Dretphi lifts her arms out to her sides, spreads her legs out, and watches Cideeda circle slowly around. In the open area between the living and dining parts of the large room of the ranch style house, Cideeda inspects the new under armor suit and plating on Dretphi. She pauses in the orbit and demonstrates a body motion, directing Dretphi to mimic. Dretphi performs a similar move, and Cideeda steps in close, investigating the spaces between the plates. Her furry ears flick forward, searching for the sounds of any problems. With Dretphi performing different flexes, stances, and actions, Cideeda twists her mouth contemplatively, nodding with her thoughts. Flicking out a piece of fabric chalk, she lightly sketches plating outlines upon the under armor around shoulders. "Good... Okay... I think we got the plate clearances just right."

She finishes up the drawing on the tough fabric armor and furrows her light brown brow. "Now, you'll just need to get the fasteners the way you want them."

Nodding a confirmation, Dretphi examines herself in the suit and studies the other chalk drawings upon her suit, reviewing the kinematics of a few maneuvers. "Did not feel any snags this time. Think I will use magnetic patch keying. Hook loop fasteners in the middle of the plating. Same configuration as before."

Nearby, Bach lifts an inquisitive eyebrow, holding a variety of suit accessories in his arms. "Huh, neat. I always kind of wondered how you could stick those plates in the right place all the time."

He smiles with a chuckle. "I mean, I just figured you knew it all that well by memory."

Hiding a bit of embarrassment with a smirk, Dretphi plays it off with a slight shaking of her head of platinum blonde braids. "Not entirely. Pairs of keyed magnetic patches help align the plate. Then, you push firmly to fasten fully. I found that configuration to be fast. Reliable. Helpful when you are in a rush."

Cideeda finishes touching up the outlines around the plating upon Dretphi's shin. Standing up, she stretches her arms back and sighs with a roll of her emerald green eyes. "Gods... Does this setup ever beat trying to use strap-on plates in a hurry."

She grimaces mildly, relevant memories jumping to the front of her thoughts. "For example, I remember working with one group..."

Curling her upper lip, she sternly states. "VERY BRIEFLY..."

She shakes her head, lowering her furry, annoyed ears out to the sides over her shoulders. "Who had one idiot with some ridiculously complicated, ancient set of armor that he got from some relative. And, he INSISTED on using it."

Raking her clawed fingers lightly through her shorter, mix of brown, orange, white, tan, and black hair, she hisses out her stale frustration into a long sigh. "OH. GODS. It would take him SO LONG to get suited up. By the time he got ready, threats and targets would be LONG GONE before we'd be able to go after them."

She grits her teeth, snarls her upper lip, and slowly shakes her head with a groan. "I quit that group DURING the last contract I had with them. Shit. We were incredibly lucky to escape some old ruins without getting chased down by the dire bear that had moved in."

Lifting an unamused eyebrow, she gazes up to Bach and grumbles loudly. "AND, the MORON wanted us to go back in there to find the armor he had to leave behind. Gods almighty."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she rolls her eyes. "He kept swearing it had some unique enchantment or something on it."

Bach furrows an incredulous brow towards Cideeda with an unconvinced twist to his face. Furrowing her brow at Bach, Cideeda smirks slyly and rests her hands on her hips with a sway. "Called out his BULLSHIT, right there. Since, unbeknownst to him, I had taken time to sneak over to his tent when no one was looking. And..."

She flashes a toothy grin. "I inspected that armor, MYSELF."

Meeting her gaze, Bach tilts his head to the side in anticipation. "And?"

Crossing her arms, Cideeda snorts derisively and laughs. "OH, it didn't take a mage to see anything with that much covered up rust and dry rot on the leather straps had NOTHING magical about it."

Searching his mind a moment, Bach grimaces at the imagery in his mind and nods in total agreement. "Yeah. I mean, even if it did have something, it was probably too weak and far gone to be worth the trouble. Especially, if the material had started to decay that badly. Usually, even halfway decent enchantments tend to prevent that."

Dretphi lowers her arms and gazes to Cideeda, smiling with a chuckle. "You were hesitant to work with our group after you saw me."

Blinking in surprise, Bach glances over to Cideeda quizzically and narrows his confusion. Cideeda shrugs, holding up her hands to the side, and sarcastically groans at herself. "Listen, I just didn't want to be in yet another group with yet another fighter that needed a pit crew to just gear up."

She quirks her brow up towards Dretphi and taps on one of the armor plates, grinning at Bach. "After seeing her put the suit and all the plates on herself in under two minutes...

She winks with a smirk. "I felt like I could actually work with this team."

Swelling with a bit pride, Dretphi points out a few spots around the edges of the dark red armor plate covers. "Still need to attach helper straps that make it easy to don. A trick my mother taught me."

Cideeda's furry ears perk up, her recent memory visibly bringing something to her attention, and she sorts through the small collection of equipment in Bach's arms. "Speaking of..."

She sorts through the different items and ponders out loud, idly tapping a claw tip on an item. "Let's see... What should we try to fit onto the suit first?"

Stepping over to the coffee table, Dretphi picks up her new transparent face shield helmet and taps on a connection port around the bottom edge. "The radio?"

Bach studies the assortment of devices in his possession and juggles over a suitable component towards Cideeda. "Uh, I think this one?"

Nodding, Cideeda plucks it out of Bach's hand. "Yeah. That would be a good one to start with."

She motions Dretphi towards the floor, inspecting the device. "Just below the nape of the neck, like you had it before?"

Dretphi lowers herself down into a seat on the floor and brings her platinum blonde braids forward, out of the way. "Yes. That worked for me."

Studying the clearances and anticipating the kinematics, Cideeda positions the radio unit upon the suit, below the nape of the neck, and holds it in place. "Give it a try here."

Dretphi reaches her arm back behind her, feeling out the location of the small piece of equipment, and practices a few routine actions. She rolls her shoulders around, brushes back her hair, and readies her helmet. Cideeda signals Bach close, and guides his attention towards the radio. "Get the radio cable, and put the rest of that stuff on the couch. And, hold this in place, please. I want to check the clearances from a different angle."

Bach glances down at the accessories, shifts a cable into his hand, and empties out his arms of the other fodder onto the couch cushion. Leaning down, he holds the device in place with his free hand. With Cideeda's silent instruction, he passes the radio cable to Dretphi's waiting grasp. Dretphi connects the coiled cable to the radio unit on her back and snaps the other end into the port on her helmet. Narrowing her emerald eyes at Dretphi, Cideeda analyzes the entire process and studies Dretphi putting on the helm. Slowly turning side to side, up and down, and rolling her head, Dretphi works through a memorized routine, occasionally waiting for Cideeda's checks at certain points. A few more demonstrations later, Cideeda pulls the triangle piece of chalk back out from her shorts pocket. She marks out the outline, removes the radio unit back into Bach's hand, and writes a shorthand label in the middle. "Yeah. I think that'll work."

Pulling off her new crimson helmet, Dretphi disconnects the radio cable and nods with a happy smile on her tan face. "I do not think we will have to change much. The suit is a similar design to the old."

With a smirk, Cideeda shrugs and gently scratches her chin contemplatively. "Probably. But, can't hurt to make sure."

Furrowing her brow curiously, Cideeda meanders over to another topic with a casually prying tone. "By the way... What do you plan on doing with your remaining, old armor plates?"

Bach smirks, chuckling lightly, and applies a mild, sarcastic hint. "Yeah. I mean, because, I doubt we're going to try to go back for the missing pieces."

Dretphi lightly snorts with a dismissive eye roll and slowly shakes her head. "Oh. No. I do not miss them enough to think of retrieval. I will happily leave them for the history of that place."

Blinking in thought, her focus wanders inwards, and she ponders out loud. "I... Do not know... I have a new suit. New plates. I can not think of what to do with them now."

She faintly sniffs the air and grimaces vaguely. "Do not want to wear that old suit anymore. Notice the slime smell more with the new contrast."

An eager, toothy grin appears on Cideeda, and she leans her body to the side into Dretphi's view with her hands behind her back innocently. "Would you sell the plates to me?"

Dretphi rocks her head to the side, wondering about the options. With a twist of her mouth, she nods partially. "Yes. I would."

Meeting Cideeda's inquiring gaze, Dretphi explains. "I can give them to you? I do not need to sell them to you, if you want them."

Cideeda crosses her arms, shakes her head, and smiles thoughtfully. "While I appreciate the offer, I must insist on at least paying for the materials for my projects."

Both Bach and Dretphi exchange glances and settle their collective attention upon Cideeda. Lifting an intrigued brow, Bach studies Cideeda demeanor. "Projects? What kind?"

Dretphi homes in on a key point and scrutinizes Cideeda's words, searching for further explanation. "At least pay for the materials?"

Displaying a faux guilty grin, Cideeda reveals her grand scheme, tapping her finger tips together. "Well, I've got a nice new suit for my usual kind of work. BUT, I'd like to recycle my old suit and the plates to explore crafting a super light armor gear. And, probably also fashion some nice inserts for Bach's new duster."

Bach rolls his hand with growing interest. "Okay. Go on."

A spark of excitement slowly ignites Dretphi's steely gray eyes, and she squints at the imagery in her mind. Cideeda stands up straight, stretching her back, and points a claw tip towards Bach, grinning. "While I can roughly cut down and trim the old plates, I'm going to need your help to do a bit of refined, magical rework. If I'm right, there will be plenty leftover to help you out."

With appreciative plead, she turns her attention to Dretphi, presenting a convincing smile and posture. "And... I'm hoping if I give you a good price on your old plates, I can put your sewing skills to use. I figured we could use the old suit as a base for the new gear and fashion it to work with my new bodysuit."

Thinking for a moment, Bach shrugs his shoulders and nods simply. "Sure. I mean, you'll have to show me what you want, but I think we'll figure it out somehow. I got my tricks."

Dretphi smiles brightly, stands up with a bit of excitement in her step, and eagerly gazes at Cideeda. "Yes! Of course. This is a neat project. My house father had a modular outfit that sounds similar to what you want. Base suit. Slip on padding. I helped my mother repair it often."

Her focus drifts inwards, and her eyes sift through ideas, glancing down at Cideeda briefly. "Never crafted an outfit this small before..."

Cideeda smiles slyly and postures with an aura of accomplishment between Bach and Dretphi. "Good to hear."

Her pride subsides gradually in her body language, and a reserved smirk graces her light brown face. "And... Thank you. I've really been wanting something a bit more protective when I'm not having to squeeze through tight, uncomfortable places."

During the lull in conversation, she glances over to Dretphi, studying her figure, and redirects everyone's attention with a smile. "Okay. Let's finish your gear first before you start on me."

Dretphi snaps back to awareness, remembering the more immediate task at hand. "Oh... Yes... Sorry."

----

The older grath man maintains his balance, stepping back from Chad's practice sword swing, and expertly redirects the attack away. Recovering from the sudden change of momentum, Chad steadies himself and pivots to face the grath man. "Good gods. Does anything even get close to hitting you?"

With a swift shift of his weight upon the back yard grass, the grath man smiles and readies the wooden sparring blade in his hands, grinning smugly. "No. You do not survive Red Gear ambushes if you let them hit you."

Smirking humored, Chad rolls the tension out of his shoulders and checks his grip on his practice sword. "Huh. Fair enough."

He pauses in thought, glances at the older grath man, and quizzically tilts his head of brown, coiffed hair. "By the way, you sure you're okay with me calling you by your first name, Trenannin?"

Trenannin furrows his brow, pondering to himself for a seconds, and scratches his head of graying dirty blonde hair. "It is fine. I am not in the military anymore. Sergeant Hekkinen is not appropriate. It would take a long time to explain grath honorifics. Keep it informal."

Chad nods understandingly, positions himself defensively, and signals Trenannin with a hand motion. "Okay. When you're ready."

An eager smile creeps across Trenannin's dark bronze face. His body briefly tenses, and he launches his large, tall frame toward Chad. Closing the distance with his long gait, he fancifully swings his sword around in dramatic, showy maneuvers. Nearing Chad, Trenannin power swings right at Chad's side into a run by attack. Chad twists himself around, absorbing the attack with his practice sword, and steps back from the force of the blow. Trenannin slides briefly in the grass behind the two story house, digs his boots into the dirt, and propels his mass abruptly in a different direction.

Leading the point of his sparring sword forward, he levels the tip right at Chad's center mass. Spotting the incoming attack, Chad braces himself with his blade ready for an interception, spreading his stance out for stability. A sly smirk flashes upon Trenannin's smug gaze. His muscles tighten in mere moments, closing quickly in on Chad. With swords nearly touching, Trenannin pulls his blade back and ducks low to the ground into a powerful spin, swinging the sparring sword tightly away from Chad. Sliding upon the ground, he leads his blade into a full, sweeping revolution around into the back of Chad's knees. With the momentum, he pushes through and brute forces into an upwards pull, yanking the confused Chad's legs right out from underneath. Finishing with a prideful gaze back, Trenannin watches Chad land on his back in sheer astonishment, satisfaction blatant. Chad regains his senses and notices a hand extended to him from Trenannin. Taking hold of it, he smiles brightly between fascination and excitement. "WOW! OKAY. You HAVE to teach me THAT move!"

Trenannin chuckles and nods slightly, pulling Chad back up to his feet. "MAYBE. Have to keep some secrets. I can show you pointers."

Off to the side and next to the back sliding glass door of the two story house, Veevi snickers and rests her hands on her hips, grinning sharply. "Well! That would be a lot more than what I've been getting from Trakenthin's lessons..."

Furrowing her tan brow, she tosses back her pink hair. "If you can even call them that."

Tassilda crosses her arms, narrowing an accusatory stare upon Veevi, and groans out her annoyance. "Have you ever thought there just might be a GOOD REASON you aren't taught certain things?"

Veevi flashes an indignant glare towards Tassilda, turning her nose up, and rolls her eyes petulantly away from Tassilda's glower. "As if YOU, of all people, have any ground to stand on there."

With Tassilda and Veevi exchanging mean stares of silent condemnation, Modoran twists his dusky, bluish gray skinned face. He tilts his head with his thoughts and mulls over his opinion. "A bit more fanciful and risky than anything I would want to do. But... I can't argue with the results."

Shrugging nonchalantly, he settles into a lean against brickwork of the two story house. "I do appreciate the application of misdirection."

Deedri observes Chad's movement and releases a long sigh of relief, slowly shaking her head. "Good... I know they're practice weapons, but I really don't want to fix anything too major today."

The sliding glass door opens. Trakenthin steps out wearing a stoic, neutral exterior. Turning around to the sound of the door opening, Trenannin gazes over to his son and smirks. "Come here. Spar with me."

Trakenthin snarls his upper lip slightly, grimaces faintly, and slowly shakes his head. "No. Close to lunch. We should figure out what we are going to eat."

Furrowing a mildly annoyed brow, Trenannin motions his son over and twists his tone with some encouragement. "One bout. First to make contact. I want to check your skill before your next mission. See if you remember all I taught you."

Crossing his arms, Trakenthin maintains an unamused stare at his father and sighs into a muted, irritated growl. Chad brushes stray grass blades off his pants, gives his trademark bright, white smile to Trakenthin, and motions encouragingly at him. "It's just one match. Plus, I'd really like to see what you two are capable of."

With a sharp, derisive tinge, Veevi grins, tosses her head of pink hair back, and crosses her arms into an antagonistic pose. "Yeah! And I want to see what you are supposed to teach me!"

Trenannin narrows his gaze at Trakenthin, concentrating his stare, and chuckles. "You should not deny your father a match."

Glancing around at the growing attention from the group, his father, and the camera crews off to the side, Trakenthin sighs deeply with a growling undertone, shaking his head, and steps over with his hand out. "FINE. One bout. We eat."

Chad passes Trakenthin his practice sword and quickly steps away to join the audience next to Veevi, promptly leaning against him. Stretching, Trakenthin tilts his head side to side, rolls his shoulders, and tightens his grip on the sparring blade. Without a word, he readies into a combat stance, both hands on the sword, and levels a silent glare at Trenannin. Responding to his son's posture, Trenannin grips his practice sword tightly with both hands and slowly shifts into a readied stance. An eerie silence looms over the back yard, pressing out the surrounding nature. Chad, Veevi, Tassilda, Modoran, and Deedri watch in anticipation, and the camera crews concentrate their full attention upon the match between father and son.

Seconds tick by. The two quietly study each other. Cautiously and carefully, Trakenthin slowly steps to the side and gradually circles around Trenannin. His motions telegraph nothing, purposefully vague and routine. A confident smirk cracks out of the corner of Trenannin's mouth, and he watches Trakenthin move around him, pivoting to face his son. Seconds later, he narrows his stare, tenses his muscles, and swiftly swings towards his son. Trakenthin intercepts the attack, diverts it away, and positions himself clear of counterattack, resuming his guard.

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Trakenthin quickly lunges forward, driving his blade towards Trenannin's side. With the same concise, swift motions, Trenannin parries the attack, side steps away, and readies his blade. The two trade attack after attack, each expertly blocking and protecting themselves against counterattacks. The battle continues. Trenannin's maneuvers tighten, less fanciful and showy. His counters, parries, and attacks morph into an efficient, serious style along with his cold stare. Impacts grow louder and more powerful against the practice blades. The clashes flood the area with solid wooden crashes, drowning out the prior hints of cloth padding between the contacts.

Excitement from the gathered audience decays into a gamut of conflicting emotions. Trenannin sneers darkly, focusing upon Trakenthin, and unleashes a feverish flurry of blows. Enduring the unfolding barrage, Trakenthin deftly and solidly blocks each part of the onslaught. With each counter, the blades crash into a challenge of raw strength near an old scar upon Trakenthin's body.

With a leap backwards, Trenannin finishes the volley. The two fighters pause, slowly panting out the boiling aggression. Chad stares on in wide-eyed bewilderment. Veevi blinks blankly and unconsciously slides slightly behind Chad. Tassilda watches the match uncomfortably, hints of terror creeping out upon her gray toned face. Cocking his head to the side, Modoran narrows his eyes at the scene and grits his teeth warily. Deedri leans out during the lull in combat and shoots a demanding glare towards Chad.

Moments later, Chad notices the attention from Deedri and meets her stare. Fear and anger apparent, Deedri mouths out. "STOP. THIS."

Fumbling upon his response, utterly dumbfounded, Chad glances over to the cacophony of pitched battle between Trakenthin and Trenannin, and gawks back to Deedri, mouthing. "HOW?!"

Blade impacts crack out, the sound ricocheting off the hard surfaces surrounding the backyard battlefield. Both Veevi and Deedri cringe at the sharp noises. Through the din, their ears focus on faint, contrasting, crisp hints in the most powerful clashes. With each blow, audio technicians in the crews flinch and suffer through the acoustic chaos funneling into their heads from their headphones. Camera operators position themselves and capture each wave of the battle from the most dramatic angles. Around the perimeter, Samantha watches with her jaw hanging open, her pen slipping out of her hand above her clipboard. Moving his head briefly away from his camera's viewfinder, Gerald witnesses the spectacle uneasily.

During a pause between their exchanges, Trakenthin and Trenannin slowly pant and glare intensely at each other. A wry, derisive smirk appears on Trenannin's face, and he drills irritated, goading phrases of grath right at Trakenthin. Grimacing at the words, Trakenthin snorts, gritting his teeth, and grumbles back to his father dismissively. Focusing upon signs of hesitation in Trakenthin's body language, Trenannin spits out another assault of demeaning words. Trakenthin cringes, shakes off the emotions, and brings forth a stoic exterior against his father. Narrowing his stare briefly, Trenannin chuckles darkly, levels a glare at Trakenthin and mutters one more grath phrase with a sly, sinister grin.

Trakenthin freezes for a second. The stoic exterior shatters away, and Trakenthin bares his teeth. A hazel light briefly flickers in his eyes, his feet dig into the soft dirt, and Trakenthin's body contorts to vehemently enraged definition. Trakenthin charges forth and rains a berserker flurry of chaotic, hammering fury upon his father. Blocking each furious blow, Trenannin anticipates the next attack, glancing at Trakenthin's body language, and readies the intercept. With each thunderous, echoing slam, the faint, crisp hint crackles louder into the air. In a powerful overhead drop of the blade, Trakenthin hammers down upon his father's blade. A loud crumbling snap blasts out. The practice sword in Trakenthin's hand bends sharply against the defending blade. Quickly reacting to the sudden confusion upon Trakenthin, Trenannin side steps clear and waits expectantly. With merciless precision, he powerfully swings his sparring sword solidly right onto his son's chest. Trakenthin winces against the impact and reflexively drops to his knees.

The battle ends. Silence overwhelms the awestruck gawks from everyone. Standing tall, Trenannin extends his hand down to his son and waits. Trakenthin glances up, draws a hesitant breath, and begrudgingly takes hold of his father's hand. Helping his son up, Trenannin nods to Trakenthin with satisfaction and pride bright on his face and pats him on the shoulder. "Good to know you remember all I taught you. THAT was a proper fight. Never anything less from you. My son."

Trakenthin grants his father a silent, rigid nod, and gazes upon the mix of astonished, terrified, and shocked expressions from the rest of the group and crew. Holding a hand up to the gathering, he clearly calls out with a little reservation. "I am fine. Do not worry."

Chad nods towards Trakenthin, surveys the dramatic tension in the area with an uneasy smirk, and claps his hands together loudly. "Now THAT was a hell of a fight. You know, I always wondered where Trakenthin got his sword fighting skill from. Now, I know..."

He hides a hard swallow. "That was... Absolutely INTENSE."

Trenannin walks with Trakenthin towards the sliding glass door, grinning smug and prideful. "Intense. Yes. It has kept him alive."

Putting up a calm exterior, Chad redirects everyone's attention inside, focusing upon Trenannin. "So... Um. Lunch? How about you choose the place, Trenannin? Since you've won the matches today?"

Thinking for a moment, Trenannin nods in agreement and opens the sliding glass door. "Sounds good. What is good around here?"

With Veevi following behind him in an awkward stupor, Chad quickly leads Trenannin inside. "Well, we've got menus for a few different places..."

Chad, Veevi, and Trenannin slip inside. Modoran smoothly slides the sliding glass door closed, steps up to Trakenthin, and aims his gaze up at him. "Hey. You okay?"

Tassilda releases a stressed breath behind her cupped hands around her mouth and gazes concerned at Trakenthin. Seeking an answer, she approaches. "My. Gods. Are you okay? That was a terrible hit you took. And, that whole battle..."

With her light blue on black eyes wide, she stares. "What. The. Fuck?!"

Trakenthin holds his hands up, moves them in a calming, assuring motions, and presents a light smile over growing hints of strain. "I am fine. That is just how we have always fought. Do not worry."

Tassilda narrows an unconvinced gaze up at Trakenthin. Her frown softens, and she nods with worry. "Okay. If you say so... For now."

She lightly rubs Trakenthin's shoulder, opens the sliding glass door, and slips through. With an acknowledging nod to Trakenthin, Modoran follows Tassilda inside. Trakenthin breathes carefully, blinks blankly, and notices the hard analyzing stare from Deedri's glowing auburn eyes. Glancing inside and through the sliding glass door towards his father checking menus, he meets Deedri's stern, demanding gaze with a bit of shame. "Can it wait? After my father leaves?"

Crossing her arms defiantly, Deedri narrows out the glow in her eyes and grits her sharp teeth. "If it must. Thankfully, nothing is broken from what I can see. But... It will be painful until I can properly treat it."

Trakenthin sighs understandingly, grimaces briefly, and carefully flexes his upper body. "Yes. I know."

With a light pat on his arm, Deedri gazes up with a comforting smile and motions upstairs towards her room, whispering. "After he leaves, come to my room. You can talk freely if you want while I'm treating you."

Bowing his head graciously, Trakenthin reveals a genuine smile and softly speaks. "Thank you."

Deedri opens the sliding glass door wider for her and Trakenthin, steps through, and waits for Trakenthin to enter. Trakenthin steps on through and rejoins the team. Deedri hides a frown and closes the door.

----

Leaning over the dining table, Cideeda eagerly lifts up a small metal and crystal infused frame of a golem arm from the middle of the tabletop. She eases it over upon a heavy cloth work pad and scoots it in front of Aristespha and Bach. With her long, fluffy tail wagging in anticipation, she grins toothily, gazing expectantly at the two mages. "Okay... So... Let's start with THIS one."

Bach tugs the mat over closer and briefly surveys the part, furrowing his brow. "Well... Um. It's definitely an arm... Or, part of one."

Narrowing a brief, incredulous glare at Bach, Cideeda rolls her emerald green eyes with a sigh and twirls her hand around, seeking more information. "Well... YES. But, does it still work? What did it go to? How does it work? I can make all kinds of guesses at how it might work, but I figured you two would actually know the most."

She points the various arcane components visible and hovers a claw tip over different parts, circling out areas of interest. "For example. Here. There's either a power or signal line going to some kind of actuator. Then, that moves the cabling going to the hand's fingers."

Tapping upon the parts within the frame, she lifts a curious eyebrow. "The mechanical side of things look about the same to what I've seen elsewhere in non-magical equipment."

Aristespha studies the device near her, tilting her head to the side, and blinks her violet eyes to a glow. "Yes. For the most part. Most golem inner workings borrow heavily from robotics."

She pauses for a moment and glances over to the side. "With some magical liberties taken."

Examining it closer, Bach's eyes light up blue, and he scrutinizes the golem arm overall. "Well, I mean, I don't see anything too dangerous. I guess, let's see if it can work after all this time."

He holds his hand out, close to the base of the forearm. Thin magical threads materialize and reach out towards the exposed arcane conduits. Bach grimaces in thought, concentrating upon the task. With his hand reflexively flexing, he mentally explores. "Alright. Okay... So, I'm feeling some signs that the lines are connected still. Just don't know to what really."

Shrugging his shoulders, he smirks. "Well. Let's see what THIS moves."

Faint illumination flickers from inside the arm, and weak flashes of magical light pulse along different components inside. Moments later, the wrist shudders briefly, and the middle digit of the five fingered hand curls slightly. Cideeda's emerald green eyes widen in sheer, absolute fascination, and she leans over the table further, watching every motion. Her tail obviously twitching with her thoughts, she grins excitedly. "Try the other fingers!"

Grumbling, Bach searches his mind, and pulses of magical energy trace down the magical threads into the golem forearm. He grits his teeth briefly, twisting his face into mild frustration, and sighs. "I'm trying... But, I think there's something down the pathways that's getting in the way of the flow. Or, I'm just poking around the wrong spots."

Aristespha taps upon the middle section of the forearm, squinting her violet eyes, and lowers her gaze closer to the device, humming in thought. "I do see some degradation to your flows here. I would imagine that there is likely a magical conduit that has decayed significantly over the many years."

Briefly disheartened, Cideeda's furry ears flick with her thoughts, and her attention shifts away from the golem part towards Aristespha and Bach. "Okay. Could it be repaired or replaced?"

Bach exchanges a glance with Aristespha, gazes back over to Cideeda, and shrugs his shoulders. "Well, uh, I mean, I can't think of a reason it couldn't. First, we'll have to see what we got going on here. Let's see if I can manage to..."

Holding both hands near the arcane arm, Bach flows streams of magical energy out upon the golem part. Closes his eyes, he contorts his expression and turns his head with a grimace, concentrating. "Okay. I think I got it figured out."

He furrows his brow and ponders out loud. "Now... Will it come apart, easily?"

Bach carefully and slowly pulls his hands away from the device, the arm stirring and hovering up into the air. Gradually, the framework disassembles in logical, sequential steps. The pieces release out into subsections, the binding bits releasing themselves free. Seconds later, the individual components of the magical device float above the table in a functionally exploded arrangement. Aristespha narrows her violet illuminated gaze at the smaller parts within the cloud of pieces. Following along a path of bundled magical cabling, she stops her search at an intersection between wiring and sub-components. She points out a darkened, cloudy section of a crystal and nods her head of long, silvery blue hair towards the oddity. "There. I would guess that is the most likely culprit. If nothing else, that is probably the best place to start checking."

Tilting his head to the side, Bach squints at the piece Aristespha identifies. He gradually brings his hands back together. The individual components of the golem arm reassemble themselves into larger devices and reattach in a meticulous process, reforming the golem limb. The rebuilt arm floats back down upon the cloth work mat. Blinking his eyes back to normal, Bach curiously studies the array of other magical parts upon the dining room table. "Yeah, that probably shouldn't be too hard to replace..."

He scans over the tabletop and frowns faintly. "If we can find the right size and type of crystal."

Cideeda perks up, searches around the collection of arcane devices piled off to the side, and hoists up a wooden box. "WELL, there's this box of different crystals I found. One of them might work."

The box lands in front of Aristespha and Bach, and both scan over the contents, plucking out choice pieces for further examination. Aristespha smirks slightly, slowly shakes her head, and hands over the piece to Cideeda. "Unfortunately, these are not the correct types of crystal to use as a replacement for that, but..."

Smiling to Cideeda, she retrieves another one for herself. "They are flow reactive movement crystals. If I remember correctly, they are very easy to move around with simple energy flows."

Bach nods in agreement and holds out his hand upwards, his blue eye illuminating. The crystal in his palm hovers up a few centimeters and freely spins and pivots. Bach demonstrates the possibilities, his outstretched fingers twitching slightly to the movements of the small, faintly glowing object. Cideeda eyes widen with absolute fascination, she gazes excitedly at the magical mineral in her hand. "That's amazing! How do I move it!?"

Blinking back to attention, Bach glances over to Cideeda and uneasily stumbles around his words in an awkward tone. "Well, uh... I move it in a particular way that I've learned... that's similar to my current means of using magic... And uh, it's not easy to reproduce..."

Signs of disappointment slip out onto Cideeda's light brown face. Bach dons an encouraging grin and glances over to Aristespha hopefully. "BUT! I know there are more typical spells that you should be able to do. That, um, I think Aristespha might be far more familiar with, than I am right now..."

Presenting a confident smile, Aristespha nods to Bach and signals for Cideeda's attention. "That I am. And, I can certainly teach you a basic helper spell to assist you in moving this type of material."

Cideeda locks on her full, undivided attention upon Aristespha, eagerly awaiting further instruction. "What do I need to do?"

With a calm, teacher's tone, Aristespha guides Cideeda through a series of hand gestures along with the vocalizations for the incantations. During the explanation, Bach pays attention and occasionally twitches his face, faded lessons resurfacing back into mind from college semesters long forgotten. Following along a few demonstrations from Aristespha, Cideeda readies herself. She carefully recites the incantations and slowly articulates her hands into the gestures. Drawing a long breath in, she wills her magical flows towards her hands and holds them to either side of a small crystal on the tabletop. Tense, still moments pass. The crystal rattles and shifts suddenly a few centimeters in one direction. A bright smile flashes wide upon Cideeda's face, and she flushes with absolute joy. Her focus elsewhere, she remains utterly fascinated by the motions of the magical mineral, completely unaware of the unconscious flicks of her furry ears and long fluffy tail.

With satisfaction and amusement, Aristespha and Bach watch Cideeda's magical exercises. A few minutes later, Aristespha and Bach exchange thoughtful glances and silently ponder at the development.

----

Deedri guides the tail end of a long strip of gauze around Trakenthin's chest, tightening up the slack, and presses the very end upon the bundle of medical wrapping. She turns a nearby adjustable lamp back to lighting the top of her desk. Stopping in front of Trakenthin, she gazes right into his eyes. "That treated pad will reduce any swelling, and it'll also make the bruising heal quicker. The ointment I put on there will dull any pain, so you'll be able to sleep without it bothering you too much."

Sitting upon a stool in the middle of Deedri's room, Trakenthin meekly replies with a gracious tone. "Thank you. I appreciate you waiting until later to treat me."

Deedri crosses her arms, stares sternly at Trakenthin, and draws in a faintly frustrated breath. "You are the one that suffered the most. Still..."

Leaning slightly closer, she wrestles a frown. "I don't like withholding treatment when it is needed. But... I know you had your reasons..."

In the awkward silence, she twists her mouth and sighs. Concern overtakes her attitude, and she relaxes her arms to her side. "Okay. I know I'm prying into personal things, but..."

She furrows her brow and narrows her auburn stare. "What the hell was THAT all about?"

Uncomfortably grumbling, Trakenthin reluctantly approaches the subject and grimaces, relenting with a long exhale. "Long story. Short version. My birth father has... Issues. It makes him difficult at times."

Tilting her head to the side, Deedri contorts her face incredulously, flicks her tufted ears, and gradually nods at the obvious. "YES. We all saw THAT."

Trakenthin grits his teeth, gently hisses out an uneasy breath through, and slowly shakes his head. "It would take days to explain. I have had long conversations with my birth mother about him."

Glancing distantly to the side, he grimaces tensely. "I can go on for days. She could go on for WEEKS."

He sits up straight, sadly draws in air into his lungs, and frowns longingly. "He CAN be great. Has helped when I needed it greatly. Taught me useful skills. Unfortunately..."

Narrowing his focus into his mind, Trakenthin's face contorts between emotions, and he searches for the words, discomfort growing more obvious. Deedri presents a reassuring smile and rests a hand on Trakenthin's shoulder, shaking her head. "It's okay. I'm already overstepping personally and professionally anyway. Fathers can be... Difficult."

Trakenthin slowly lifts his head back up, gazes at Deedri, and smirks appreciatively with a light chuckle. "YES. Indeed."

Reaching over to the desk, Deedri picks up Trakenthin's shirt and hands it to him. "Here. I've done everything I need to at the moment. The rest of the healing will take time."

Trakenthin pulls on the t-shirt and squirms back to some comfort. His previous thoughts hop back to the front of his mind. Ponders quietly for seconds, he concentrates on the phrase in his mind, furrowing his dark bronze brow uneasily. "He... He... He has had expectations. The same ones for years. He still has those exact expectations of how things should be."

With a sad tone, Trakenthin releases a long sigh and shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head. "The world does not... WILL NOT meet them. He refuses to see it otherwise."

Lowering his head slightly, he frowns sadly. "I wish I knew how to make him accept it."

Deedri silently nods, sympathy coloring her gaze. Trakenthin chuckles lightly, rolls his hazel eyes at the same old situation, and smiles at Deedri. "I will not solve it today. He was good the rest of the day. That was nice. We leave for the mission tomorrow. I doubt he will remain in town for long."

Crossing her arms, Deedri hums in thought, flexing her clawed fingers, and wags her long tail in deliberation. "I don't know. The fact that the Next Adventurers of Nexus people got him here makes me think they're hoping MORE happens."

Snarling her upper lip, she narrows her auburn eyes off to the side and growls irritably. "Gods damn that Howard. Oh, I'm sure he's behind THIS... Along with that scheming bitch, Samantha. Only two people I can think of that would arrange something like this."

Stretching out his arms, Trakenthin stands up to his full imposing height. Carefully stretches his upper body, he snorts with a humored smirk. "I hope they are paying him. That way he has steady income, for once."

Deedri follows Trakenthin to her bedroom door and grins lightheartedly, gazing up to Trakenthin. "Well, that's certainly one way to look at it."

The two exiting out into the upstairs hallway, Trakenthin shrugs, laughing. "Find humor where you can."

----

Dr. Dawkins slowly walks into the well decorated sitting room, ambles over to his aged leather recliner, and settles down into the seat with a satisfied tone. "As much as I do enjoy a good session of academic exploration, I think I need a break from the books."

Following shortly behind Dr. Dawkins, Isaac rubs his gray eyes into a pinch of his nose bridge, and nods slowly. Wandering over to the other recliner, he plops into the couch chair. "I must say, I would have to agree. If only to give my eyes a well deserved break from reviewing all my notes. Gods..."

Twisting a hint of embarrassment on his face, he sighs with a smirk. "I have forgotten how much I've written."

With an amused snort, Dr. Dawkins reaches over to a bottle of dark liquor on a small end table, uncorks the top, and starts to pour a healthy portion into a glass on the tabletop. Blinking a few times, Isaac glances over to Dr. Dawkins filling the glass and narrows his gaze towards a wall clock. "Good gods, sir. It's barely the afternoon."

Dr. Dawkins slowly raises his humored stare to Isaac, smirking dryly, and snorts. "Oh hell, it's Saturday. You, of all people, aren't going to deprive an old man his vices in his own home?"

Isaac cracks a sly grin, chuckling to himself, and taps on another empty glass next to the filled one. "So long as you don't leave me out, Dr. Dawkins."

Nodding with a smile, Dr. Dawkins shifts the bottle over and pours another ample amount into the other container. The two men pick up their drinks, sip them in silence over the minutes. Dr. Dawkins angles his gaze over to Isaac, lifting an intrigued brow, and points to him. "So... I've been thinking about how we are going to get to Malkav's stash."

Isaac meets Dr. Dawkins' gaze and cocks his head to the side curiously with an interested cadence. "Well... I'd love to hear it. Because, truthfully, all I've come up with is to just walk in there like I own the place, grab it, and hope no one cares."

Pulling a devilish grin across his face, Dr. Dawkins laughs, and slowly nods. "Actually, my plan is pretty close to just that..."

Blinking out his surprise, Isaac narrows a scrutinizing gaze towards Dr. Dawkins. Dr. Dawkins perks his brow, draws a long breath in, and carefully explains. "It's actually quite the ideal time for a simple, calm approach to this problem. While we may have been gone from the Grand Library's normal operations for some time, I highly doubt too much has changed. It's the tail end of June, in the middle of the summer sessions..."

He grins mischievously and lifts a plotting eyebrow. "Which means not a damn much of anything is happening right now."

Isaac's eyes widen, his mind processing these details, and he ponders his thoughts out loud. "That's... Right... There will be hardly anyone around. But, just enough with summer classes and students working on research that it wouldn't be unusual to see a few new people in the building other than staff and faculty."

With a scheming smile present and glass in hand, Dr. Dawkins nods and focuses his attention on the presentation. "Exactly. The only real problem is those that know who should and shouldn't be in certain places. Which is usually the administrative faculty and their subordinates. The only people there consistently enough to know what is inconsistent."

Slowly processing the dilemma, Isaac narrows his inquisitive gaze at Dr. Dawkins and cocks his head to the side. "So... How do we handle them?"

Finishing a long swig of his drink, Dr. Dawkins grins brightly and laughs with a dark tinge. "Take them out to lunch."

Isaac's expression blanks out for seconds. Shaking his head back to awareness, he leans closer to Dr. Dawkins curiously. "Okay... Go on?"

Settling back into his plush recliner, Dr. Dawkins rests his drink on the table and taps the fingertips of his hands together with a plotting tone. "Exactly what I said. I've recently spoken with both the heads of the computer science and archaeology departments. They're good young men, and I wouldn't mind seeing if they would update me on the latest internal affairs. I figured I would visit and treat them to lunch. And, I'd also offer to treat any of the graduate students that happen to be around for the day, too."

Putting his glass down, Isaac scratches his chin, playing out the scenario in the mind between thoughtful darts of his eyes. He slowly rocks his head, sorting through the internal play by play. "Yeah... That could work. It'd give me a good hour window to slip in without any of the regular guard around to notice anything at all. Truthfully, I could likely avoid using any kind of significant magic. Barely leave a trace behind."

Dr. Dawkins lifts an incredulous eyebrow towards Isaac, snorts in ill-humor, and rolls his green eyes. "An hour? I'm taking them to an all you can eat buffet. You have two hours, at least. Academics and free, plentiful food are hard to separate."

Isaac reflexively snickers out into laughter, agreeing heartily with Dr. Dawkins. Pondering a moment, his eyes light up, the pieces of the puzzle fitting together. "You can drop me off near the campus before you go in to meet with them. I'll head on into the campus once you head off with everyone to lunch. Go in quickly, get Malkav's notes, and casually leave the area. Once you finish up, you can pick me up at a point some distance away from campus, which would grant you plausible deniability."

A delighted smile appears on Dr. Dawkins' face, and he picks up his glass. "I think we have something quite resembling a viable plan."

He holds his glass up, waiting for Isaac to do the same. The two men clink their drinks together and enjoy healthy portions of the dark liquor.