“Another!” Reina demanded as she harshly slid her empty bowl away from her. The gray feathered Noxdennite behind the counter gave her the side-eye in return, but refilled her bowl nonetheless.
Ignoring the weird looks from the other patrons in the restaurant, Reina furrowed her brow as she forced her new Gear arm to work. There was a delay before it began to move and even then, its motions were awkward and stuttering rather than smooth and controlled.
Despite having assimilated the low cobalt limb weeks ago, she struggled with integrating it. Even after a slew of sleepless nights wrestling with the blasted thing, she’d only inched up her rating by a bare dozen percentage points.
It frustrated her to no end, but she kept at.
The first part of integrating a new adaptive Gear was to form a connection with it by using the limb as much as possible in everyday life. So she bathed with it, dressed with it and ate with it — day in and day out.
Out of her other Gears, this was easily the most difficult time she’d ever had integrating a new prosthetic. The others had come so naturally, but then again, she’d had the full backing of a proper House to accomplish it.
At the moment, she only had herself to rely on. No mechanical arms to help her get dressed in the morning. No personal chef to make her food and no retainers to bring it up to her room. She had to leave her inn and forage like some sort of…Crumbler.
And Reina would have been fine with that if her blasted arm would. Just. Listen. To her.
Finally, she was able to snatch up some worm-noodles from the bowl using a three-pronged utensil. Now, she needed to bring it to her beak.
Worm-noodles were a Noxdennite specialty, though Cinderrans and Gogglemorans also enjoyed the dish. This particular noodle bar was located on the second floor of a ratty tower near the northwest corner of Glokham. The city wasn’t just divided by wealth and influence, it was also split up into sections for the various races.
Of course, Reina hadn’t found that out until after she’d been renting a room in the Gizmeren district of Glokham. After she finished her Gear transplantation, she went ahead and moved to another inn, one located in the Noxdennite district instead.
As soon as the worm-noodles hit her beak, she noisily slurped them up as was the custom. Slurping loudly allowed her to rapidly cool the noodles with air so she didn’t burn the roof of her beak.
Although, with how her stomach was rumbling nonstop, Reina barely cared at this point.
She was just so hungry.
And no matter what or how much she ate, she never seemed satisfied, which only added to her annoyance with her disobedient arm.
After a few more frustrating minutes, she finished the bowl of worm-noodles and slid it away. This time, before she could demand another, someone laid a heavy hand onto her shoulder. “I think you’ve had enough, lass,” said a voice with a slight echo to it.
Reina immediately turned and scowled at an official looking Noxdennite, who was clearly from the Boilerplate Brigade. The constable wore a thick, dark brown trench coat with armored brassteel plates sewn on at the joints as well as a matching burnished beak-mask.
“Don’t fraggin’ touch me, ya vexer,” Reina growled as she roughly removed her shoulder from the constable’s grasp, while pushing herself away from the counter. “If this slag heap doesn’t want my CCs, then I’ll find a better one!”
The constable snatched Reina’s arm before she could leave the restaurant, “You forgot to pay, lass. Cough up the coins or I’ll bring you in.”
Reina snorted and tossed down a couple of CCs onto the counter, then stormed off faster than the constable could react. Just because her new arm was acting like some rusted piece of scrap, didn’t mean that her other Gears had gone haywire.
Before she knew it, she was three bridges over with a hand on a wall, panting and starving. Reina couldn’t recall hurrying down walkways or crossing any suspension bridges, but…how else did she end up so close to her inn?
Her stomach suddenly grumbled then, reminding her of more pressing matters than those wandering thoughts.
She needed to find something to eat.
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Twenty-four Tinkers waited in one of House Sixsmith’s audience rooms with stiff-backed chairs lined up in neat rows that faced a small stage at the front. Everyone in the room was an applicant that had successfully passed the House’s assessments and were now awaiting their group assignments for the union contract. There were a few mutters coming from some snowrunts who sat next to each other. A couple of clankers lazily browsed through their data slates for the most recent Glokham news, while some featherheads decided to clean their weapons.
In the meantime, Thode leaned back in his chair, crossing his brassteel legs as he rolled his low iron chip across his knuckles. He never used to be good at this little parlor trick, but with his improved hand-eye coordination, he found it as easy as snapping his fingers.
Finding himself amongst so many High Tinkers, he found the small motion soothing. It was still odd for him to be counted as one of them. Not so long ago, he was just a Low Tinker lad from the Crumbles and now…Well, now he was just as powerful as anyone in here.
His Gear eyes roved over the others, inspecting their Flux signatures to gauge their strength. Everyone was either a Gearace or meister with at least three Gears each. The stronger ones were completely fueled by nothing but Bituminite Coal, while the rest were more like Thode with some Bituminite and some Lignite.
Eventually, six Gearmeisters filed in, each one wearing reinforced leather dusters with the six-sided hammer-star of House Sixsmith emblazoned on their labels. As they lined up on the stage in front of everyone, Thode instantly recognized the pink-haired evaluator that graded him at the shooting range. Now that he got a good look at her, he realized that she had a pair of dark steel legs as well as two Gears that replaced her forearms — one of dark steel and one of low cobalt.
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As for the other five, he’d never seen them before.
Beside the one he recognized was a thin Cinderran man with a pair of brassteel arms that seemed to be a set and two different lower legs made of low steel and brassteel respectively.
Next to him was a male Gizmeren with a dark iron jaw that prevented him from having the traditional beard of his race. Aside from that, the snowrunt’s right arm and leg had also been replaced by dark steel limbs.
Then, there was another Paraburnese woman, though this one had light blue hair and seemed to be older looking than Thode’s evaluator. The weathered woman’s entire left side of her face had been replaced by brassteel, while her left arm and leg was made of low steel.
To her left was a male Gogglemoran that was fortunate enough to have assimilated three integral Gears. According to Thode’s discerning eyes, the clanker had replaced his heart, lungs and spine, which allowed him to breathe normal air instead of having to be stuck in a water tank. Regardless of that, the frog-faced Gogglemoran still piloted a large mechanical exoskeleton that reminded Thode of a Gearmonger trooper.
Finally, the last Gearmeister of House Sixsmith was a Noxdennite, who’d replaced her beak, wings and left arm with solid low steel. She eschewed her race’s traditional beak-mask since her prosthetic beak probably allowed her to breathe in any atmosphere.
Thode couldn’t help but be impressed by the whole lot of them. Their Gears must have been upgraded over and again to be a part of such a wealthy House as Sixsmith. In his eyesight, they all radiated Bituminite Flux levels with a few of them even giving off Anthracite.
Despite his recent improvements, these six could probably slag and bag him in a straight up brawl. Maybe if he got the drop on one of them, he’d be able to take them down, but who knew what kinds of life-saving Gadgets they had on hand.
The pink-haired woman stepped forward with her Brassfolio in hand and addressed the room, “You have all proven yourselves as having the appropriate skills necessary to successfully complete this contract for House Sixsmith. As a result, I and my fellow Gearmeisters will be dividing you all up into six different delve teams with the goal of bringing back half a dozen gun batteries for our House zeppelin carriers.
When I call your number, get up and stand in front of your assigned meister.”
A round of murmurs ran through the crowd, but Thode ignored the chatter. Instead, he got excited after doing the math. Originally, the contract was for 50,000 CCs split five ways. However, with one of House Sixsmith’s own retainers supervising them, then that meant the payment would only need to be split four ways, which left Thode’s actual takeaway to be closer to 12,500.
He was practically drooling at that prospective amount. With that type of cash flow, he could bankroll the berth for his airship and his own inn room for at least a few months.
And all for a simple fetch contract into a Gearmonger ruin? This was gonna be the easiest payout he’d ever had.
Thinking about what he could do with the cash, he promptly ignored the numbers being called, though his sensitive ears made sure to file away the names of Sixsmith’s Gearmeisters.
The thin Cinderran was Zamiras Tremaine.
The metal jawed snowrunt was Onno Bashford.
The older Paraburnese woman was Prunella Pinchpocket.
The clanker without a water tank was Gid Greensmith.
And the Noxdennite was Unix Necket.
Thode had yet to hear his number though, which could only mean that he was going to be with his pink-haired evaluator.
Dynamo. Just dynamo, he thought to himself.
“93, 111, 48 and 235,” the woman called out. “My name is Azuba Spooner and you’ll be with me.”
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After their numbers had been called, Azuba escorted Thode and the others into a smaller meeting room across the hall. To his senses, the House Sixsmith estate seemed to be a buzzing hive of activity. While he’d been led from one assessment area to the next, Thode’s sonar had mapped much of the three spires whose top two floors made up the actual House’s property. He detected folks flying down walkways and jumping across bridges as they rushed from one building to the next.
However, once Azuba shut the door of the meeting room, all of that vibrant imagery in his mind’s eye was instantly shut off. Hmm…this room must be soundproof…he thought to himself as he furrowed his brow.
Taking a seat at the rectangular table that dominated the space, he decided to shift his attention to his team members. Azuba, he’d already scrutinized while she was on stage earlier. Now, he had a chance to see who would be covering his back on this delve.
The most striking of the bunch was a half-Gizmeren, half-Paraburnese woman named Vikta Winchcroft. Taller than full snowrunts, she was thin yet still muscular with the characteristic icy blue skin of that half of her. Her Paraburnese side showed itself with her fiery red hair and long braided sideburns that hung down to her chest. Dark brass had coated her right eye and ear — an obvious integral Gear. Meanwhile, she wore a pair of pitch leather overalls with a sleeveless flexweave shirt underneath, which showed off her Gear arms. One was dark brass, while the other was solid brassteel.
Huh…you don’t see too many crossbreeds, especially ones that made it to High Tinker. Most of ‘em don’t have the backing, Thode commented to himself.
Seated beside her was a Cinderran on the shorter side with willowy limbs, which made up for Vikta’s abnormal height for a Gizmeren, even if she was only half. The Cinderran was named Barn Claymane and his right arm and leg had been replaced by low iron Gears, while his hair tentacles were solid dark iron. He wore goggles to cover his race’s red eyes, a single-sleeved edgehide coat that gave his Gear arm some freedom and stretchlinen trousers that had been similarly altered for his Gear leg.
The final member of their team was a Gogglemoran who kept to the side of the room since his mechanical exoskeleton couldn’t exactly sit. The clanker’s name was Heimo Kadwright and was suspended in a water tank about a pace and a half tall. However, instead of the tank being enclosed in a humanoid exoskeleton, Heimo used an insectoid one. His tank sat on four sharp legs with another four that sprouted from around the tank itself equipped with claws at the end of them instead of regular fingers. More intriguing were the six smaller tanks surrounding his central one that looked to be filled with different colored liquids.
Thode quirked an eyebrow when he saw them, Wonder what those things are for?
As he inspected his teammates, they inspected him, judging his many visible Gadgets hanging on his bandolier, the pauldron over his shoulder and the large metal bracer on his forearm. He was kitted out like a one-man army and if the folks in this room had lived through a Gearmonger invasion like him, then they’d be the same way.
Maybe I should turn my bomber jacket into a trenchcoat. Better to hide all of my stuff.
He made a point of that for later. Zeb could help him hash out some options.
Azuba cleared her throat and all eyes moved to the front. Despite everyone in the room being a Gearace — or in Thode’s case, a poor Gearmeister — the pink-haired woman in front of them was just one step away from being a Gearlady. To his eyes, Azuba radiated Anthracite-level energy from both of her forearms, while her prosthetic legs were Bituminite. She’d be a tough one to brawl with.
“You’ve all passed our assessments better than the dregs from the Copper Crosses. I’ll be your team leader for this delve and my word is law. You disobey, you forfeit your piece of the pay. If you have a problem with that, then you may as well shove off now,” Azuba proclaimed.
No one moved. They all knew why they were here. They were here for some easy CCs. While Thode wasn’t much of a team player, his role was going to be simple enough — stay back and shoot where Azuba wanted him to.
When she was satisfied that no one was going to speak up, Azuba continued, “Good, now that that’s settled, we’ve got some planning to do.”