In the aftermath of the small adventurers’ meeting, Sera found herself with little to do. Tiriana was handling logistics and scheduling, neither of which Sera had enough familiarity with to provide help. For such a small team there weren’t really any other menial tasks she could do in preparation, so she was spinning her wheels.
Learning magic was still on hold until Sera’s core formed. She hadn’t stopped working on focusing mana into a core since she’d decided to start, barring time she spent sleeping and some of the more nerve wracking moments she’d experienced at the frontier military base. Although Sera could work on her basic magic, her limiting factor there was control, not lack of practice. As control was inherently something she was improving by forming a core, practice was redundant.
That left learning Sylvan vocabulary, which she wasn’t very keen on. Worse yet, it turned out that Atlantean wasn’t much better after three thousand years of influence from the Sylvan language. Even if she’d known how to speak Greek, it wouldn’t have been very helpful here.
So she decided to go around and meet the support staff instead.
Despite having been around for a good couple of weeks now, nearly three weeks in Earth time, Sera hadn’t seen much of the base personnel besides Vivi. She knew there was a hunter providing both fresh and dried meat, a gatherer collecting fruits, herbs and such, an armorer maintaining the adventurers’ gear, a cleaner, and a very underworked stable master that spent more time procuring food than caring for the flokkas, which were almost always in the field with the adventurers.
That didn’t actually strike her as enough people gathering food to feed the number of people living here, but Sera reminded herself once again that the people here weren’t subject to normal human limitations. She wasn’t quite clear on the exact capabilities of a warrior type, but if she assumed enhanced speed, stamina, and strength, it wouldn’t be out of the question for a single man to chase down and bag something the size of a deer with his bare hands and lug more than one back to camp.
Adventurers that had rotated back to base might be helping as well, but if they were, that inherently meant they were working in the vicinity of the base but not inside it. Tiriana was the only one that she ever saw on guard, patrolling the base itself, but the others had to be somewhere, after all.
At any rate, Sera managed to catch the hunter on a break, whittling something from wood outside the smokehouse. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to strike up a conversation and introduce herself, she gave the man a wave and approached.
“Figured I should get around to introducing myself to everyone. I’m Sera, nice to meet you,” she said as an introduction, stopping a polite distance away. The man looked up and gave a small smile. He was atlantean like Vivi; olive skin and dark hair, with features Sera would place at around thirty years old. His face was clean-shaven, and he was dressed in leathers not unlike those worn by Rinnie.
“Isidro. A pleasure. You settling in alright? Can’t imagine you’ve had much conversation aside from Tiriana,” the man said, his voice deeper than would have matched his appearance. He set aside his knife and inspected the block in his hand; it seemed to be an animal, but Sera wasn’t familiar with it.
“I’ve spoken a bit with Vivi, but no, not really. I’m actually surprised how little I’ve seen of anyone, especially those working on the base like you.”
“Eh, well, myself and Sacae hardly spend any time here, and Wistris- she’s the cleaner- is a brownie, so she does most of her work at night and turns invisible if she’s gotta do something during daytime. Broviss, our armorer, is agoraphobic, so he doesn’t leave his underground workshop…ever, actually,” Isidro explained, ending with a shrug.
“Wait, why’d he come all the way out here if he’s afraid of being outside?”
“It was that or prison. Something about public exposure, a jar of pickles, and the magistrate’s mother.” Isidro looked Sera in the eye. “The magistrate’s mom picked jail, if you were wondering.”
Sera wasn’t, but at least it was good to know she was a participant and not a victim?
“What kind of punishment is that?”
“Technically he was exiled, we just needed an armorer and Tiriana promised him an underground workshop.” Well, that certainly did explain why she’d seen neither hide nor hair of the staff all this time, at any rate. It seemed they were just as much of a mixed bag as the adventurers around here.
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Sera was about to ask about the stable master when something stepped around the corner of the smoke house. Recognizing it immediately her hand snapped to her hammer, but Isidro just glanced at it and tossed a scrap of meat its way, which it snapped out of the air before laying down at his feet.
“…is that thing yours?” she asked, perplexed. The last one she’d seen had attacked her on sight and hadn’t let go of her foot until it was dead, so she hadn’t expected to see one so docile.
“Oh, right, you’re the one that named them, aren’t you? Yeah, I think this little guy was abandoned.” Sera looked at it more closely and realized it was smaller, and its flat head didn’t look as rigid. It must have been a young one. “What were they called? Gobshites?”
Right. She had in fact named them gobshites. At the time she’d been beyond exhausted and wasn’t really thinking too hard about the name, but now she was regretting it a bit, knowing she’d actually have to call them that.
“Uh, question. Am I allowed to rename them?” she asked, looking down at the gobshite pup.
“Bit too late for that. Usually the first name sticks,” the hunter said with a chuckle, patting the pup on the head. Sera frowned.
“What happens if it gets more aggressive when it’s older?” she asked; although her knowledge of domestication was limited, Sera did know wolves hadn’t been tamed simply by adopting wolf pups right off the bad.
“Heh, it can try. Animals ain’t too good at using mana; it’s mostly instinct, and it takes generations of selection. This far out? Fella could clamp down on my finger and its teeth would lose. It’ll learn who’s boss.” Isidro grinned widely at that, as confident as it gets. Sera figured he probably knew what he was talking about, but she was still going to stay on guard around the gobshite, pet or not.
“Well, I’ll take your word for it, then. Anyway, I wanted to talk to everyone, but are you the only one around right now?”
“Around and awake, maybe. You might be able to catch Broviss, though, assuming he didn’t pull another all-nighter.” He pointed at one of the other buildings, on the other side of the base- which wasn’t all that long of a walk given its size. “Head on around that building and look for the cellar door; that’s his workshop.”
Sera thanked the man and went on her way, heading for Broviss’s workshop next. The door was one of those angled metal doors used for exterior basement entrances, but it was new and well maintained, so it slid open with nary a sound. She immediately heard the sound of metal on metal coming from below, so she went down the stairs. There was one more door at the bottom, probably in deference to the smith’s phobia. She knocked, and heard a rough ‘enter’, so she went in.
Broviss was short; a dwarf by fantasy standards, but also…not. He was hairy, yes, and had a well-kempt beard, but he also had longer whiskers, like a cat- or maybe a mole? There were some coming from his brows, but most came from the area around his mouth. His musculature was different from a human’s, with arms built for digging motions using the thick claws on his fingertips, rather than throwing.
Sera found it interesting how his equipment differed from that of a human smith, as well. His anvil was lower, barely above the floor, and his ‘hammer’ was similar to a set of brass knuckles with a singular striking surface extending downward from his palm. Other items around the workshop had similar alterations to match their user’s physiology, like cutting tools that had similar grips to the hammer’s and clamps designed to be held by two hands palm down.
“Close the door behind you, if you would,” Broviss instructed, turning back to a small bit of metal he was shaping. Sera closed the door as she was asked and moved closer, identifying the metal bit as an arrowhead upon closer inspection. The smith never turned to look at her, but the whiskers on his face twitched a bit, and his tiny eyes were shut, so he must have been observing his environment with other senses than sight.
“Broviss, right? I’m Sera. Just wanted to introduce myself.”
“That’s me.” More clanging as he hammered the arrowhead, his whiskers twitching between each blow. “Sorry for not greeting you. I don’t get out much.”
“Isidro mentioned that, but I’m just as much at fault for not making the rounds until now,” Sera assured him, though the apology was likely obligatory. “I don’t imagine I’ll have to ask for your services much, but I hope you’ll take care of me if I do.”
“That a hammer on your belt?” Broviss asked instead of replying to what she’d said. Sera noticed he hadn’t looked her way before asking.
“Yeah, it’s a claw hammer. For hammering in nails.”
“You a craftsperson yourself?”
“Not quite. I’m mostly a handywoman, building fences and the like, installing appliances, that sort of thing. There isn’t really much use for my skills around here since it’s all done with magic, so I guess I’m now an explorer,” Sera explained, patting the hammer. She hadn’t used it since fighting her first gobshite, so it was mostly a comfort item at this point.
“Mm. If you’re spoiling for things to do, visit me from time to time.” He picked up the shaped arrowhead and placed it in a pile near a whetstone, then took another from the other side of it that had already been sharpened. “Rinnie normally does this but she’s rubbish at it. My arms aren’t so good for fletching, so it’d be nice to have an extra set of hands to attach the heads and feathers.”
“I…think I’d like that, actually,” she said, enjoying the idea of working with her hands again. She didn’t know how often Rinnie used her bow, but there was probably a good chance Isidro had one too, so a constant supply of arrows was likely important.
It was difficult for Broviss to perform the motions, but he could at least mime them well enough to give Sera a demonstration of what she had to do, and she had always been skilled with her hands. She needed a few tries to get the fletching portion right, but Broviss was a surprisingly patient teacher, and he assured her that even her first and worst attempts were an improvement on Rinnie’s.
Sera hadn’t succeeded in her goal of meeting everyone today, but for the first time in a while, she was content, losing herself in the act of making arrows.