Private Tales More then Steel

[Sledge]

Ah yeah. The helm argument. Sound, sure, if you planned on getting hit in the head. Sledge used to wear a helm, for a time back in Blair Company. Didn't much care for it. The dulling of her hearing, the extra weight on her head, the additional heat, the pesky and persistent edges of the helm in her peripheral vision. Didn't much care for it at all. So she found a different way of fighting, liked it, stuck with it.

"Yeah, I should have just ran when I had the chance. Heh, I would've traded ten helms for a half-decent sword, though. Fucking Unhold."

She didn't wince or grimace this time during his next application of salve. The stinging had mostly gone away the first go-round.

Eh. What Karl said next was disappointing. Bounty hunters, mercenaries, freelancers of all descriptions, they all solved a particular kind of problem. When those problems didn't exist, or were handily 'stabbed' by militant locals like the Strojlanders, well, that just left the market for mean bitches awfully thin, didn't it? A bit fucked up, that for her to thrive others needed to be having a more or less rough go of life, but that was really how life in general worked. Trade. Look at trade. Hey, we can't grow wheat here, trade ya these swords? Shit like that. Only difference was, Sledge and other freelancers dealt with problems that were far more exciting and immediate.

And problems which, apparently, Strojland lacked.

But. He did say 'you never know'.

"Huh. Your brother. What's his name? Maybe he's got something for me and neither of us know it yet."

 

[Karl von Stehlen]

"I would have taken the ten helms..." Karl snorted, as he lifted his hands off her cheek. Seemed like the mix had worked...although, she still needed a lot more proper medical attention. "...would have sold the nine...then brought myself a decent sword...perhaps even a shield."

This perhaps revealed a bit about Karl's own combat philosophy: The knight seemed more of a frontliner...a shield of sorts, whom absorbed the damage sent his way and advance forward, knocking down whoever stood in his path. It was, after all, how he earned his title.

"There is no harm in making a tactical withdraw...there is no honor in a careless death...or rather, there is no point in honor after death...at least, not in a death that could have been easily prevented." Perhaps Karl didn't believe in that fully. There was such thing as a heroic death, a last charge or stand against the enemy, especially to hold them back just so loved ones and allies could make that tactical withdraw...preferably to a better position where they could hammer out a victory. Funny too...an "honorable" death in Karl's mind really meant a defensive one...made sense...after all, there was no higher honor then to protect one's family and people.

"Now as for my brother...his name is Otto...I'm told he and I share a rather...specific, facial expression...if that helps in any way..." Karl grunted, moving over to the kit, grabbing a towel and wiping his hands of the mix. "...he's usually in his office, although he does have a busy schedule...but I'm sure if you catch him in his office, he might have five minutes for you..."​

 

[Sledge]

Well shit. Talking all these hypotheticals, might as well conjure up enough helms to trade for a ludicrously long flaming sword that'd cut the damn Unhold in half well before it could get into arm's reach. Yeah. Even more reason to ditch the stuffy helm.

Ah. But it didn't work out like that, did it. She'd dodged the lumbering beast's strikes for a good while and got knackered and caught some nasty blows and some fangs to the face. That happened. The stubborn spiral. It would really fuck her up one day.

"Yeah. Tactical withdraw. Great idea. But I was too busy being an obstinate bitch to do that." A tight smile and a shrug she held for a moment. "One of my flaws. I'm well aware. I've been told enough times, that's for damn sure."

Sledge placed the bottle of salve down on the bed and took hold of her silk shirt about the opening for the neck and lifted it and took it off entirely and set it down beside her on the bed and grabbed the bottle of salve once more. She looked down and regarded the bruise between her breasts, making a face when she saw it. Auch. The one on her back must have been just like this one, only bigger; both ugly to look at. The strength of the beast to inflict such a wound through armor. Damn. Lucky Karl showed up when he did.

She dipped two of her fingers into the bottle and extracted some salve and gently began to rub it into the bruise. A slight clenching of her teeth and tensing of her body. Wasn't as bad as the gashes on her face, but still.

Sledge looked up and to Karl. "Otto, huh. And. Yeah. That helps. I know what you're talking about. Only difference between you and a rock is that I think I've seen a rock smile before."

A moment.

And she grinned. "Take that as a compliment, Karl."

She applied more salve.

"So...where's his office? In here? Somewhere else? Well. I wouldn't know my way around if it was somewhere else. Unless you're really good at giving directions."