Dogcatchers of Khador

Bastian's Journal #3

From the journal of Bastian Ironhand…

After finishing that blasting pike for Anastasia, she cut me a deal for her uncle’s workshop. I got her to throw in a couple of her boys to help me haul the goods back to Tavik’s, and I spent many an hour shuffling things around to my liking. Now I’ve got me a serious mechanik’s shop, I have. My work was cut short, however, as duty called. A job turned up about some Gobber thief called the Pack Rat. He aimed to rob some rich fellow of a priceless jewel, and we got hired to stop him. Gashunk and me took on the front door and the big ogrun who came through it. Man, was he quick! I’m glad Gashunk was there, or I might not be writing this now. I got in a good shot on the assassin, but it was my big green friend who took him down for good. The others got hold of the Pack Rat, and all valuables were recovered – however, the mysterious L.R. seems to have swapped a fake jewel for the real one sometime previously. The real one is supposed to be some kind of rare arcane accumulator, holding properties similar to that of a storm chamber (which I seriously doubt), but the fake, while a good replica, projected L.R.‘s initials when held in the right light. We can thank Rowan for finding that tidbit. I did Makarov a favor and got her sword back from where the rich man’s turncoat butler had sold it and met a fellow Cygnaran in the process. I don’t know what drove me to do it. The sword seemed important to her. Maybe I felt like she’d been through enough for one day, and a little kindness couldn’t hurt. I hope she doesn’t expect us to be friends all of a sudden.

I’ve barely seen the sun for days, but I’ve done it! With the help of Gizmo, my new apprentice, I’ve created my first storm chamber. The boy’s bright as they come, but he’s a bit excitable. I have to keep him on track, or he forgets his mind and tinkers with whatever’s in front of him. The storm chamber is the first piece of my warcaster armor. The set I had back in Cygnar was mostly destroyed in that final battle. Besides, the military kept the remaining bits to reuse them for someone else, no doubt. No matter – I want to try something different. We find ourselves so often in city streets, and belching coal smoke isn’t the most subtle thing for armor to do. My storm chamber might not be as powerful as an arcane turbine, but it’ll do the job.

I have the boy working on fabricating the breastplate for my armor. He’s doing a fair job with it, though I have to step in to keep him on task and guide him through the complicated bits. Meanwhile, I’m making good on my promise to Rowan. His new mechanikal masterpiece is nearly complete. Just gotta finish inscribing the rune plate, but Morrow my hand always cramps up working on those things. Someday I’ll have teach the boy to work runes so I can pass that off onto him. Morrow, Menoth, and the Maiden, I am not looking forward to inscribing the plates on my own armor (five weeks of tiny scribbling!). Beware, all you who might disturb me then, for I shall be grumpy as a dead man removed from the grave!



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