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You make a show of considering the Gnok’s words as you slowly digest the subtext. You weren’t there to witness what the History Museum had to offer, but from what was described to you coupled with your own understanding of historical conflicts the Anti-Magic Bombs used against your people were anything but <span class="mu-i">subtle</span>.
Did they get the job done? History says yes. Would Anton want a bomb that would no doubt vaporize himself and the rest of your merry band unless he armed it with more than enough time for Trier to teleport it into the ocean? Probably not.
Limiting collateral damage, you remark with a subtle nod of your head, a short-ranged strike that would trade range for user utility… your eyes wander back over to Obber’s face.
You’d imagine that would be <span class="mu-i">very</span> useful to someone with a grudge…
“Hmph. Could probably be done easy-like too…” The machinist adds with a twinkle in his eye. “By someone skilled enough in that kinda thing, that is.”
Silence blankets the room as the two of you stare each other in the eyes, a contract quietly forming.
“Stop talking about stupid <span class="mu-s">BOMBS</span>.” Snarls Rezzie, the devil opening her mouth after several minutes of blissful quiet, “If you don’t have one, you don’t have one! Quit wasting our time, IDIOT!”
“You’re right…” Chuckles Obber as he steals a knowing glance your way, “There’s no way any of us could get ahold of something like that…”
“Exactly my point, you drooling simpleton! Why are we even wasting our time here?!”
Several tense moments of trying to subtly rope Rezalith into the conspiracy end in abject failure, no that you expected any different. Leaving the machinist with one last clawshake, you can’t help but tense up a bit as he tugs you into earshot:
“<span class="mu-b">CANALWORKS OFFICE. SOUTHWESTERN.</span> <span class="mu-i">Check later today. Somefolk catches wind? Don’t be alive when they come fer’ ya.</span>”
Leaving the Boilermaker to his tinkerings, you shepherd the ladies out of the sweltering workshop and back into the pleasantly crisp mountain air. You probably make it a few blocks before your Spinner finally speaks!
“Holy <span class="mu-i">HELLS</span>, Mor!” Sputters Tzah-Tzie as if she’d been holding her breath the whole time, “Where’d you learn how to negotiate like that!?”
Your response is cut short by a mountainous figure blocking your path!
“And what the Hells was that about a <span class="mu-i">fresh start</span>, huh!?”
Volka looms over you with a mixture of confusion and concern in her wide yellow eyes–right, you think as you meet her stare with one of your own, you’d never bothered telling her about, well…
<span class="mu-i">That</span>.
You can’t explain now, you reply with a shrug, but rest assured it-
Wait a moment…
>CONTD.
