Built to Last

[redford]

John took another drag on his cigar, noting silently that it would be finished soon. Being part of this ‘heirarchy’ was nice and all, but he couldn’t stay in this cramped, dusty underground complex much longer. The entire place had the oppressive aura of elegance in disrepair, and besides, he couldn’t stand up properly in most of the hallways and rooms. It was not a place for him, even though he was still evidently ‘touched by fate’ by magic or some older mystic power. The itching persisted still where a single large black tattoo of a sword had appeared on his back. Vincent looked up again from the chair he was building, a puzzled expression on his face.

“You sure? I mean I’m sure we could make some accommodations for you,” Vincent gestured to the chair, smirking. “Like oversized chairs and tables.”

“I’m sure,” John replied, tapping his cigar on the metal plate that served as his ashtray. John had already been through two of the man’s previous chairs, literally, and this one felt ready to give way at any moment.

Vincent sighed. “Well, you’re still a member of the hierarchy, so I’ll see what we can do for you about that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “Let’s see, Joseph is spending all of my money these days, tells me it’s better to have ‘assets’ than hard cash.” He snapped his fingers as if trying to remember something. “Ahhhh, yeah go see Logan, I’m sure he can help you out, he used to be part of the red hand,”

John rose to leave, taking care not to bump his head on the low ceiling.

“You sure I can’t build you some furniture?” Vince asked as John ducked under the doorway into the hall.

John would have smiled had the ordeal of being in this cramped space for so long not soured his mood.

“Yes.”

[Logan]

Bunnying approved for Logan and Robert throughout this entire thread.

The small quarters were moderately comfortable at best, but they were still livable. The psion leaned back on his bunk and closed his eyes for a nap. The last few days wore him out, more than usual anyways. Between the strategy meetings with Vince and Alyssa, and the battle with the hybrid essence creature alongside Rehtul Orlouge, Logan needed some rest, physical and mental.

A few moments passed and slowly he drifted off to sleep. Well, until the rap came at his door about two minutes into REM. The psion's eyes blinked open, and his mind slowly pulled him back to reality. He hesitated a few more moments, only to have another rap come at the door.

"Logan? I know you're in there."

The psion took a deep breath and sat up. Stiff muscles ached as he popped his neck one way then the other. He rose from the bunk and moved to unlock the door.

"Yeah, I'm here. What of it," he asked as he opened the door for the visitor. John, cigar in mouth and all, stood impatiently at the doorway. "Don't just stand there, come on in."

John looked around the rather lacking accommodations, fingers tapping his cigar idly to his side. Logan eyed him silently with a glare that told him not to do that in his personal quarters. John raised his hands in a fashion giving the impression it wasn't to be taken personal nor intended to offend. The psion nodded an acceptance of the half-apology and then motioned to the only chair in the room. It was thankfully made of solid metal. The cigar smoker moved and sat in the chair rather gingerly, testing its stability as he slowly lowered his weight onto it. Logan chuckled.

"I'm of the impression you must have a good reason to interrupt a poor old sod's personal time," the psion said curiously.

John nodded.

"Vince sent me."

The lack of further information was rather annoying, but Logan took it in stride.

"Okay, and?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. Vince sent me to work with you."

Logan blinked at John three times practically astonished at the lack of further information.

"Let's try this again. I'm going to ask you why you're here and you're going to give me enough information to formulate some idea of what Vince wants me to do for you."

John sat silent as if waiting for Logan to ask his question. The psion lifted his hand to forehead and rubbed his temples deeply.

"I...alright alright, let's try this. John, what did you go to Vince for in the first place and did he offer why he sent you to see me?"

[redford]

“I can’t stay here. Too cramped,” John said, already feeling discomfort from the tiny chair he sat in. “Vince said you could help,”

Logan still looked up at him as if he had said something incomprehensible. John tried to speak as plainly as possible.

“I need a house away from here.”

Logan leaned back, seeming to finally understand what John was asking. “What kind of house? I mean, what do you need it for?”

John’s cigar was at the end. He could keep it going, but the smoke would develop a heat and harsh flavor, both of which John was not a fan of. He plucked it from his mouth, holding the smoke in his mouth before expelling it. He turned a hand over, willing his gauntlets to form a small plate of metal on the back of it, where he pushed the cigar down and twisted, snuffing it.

“I need an anvil and a forge.”

Logan looked up, turning the idea over in his mind for a moment before pointing at John. “Yeah, actually, would a farmhouse work?”

John took his cigar from the makeshift plate, and wiped the smudge on his tunic. The gauntlets retained their shine like polished silver, no tarnish or burn mark on them. He looked up at Logan.

“Does it have an anvil and a forge?”

Again he received an odd look from the man. Logan spoke again.

“I don’t know, it’s been abandoned for a while, but we can get those.”


“Good.” John stood, this time knocking his head on the stone ceiling, which did not give in the slightest. He fought the urge to rub the spot that pained him, opting to clench his teeth instead. He needed to be rid of this place. “Where is it, and are you coming?”

Logan sighed wearily. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll go. It’s on the outskirts of Radasanth, couple days’ journey.”

John ducked under the doorframe. “Good. Let’s go.”

[Logan]

The duo left the House of Cards and made their way to Radasanth in almost absolute silence. A few times Logan attempted conversation with his travelling companion, but John didn't seem to be the conversational type. As they rounded the final turn a few miles from the city walls, the psion took a deep breath and offered the last attempt at making nice, "We should stop at the Flying Stone Tavern. A little food and drink would do us both some good."

John pulled a small wooden nondescript box from the saddlebag on his left and withdrew a cigar. "That'll do," his reply was unsurprisingly short and to the point.

The psion opened his mouth to respond, but thought it better judgement to withhold further conversation attempts until they reached the tavern. Perhaps a little drink would loosen up the tight-lipped John.

=====

"Whiskey, straight," John said to the barmaid.

"Make that two, and we'll take a couple of loaves of bread as well," the psion said as he outlined the remainder of their order. The barmaid nodded and then left to the bar.

"You know, the bunker is a bit cramped even for me. It is nice to get out and stretch every once in a while," the psion said with a hope to edge his cohort into some meaningful discussion.

John replied with a nod, "Yep."

Logan sighed. What else could he do? At that moment he decided to let it be until John started up some conversation with him. It wasn't like silence was such a bad thing.

The barmaid returned with their drinks and bread. The travelers began to eat just as a couple of surly fellows stumbled their way past the table. The second of the two tripped and fell into John, sending his whiskey flying across the table and spilling all over the psion. The surly men laughed drunkenly, but before Logan could teach them a lesson John leaped into action.

The quiet and short-spoken man grabbed the man who ran into him by the collar, promptly escorted him to the door and then tossed him down the stairs without a word. He returned to the table, much to Logan's astonishment, and repeated the action with the other fellow. John returned to the table a second time, picked up his chair and stated matter-of-factly, "They were drunk."

Logan took a moment to gather himself, then shrugged and nodded his approval.

"Got what they had coming," the psion said before returning to his meal and drink.

The remainder of the meal completed without another event, or conversation, and the two paid and left quietly. The travel to the farm was quiet, almost too quiet at times, but Logan took it all in stride. He figured if John had something to say, he'd say it. At least that seemed to be his way of doing things.

[redford]

John had ducked under quite a few more branches than Logan by the time they had arrived in the clearing and overgrown field that was the abandoned plot. A farmhouse, a barn, a small set of stables, and two smaller buildings all stood in disrepair; but they stood, and that was what John wanted. They walked forward in the late morning, it had taken them two hours to get here on foot due to the overgrown trails. John was confident that he would be walking them enough to wear them down again.

John and Logan walked up to the farmhouse, sizing it up before entering. A creaky door opened into a large room with a table in the center. Dust hung in the air, made visible here and there by a stray beam of the morning light that came through one of the many holes in the roof. He entered and stood, thankful that there was no real ceiling, only rafters that supported the aged roof. Logan followed, entering the cottage and looking around. John walked to the table, looking down at two cups and two loaves of bread, not yet stale.

John cursed in his mind and tapped Logan on the shoulder.

“Wha-” John interrupted him with a shush and a finger on his lips. He pointed to the loaves of bread, then to the rooms surrounding the one they were currently in. There were also swords beside the table.

John assumed the worst, and that meant raiders or bandits. It fit, they did their deeds in the night, slept during the day. he began to hear soft snoring from the rooms.

Great. Just great.

[Logan]

Logan's eyes bounced from the meal to the rooms. The meal indicated two individuals, and they were drunk when they arrived judging by the burnt bread and the tipped over glasses. Hopefully, the inebriated state of the men would offer an opportunity to avoid confrontation, but he still intended to deal with whomever they encountered.

On a small table at the entry way to one room rested a small painting of a cute couple, and next to it were portraits of two small children, one girl and one boy. All four members of the family held orange-red curls atop their heads, and the father wore a pair of glasses.

A small thought of concern for the family ran through his mind as he continued to look about. There were no signs of struggle with the family, but he also knew the alcohol wasn't the families. It came from the local tavern, the same one Logan and John left just a couple of hours prior.

As quickly as the thought entered his mind, it left as soon as he remembered the farmhouse was supposedly abandoned. A second, closer look at the portraits and painting showed a thin layer of dust at least a few months old. Perhaps the family left of their own accord. At least he hoped it was the case.

As he scanned around a bit more, he noted the two rooms to either side of the main entry and then a chained over door in the back of the small house. The psion pointed to the chained door, and then motioned to each of the two rooms on either side of him and John.

Under his breath at a whisper just slightly above silence he asked, "Which one do you want?"

John pointed to the one on the right then tapped his cigar twice.

"Subdue, but don't kill him. I'll handle the other one, but wait until you hear me signal."

The large man, who Logan began to want to nickname 'Big John', simply nodded his agreement.

The psion took a deep breath then moved silently into the room to his left. A rotund man slept peacefully under the sheets and blanket atop the bed. On top of a nightstand to the side of the bed rested a nearly empty tipped-over bottle of ale also from the Flying Stone Tavern. A couple of stabilizing breaths preceded Logan's movement to the side of the bed to get a better look at the slumbering man.

From the looks of it, the drunks from the tavern whom John dispatched quite easily came to the farmhouse to rest off their drunkenness. Logan needed no further prompting as he quietly slid one sword from its sheath. The freed blade moved to an inch of the neck of the sleeping surly man, and the psion's free hand covered his mouth. The blade slid silently along the prone man's throat, even as he kicked and squirmed beneath the sheets. A couple of jagged raises of the chest, and the man was promptly dead.

The psion pulled the man's eyelids closed, and then checked his limp body for a key to the lock on the chains in the other room. No such luck. "Damn," Logan muttered under his breath.

After a few moments of searching the room to no avail, he returned to the front entryway. John had moved into the other room in preparation for his attack.

"Wake up our snoozing friend, if you would, John," Logan shouted.

[redford]

John stepped as quietly as he could into the room, the only door being a stretch of cloth, which he pulled aside silently to reveal a small bedroom. There was a pad in the corner, a large man atop it, snoozing. He looked the man up and down. He seemed just over six feet. He seemed like an ogre of a man, thick everywhere. John drew on his cigar again. But not as big as me, he thought, smirking.

Logan’s call came from the next room over, and John grabbed the unsuspecting man by his tunic just in time for him to open his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but not before John lifted and threw him out the door into the living room. He fell through the aging table and crashed to the floor.

John took two long steps forward, grabbing him again and dragging him up, slamming him against the wall, his feet dangling several inches off the floor. He gasped, trying to catch his breath as John spoke.

“This is MY house,” he said emphatically as the man he held regained a voice.

“Oi, you betta drop me roight nao, or-” John interrupted him by slamming him against the wall again.

“I said, it’s mine,” John formed two long knives at his middle knuckles and pressed them against his throat, still holding him against the wall.

Logan appeared behind him, smiling giddily at the unwanted guest. “Listen, man. I know that you think you live here, but I really don’t think you should be saying ‘no’ to this guy, am I right? You’re a pretty big guy and he’s got you by the short hairs right now. Tell you what, You give us the key to that lock over there,” he said, pointing a thumb back at the chained door, “and we’ll let you go. Besides, bloodstains really don’t fit the motif here.”

“Listen ‘ere, bastard, I’m gonna kick your a-”

John retracted both blades and shifted his hands to the man’s throat, lifting him higher in the air and squeezing. The man’s look of anger quickly turned to desperation as his gaze darted around the room, beating at John’s forearms with his fists, which bounced off his armor harmlessly.

“That’s the ticket, John! no blood like that eh? Look, here’s the deal,” Logan said, leaning on John’s large frame, looking up at the choking man. He began to turn blue as Logan rambled. “I don’t like this just as much as you do, but if you don’t give us that key, then I can’t help you. I just want what’s best for both of us here, you get to keep your life, and I get to keep whatever’s in that room, it’s a win for everybody, don’t you see?” Logan pulled an apple from his pack, glancing around the room. “You got a knife around here, interrogations always make me hungry - ah, here we are,” Logan grabbed a knife off the ground next to the broken table, wiping it on his shirt before he cut into the apple and chewed. The apple was satisfyingly crisp. John continued to stare at the man he was choking.

He very suddenly slapped John’s upper arm, pointing a finger at the rafters in the corner of the room.

John looked back at Logan, nodding in the direction he was pointing.

Logan walked over, reaching up at the corner, and smiled broadly as he held a key up.

The man John was choking fell from his hands, collapsing on the ground as he coughed pulling as much air as he could into starved lungs. Logan started walking toward the locked door as John grabbed the drunk by the back of his shirt, throwing him out of the front. He took two steps and tripped, but kept going, looking back periodically until he’d made it to the treeline and beyond. He turned back to look at Logan.

Logan held the lock and key. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one!”

[Logan]

*CLICK*

The psion tugged the metal padlock open before slowly peeling away the yards and yards of heavy chain. By his estimation there were easily thirty yards of steel chain piled on the floor by the time he finished, and Logan figured his newly acquired running mate might find a use for the metal. As the last of the chain fell to the floor, he looked over the door as he gave it a couple of hard taps. A distinct hollow echo returned from whatever lay beyond the solid metal barricade.

"Well, I can say with certainty there is a room on the other side," Logan stated as he moved up against the door and pushed with all of his might.

The metal creaked, but it didn't budge. Upon a closer examination it was clear why, at various points around the frame small bits of metal appeared melted into the door. While he held very little understanding on metalworking, his memory drudged up the word 'weld' from a conversation with the blacksmith who created his blades.

"John, any thoughts on how to," but before Logan could complete his statement the giant of a man lowered his shoulder and busted through the structure, welds practically splintering like wood under the force. The entire farmhouse seemed to shake as a thin layer of dust fell from the shelves lining the walls. The psion blinked a few times in sheer amazement at the strength and power of his Hierarchy comrade.

"Well, alrighty then big guy. What's behind door number one?"

John pulled the cigar from his mouth and tapped it twice before returning it between his lips without a word. Clearly, John was the silent but deadly type, or at least it had begun to feel that way to the psion.

"Oh right, you're not one for conversation. My fault, I forgot."

Logan smirked and slid through the doorway, only to be met with a bruised and battered, and admittedly drop-dead gorgeous, girl of no more than twenty two years of age. Covered head to toe in dirt, she pushed the psion out of the way and embraced John with the kind of embrace only the closest of friends might share.

"John," the lithe girl exclaimed as she took a step away. "I never thought I'd see you again."

The psion stood there, mouth agape as his head shook a few times to loose the cobwebs or intoxication, whichever held his mind in such a state of insanity. Any disbelief in fate or destiny ceased in that moment for Logan. The girl knew John, but he didn't know she was at the farmhouse. John didn't even know of the farmhouse, but yet the two men found themselves there, and there, too, was the girl. He blinked a couple of times at John with the expectation of some sort of explanation.

"Uh," John stammered, "Jamie. I, uh...hi beautiful."

[redford]

John hadn’t expected Jamie to be here. The shock of seeing her, the anger at her captors, his relief that she was well even though he’d seen her for only a few seconds; all these emotions swam in his head as she ran to him, wrapping her arms around his chest. His arms lowered to wrap around her torso instinctively, even as his confusion mounted. he took a knee as the most prominent concern came to mind.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pushing her to arm’s length so he could look at her once more. She was exceptionally tall for a woman, just over six feet, with a fullness to her form that typically made men stare longer than they meant to. Thick brown hair framed gray-blue eyes and fell in a messy heap to the middle of her back. A long shirt and what might have at one time been a pair of pants covered her body. She was dirty and bruised, and John’s arm came up of it’s own accord, cupping her cheek with a large metal hand.

“Are you alright?” he asked again.

Her relieved expression turned into a smile for a second, as if she were comforted by the familiar sound of John’s voice struggling through pleasantries in such a situation. “Do I look okay, John? There’s no time, we’ve got to get out of here before he comes back,” she finished in a hushed tone, as if at any moment they would be surrounded.

“Okay, okay, let’s get you out of here, and we’ll get you some proper clothes and get you cleaned up, alright?”

She nodded slowly and wrapped her arms around John’s neck. He stood and she curled an arm around his as they passed Logan, who looked on in confusion, before another voice joined the conversation.

“Oi! You in there! Come out now, and we’ll let ya go! We just want the girl,” it called, gruff and commanding. Jamie cowered behind the closed front door.

“That’s them! John, you can’t let them have me, I’d rather die!” she exclaimed, and John felt her bury her head in his homemade tunic, sobbing a little.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, John’s hands closed into fists, his armor moving up to cover his forearms. John’s jaw clenched, and his brow furrowed as his concern for Jamie was lost in the sea of his rage. He turned a little, taking Jamie’s shoulder. He spoke softly and slowly.

“Stay with Logan, stay inside the cabin,” he said, and Logan put an arm around her frame as John turned to the door, a grim expression on his face.

The voice from outside the cabin called again. “You got ‘till the count of five to be out here!

“One!” John’s breathing quickened as a vision of a burly man beating the girl passed through his mind. He raised a foot, and kicked the door.

A crash followed and the door flew off it’s hinges, flying ten feet before tumbling to the grass below. John ducked his head, stepping through the empty threshold, seeing eight men arrayed in a thirty foot circle, made to keep anything from escaping. The four directly in front had swords, and the largest among them wore chain armor and a helmet, as well as a shield. John raised himself to his full height, and spikes grew on his knuckles. He yelled at the group.

“Which of you cowards laid a hand on her?!”

The largest of them spoke, though still shorter than John by more than a foot. “Listen here, you, we just wa-”

“Which one!” John shouted again, taking two steps forward as the ones with swords brandished them. “Cowards, all of you! I’ll show you what a beating looks like, I’ll show you why they called me John the giant Cromwell!” John finished yelling, slapping a fist against his chest twice.

John saw everything in his anger. Every one of the eight, each of their weapons, the way three of them faltered until the leader screamed in his direction, pointing a sword at him. Everything was down to instinct as John took two steps toward the first one to charge, catching his sword with a gauntleted hand and caving his face in with a brutal punch. His head crunched, and John swung his hand wide into the second, who held no sword.

John’s hand hit his neck, and at that precise moment, John extended a blade at the point of contact with his armor, and it pierced his neck and came out the other side. He yanked on it, and half the man’s neck was severed. John spun with the motion, extending his leg and tripping the third man, sending him to the ground. He spied the fourth and fifth rushing him.

John caught the strike of the fourth man, dodging the strike of the fifth. He vaguely noticed that the sword he caught was of poor quality, and with a swift turning of his wrist, it was broken. A follow up from the fifth was blocked by his off-hand as he stabbed the fourth in the chest with the broken end of his own sword, and kicked the fifth in the chest, sending him sprawling. He tossed the broken blade aside and turned to where the third man was getting up and formed three large studs at his knuckles and punched him in the chest, feeling several of his ribs break in the process. Back to the ground he went as the fifth and seventh rushed him. The leader held his shield up defensively, approaching with sword in hand. The sixth fled, stumbling over his feet.

The seventh retreated behind his leader while the fifth charged forward. His strike was slow in coming, and John stepped forward with a flying knee. He felt something in the man’s head or neck snap, and he fell to the ground, lifeless.

John roared at the two remaining combatants, and the seventh fled from behind the leader, yelling something to the other fleeing man. The leader looked back for a split second.

Bad move….

John stepped forward, taking his shield in both hands and turning it outward until the arm strapped to it extended and broke. He screamed, trying to stab John with his sword arm. John moved the man’s shield to block the blow, and kicked a leg out at his knees, bending one of them backwards. He screamed again as he fell to the ground, and John kicked his sword away, falling on him, planting a knee on his good arm.

He began to strike at the man’s face, and eventually he stopped screaming.

“You bastard! You’ll answer to me for hurting her!” He yelled as he continued striking, until eventually his hands began to hit the dirt because what was left could not be considered a head.

John growled as his breathing slowed a bit, his gauntlets now covered in bits of skull and brain.

[Logan]

While John disposed of the many men out in front of the house, Logan pulled the girl back inside. What little he had seen of John let the psion know he could handle himself, and most likely the end result for the poor sods out front would be equal parts painful and gruesome. Jamie did not need to be privy to such acts, especially if she had any feeling of safety and security with him.

Logan peered around the small farmhouse pausing momentarily at the side bedroom. The only window faced out to the side of the house away from the action in front, and as it had a door he felt safe in the thought they would be moderately secured on the off chance something went awry outside.

"In there," he said as he pointed to the side room.

"But John," she exclaimed.

A quick glance at the carnage outside through the gaping hole which was once the doorway let him know he made the right choice.

"He can handle himself. I actually pity those poor fools out there."

Jamie perked up a little at the thought, and then quietly obliged. The room was dank and smelled of cheap liquor, but at least the window held a nice, uninterrupted view of the farm. The girl sat on the bed while Logan righted a fallen wooden chair and sat on it.

"So, Jamie is it? How exactly do you know John?"

The girl's smile revealed two rows of perfect white teeth and her pink lips peeked from behind the dirt covering her.

"We're friends, more or less. We go a ways back, John and I. It isn't often in my line of work someone takes a general interest in me as a person."

"I'd say there's definitely a friendship, if not more, there. The way you two embraced," Logan paused on the last words as the realization of the ending of her statement hit him.

"Hold on. What line of work are you in exactly?"

Jamie's cheeks flushed deeply at the line of questioning. A few moments of quiet were cut short as the window burst open and a small cylinder with tiny sparks flew inside. Only a few times before then had the psion seen explosives, but he knew what it was. Instinctively, Logan leaped over the bed, pulling Jamie down to the floor with him, simultaneously flipping the bed on its side as a sort of cover from the blast.

Tick, tick, tick went the clock in his head before the small device exploded sending small bits of shrapnel all over the room. Thankfully, the explosive was weak and the bed provided ample protection. As he stood, his eyes returned to the window where three men had slipped inside.

"Look 'ere. This little wenchy 'ere is ours."

Logan smirked.

"Why would a perfectly suitable and wonderfully beautiful young lady like herself want to be with the three of you when she can just about have any man she desired?"

Behind the psion, Jamie blushed an even deeper shade of red, deep enough it showed through the grime.

"Cuz she ain't nothin' more than a two-bit whore!"

Logan blinked a couple of times. He hadn't anticipated that possibility, but it made sense when coupled with her earlier reference to her profession. His mind lingered on the thought for only a moment, even as his hands slid down to the hilts at his side silently.

"Maybe even so, but even a whore has her boundaries. You lot in your sad state of affairs are clearly well outside them."

As the last words trickled out, the psion jumped forward, over the top of the tipped over bed. In the air, he contorted his midsection and legs into a flip. His swords slid from their sheaths and he sliced both outwards as he landed into a crouch. The first of the three men, the one who had spoken, fell without another word uttered as blood poured from the fresh wound across his neck. The second man spun lunged at Logan, a large iron greatsword aimed for the psion's head. He allowed the attacker's momentum to carry him downward, and at the last moment rolled to his right. The attack sent the man running at the bed as he tried to steady himself from the missed attack and weight of the sword. The flesh of the second man skewered onto bits and pieces of splintered wood buried in the bed.

The third man used the distraction and wrapped his arm around the psion's neck. The man kicked Logan's left knee then his right, pushing the psion to the ground. The arm around his neck tightened. The grip on his swords loosened, and they fell to the floor. As the psion began to struggle, the hold strengthened and his eyes closed. Before he choked out, though, the arm around his neck released, and the primal scream of a woman pushed over the edge filled his ears.

As he opened his eyes, the severed head of the third man lay before him. He coughed three times as he gasped for breath attempting to fill his lungs with necessary oxygen and then rolled onto his back. Jamie stood a couple of feet behind him, one of his blades held firmly in her grip. Her light airiness was replaced with rage. Logan sat up slowly, and she offered him a hand through deep panted breaths.

Once to his feet, she hugged the psion tightly. The sword fell from her hand as her head buried into his chest and tears fell from her face. Sobs filled the room, and he wrapped his arms around her in response. After a few moments, Logan pulled away a few inches and looked her over. His fingers lifted to her face and wiped her tears.

"Thank you, Jamie. I owe you one."

The sobs subsided and the smile slowly returned.

"Just don't tell John what just happened. I would prefer if he continued to think of me as his helpless little lady friend."

Logan nodded as he looked around the room.

"Deal. Let's go check on John."

He gathered his blades, and the two of them made their way to the front of the house. His concern over how she would handle the blood and gore left the moment she beheaded the man in the other room. In just a few minutes, she'd seen enough death for a lifetime, so what harm could a few more do?

[redford]

John’s eyes closed as he slowly regained control of his breathing. He focused and breathed in through his nose, then out through his mouth slowly for several seconds. His eyes opened and he squinted in the light before looking down again. A lump of mangled flesh sat between his knees. He pushed himself up a little, wiping his hands on the dead leader’s shirt, his own shirt stained as well with blood. It took a lot to get John’s blood to boil, and his rage was swift and fierce. He felt emotion well up like a spring in his mind, and he forced it back down, setting his mouth in a line and his eyes furrowed.

He stood, and his gauntlets returned to their previous state. He turned, seeing Logan and Jamie emerge from the house. She looked at him for a second, then ran toward him, stopping a few feet short. John spoke more easily to her than many.

“I’m fine, Jamie, none of it’s mine,” he said as Logan approached, swords in hand, looking around at the dead. He sheathed his weapons as Jamie embraced John again.

“Had fun?” Logan asked, still looking at the corpses

John looked over.

“Not really,” he said.

“Come on, let’s get you in some regular clothes,” John said, turning to lead her back into the house. Hopefully there was something he could get her in there, even if it was in disrepair.

They walked back to the house, Logan still offering a look that demanded explanation. John remained silent as the three of them retreated to the farmhouse. John righted a stool and looked around, seeing something resembling what Jamie would wear normally bunched up in a corner. It was a dress, designed to hug the curves, though it seemed to fall around the ankles as John picked it up, offering it to her. Jamie took it in silence, retreating past a door made of cloth to change. He looked back at Logan, who still seemed to want an explanation. He put a hand on his hip.

“So,” he began, looking back to the doorway she’d disappeared through. “You know each other?”

“Yes,” John said, looking around for something that could replace his bloodied tunic. He eventually conceded to himself that there was nothing on any of the dead men in the house that would be able to fit him.

“How’s that?”

John looked back at Logan. “We talk sometimes.”

“That’s not…” Logan began. “You know what? Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

After a few moments of silence, Jamie emerged. She was dirty, but at least she was fully clothed now, the dark green dress covering her.

[Logan]

Logan gave Jamie the once over and nodded politely.

"She cleans up quite well, John," Logan said.

John gave a half-grunt of approval and then motioned toward the house.

"It's okay for living, but need a bigger place for working."

Jamie giggled as she bubbled over with excitement while grabbing John's large hand and tugging him down an overgrown path beside the house. Logan followed suit slowly coming to the realization he somehow became the third wheel in this little trio. After a few minutes of walking through some thick trees and brush, a large barn and a set of stables came into view.

The psion smirked, "hopefully no waiting bandits."

"We can handle them," John responded.

The three made their way to the stables first, and much to the satisfaction of Logan there were no bandits to be found. The wooden structure was old and worn, but nothing beyond a few layers of paint and some elbow grease to repair. He glanced up at the barn a hundred yards away or so. It seemed empty enough, and there was a distinct silence about the property which settled him a little more.

They made their way to the stables, and the whole while Jamie clung to John. Logan wasn't sure yet whether it was from delight John returned to her or concern John would eventually leave her again. Then it kind of all hit him at once, and he cleared his throat to get their attention. The couple turned their heads to look at Logan as they continued on their way to the barn.

"So, it has occurred to me if John ends up using this property for his work then he might need someone to take care of the house when he isn't around, or off taking care of other," Logan hesitated on the last words, "uh...business."

Jamie tugged John to a full stop.

"You wouldn't hesitate to ask me," she stated, "would you John?"

John smiled what may have been the actual first true, unhindered smile since he and Logan met. The psion blinked a few times out of further disbelief. The giant of a man who up until the little trip to the farmhouse property felt distant and barely responsive began to show signs of not only life, but depth of emotions. Before Logan could chime in again, Jamie hugged John and then tugged him once more toward the barn.

It took only a few more stunned minutes of silence before the trio arrived at the barn. John motioned for Logan, the stealthier of the two, to make a perimeter check. The psion sighed, and then obliged. He wanted to make sure the barn was empty, but he also didn't want to miss any further developments between his friend and the little lady. If anything happened, he figured, he would be back soon enough to avoid missing the best parts.

[redford]

“What are you doing back here?” Jamie asked as Logan rounded the corner behind the barn. She looked away. “Not that I don’t like you being around, I just thought you’d be in Raieria from now on.”

John leaned in to the door of the barn, peeking into it from the gap between the doors. He saw only a little, but the barn seemed largely abandoned. He sighed as he turned back to her.

“Long story short, the merc group that I was with out there turned out to be something a little different than what I was expecting. It’s a good job, I just think I’ll work with them better from here.” John said. He then brought his hand up, scratching the back of his head. “Listen, do you think it would be okay if I came by the Rose some time, like I used to?”

“Oh, don’t be a tightwad, John.” She said, dramatically rolling her eyes.

“Hard not to be," John said, mocking his own social ineptness.

She smacked his arm. “You know what I mean. And I’d be insulted if you didn’t visit me. At least as long as you’re in town that is.”

John smiled. “I’ll be around then.”

Logan rounded the other end of the barn.

“Looks like we’re clear, John. Nobody inside or around.”

John nodded, pulling on the large door to the barn. It creaked noisily as he pulled it open, it was a deep, knocking creak that opened into the barn; dimly illuminated by shafts of sunlight piercing through the failing roof. There were two levels, the second accessed by a ladder that had already crumbled quite a bit. The dominating feature of the building, though, was the the large, canvas-covered mound in the back corner of the barn. John strode forward, followed by Logan and Jamie, silently noting that this doorway was the first that he didn’t have to duck through in quite some time. The both walked toward the mound, treading on the decaying hay that littered the floor. The dust that had caked the canvas that covered the thing indicated that it had been there for a while.

John’s boot clanged on something metallic, and he bent down to retrieve a pair of tongs from beneath the hay. He held them up to Logan and Jamie, a smile tugging slightly at the edge of his mouth. He reached forward, gripping the canvas. A cloud of dust erupted from it as he ripped the cloth away, and a moment later he saw it.

A solid metal table stood, a little low for John, covered with the large tools of the blacksmithing trade. Logan stepped beside him and picked up a hammer. It was coated with rust, but a wire brush would knock off most of it, and continual use as well as a coat of oil would take care of the rest of it. This time John really did smile a little as he looked over to an anvil on a wooden platform. The platform, luckily, was made of hardwood, and had not rotted. Though, the anvil had a layer of rust on it.

John looked to Jamie, who held a large awl. She looked back up at him, smirking playfully.

“Sweet, now all we’ve got to do is raise all the chairs and doorways by a foot and a half,” she said, tossing it on the pile of tools.The edge of John's mouth turned up a little. Perhaps this would be a decent place to make a living after all.

[Logan]

"Well, I guess we managed to achieve our goal," the psion stated triumphantly.

The open area would suffice for all of John's trade work, and would offer the added advantage of actually letting him stretch out when warranted. The size of the barn also allowed for plenty of heat and work to be done without much concern for stray embers sending the entire place up in smoke. Knowing John's lady friend would be around consistently to check in on him also put Logan's biggest concern to rest.

"I know it is a bit far away from our House, but then again I think Vince was hoping for exactly that," Logan said through a chuckle.

Jamie raised an eyebrow and John let out a deep, but soft chuckle.

John replied as the corners of his lips turned upward, "Aye. Think I'll still need him for furniture though."

Logan laughed as he responded incredulously, "Did you just crack a joke?"

The giant of a man simply responded with a wry smirk followed by popping his knuckles.

"It needs some work, and definitely a lady's touch," Jamie said as she picked up the large, dusty cloth and folded it.

John followed suit, grabbing a broom made for a far smaller person, and began to sweep up the scattered hay into a pile. As John occupied himself, Logan turned to Jamie.

"Why don't we leave John to the barn, and you and I can work on the farmhouse?"

Jamie nodded.

"John. Will you be alright, dear?"

John grunted, or something close to a grunt. Logan wasn't really sure what it was exactly, but Jamie seemed to fully comprehend its meaning. Without further word, the psion and the giant's lady friend made their way out of the barn and back to the house.

"So Jamie, this has been gnawing at me for a little bit now."

She gave him a curious look, and then smiled.

"Then ask, Logan."

The psion tried to formulate the words in his head before asking, but no matter how hard he tried the questions always seemed to mingle into a territory he was not one hundred percent sure he wanted to venture. A few moments of complete silence and then Jamie piped up.

"No, really, it is okay. Ask."

He took a deep breath, and all of the thoughts came out jumbled at once.

"The bandits, who were they? Why were they here? For that matter, why were you in the back room? Why was it barred and chained?"

He wasn't done, but Jamie punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Look, Logan. I know you want answers, and I'm happy to give them. The bandits are part of a small gang that terrorizes the town and surrounding countryside. They steal, they loot, they plunder. They're just all around bad guys. I don't know exactly why they were here, though."

They reached the door and Logan opened it for her. She stepped through and then continued.

"What I do know is this farm belonged to the Hatchers. Rumor is Mr. Hatcher got himself into a bit of a jam by gambling away the farm's profits, and the gang offered him a loan. After a few months of not being able to pay the loan, they took it over. I'm guessing that's probably why they were here."

The two set about picking up various pieces of broken dishes and furniture, tidying up what they could as they could. The whole while, Jamie kept on with the answers.

"The leader's name is Wendel, though most call him W. W grew up in the town, and at one time was a good kid. Well, one day about two weeks ago, W and his crew came to visit the Black Rose. He always had an eye for me, even when he was younger. Well, he asked specifically for me that day, but Ms. Hannah insisted I was unavailable. W got mad, but they didn't put up much of a fuss."

"A few days passed and Ms. Hannah sent me on an errand to pick up a package at the inn. I was on my way back to the Rose when W and his boys stopped me, and then locked me up here. As to why I was in the back room, I'll just leave that to your imagination. It wasn't pretty, but in my line of work you just kind of learn to block it all out and go to another place."

The two righted the end tables and the chairs, paying careful attention to avoid running into the bodies or accidentally kicking the severed head of the one bandit. Jamie continued on as they worked.

"I tried to escape on three separate occasions, but every time they caught up to me and brought me back. After the third attempt, they threw me into the back and made sure I couldn't make a run for it again. That was only a couple of days ago. Thankfully, John showed up when he did."

As they finished with everything else, Logan looked down at the bodies.

"I'll let you finish in a minute. We need to deal with these bodies somehow."

Jamie smiled, and it caught the psion off-guard a little.

"Okay what gives? I mean, I get the whole you being a lady of the night thing, but your comfort level with death and the gore that accompanies it is a bit...disconcerting."

The prostitute laughed.

"Oh, dear. Am I that transparent?"

Logan nodded.

"Well, as I said earlier, in my line of work you learn to defend yourself. You also learn not everyone who seeks out your services is doing so with your best interest in mind."

He nodded again.

"Some like it rough?"

It was Jamie's turn to nod.

"You could say that, yeah."

She tugged the neckline of the dress to the side and showed him a few of her deep scars. Logan reached out and touched the scars and shook his head. Jamie continued on.

"I've been beaten, battered, and bruised more times than I can count. I'm thankful for Ms. Hannah, though, as she does her best to make sure we are well cared for. Once a client goes over the line, Ms. Hannah makes sure they never receive service again. She has a list of at least a hundred clients who have been permanently banned from service last I knew."

"Well, I suppose that is something, but then why do you keep doing what you do? It seems like it puts you in harm's way more often than not, and I am certain John would be content to offer full provision for anything you need."

She smiled softly.

"If you must know, it is because of John."

Logan's eyes grew wide. Had his friend really had such a profound impact on this girl that she'd stuck it out through such deplorable conditions and clients? Apparently, yes.

"Before John showed up to the Rose, I was at my wit's end. The clients were growing rougher and rougher, and some were going as close to the line as they could without going over. Then he showed up, and for the first time since I'd started doing what I do, I felt respected. I felt like what I did helped someone, and I mean really helped someone."

"So did you two --," but before Logan could finish his statement Jamie interrupted him.

"Oh, gods no! We never did."

Logan's curiosity got the better of him.

"So wait. John paid for service, but you two never actually did anything?"

Jamie nodded.

"Look, Logan. John is a sweet guy, and probably one of the best friends I will ever have. I love him more than I could ever express with just mere words, and maybe some day we might. Still, though, I've never known what it means to be loved as like a significant other. I've never had someone who genuinely cared about my well-being other than Ms. Hannah, and then John. So...I just don't really know how I feel about him exactly, especially knowing about his wife. It is murky waters for me."

The psion finally understood. Everything started to make way more sense to him.

"Okay, I think I get it now. I still don't understand what John gets out of it, but I understand at least where you're coming from."

She smiled again.

"I know it isn't the easiest thing to comprehend, but it is just how it is I guess."

Logan nodded.

"I suppose so, and that does answer all of my questions at the very least."

[redford]

The barn's core was good. Several of the wooden boards that made up the outside of the structure would need to be replaced, but the structure wasn't nearly as rotted as the rest of the buildings in the small compound. It would be a good place for forge-work, even though he’d need to put in a chimney and a furnace, as well as some bellows. the back would work nicely, as he would be able to knock out part of the wall of the barn and build the chimney outside the barn, which would make it easier to construct. John looked around, placing the various pieces of equipment in the room with his mind’s eye. He settled on a configuration that would work well, and set the broom down, finished with sweeping for now.

He moved the table, as well as the tools upon it, into a place next to where the anvil was going, making a mental list of what tools were missing, as well as a few other things he’d need. The sun was still high overhead, and he’d probably be able to get the things today.

John bent his legs deeply. Even for someone as strong as he was, an anvil was not something easily moved. He tucked both arms under either protrusion, pointing his forearms up. He grunted with effort, and the anvil came up from its place. John shuffled to the left about six feet and set it down gently, making sure that the ground under it was level before looking back to the tools, making another mental list of the things he needed.

Logan was chuckling as John returned to the house proper, seeing Jamie with another broom, and Logan tossing broken glass out of the window, and tidying up what couldn’t be swept. He spoke through laughter.

“Wait, wait, he actually WANTED you to set his chest hair on fire? Talk about the flames of love, am I right?” He said, breaking into laughter again.

“Yes! And he would NOT leave until I’d done it. It was some sort of weird satisfaction for him.” She laughed, that deep, throaty laugh that was so excellently genuine. She looked over, noticing that John had stepped through the doorway. She leaned on the broom.

“You finish up in there?” She said, recovering from a laughing fit.

He answered quickly. “Yes, I need some supplies though.”

“Here, I can get them, bet the shops are still open for a while,” She said, holding her hand out to him.

“No, I’ll go. You stay here with Logan.” He said, looking around for a piece of paper and something to write with.

“Oh, come on John, I’ll be fine,”

“No, these guys nearly killed you, I don-”

Logan piped up. “John, we pretty much killed everyone who hurt her, and everyone who didn’t probably just got as far away as possible from the giant with metal arms.” John glared at him. “What I’m saying is, she’s perfectly safe.”

“And,” She said, gesturing to her clothes, “I’m going to need something cleaner and better suited for work anyways.”

John looked at her, then logan, then the floor, and back to her. He clenched his fist, resenting the words even as he spoke them. “Go, go, but if you so much as stub your toe there’ll be hell to pay for somebody,”

“Yes! Write it down quick.” A few scribbles later and she practically flew out the door.

Logan returned to throwing anything that was stinking or broken out of the house, and John began to sweep where Jamie left off. Logan spoke. “She probably wants to be rid of this place, you know. They kept her here and, uh, they -”

The broom snapped in John’s one hand. The other came up as if to stop him. “Don’t. Don’t say it, Logan. I know.”

John looked down at the broom and dropped it. Logan was still staring.

John spoke. “What?”

[Logan]

The psion took a step toward John and moved his hand to rest it on the giant’s shoulder.

“I don’t need to say it, but I do think you need to hear it. You need to know what she went through.”

“I already know what she went through, Logan, I don’t want to hear it twice.”

Logan nodded slowly.

“Look man, I get it. I’ll leave it alone, but I just wonder if maybe deep down there isn’t something more that you aren’t letting me in on. Not that I find it all that surprising at this point.”

John grunted, and Logan could only shrug.

“I’m not supposed to know this, I’m sure. Why didn’t you tell me about your wife?”

“My wife was my business, Logan, not yours.”

The look he gave John could cut steel.

“Oh, we’re going to play it that way?”

Logan chuckled.

“John, I’ve been at this game longer than you. I’ve been through more heartache and heartbreak than you could imagine. I’ve seen friends and those closer than friends die at the hands of mercenaries, bandits, and, I dare say, even other friends. Haida knows I’ve killed off one or two of my friends at some point or another purely because there was no other choice.”

He took a deep breath to calm himself. What he knew of John led him to believe he needed to be careful with how he handled the subject. There was more to John than just the metal and grit. There was a man hidden inside the giant’s shell.

John turned away, placing both large metallic hands on the kitchen countertop.

“Come here, Logan.”

Logan hesitated.

“You aren’t going to hurt me, are you,” he asked with a hint of sarcasm to lighten the mood a little.

John looked back, a new expression painted across him. Logan detected a hint of remorse in the look on John’s face.

“Just come here, Logan, You need to see this.”

The psion moved next to John and nodded.

“Alright, show me.”

He watched as the giant closed his eyes. A few seconds passed and Logan opened his mouth, but before he could speak the metal of John’s gauntlets seemed to ripple into an almost mercurial liquid. The liquid flowed along his arms moving into a more bracer-like position. Where the gauntlets once covered shown deep, thick scars of burns long since mended.

The silence carried on for a few more moments, but eventually Logan knew he had to speak up.

“You can tell me what happened or not. I won’t press. Just know that we all carry our scars, but not all of them are on the outside.”

“My, um,” John’s breath hitched for a second. “My wife’s name was Katherine. Our daughter’s name was Ariel. They died, right in front of me. And this,” He held up his hands to Logan, “This is the price for my vengeance.”

Upon John’s hands were multiple marks of capture; brands to show the person’s fallen state in the world or, as the brands John bore indicated, the result of the person’s acts. Logan could make out two distinct marks. One was in the shape of a circle, albeit an incomplete, possibly broken, circle. The second appeared as a broken weapon. The psion wasn’t certain what they represented, but he knew it wasn’t good.

John squeezed his eyes shut tight as the psion examined the giant’s hands. There was more to the story, that much was plainly obvious, but Logan was thoroughly enthralled trying to place the meaning of the marks.

“Price for yo-,” Logan was cut-off mid-sentence.

“Never again!” John yelled, slamming a bare fist against the counter. “Nobody hurts my people, nobody EVER hurts them! Or so help me I will bring such wrath upon them that they have never known.” He looked at the back of his own hand. “I will NOT be powerless any--”

Logan pounded his own fist on the counter, half-mocking the big guy and half-empathizing with him.

“--More. You won’t be powerless anymore. I get it. Whoever it was forced you into some situation you didn’t want to be in, and with only one way out. You weren’t given a choice. It was their way. And now you suffer the stinging reminder constantly of all that you did.”

“I don’t suffer,” John said, waving a hand toward the bodies piled outside. “They do. They will if anyone lays a hand on someone I care about.”

“You do suffer, but it isn’t the same kind of suffering you’re thinking.”

Logan grinned.

“Trust me, John. I’ve suffered my whole life with my own inner demons. I’ve suffered being bound and chained in my own mind. I made a prison out of my own damned thoughts. I suffered by letting myself relive what I’d done for the longest time. But you know what? I finally broke free of my suffering. I broke free of that damned prison. And do you know how?”

The metal of John’s bracers slid across his hands again. “You can’t fix me, Logan. It’s not your job, and it surely isn’t your place.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, big guy. I thought we were doing this whole sharing thing. Like, you show me yours, I’ll show you mine?”

John glared at him. “Yes. You did think that.”

Logan had no intentions of letting John off that easily.

“Maybe I did. So sue me. Can I continue now?”

John spun quickly, grabbing Logan’s tunic and coat by the chest, lifting him into the air easily.

“Continue what, Logan? You gonna tell me to ‘let it go’? What I do works, and it works well. My mind may be a prison, but that prison protects you too.”

The psion wasn’t worried, and he actually laughed loud enough he swore John was ready to punch him in the throat.

“Look, John. You can bullshit me all you want, but you and I both know the prison protects only one person. It doesn’t protect me. It doesn’t protect Jamie. It protects you. But hey, if you want to go on believing this prison is some gift from you to everyone else, then be my guest.”

He motioned for John to set him down.

“Now, as to what I was going to tell you. I simply faced my demon. I faced him in this world, in this plane, in this physical realm. He held no power over me here. And yet I still fight him. I fight him a lot. The fighting never stops. I fight because I know the prison I held myself in, it eventually can’t hold me anymore. My power, your power grows by the day. I learned I had to fight, and the fighting was the only time I wasn’t hiding for myself.”

John set Logan down and then proceeded to punch through the countertop into the cabinets below. “I do what works, Logan. You know what? Jamie will likely never, ever, have a problem with anybody again. No one will dare harm her.”

Logan nodded knowingly.

“Instead, she will walk around and be silently judged for your actions.”

Logan pushed an index finger into John’s chest accusingly. John turned away, looking down.

“Well, better judged than raped and beaten.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy. Now, let me tell you a little story.”

Logan grabbed one of the larger chairs, mostly still intact, set it against the wall for John, and then slid a second smaller chair over for himself. He sat down and motioned for John to do the same. Once John sat down, Logan continued.

“One day, this young stud is walking down the street. We’ll call him Johnny. He’s a good kid with a bright future ahead of him. Johnny’s kinda headstrong and iron-willed. When he sets his mind to something, he does it. So he’s walking down the road, and he’s not really paying attention where he’s going and bam, he falls into this hole.”

“Johnny looks around, grasping at the sides of the hole trying to pull himself out but it is no use, right? He claws and claws, but he can’t find a good grip. And when he finally does, the damn walls are just too high to climb out. So here is Johnny boy stuck in this damned hole, and all because he wasn’t paying attention where he was going.”

By this point, Logan has begun to use hand gestures to mime out parts of the story.

“So Johnny is well and stuck, but as luck would have it a scientist from Alerar is walking by. The scientist looks down into the hole and asks if Johnny needs some help. Johnny tells him, ‘look man, you gotta help me! I’m stuck!’ The scientist figures out the perfect solution, and he tells him he’ll help him free of charge -- which in this economy is saying a lot, am I right?”

The psion waited for a response, but John glared hard enough to peel the paint off the walls.

“Nothing? Whatever. So this scientist sets about drawing out some blueprints and diagrams. These aren’t your ordinary run of the mill blueprints, though. These things are on a whole different level where even other scientists would be left scratching their heads. The scientist drops them down the hole, yells at Johnny, ‘good luck’ and then leaves.”

“Johnny is in quite the pickle now. The hole is inescapable, and his best opportunity to get out just walked off. He did leave him some blueprints, but they might as well be written in N’Jali. But of course, Johnny’s luck is about to change for a second time!”

Logan shuffles in his chair and then continues.

“A high priest of the Ethereal Sway is walking by, sees Johnny in the hole and yells down offering to help. Johnny yells back, ‘please! I’ve been down here for a while now and I have no way out!’ The priest has just the ticket. He grabs a piece of paper, writes down some stuff and then tosses the page down the hole to Johnny. Without another word, he bows and then leaves, too.”

By that point the psion started chuckling after every couple of sentences, but tried hard to hide it.

“Johnny knows he’s pretty much screwed at this point. All hope is lost. Nobody can possibly help him. But then, luck smiles down on poor Johnny a third time! Along comes his best friend in the whole wide world, Lord Gandor. Johnny yells up at Gandor, ‘Gando, buddy, friend, pal, compatriot, compadre, sympatico, can you help me outta here?’ Without another word Lord Gandor leaps into the hole with Johnny.”

Logan burst into full-blown laughter as he uttered the last couple of words. A few moments passed, and eventually he regained his composure.

“Sorry, almost finished. So right, now Johnny boy and Lord Gandor are in the hole together and Johnny turns to his friend and yells at him, ‘What in Haida’s name are you doing? I asked you to help me, not jump in with me!’ Lord Gandor is a wiser man than any might suspect, and he has but one reply, ‘I am helping you. I’ve been in this hole before, but I know the way out.’”

[redford]

The psion finished the story, and proceeded to smack him on the knee.

“The problem with your story, Logan, is that Johnny has to want to get out of the hole.”

John stood, just as he heard footsteps approaching the house, followed by labored, feminine breathing. Jamie soon appeared at the doorway, holding a bag over her shoulder, dressed in a pair of long pants and a tunic, both a dark blue.

“Got your stuff, John, And,” She said, spinning in place, “Proper clothes.”

John grabbed the sack from her outstretched hand, opening it, using the cover to regain his composure. It was all here, good. Pinching tongs, and a thin hammer would be indispensable tools when he finally started up the forge.

“I gotta ask, though, what’s the glass dust for?” Jamie asked, holding up a smaller bag.

“Oh, you found some? Good. I can use it to clean the tools." He grabbed the bag and a rusty fork lying on the counter, where he hoped Jamie wouldn’t notice the large hole there. He also took a pinch of the glass dust, placing it in his hand. He pushed a finger in the glass dust, and concentrated on his armor. When he withdrew the finger, the sheen of the armor at the end of his finger was more matte than shiny. A few rubs against the fork, and the rust at one spot was gone, replaced with the shinier metal underneath.

“Better than sandpaper, even. Thanks, Jamie,” He said, and tried unsuccessfully to muster a smile. She, however, did so with ease.

She fell into the chair John had been sitting in. “Well, as the old saying goes, ‘I get by with a little help from my friends’.”

John’s eyes locked with Logan’s for a split-second. He spoke, sarcastically.

“Is that right? Hmmmm…”

[Rayleigh]

Plot 17/30

Story: 7/10

This was a very sweet little story. You began by making the “why” very clear to your reader, which helped set the tone for the rest of the piece; I never questioned the point behind their adventure, or your story as a whole. Your excellent handle on who your characters are and how they should be written really brings everything together. Even this simple tale of clearing our bandits becomes something more with the emphasis on John’s past and personal life. It is evident that you both work well together as writers, which helps with the overall flow from one writer to the next. While more attention to setting and pacing would have really helped make the piece more believable, what you had was solid. Nicely done.

Setting: 5/10

There are certainly instances where you both incorporate your setting into your storytelling. For example, the removal of the chains in post eight was very well-done, and helped demonstrate just how well-protected that room was. That was very important, considering just how valuable the room’s contents were. However, much of your setting was directly related to your action; you only mention setting as a way to describe what action your character is about to take. Try thinking about other ways to incorporate your setting. I always recommend thinking about all five senses while writing setting. I also think you could improve the integration of your setting by using more descriptive language. Don’t tell me what things looked like, show me!

Pacing: 5/10

Your story seemed to have three distinct parts: the journey to the farmhouse, the process of removing the bandits, and the cleaning up process. While this is not necessarily a bad thing, much of this was a result of inconsistent pacing. After a very fast-paced, action-packed beginning and middle, the end of your story dragged a bit. Surely, this was a result of all of the dialogue, as the focus shifted from fighting to discussion. But for more consistency, try breaking up some of that dialogue with a bit more action.


Character 19/30

Communication: 6/10

Red, I really appreciate your consistency when it comes to John’s communication. He is a man of few words, and many of those “words” are actually just grunts and groans. A character like that can be very difficult to pull off, especially in more dialogue-driven scenes (such as the end of your story). You did a very nice job with that. For the strong, silent types, non-verbal communication is very important. You do this, to an extent, with John’s glares, but you could always weave in a few more.

Logan, dialogue is definitely one of your fortes. Much of the work that I’ve read from you has been pretty dialogue heavy, which makes a lot of sense, as you do a great job of bringing Logan to life through his words. The one thing that I would urge you to think about is how the reader interprets the emotions in the dialogue. There were a few instances where I felt that your dialogue did not really reflect the mood of the time, that there was some contradiction, or that the switch was a bit jarring. For example, in post two:

“Yeah, I'm here. What of it,” he asked as he opened the door for the visitor. John, cigar in mouth and all, stood impatiently at the doorway. “Don’t just stand there, come on in.”
The part that I’ve bolded reads like anger or annoyance to me. That made sense, as John had just been rudely awaken. Then, the italicized portion reads as much more relaxed, even pleased to see John. While I can understand the switch, since the two are friends, the switch was just a bit fast for me; it did cause me to go back and re-read. Later in the post, Logan was back to being short with John. In the future, you may just want to add a bit more description between your bits of dialogue.

Action: 6/10

Both of you did a nice job clearly stating what it was that your characters were doing. I never caught myself questioning what someone was doing, or why they were doing it. Well-done on that front. One thing that I think both of you might benefit from is incorporating a bit more description into your writing. While this will also crop up again in the Technique category, I think it is very important to Action as well. Without using rich, descriptive writing to describe the actions your characters make, they become a bit list-like. Even though your characters’ actions make sense, more description will help them really come alive. Next time, try keeping the five senses in mind (for both Setting and Action). If you touch on those throughout, the actions will become more realistic for your reader.

Persona: 7/10

Red, I really liked the little elements of John’s person that you wove into the story. One instance of that was in post three, when he morphed his gauntlet into a make-shift ashtray. That not only showed the reader that John was inventive, but also reminded them of what he was capable of. I love seeing abilities used in a non-combat situation.

Logan, as I mentioned under communication, you do a really nice job of showing the reader just who Logan is through what he says. In this thread, I was also pleased by the instances in which you described awkward situations between John and Logan. For example, at the end of post two, it was clear to me that John was socially inept, and Logan was growing frustrated by it.


Prose 16/30

Mechanics: 5/10

Red, I can say with confidence that you have come a very long way. This was one of the most polished pieces I have seen from you. There were still a few little issues, such as inconsistent capitalization. Remember, after a period, you need a capital letter. Based on how often you got this right, I assume that these were just mistakes and simple oversights. Be sure to keep an eye out for this in the future! There were also a few missing commas. Try reading the story out loud. Wherever you find yourself taking a natural pause, you will most likely want to place a comma. But I did not see any blatant spelling errors, so well done!

Logan, I saw very few mechanical errors on your part. Proof-reading and careful attention to mechanics while writing is evident. Nicely done!

Clarity: 6/10

As I mentioned in the Action portion, your characters left me with very few questions. You both write very clearly. My biggest concerns were, for the most part, addressed. The first, why Jamie was in the house, was answered very clearly. I thank you for taking the time to explain that in very simple terms. My second question, however, could have used a bit more attention. I was not sure why Logan told John to subdue his initial target, when Logan simply killed his. Was that Logan’s plan all along, to have only one captor alive? Or did he kill his man accidentally (explaining the “damn” comment)? Just an additional sentence or two could have cleared this up!

Technique: 5/10

The techniques that you both used were used effectively, which is an important part of this section of the rubric. I did not find myself questioning the use or placement of anything. I also really enjoyed the bit of foreshadowing that you incorporated into this piece; while at first I was confused by the very brief run-in with the bandits, their return made everything fall into place. In the future, I would encourage you to make more use of techniques. As I noted in Action, more description would benefit your writing in a big way. You also might experiment with different techniques, such as similes and metaphors, to enhance the reader’s experience. You have a starting point, now try some new things!


Wildcard: 8/10

I am presenting you with a higher wildcard score due to the improvement on John’s part. This has been the best story that I have seen from you yet!

Total Score: 60/100

Redford receives 850 EXP (approximately 150 EXP and all GP were deducted to cover spoils)
Logan receives 1150 EXP and 150 GP

Spoils granted! Redford receives 1 iron anvil*, 1 set of iron tongs* and iron work hammer*, 5 ingots of iron, 2 ingots of steel, and the farm property*.

Note: All items with a * are quest items.

[Rayleigh]

All EXP and GP have been added!