Barcus Wroot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lost_and_foundry) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
morphicpools2024-12-11 07:42 pm
lost_and_foundry) wrote in morphicpools2024-12-11 07:42 pm
for Ashton
The months after the defeat of the Absolute have been nothing short of a whirlwind for Barcus and his Ironhands. Alliances have been formed and strengthened, with the Gondians. They've committed to volunteer work repairing the city's ruined infrastructure, in order to seal their reacceptance into Baldur's Gate. After that, a stream of requests for work from both Upper and Lower City citizenry began to fill their days, and their coffers. The Ironhand-Gondian alliance is still an upstart laborer's guild, but it's already a powerful one.
Fortunately, at this point, most of the hard diplomatic work is complete, and Barcus can unclench a little, take time for his own pet projects, and at long last send a letter home. For years, he's intended to bring his youngest brother to Baldur's Gate as an apprentice, and the timing is right now. What's not right is the fact that the roads all up and down the Sword Coast are still teeming with danger. Even some Mindflayers may have survived, free of the Netherbrain, to find their own way.
He can't go alone, but at the same time, he can't drag his fellow gnomes away from their work. Even if he could, very few are fighters. The only solution is to hire, and so he makes a few discreet inquiries around town.
The upshot of all of it is a meeting in the Elfsong in the early evening. Barcus is waiting at a table, with a mug of ale neglected by his elbow, as he scribbles notes in the margins of a ledger. At this point in his career, he could be wandering around in clothing as ostentatious as Lord Gortash's was, but that sort of thing is no good for working at the forge, and so he cuts a rather unassuming figure, in a brown wool tunic, a plain doublet, and a knit scarf that's a little too long for his small frame. He also has reading glasses, but he must have forgotten they exist, because they're perched on his forehead, rather than over his eyes.
Fortunately, at this point, most of the hard diplomatic work is complete, and Barcus can unclench a little, take time for his own pet projects, and at long last send a letter home. For years, he's intended to bring his youngest brother to Baldur's Gate as an apprentice, and the timing is right now. What's not right is the fact that the roads all up and down the Sword Coast are still teeming with danger. Even some Mindflayers may have survived, free of the Netherbrain, to find their own way.
He can't go alone, but at the same time, he can't drag his fellow gnomes away from their work. Even if he could, very few are fighters. The only solution is to hire, and so he makes a few discreet inquiries around town.
The upshot of all of it is a meeting in the Elfsong in the early evening. Barcus is waiting at a table, with a mug of ale neglected by his elbow, as he scribbles notes in the margins of a ledger. At this point in his career, he could be wandering around in clothing as ostentatious as Lord Gortash's was, but that sort of thing is no good for working at the forge, and so he cuts a rather unassuming figure, in a brown wool tunic, a plain doublet, and a knit scarf that's a little too long for his small frame. He also has reading glasses, but he must have forgotten they exist, because they're perched on his forehead, rather than over his eyes.
WOOPS finally got to this
The person who had told Ashton about the job had mentioned it was for the Ironhands, so at the very least Ashton knew to look for a gnome...which isn't exactly helpful but he manages to wander up to the first person he sees that fits the vague description and leans on the table clearing their throat.
"Barcus Wroot?" They point at Barcus a moment with one green hand, wait for a response, before dropping into a seat across from the other. "Ashton Greymoore, I believe you were looking for someone who can fight?"
no rush!
Despite having been trying to pay attention to new arrivals in the tavern, Barcus is caught by surprise when addressed, and he looks up from his work with a dazed blink. "Ye--oh! Hello." Hello indeed! He's met very few genasi, and none that looked like this. The sheen of stone and crystal is a notable first impression.
There's a pause of half a second while he pushes the thought of well that's pretty! to the back of his head, and then he turns and gestures at one of the servers with an apologetic smile before looking back at Ashton. "Half a moment, let me just finish my sentence; order whatever you like, I'll put it on my tab."
That's business, after all! And he bends back over his book, scribbling faster now to get his thought out before it starts being super rude to not be talking to the person at his table. Ashton will get the chance to order a drink as the server breezes by, and when that's done with, the gnome sets his quill down, blows on the ink to dry it, and closes the ledger. "Sorry. If I don't write it down, I'll never remember to do it."
He rises up to lean across the table and offer a handshake. "Yes, I'm Barcus. Ashton, you said?" The man certainly looks the part of a fighter. "I'm, ah, about to undertake a journey westward and the roads are a mess. I need someone who can handle the wilds and the Underdark."
What he doesn't say is he has to be able to trust his companion to a level he's never trusted anyone before. This is him going home, and he can't risk giving the location away to anyone who might use it badly. A genasi is a good start, though. Probably not someone interested in allying with duergar slavers or Lolth-sworn drow.
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"Ooo, tempting." He jokes, ordering just a nice ale and some bread before sitting patiently waiting across from Barcus. When the food and drink finally gets there, Ashton tears at the bread and takes a long drag from his tankard.
"I get it...might be better for you if you actually used the glasses." They smirked, pointing at the rims sitting on Barcus' head. "And yeah, Ashton or Ash is fine. Westward...any place in particular or is this a take you out there and bring you back sort of thing?"
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Finally, he's ready to talk, though, and immediately embarrassed to be told where his glasses are. He pats his head, retrieving them, and sighs. "Would you believe they're more of a hindrance? They seem to focus the light and my eyes can't take it. I need to get them re-made in tinted glass."
He folds them up and tucks them in a pocket, leaning back in his seat with his ale clasped loosely in one hand. His gaze is appraising now, focused mainly on Ashton's eyes, the way he speaks. Trying to get a feel for what sort of person he's dealing with. "I'm going back to my village in the Underdark. My youngest brother is ready for an apprenticeship, and he wants to come live with me, but the roads are far too dangerous for him to travel alone. They're too dangerous for me to travel alone, too."
"But the additional complication is that my village is...secretive. I can't travel with a caravan, and I need to be able to trust my guide not just with my life, but with my entire family's lives and livelihoods, and I'm aware that's a big ask."
Money is no object here, is the thing. But Barcus is canny enough to know if you advertise a job with that particular phraseology, you scare off the people who'd do something for the sake of goodness and invite the people who're just in it for gold. Which is why the word has gone around that it's more or less salary commensurate with ability.
"You would get only general directions at first, towards the Underdark and then towards the neighborhood of my village, but presumably after a few weeks walking through the wilderness with me you'd either have earned my trust or left me dead in a ditch somewhere, so--ah. That sounded harsh, I didn't mean you personally."
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"Underdark's dangerous, I'm gonna guess you know of a path down?" Stuffing a bit of bread into their mouth them chew before washing it down with more ale. "Not gonna expect you t'trust me so soon but I'm pretty good at keeping secrets so there's that, and don't worry about it. I get what you mean. Alotta people are assholes and only in it for the money or for some other stupid reason. Don't get me wrong, I'm here for the money but also just because I'm not great at sitting still."
Too much chaotic energy, it's hard to sit still some times.
"I'll trust your word for it, but the minute shit turns sideways and I think you might be trying to trick me...it's off. And if you decide you don' trust me you have every right to call off the job." He amends at the end. "I'd just ask for at least half of whatever the pay is. Basically don't fuck me over and I won't fuck you over."
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Underdark's dangerous almost makes him laugh. Truer words were never spoken. He sighs and smiles wryly. "I know several, but I think the safest and most direct road will be through Reithwin Town. An old friend has taken up residence in the surrounding lands, so once we get there, we should have a chance to rest and catch our breath before going underground."
Leaning back, he picks up his quill again, not to write but to twirl it idly in his fingers. Speaking of chaotic energy--or maybe just anxiety, in Barcus' case. "I am very comfortable financially, at the moment," he says. "Half pay up front and half upon returning to the Gate is more or less what I expected to offer. And whatever provisions we need--" he waves a hand as if to say it's not an issue.
"Though, obviously I intend to travel as lightly as possible." There's a pause then, another twirl of the pen. "There is one additional complication which you should know about up front. I have a..."
He trails off, as if searching for words. Even now, this is painful. "He was a dear friend once, but he's since sworn to murder me, and I'm inclined to believe he means it. There has been one half-hearted attempt within the city, a few weeks ago, but he chose his hirelings poorly. I don't know if he's watching me closely enough to follow me to the Underdark."
"If you're even half as strong as you look, he's no match for you physically, but he's clever and absolutely the most bloody-minded little--" He breaks off with a quiet noise of pained frustration. "Anyway. It may or may not be an issue but I am trying to be straightforward."
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The genasi shrugged.
"Hey man, I appreciate it. We'll keep an eye out and I'll do my job. Also so you know, I may be a sword for hire but once you hire me I'm loyal to the person I work for. So unless you try to screw me over, no amount of gold is gonna get me to turn against you. Unless I find out your secretly some like really fucked up guy." There's a glance over Barcus before Ashton has to chuckle to himself with a muttered 'not likely though'.
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"We grew up together in the Underdark, but when we went our separate ways, he...honestly, I'm not sure what happened to him. He was always a fiery sort, a true believer, mostly in himself." And Barcus, who still struggles a bit with confidence in everything except his work, loved that about him. "Which was fine until he wanted the Ironhands to murder all of the Gondians in cold blood on the steps of the Foundry. He was their leader before me, you see. Luckily the rest of them had more sense, and mercy, than he does."
"They followed me instead, I exiled him and told him to leave the city, and I'm not sure now if he's fixated on vengeance or reclaiming his power, but either way..." He shrugs helplessly.
He smiles faintly. "Yes, it's best practices to keep one's employer alive, I assume." The bit about loyalty, though? That's a surprise, and while it would be easy enough for someone to make that claim and then still turn on a dime, he doesn't think that's the case here.
Barcus looks down at himself, his simple clothes, inkstained fingers, neglected reading glasses, and has the grace to laugh. "I'm afraid I'm more or less exactly as I present myself here. Built for a workshop, or maybe a library, not a battlefield."
Philomeen will yell at him for not checking references, but: "I think we'll do well enough together, you and I. If you want the job, it's yours. Ah, and..." He scribbles a number on a sliver of paper and nudges it across the table to them. It's...generous. "Half up front. I don't wander around with that much gold on me, but if you come to the guild headquarters tomorrow I can give you an advance so you can collect whatever supplies you want before we go."
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"Okay, so there is someone who has it out for you because he's butt hurt that people like you more. Got it. And he's pretty bloodthirsty but the sounds of it. Noted."
Yeah Ashton doesn't really think Barcus will be a problem for him, the guy seems upstanding enough and even if he wasn't it's not like Ashton could really judge all that much.
"Probably a good idea in a city this big, never know who could be wanting to cut your purse strings." Shrugging they finish their ale before continuing. "Works for me. I'll swing by and we can get set up to head out. You said you wanted to travel light, right? I have something that can help with that."