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[Niku]

Tikka is mildly chuffed at the amount of attention she receives, at least, once she had ascertained that only the boldest of the children will be attempting to remove pieces of her for the time being.  Still, it seems that many of them have the wrong idea about exactly what she is and where she comes from.  Tikka is usually a fairly straightforward individual, and finds little need for guile.  But at the same time, she is a teller of stories, and has learned quickly from years in service to a growing "sprout" that stories can often cause delight in things of flesh far more than the truth of history causes delight to one such as she.  "I woke up," was not a very interesting tale, and though the truth of her life may well have been, she had gotten wind of the idea quite quickly that Ottimus was not a popular individual, and giving any credit to the aspects of herself that were the result of his meddling and experimentation may not have made many people very delighted.

And so, over the course of the evening, in bits and pieces and with several moments of retreading and repeating as others drift in and out over the conversation, Tikka spins a yarn about how once upon a time a doll was given joints and a rudimentary mind by a kindly old orc (for of course, to put something of the listener in the stories always made them more invested) with many eccentricities.  The doll delighted the old orc, though it was simply a toy that it showed off as the proof that if you put enough work into a creation then anything could be done.  BUT IT CANNOT FIGHT, some may have complained to him!  IT IS WALKING INTO THAT WALL OVER AND OVER AGAIN, some may have pointed out!  IT IS FOR WOMENFOLK AND GIRLS, others may have said!  But it was the investment of time and energy to create something that resembled life!  Unfortunately, the kindly old orc passed away, and left the doll all alone.  The doll continued to function, and spent time cleaning the orc's old little hovel until such time that her gears would finally wind down.  But before then, she found her creator's plans!  And so, the little doll began to make adjustments to herself based on his ideas that he had never gotten around to!  Over time, the sheer amount of adjustments began to make her larger, and many of them increased the efficiency of her abilities which in turn increased the efficiency of her mind.  She cannibalized many of the orc's inventions, including music boxes and clocks!  And then, maybe some day far in the future, remembering the fondness for her creator, that doll would decide to find an entire community full of wonderful, pleasant orcs with home she could spend many a pleasant day and night where they were all friends forever!  But that was a story for another time!

[sentrygun]

Ilex starts to look a bit bored when the rather extreme looking chief barrels straight into business talk. Something about trade, importing and selling salvaged materials and equipment, and some other junk. It's rather disappointing to hear from a man who straps exploding hammers to his chest.

"I don't mind getting right down to business, but this all seems pretty... Unexciting. If I wanted to have some safe employment shuffling around desk work, I would have taken a position with the Academy as a patrol commander when I got it. I wouldn't really be here if securing my place in Gateway was just a matter of shuffling goods around. Surely you have more interesting plans. I don't mean to insult you, but for how rough and tumble you all seem, this is a pretty boring proposition."

[Niku]

( )

[Doom]

Tikka: A few passing adults, all of the children and Rosco himself are starry-eyed by the end of this tale. Rosco reminds you of the sort of dumb-struck look Ottimus had when he saw a particularly nice skirt.

Karvan: You get a huge round of cheers and toasts from the common table, but it seems that Ilex has gotten off on the wrong foot with the elders.

Trade, importing and selling explosives and explosive-themed devices! The assorted heads of the village seem... a bit nervous about your words and begin rapidly discussing things in conspiratory Orcish. Ivan, Explosive Hunter(using explosives to hunt, not hunting explosives or just being a hunter who gets really mad occasionally), speaks in common with a polite but lecturing tone. "Miss Ilex, of course these things are a bit... boring. But war is won by logistics. A general is not free to invade when his men sit hungry, or his guns are empty, or his ships have not left with this food or ammo. It is by virtue of efficiency at home that we can begin making our plans." The others nod in agreement. Chief Ehrad starts in next. "That's why yer here, isn't it? Things are shaking up in the big city, and you had the good sense to come to the Bladefang while every other shit-head on their high horse thinks of us as evil savages." He leans back and gets his feet off the table, stops lounging and begins talking with hand gestures. "So you get us in good, and we back you up when it counts. Help ya with yer debt, and maybe we begin sizing up the city, eh?"

Another round of Orcish debate, then Ehrad speaking in common again. "And yer dodging my questions. What are your stances? Ya throw the Academy around a bit, but they're about as trust-worthy as a filcher." Planar Filchers are inexplicable alien creatures that simply take things from people who camp overnight in the wilds of the Reaches, rather than everything else's preferred interaction of killing them. Somehow they are more vividly hated. "So you tell me, Holsten. When my great-father and great-mother fought their way out of the slave pits in Gateway's belly, they had about th' sum of what they carried on their backs for a culture. Contents of th' armory and a few odds and ends aboard stolen ships. We fought the wildlife, we took the Warden's secrets from 'em when it was do or die, and we made Pelor bleed when they got tired of the idea of not being in charge of everything. Now things are safe and m' kids can grow up real peaceful-like."

He slams a fist down as the heads murmur agreement or admiration. "If it's boring, that's fair. Like Boss used to say, peace is what's worth fighting for in the first place. I fight when it counts, to keep that peace. But if "Perfect Holsten" is some dizzy idiot who ain't fit fer shit beyond raid and run like some coward mercenary, yer strength is corrupt at the core. That's how the Gehenneans fight." By the wincing of a few and the cold, hard looks of others... harsh words. You've been compared to Hjard.

"Tell us where ya stand."

[Malikial]

Karvan turns upon hearing things. He sets down his jug of ale, shakes his head once and stands. He strides purposefully towards the head table and slams his fist down hard, the strength of it causing the objects upon the table to jump up and then settle down with a clatter before he leans down and mutters, his voice soft and calm but rising to an almost yell as he speaks, "Ilex, I trust you, I enjoy working with you, but woman I have fought since the day I was born for no reason. I killed and maimed to keep myself alive when I wasn't worth keeping alive. I was nothing. I've killed 167 men and women in the arena. Countless more in battles outside of it.  When I used to drink and carry on in my youth I... I was without merit. Now, you and yours. Your band of people have been friends to me. You've shown me that not everything in this life is blood and mud and piss. I find that inside my cruel exterior there is actually a heart and I want nothing more than to die protecting those who cannot protect themselves. This man is asking you for nothing but your pledge to assist him in acquiring justice. He's offering to back us and become friends with us, even if only on a financial and mercenary level. WE NEED HIM. Even doing a job every single day, short of doing a hellish act of murder or treachery we cannot pay off our debt in time. The ONLY things that pay as well as we need are HONOR OR GENOCIDE. He might not show it well, but even if he doesn't need us, he COULD use our help. We have access to so much shit his band of Orcs can't access. We, despite all of our despicable pasts, are considered good people within the gateway. It sickens me, I have been nothing but a rampaging murderer and just because I did it inside of an arena I have respect and awe where ever I go. All these people want is a safe life and they are shunned, hated and hunted. Ilex, I respect you because of your personality. Do the right thing, accept this man's proposal so we can fight for something that matters more than coin and ale and whores."

[sentrygun]

'War is won by logistics'. Ilex didn't know how many times her Military Command instructor spouted that off at her and her classmates, among whatever other drivel. Who cares about wars though? Especially between a bunch of people smart enough to not stab each other as a greeting. Keeping the savage like from tromping over cities was important, but why should they have to bother with the city trying to stomp itself out? Sure it happens, but it's dumb!

"I'm a small-scale commander. Wars are just weird to me. Why should there have to be a war? I'm not naive enough to think they don't happen all the damn time, but that doesn't make them anything but dumb. What the hell do you want to wage war on Gateway for, or take it over, or whatever else? That place is a shithole that's bound to implode any day now, and you want control over that mess? You'd have to wipe out most of the people there and be left with the people smart enough to not fight a lost fight and people scared enough to not pick a side. The former's just as likely to stab you in the back, and the latter's worth nothing!

If the Reaches weren't as awful as a circle of hell, I wouldn't even be a commander. I'd be able to go out, explore, and enjoy myself finding new things. Unfortunately, I was born in this hell where everything's already looted out and a bunch of murderous assholes are busying themselves with killing people and stealing their stuff, so they can have a bigger pile of junk to stare at before they go out and kill more people to get more stuff. I have to be a fighter if I want to do anything I'd care to do because this entire god forsaken realm is a murderous shithole and I'll just get killed if I try and be nice about it.

I don't give a damn about controlling some cesspit like Gateway. Nothing new's happening there besides people finding new ways to ruin each others lives. With that power-hungry Millicent stacked up there, not even the Academy, center of knowledge and learning, avoids being a bunch of brutalizing assholes who just want to shake money and power out of every idiot dumb enough to cross their path, and even quite a few who don't! The Chosen try to keep that hellhole in order and stop all the senseless bullshit, but they're so passive about it that nothing much changes, and if they got active about it they'd probably be just as bad as the rest of them! If nothing else though, at least they do something to rein in the savage beasts who just want to murder us and nest on our graves, while Pelor does jack shit about anything but sitting around and deliberating! The Underbelly practically speaks for itself, what with it being built on the idea of crushing people and wringing them dry for worthless trinkets.

I came here hoping you lot would break the cycle, certain that you weren't going to be walked over without a fight and hopeful that your separation from the influence of Gateway would set you apart from their big factions, but with all your talk of shuffling around useless bullshit and war tools and contemplating a takeover of the city to rule just as badly as they did, you hardly seem different from any of them, and your disassociation with the city just makes it even less likely that you'll change things for the better. I am not interested in a trade agreement, and I am not interested in stringing the city up with some puppetry that we can both share. That's my stance, and don't you dare compare me to a bunch of murderous raiders when you're sounding just like those power-hungry maniacs in Gateway."

Finished addressing the orcs, Ilex turns over to face Karvan, even angrier at him than the orcs.

"When you came to me to drag your sorry ass out of your life in the arena, I figured you wanted change from that shit life you got stuck with, and I liked that, but now we come here and I see you cheer on these children fighting halfway to death to become more efficient killing machines and I wonder if you've lost your way. You said you had a proposition for me after this, but I'm not interested in the slightest if all you want to do is train children to murder and maim from their first steps walking just because that's what you were stuck doing when you grew up. There's being tough enough to survive in these shitty Reaches, and there's mindless bloodlust, and you look like you're folding right back into the latter. If your ideas have changed, then revoke your contract and get out of my company, and if you're looking to side with these fools just because they're promising to serve up a different flavor of the same bullshit we're stuck dealing with in Gateway, I'll revoke your contract myself."

Ilex awaits a response from the room, steaming. Flying all this way, getting attacked by space insects, and then being firebombed out of the sky just to end up talking to someone who sounded just like one of the big Underbelly bosses wasn't pleasing Ilex in the slightest.

[Malikial]

Karvan stands to his full height and looks down at Ilex. He shakes his head at her a bit before leaning down again and speaking, his voice is calm and quiet, he has obviously lost his temper, "Bloodlust? You think this has anything to do with bloodlust? I pulled myself from the arenas and the pits, I pulled myself out of that. I came to you afterwards because I had heard you were a good and honorable woman without peer in a city of shit. I wanted to stop killing for money and whores in a pit of despair. Now, I stand beside you... killing for you. For your money. You think I want these children to have to fight? What would you have me do? They live on a tiny barely terra-formed rock held together with orcish magic and LUCK near a swarm of blood thirsty bugs in a dangerous reach of space, beset by pirates and every type of arsehole that makes up the dredges of our society. YOU THINK THEY WILL NOT HAVE TO FIGHT? If they do not receive proper training.... I would be putting a blade to their necks myself. I want these children here to know MORE THAN FIGHTING. MORE THAN I KNOW. I am a killer, I cannot be redeemed. Nothing about me has merit." He lets out a long sad sigh and reaches into his pouches. He pulls a well kept and guilded scroll case from it and looks down at it. He tosses it to Ilex, "If you think that my contract no longer has value because I want to help a group of kids be more than I ever could be. I want to see some form of peace in this place for people who were treated as bad as or worse than I was.... Do what you have to do. I thought you would understand my motives. Instead you just insult me because of my past. If I still contained my bloodlust I would have taken your head. I do not like killing, fighting, I do it for you. For those who cannot fight or a take a blow as well as I can. I stand between Morgiana, Latir, those I respect and the enemies you have acquired and I take the attacks meant for them. Now we have a chance to help people and you let some girlish desire to wander and discover things hinder you... I thought you had merit. I respect you. I have taken crossbow bolts, arrows, blades, stingers and claws meant for you because of my respect for you.... It doesn't matter. Do what you're going to do, that is your right. But about me... you are wrong."

[Niku]

Tikka, unfortunately, cannot choose a side in this conflict.  She has come to respect Karvan's strength, both outer and inner, in a very short period of time, but she has also seen that Ilex has had the wherewithal and foresight to begin building something that could be truly great, reminiscent of her first memories of the Academy.

Sure, maybe it would seem wishy washy to simply sit there and look between the two of them, head cocking like a puppy watching its owners fight about their mortgage, but she didn't wish to set a match to any gasoline that was already dangerously close to a live wire!

[Doom]

Ehrad looks from side to side to his compatriots, who also share a shuffling of glances. Then they all laugh a bit, Ehrad leaning back. "You come to us for... work. Some chore, like maybe a Fiend Wyrm or something has passed by and ya'd take care of it for a cut of our gold and a fine meal. And then..." The laughter is growing. Ehrad leans forward and slams a fist down. "A trade agreement to pass by some mining equipment and personal boom-boom is too boring for ya!" He leans back again, both arms held out to the sides so he can reaaaaally lean back in his chair, looking from side to side as the laughter is rising to guffaws and howls, knee-slapping and table-pounding and all. Thankfully, most of the common party isn't even paying attention to this side of the table, or can even hear it over the merry-making.

Ehrad continues: "So we tell ya, we'd be in yer corner! Ya seem like a good lot, and yer the first to even deal with us!" He chuckles a bit. "And we're the war-mongerin' savages after all? With you and your gripes and moans about tyrants, but Gods forbid somebody do somethin' about that, that'd make us.." He begins breaking up into laughter himself as one of his buddies pats him on the back. "AS BAD AS THEM! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

After roughly 30 seconds, but not much more, everybody is quieting down and Ehrad speaks calmly, though the first line has a few chuckles to work through. "You're as messed up as the Sunnies." A row of crude tin caricatures of suns with Xs for eyes lines one of his blast-coast's pocket lines. "But a little worse. Ya see the dangers around ya... and ya figure if you mind yer business, they'll leave ya be." He snorts out of one-nostril for maximum disdain. "Maybe we can't change the Gate for th' better, but I doubt yer plan of hiding off to th' side and bein' above it all will be much comfort to ya when one of those tyrants wins. And I guess you've gone and rejected the idea of showing us how ta do it..."

He gets up and chucks his chewing bone under the table, most of the elders rising with him save Rosco, and they begin to file out.

If the Reaches weren't as awful as a circle of hell, I wouldn't even be a commander. I'd be able to go out, explore, and enjoy myself finding new things. Unfortunately, I was born in this hell where everything's already looted out and a bunch of murderous assholes are busying themselves with killing people and stealing their stuff, so they can have a bigger pile of junk to stare at before they go out and kill more people to get more stuff. I have to be a fighter if I want to do anything I'd care to do because this entire god forsaken realm is a murderous shithole and I'll just get killed if I try and be nice about it.

"Ya don't have to be proud ta bear the weight of command, but ta have the capability and ta see it as a burden..." He shakes his head and leaves with the rest.

Rosco shifts his chair over and seems a bit cowed by it all. "Er, look... yer rig'll be good as new in a day or two, an' yer free to stay at my shop. Just stay outta th' tower, right? Rrright."

Argus whispers to Ilex: "You've made a good call, sprout." He looks.. relieved compared to his earlier nervous nellying.

[Doom]

Welp, as Rosco said, it'll be at least a day. Probably two.

The Tower is a rather overbearing edifice but fortunately, Rosco's shack doesn't have windows. Though all of the other houses in the area give a wide berth to The Tower, Rosco has chosen to set up right beside it, citing a need for quick and convenient access. He also seems to somehow be slightly more explosive than all of the others, so the extra space is a welcome relief from his experimenting.

A small coat-rack and hat-rack pair built from sharpened panels of metal greet you as you walk in before the entire place just sprawls out into a single wide-open room with a few support pillars set here and there. The center of the mess is occupied by a colossal hand-made mining shaft decorated with climbing pitons, uneven railings made of more uncomfortably sharp metal bits, lengths of chain for raising or lowering equipment and supplies, and scattered bits of randomly destroyed or abandoned-in-use machines. At the top of the main entrance to the pit are huge hunks of workable metal, Rosco's latest finds as he carves into the mess of the ground below. It seems that the history of the Bladefang is that they traveled until they found a natural planetoid far away enough to begin rough-shod terraforming from. Whatever The Tower was originally a part of, it's not Bladefang.

Ringing the pit is a line of raised metal bits serving as a suspended floor, with a small table with some half-rotted bowls of fruit and meat, some smaller digging devices reserved for mangling food instead of rock, a set of two seven-footer cots and a huge rough-shod sofa that seems to have inherited all of the soft, comfortable material in the home, being the one bit of furniture that a not-Rosco could sit on and not start bleeding. Entertainment abounds as dozens of issues of old Gateway Heralds form a yellowing pile next to the sofa, and if you're lucky, that might be a disembowled Bullette(Land-Shark Monster) smashed into a wedge of comet-flown ice in the corner. A pair of large butcher knives are lodged into it, either for easy access once one feels like prepping the meat... or because they got stuck in the hide.

Opposite the Living Room is the Dock, where Rosco seems to have kicked one of his walls down, built a triple-sized raised platform for his junker ship, and had some extra room off to the side of it to craft explosives and the like. He's already all of the tables against the wall and parked his ship halfway outside so that the broken-down Short Holiday could be towed in and repaired. One of the tables has been pulled closer to the Mine Shaft and seems to have his Portal Device on it, including two piles of notes. It seems to be treated with a reverence and, dare one say, cleanliness that makes it an outcast in the rest of the abode.

This style of design with the open air Ship Dock leaves you subject to the warm, muggy climate of the Bladefang lands. Pleasant dreams.

Rosco: "Gods, that could've gone better, I think. I really thought ya had somethin' more in mind, Ilex. Like... ya know, appeal outside'a'th' usual circles a' corrupt power to some outcasts and really start somethin'. But ya must know better, I reckon too." He saunters in and kicks his boots off in the general direction of the hat-rack at the door, causing it to fall over and nearly gore Argus, who leaps forward with a "YOW!" as it nicks his rear.

Rosco: "Ya can share the cots and the couch, I'll room on my rig. Yer my guests! Commodes out back." Rosco heads over to the pile of newspapers, grabs a winner, and saunters off outside.

Argus immediately slumps onto the couch and begins massaging the back of his head, rolling his shoulders and his eyes as though assailed by dozens of aches at once. "Oh ye Gods, another two days in this backwater."

[Malikial]

Karvan walks back and watches everything a look of anger slowly boiling into his face as every thing goes along and everyone seems to have given up or suddenly began ignoring the massive Dragonborn. He looks around the room as he enters for a bit before Argus flings himself into the chair and speaks before suddenly boiling over into viciously angry, he approaches the man, snarling, "Two days? Two days? You're whining about two gods damned days when there are SMALL CHILDREN who LIVE HERE? You people and your gods damn... comfort. THAT IS WHY YOU DON'T WANT TO HELP THESE ORCS. You have grown too comfortable in your own shallow minded weakness. TO HELL WITH YOU." He roars the last in a voice even angrier than he's ever used before grabbing his pack and slinging it on with his shield and flail, "Do what you want, go, go back to your simple jobs. YOU WILL FIND YOUR COMFORT LACKING WITHOUT ME TO SAVE YOUR LIVES." He exits the shack and slams the door hard. Walking... no STOMPING towards the common area, asking any who will speak with him how he would go about contacting the chief of the Orcs to speak to him.

[Doom]

Ehrad can be found at the Testing Range, which is basically the stretch of ground outlined with the most outrageous warnings in the most gaudy paint. And even then somebody usually screws up and ends up playing "Dodge The Blast Zone."

Rosco and Argus are dumb-founded by your explosion... of anger!

Argus: "I... I'm a bit worried, Ilex. How far along are you with the debt and all?"

[Malikial]

Karvan finds Ehrad without blowing himself up and walks up to him, growling, "My boss is an idiot. I pledge my services to your tribe, I believe without doing SOMETHING to shape Gateway into something a bit less shit we will all end up regretful and without meaning to our lives. I know that I'm only one Dragonborn and I know that, while I have some fame and a bit of fortune you need more than just me. I'm going to travel back to Gateway and attempt to acquire assistance from people, friends and contacts I have. I need to know if there is a secure manner in which I can contact you when I am set up to actually hold up the end of the bargain you wished Ilex to, trade routes, assistance, allies. I know people, I can do what needs to be done to assist you fellows. I'm sorry that this will probably mean a dissolving of my contract with Holsten Holdings... but I don't really wish to continue working with a group of people who don't have anything resembling actual conviction in their actions." Karvan strides to Erhad's side and holds out his hand, "I accept your proposition, I know it's not happening as you wished or with the speed you wished, It will take me some time, 2-3 weeks at the minimum to get things in order."

[Doom]

Ehrad is enjoying the pleasures of the range same as any other Orc of the Bladefang might. He's got a keg of local best, some dirty mugs and two bags of dozens of hastily crafted, low-quality exploding hammers. No sense in making them top-of-the-line if they're expendable. Karvan makes his impassioned plea just as Ehrad casts a hammer that he has lit at the first fuse(at the head)... he throws it in a wide line from the side and when the fuse finishes and blows, this causes the hammer to change from the slow-ball curve to a sudden straight line, flying at a new 90 degree angel. It smashes into the head of a set-up scrap metal dummy.

Prepping two mugs, he gets two drinks ready and offers Karvan one, then shakes his empty hand with his own empty hand. "Speed is for Humans. I'm pleased ta live ta see some sense from someone in th' Gate. But tell me, does this mean yer splittin' from Holsten?" He takes a chug and shakes his head coming down. "She is strong, but I suppose the papers are right, she's about as sensible as a 'lisk. Strength in the arm alone can not do all things."

Ehrad will discuss the specifics of your idea, Karvan, particularly as he wants to know "the people you know" and what you plan to do in "2-3 weeks." He suggests that so long as you can ride with a Bladefang caravan ship or purchase the services of a third-party hauler, all you need to do is find a buyer in Gateway for quality explosives and a new, unique brand of weaponry.

Inviting you to get stinking drunk with him, Ehrad also shows you how Bladefang fighting works. In the case of his throwing hammers, you light at the head to cause the hammer to chance trajectory in mid-air or you light at the hilt to cause it to accelerate wildly for impact or distance. He also explains this means that you need to develop knowledge of how fast you cause the hammer to rotate when you throw it(too fast or slow on a Head Fuse and it goes the opposite direction intended) and a fine discipline for setting your fuses, as a fuse that goes off a second early or late hits something ahead or behind the intended target. He has extra lighters, plenty of hammers and booze, so you're free to try them out!

At the end of the bonding, Ehrad shakes your hand again and speaks a bit drunkenly, but can clearly hold his own with a buzz. "Now.. Karvan, lissen. Last thing."

"If we're gonna work togetha, ya gotta know what runs the Bladefang. It ain't me, it ain't sum other git, and it ain't whoever shouts the loudest or hits the hardest. The Bladefang are concerned with th' survival of the Bladefang. It's only fair... but that means, I ain't really completely in charge a' this trade agreement. I could make the call on anythin' else, but this is goin' back ta Gateway."

"If ya walk to the top of th' tower, you can talk to the Greatest of the last generation... AND this one! Novna is Boss, and she'll wanna hear what ya just told me. Just... don't do it like a Holsten, alright? Yer a good guy."

[Niku]

Tikka is not especially accustomed to disappointment, largely because such disappointment requires expectations.  She has not had much expectation for anyone since she served in the household of the Tousk, but some part of her naively felt a twinge of hope that perhaps those who woke her again may have been worth looking up to.  It wouldn't be the first time she misread a situation.  Feeling caught between two sides, there is only one apparent path, and that is to fall back on the third, the side of oneself.  Tikka has little stake in debts or the lives of young orcs, but she has much at stake when it comes to history, knowledge, and .. well, precious metals.  She spends her first minutes and hours at Rosco's examining the various hunks of metal that he has most recently excavated, and (at least as much as she is allowed), studying his equipment, tugging on chains to bring things up and drop them back down, and generally being three years old when it comes to self control about keeping her hands on or off possibly important things.  She also, when Rosco is not peering (as while people do tend to be sensitive about written information, they tend to be less so when they are not aware that you have stored it in your mind without letting them in on that fact), reads the top most pages of the curiously tidy notes during her study of the equipment around the mining shaft.

Given that she was faced with explosive mining picks upon their arrival, it seems prudent to learn as many of the techniques and expectations the Bladefangs have for dismantling and mutilating rocks and metals as soon as quickly as possible -- just for safe self keeping.  But once she has had her fill of examining the murder instruments of quite lovely serial killers (and she thought that in the nicest possible way, truly!), Tikka stops her potential bothering of Rosco through rearranging of his things in favor of bothering him in a far more direct way.

"I'd like to examine the tower besides your shop, if I may.  Inside, as well as out."

Rosco's assertion that they stay out of the tower may or may not have been like telling Tikka not to press a button.  Given its apparent mismatched history with the planetoid on which it sits, well, frankly she isn't aware of anyone who wouldn't be curious about it.  Making it forbidden may as well have just been festooning it with holiday lighting to boot.

[Malikial]

Karvan will do all the things with Ehrad and be nice and open the whole time! He will explain that he knows various other underworldy contacts due to pit fighting, but will note that he knows Latir and others who might have some NOT JACKASS contacts. He will note that it will take 2-3 weeks to get some things set up! Then Karvan prepares to meet Novna, he will disarm himself and dress nicely in neat clean clothing and go completely unarmed and act politely!

[Doom]

Karvan: On your way back, you're intercepted by Wren and his Daughter, who has managed to find her name back at her house. Ida eagerly takes your hand and chatters excitedly in Orcish, then shifts to broken Common. "Come, Champ! You stay... us!" She gestures towards their house, which you've just passed by. Assuming you're too busy and are heading to the Tower anyways, Wren echo's Ehrad's warning and assures you that whatever happens between you and Holsten, you've got a bed at his place. As his wife(Gretch! HAH!) leads Ida away, she asks: "Karvan, would you like me to patch up your armor? It looks a bit ragged, and I know you appreciate Bladefang technique!" Since you're changing outfits, she could work on it while you visit the tower!

Tikka: Rosco watches Tikka with about as much dedication as a man would watch a three year old, though it's more with continuing astonishment at how metal can move with such grace and life! Fortunately, he seems to be about as mentally disciplined as a five year old, so he gets distracted a lot.

The notes are very in-depth, so the top-most pages just give you two insights. First off is Rosco's notes, which are the workings of the Portal Device, the over-all theory of Techmagiturgical Rift Sundering, and crude trial-and-error one-at-a-time results of investigating rifts. As per the endeavors of the entire Academy populace since the founding of Gateway, it seems all man-made rifts lead to unnatural realms, unlivable places for the elements, literal Hells and other blatant death-traps. So much for a quick leap to the Material.

The second set is written in larger text than Rosco's, who seems to have left behind his usual slobs behavior when it comes to scientific research. These notes are well-organized as well, the writing is just cruder for some reason. Credited to a Novna Bladefang, they are supplementary theory and suggestions for predicting and using the Portal Device to establish reliable short-cut points. Quick-jumps to the Elemental Plane of Fire, the Clockwork of Mechanus, the Nine Hells(First Layer + Identified "Safe Zone" outside of the City), and an inert layer of the Chaotic Abyss(of which there are infinite layers and the majority are home to Demons) are correctly tested and reported, matching the emerging theory.

The theory ends at the suggestion that with use of a sufficiently anchored magical artifact, it is possible to produce a rift to a new realm. The only artifact known is referenced from 80 years ago(or possibly less, detail are hazy), shortly after the Orcs rebelled and cleared from Gateway. It refers to a Gemerald Butterfly with possible connections to Fey energies.

Argus generally watches Tikka move about and seems confused, then eventually follows his gut(and his nose) and decides to start cleaning up that Bullete, removing the cleavers with ease and beginning to cut flanks with clear experience. He seems deeply concerned about Ilex, but seeing as she's not replying to anything(:V) is content to prepare the flanks and eventually start a fire. As he kneels down and works to rub sticks together in Rosco's firepit, Rosco heads over and offers him one of the Bladefang's crude lighters, just as Tikka inquires about the tower. Rosco accidentally lights Argus' shirt on fire and Argus runs about in circles, yelling loudly!

Rosco: "No way! Nuh uh! Nothin' doin'! You can't get up there, it's off-limits to ya!"

Argus rams his burning shoulder and shirt-sleeve into the block of ice the Bullete carcass was embedded in and eventually through the magic of heat melting ice, gets enough water on to put out the fire. He stomps over, looking aggravated, and scowls deeply at Tikka. "Now see here, you half-forged Warforged, the lizard already took off, you're not going too! Shouldn't you be helping Ilex?!'

Coincidentally, Karvan passes by everybody's field of vision and strides straight up to the front of the tower. There is a single set of closed doors and a simple wooden sign nailed to the top of it. "Do Not Disturb." In Common, even! How quaint!

[Niku]

Tikka does not spend very much time, all told, contemplating what she has read in the notes.  But this does not mean that she isn't very, very interested!  True, the chances of absconding to a plane where everything seems absolutely correct rather than being interesting or curious or disappointing or potentially mortal and simply being as she no doubt once was or was created to be should not be scoffed at.  But Tikka has a very long time to contemplate contentment, and besides, it becomes clear very quickly that (at least in the estimation of Rosco and "Novna") that the research in front of her would not allow her to reach such an enlightened plane in any case.  And curiosity and disappointment and interest are all things which she is still actively researching herself, so she would be remiss to ascend without learning all that she could first!  But while she merely glances over the notes, she does file them away mentally, as good as writing them in stone.  There will be time later to unpack, and perhaps even measure up the findings against others or her own potential thoughts on how to find a place more correct than Gateway.

She would quite like to see a Gemerald Butterfly, though.  She cannot help but fancy that they may have been able to have an interesting conversation, should she meet, and that its resonations and multi-facets would certainly make for a song that creatures of flesh might quite enjoy!

She is only momentarily distracted by Argus' yelping once she goes to speak with Rosco, though she unfortunately is in a poor spot to sympathize what it must feel like to be on fire.  Not much of Tikka is flammable, after all.  So, after a brief tilt of her head to regard his antics, she immediately turns back to Rosco.  Don't think her cruel!  After all, she didn't laugh or anything!

"I do not understand.  Is it a matter of societal rules, or a matter of practical rules?  Will I need a ladder, or perhaps equipment with which to climb?  Perhaps you or you and some of yours would be sufficient to lift and throw me to any levels I was unable to reach?  Although then we may be at a bit of an impasse should their be further levels, I'd suppose."  The hands of her eyes spin briefly while she considers the logistics.  She has never scaled a tower before!  Exciting!  "Of course, if it is simply societal rules, that is much simpler.  I would not wish to be an imposition after you have shown me such hospitality, but not being of your society, I am not sure how I could do any harm with simple examinations.  For example," she says, turning one hand over to point at Argus without actually looking at him.

"The societal rules and obligations of the Holsten household seem to hold me in the regard that I have chosen to accompany Ilex and Argus Holsten on their journey here, and so I should be indebted to them.  And while I am very thankful for this opportunity, I daresay that my debt is one of much smaller import than the one that Ms. Holsten finds herself in, and she has shrugged off her duties to said debt with great vigor.  As my debt to them is a smaller one, it is with smaller amounts of vigor that I tell Mr. Holsten," and Tikka turns her head, her lips ticking upward in an approximation of a smile, "I am neither contracted nor related to Ilex, and so I have no such societal rules obligating me to help her.  As a friend, if I may call myself such, I would quite like to help, but I would also consider the Dragonborn an equally hastily-made friend of mine already.  And as the both of them have proven to cast aside the societal rules of decorum and helping one another and left me at a great impasse, so to will I cast off any societal rules of being a gracious passenger and instead enjoy the remainder of the two days until our departure any way that I see fit, for myself, by myself if need be.  If that is alright with you, sir."  What, everyone's allowed a tantrum except Tikka?  Fleshthings are confounding enough when they're NOT inadvertantly or blatantly trying to make her choose sides!

Oh!  Gears click and spin as she snaps her head back toward Rosco.

"Will I be impounded, arrested, detained, or otherwise destroyed should I attempt entry into the tower?  As I said, I do not wish to be an imposition or an offense, but I'm afraid my interest in the edifice is currently outweighing my desire to be a perfect guest, as I do believe any impositions that I make will still be overlooked with sufficient apologizing should I be caught."

If Tikka was actually a three year old, perhaps one with a sparkly tutu and little blonde curls, she might well have been designated a weapon of mass destruction with manipulative logic like that.  Luckily for everyone else, she doesn't have puppy dog eyes.

Yet.

[R^2]

(Puppy Eyes is a Fey Corgi racial ability, so that's just creepy as hell Niku.)

[Malikial]

Karvan smiles and nods and takes his stuff to Wren's house and places it where he is allowed. He hrrms and tells Wren's wife, "I don't have a problem with you looking to my armor, weapons or equipment, use it however you like and make sure to return as much of it as possible... but please, do not do anything to damage or tarnish my shield." He places all of his stuff rather neatly in a pile but puts his shield away from everything else, he covers it's fine bladed and mirrored surface with a thick leather cloth that is durable on the outside and soft on the inside to keep it from being damaged. Karvan dresses in his neatest clothing, just trousers, a nice shirt and boots. Washes his hands and face and presents himself at the door. He sees the Do Not Disturb sign and shrugs, he enters rather cautiously, moving forward slowly but confidently, everything about his gait seems sure despite his not knowing what to expect.