Spawn of the Outworlder

Chapter 12-The More It Will Spin, The More That I Try

"Believe me, ser, yer gonna thank me for this one. A Sparkton Classic."

The villager Ezra attached an odd piece of armor along Graham's right arm. The piece hung on his arm like a sleeve with a glove on his right arm, each of the fingertips with a blue bump atop it. At the shoulder end of the armor was an angular joint, resembling a hook, that jutted outwards. From the joint hung a piece of what appeared to be cloth, yet clearly was not. The armor carried the cold touch traditionally carried by iron, yet the piece itself was weightless, hanging off of Graham's shoulder like any common capelet. Even as he ran his hand through it, the material acted as fabric, but felt cold as ice.

The two were joined by Luna, sitting in a chair offered by the ser Hosea once they'd entered his home and Hosea himself, waiting against the wall of the home. The wooden room was rather large, although bare of many decorations or mementos, a lone dinner table in the center of the room. A chimney roared along the rightside wall of the room, center to the wall, casting light upon them. The room carried the faintests smells of baking bread and cooked spices. From the next room, Graham heard the sounds of clanging pots and silverware. Suppose that'd be Mrs. Goldbeam. We've yet to be introduced.

Once the excitement of the moment wore off and the crowd felt a sense of security, most left to see the extent of the damage the Drake's quaking had caused. At the advice of Hosea, the two were given housing by Doc Sparkton in his local inn and were even allowed a quick nap. Upon waking up, the two were met with Sparkton's son, Ezra, who insisted on giving Graham a tool of his for defense. The man even followed the two to the Goldbeam's home and walked in with them. Hosea didn't seem to oppose this, but Graham took note of the sour look upon his face as Ezra continued with his explanation.

"After my pops retired," continued Ezra, "he took me outta the mines and got me into the weapon smithin' business. Figured it'd be more reliable than wasting away with a pickaxe. World always needs weapons, right? Wrong. Ain't much use for swords and shields during peacetime. Doubly so when the Empire's got that livin' metal a' theirs takin' over everythin'."

"Ferrum, Ezra," growled Hosea, seemingly losing patience with the man.

"Fuck 'em is what I say. Apologies, miss," Ezra said, turning to offer a quick nod to Luna, who showed no acknowledgement of the comment.

"Well, I figured, if I can't beat 'em on convenience, maybe I can beat 'em on quality. So I started workin' on creatin' tools that would better serve the needs of adventurers like yerself. Most were...lackluster, but then I came up with this bad boy." Ezra placed a hand along the cloth armor, picking it up and holding it high for each to see.

"See, I noticed you fight two handed, ser. I'm sure you're a great fighter, but I figured you shouldn't be goin' up against the Drake with no shield. So I went and dug up this baby. Call it the Foldaway Shield. You know 'bout chain mail? Iron rings meshed together? Same basic idea, only make the rings smaller and pack 'em tighter, like fabric."

He then picked up Graham's arm and gestured to the bumps atop the fingertips. "Now on its own, the shield is more like armor, but you just place all five of these tips on the iron and–"

The blue bumps lit up upon contacting the fabric, a spark of electricity briefly flowing through them. The armor came to life, a ching! sound coming from the shoulder as the piece removed itself from the attached joint and spread out before Graham's arm, the armor taking a concave hexagonal shape.

"And you got yerself a Foldaway Shield. Stop just about anythin' short of a omnicannon. Sucker'll do you more 'an fine against the Drake's fire."

Graham moved his arm and watched as the shield followed his movements, a slight blur of blue as it moved. This is incredible, he thought. I know it's a tool, but it feels like magick.