for sure.