NEVER SPLIT THE PARTY: The Adventures of the Creeping Bam (BOOK 1: The Job)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: ART

It's an impressive piece of craftsmanship, I have to admit. I don't really like heavy armour myself, my leather gear's always served me well enough for my own craft, but I can still admire beautiful handiwork when I see it. It's almost as much of a privilege just to look at it as having Kesla actually ask me to help her put it on, even if she does have to guide me through the process for more than one part of it.

I've heard about her father's suit of lamellar armour, she described how spectacular he looked on the few occasions she saw him wearing it, not least the last time they were together, and seeing it now, I can believe her. Certainly it looks immensely impressive on her, having apparently been refitted during its repair at Merphin's in order to fit her comparatively diminutive frame, in fact it's a genuine thing of beauty. It's almost a shame to wear it into battle.

When she first dug it out of the duffel bag Garnon delivered earlier, I asked her flat out how the hell she actually managed to get hold of it in the first place, if she'd had to abandon her father's body all those years ago. Her answer was just the kind of cryptic dodge I would've expected. "Wasn't easy."

When the last piece is strapped in place and everything is fitted and adjusted just right, I step back and give Kesla some room to test it out. She tries a few stretches first, bending one way and another, testing her reach and mobility in the heavy gear, and to my watchful eye I don't see any real difference. Then she takes a few steps, moving around our little clearing while exercising a few different actions, first walking, then jogging, then trying a few squats and jumping up and down a few times. Finally she shakes everything out one last time, letting a deep breath go, and the big, goofy grin she's wearing is one I don't see too often.

"That good, is it?"

"It's been a while since I've worn this much armour, but I gotta admit, Janna's got a gift. This wears better than I ever could have hoped." She raises her hands, working her fingers in the gauntlets in front of her face, and her smile grows even broader, which I wouldn't have thought was possible. "I mean I can definitely tell I'm wearing armour, ain't exactly light, but it don't feel anything like the kinda weight I expected." She turns to me. "What d'you think?"

"You look bloody fantastic, but y'know me. I don't go in for all that heavy shit. I like something that's good for sneakin'." I pass her Hefdred, and she sets about strapping the sword-belt around her waist. "That ain't exactly quiet."

"Maybe not." Kesla draws the bastard sword and immediately holds it out in front of her, testing her flex by taking up a two-handed grip. "But then I'm not a very sneaky person, am I?"

Backing up to give her room to try a few practice swings with her sword, I give a noncommittal shrug. "I dunno, I seen you pull off your fair share of sneakiness in my time. You ain't Thieves Guild material, but you do got a knack. That is not conducive, though."

It's true, the armour may look incredible, but it's certainly noisy. It clatters about a bit, and even if it is still quieter than most full-plate I've encountered it definitely ain't built for stealth. People would definitely hear her coming.

Similarly, it's not exactly subtle. This ain't the first armour I seen Kesla wear, she's always believed in being prepared, so until now she's used a set of armour which was, to be generous, pretty piecemeal. A mixture of leather and mail with some pieces of proper steel plate applied to the most vital places, definitely function over form, enough to serve in a heavy fight but still a stretch from top-notch. Her father's armour is a major step up in quality, but it's also pretty eye-catching.

The main body of the suit is a very impressive cuirass made of small but sturdy lame plates that has some give but is clearly tough in spite of it, with overlapping strips of lames forming substantial faulds and culet protecting her from the waist down. More of these strips form substantial pauldrons over her shoulders and upper arms for strong protective without cutting down on her movement, with solid pieces flaring up on either side of her collarbone to deflect strikes to her neck. More articulated pieces have been strapped over her shins, knees, wrists and elbows to form greaves and vambraces, while more flexible patches of lame-mail protect what's left. Her articulated sabatons and gauntlets look formidable but are built to offer easy mobility, although they're also going to be the biggest culprits when it comes to making noise.