Brandt, as you reach the indicated dock, you can see a large warehouse with a handmade sign indicating it as belonging to Jefferson's Imports. You see a few street urchins playing hopscotch nearby, but don't pay them any mind as you step into the warehouse. Inside, you find that the warehouse has been divided into thirds, with the one you're standing in being dominated by several blackboards with district maps and plans, and a large table between them with paper models of some sort. To the right, you see a simple wooden partition to a designated "office". To the left, you can see a similar partition, though the door is open. Beyond it, you can see several bunk beads neatly arrayed.

Stepping through the door into the office, you're surprised to find the halfling with the big words that prevented things from turning ugly at the protest before you, drafting a letter. He springs from his chair and stretches his hand towards you, with an eager look in his eye: "Good of you to make your way hear so quickly! I apologise for the subterfuge, but our mutual friend the butcher seems to have it out for me and my family. Now, Brandt- if I can call you that?- how'd you like to go to war again?"

Corti, MacFergus beams at your words: "Excellent! Give me two days to organise and spread the word! I'm sure the people are going to be excited for this!" With that, the halfling shakes your hand before making his way out the bar. As your eyes follow him, they come to rest on an old poster you noticed before heading off east:

ALL WARFORGED UNITS RESIDING IN DUSKROCK ARE HEREBY ASKED TO REGISTER WITH THE BUREAU OF VETERAN AFFAIRS BY THE END OF THE MONTH TO BE ELEGIBLE FOR THEIR COMPENSATION PAYMENTS AND THEIR CITIZEN'S PASS

If you wanted to get your compensation payments, you'd have another seven days to register.

"Oh, it's you. From the protest. What was your name again?" Brandt gives a moment for the halfling to give his name. "No, I'm not interested in going back to war. I'm interested in killing one ugly bastard so that I don't have to look at his greasy face again."

"Spudsder. Milo Spudsder." The halfling replies. "Well Brandt, if you're able to take out one of the local gang lords like that, I certainly wouldn't have anything against it. Since he's with the Suits though, I'd be surprised if you manage to get close enough to get your shot off. But if you assure me that you can, then all the better to stop this war before it breaks out. His death needs to be a message though- I want no one else thinking they can start to push me around." The halfling raised an eyebrow at Brandt, almost like a challenge.

"Name your price, what you need, and when you can do this by."

Corti smiles to herself as MacFergus walks off, getting more and more excited to meet Reichenplatz. As she spots the poster she'll approach it, making sure to take in any details but feeling wary about official registration. Will they know I deserted? It could be a risk... Then again, they might not have the records... I should at least check it out. With that resolution, she sets out, her mood slightly dampened by nerves.

The uneasy feeling didn't go away as Corti approached the large block of the Ministry of War, where she knew she could find the Bureau of Veteran Affairs. While the building looked imposing, the architecture of the place, with its high columns and white marbled steps made this feel much less like an administrative building and instead much more like a museum. Many of the veterans are living reminders of the horrors of war, so in that, the comparison might not have been too far off.

Once inside the building, the hustle and bustle of the city's administration was palpable, with a buzz to the air. As Corti navigated the hallways following the signs on the walls towards the right bureau, Corti passes conference rooms where she sees two individuals in fine coats that remind her of Arc's discussing matters with a man in a Major's uniform, correspondence stations where runners with letters and small dispatches arrived and hurried off from, as well as a few very stately looking offices behind locked oaken doors. Corti does notice, that for one of the first times in her existence, no one seems to be paying any particular attention to her here, likely because the sign-up has seen many warforged within these walls within the last few weeks.

Rounding another corner in a long corridor, Corti eventually finds herself in an atrium with a seating area and a booth. The booth was labelled "Veteran Affairs", and had a dozen or so individuals queuing up before it, while to the side, their was a designated seating area, with two individuals in wheel chairs currently waiting for their caretakers to be served. To your great surprise Corti, you see that a large and broad warforged unit stands off to the side, immediately waving you over as they see you approach. Looking at them, you can spot the number 024601 stamped on their right chestpiece, with three small letters engraved by hand underneath: P.I.P.

"You keep mentioning a war. Wars need two sides to fight. One of the sides in this war has gotta be Borrick and the Suits and I'm guessing that you're involved with the other side, because it's sounding increasingly unlikely that you want Borrick gone because it's the right thing to do."

Milo speaks up with played shock: "Oh, far from it Brandt- it is absolutely the right thing to do. But so is ending the threat that the Suits present. Just think about it- the girls in the Velvet Glove running their own establishment, not having to pay over some of their hard earned money to these goons, people in the docklands being able to walk the streets at night again, children playing in the streets rather than joining gangs? It might surprise you, but that's actually what I'm planning to do with this district, I've got maps, blueprints and everything." You quickly realise that that must be what is set up in the middle room. "Now sure, there need to be sides. But there are also allies, or at least people with common enemies." Milo walks up from behind his desk and circles around to you. "My side, I tried to lay out. But if you want to see my hand before we play, so be it. Borrick messed with my family business back home, and for that alone he deserves what's coming to him and his. In the meantime, he sent his goons here to destroy what I'm trying to build- can't have nice things in the docklands because that would mess with their racket, I guess. There are other forces in the city that share my vision and are willing to fight with me to push the suits out. Thing is though, while I have a mind for business and a heart for the common folk, I need someone with experience in fighting and winning. I'm willing for that person to be you. If you tell me, that I don't need a war to make this district safe, so be it, I'm very happy if my associates and I won't have to go so far as a gang war. If you're telling me that I will need a war, but you're happy to take out Borrick and Borrick alone, I ask you this: Do you really think whoever rises to the top of the hill after Borrick will be much better?"

Corti, on instinct, ducked her head and pulled her headscarf closer around her upon entering the building. As she made her way to the bureau, though, she found herself relaxing, happy to be without the usual stares. As she walks into the atrium she is surprised to find herself feeling shy on top of the unease she had felt since spotting the poster. She finds herself relaxing more when the large warforged waves her over. 

As she walks over to meet them, she raises a hand in greeting, "Hello! This is where I register, right?"

Thia's Earlier Study Rolls

Arc's Workshop

Arcs enthusiasm was a bit unexpected, causing Thia to blink to rub her eyes to make sure she was fully awake. "Hi Arc." Stepping into his new space she'd be sure to close the door behind her as instructed. Although things were scattered about, Thia knew a well loved and active workshop space when she saw one. "No worries." Her eyes would look around the room not in disgust, but more in analytical understanding. Her space was plenty taken over by her own projects. "I get it." She'd follow the artificers introduction to his metallic flying snake, Spark. "Hello." The alchemist would wiggle her fingers in a small wave prior to reaching out towards it in curiosity. "Sometimes stepping away from one project for another helps to provide added perspective." She'd eventually add to his surprise of her answering so promptly.

Thia would follow Arc to where he lays out a few designs, hovering as he pours out his thought process with passion and enthusiasm. With it, she'd give her genuine attention, nodding along and even making a small sound to his inspiration from Mage Hand. Even when he'd step away to breathe and to gather himself, she'd just move forward to adjust a few of the sheets for a better look. "No need to apologize." Thia would encourage. "It's good to keep busy and make progress." It was just her after all. Eyes continued to scan the documents without looking up. The artificer was expecting to see some designs inspired by Corti's hands. And as she looked over the drawings, she'd look back to her own hand, flexing it and moving some fingers, all while trying to visualize how Corti's from memory. She had some familiarity from seeing it them and holding them. And Mage Hand huh...

Eventually, Thia would look up. "Yes. Things are well. Thank you." She'd nod. "Medical care has improved and no major concerns have come to my attention at this time." After a pause she'd continue. "And yourself, after transitioning to your own space?" The redhead was genuine in her ask, being sure to give him time to respond.

"How may I be of assistance?"

“Hmm. That fits, I think. Yeah, a religious order, if zealous enough…” Tarian’s thoughts trail off into silence and staring into her palm. Every so often a finger would twitch as though counting.

Finally she balled her fist. “No, I still don’t have enough information. Thanks for what you gave me, Thorbek. I’ll put it to good use.”

It was then that another guest walked in, and Thorbek greeted him in his usual fashion, so Tarian saw herself out. “Hopefully I’ll see you again, if Duskrock doesn’t have its way with me.” The wording of the farewell was fairly common in the lower class neighborhoods, but carried extra weight in Tarian’s case. Thorbek smiled and waved as she departed and he helped his next guest.

If ‘the hierophant of Emerald City’ came to Duskrock, being both a major figure and from an island nation, that he’d come by boat would probably be a safe bet. Since Corsyr didn’t mention anything about knowing Kazzhan, it’s probably also that he’s not here officially. If he’s here to poison folks, being here officially would just attract attention. Smugglers would have to be wary of the Broadsters and the magistrate—

That thought, coupled with the faint scent of tea that still lingered as she had just left The Hermit’s Bushel, triggered a memory of another contact Thorbek had sent Tarian to, who also needed to avoid the Broadsters and the magistrate to do some smuggling: Villamov.

This… If I can do both jobs at once, forget two birds, I would kill a whole flock with one stone!

Tarian turned abruptly, nearly knocked over a halfling with an oversized rucksack, who cursed her out as she headed toward Marcus’ Miscellaneous Merchandise.

Corti, the large Unit turns to you and you seem to see a spark in the large lamps that serve as its eyes. You can tell that this model is a cruder version of the warforged units you came in contact with, and judging by its number, it was among the first few thousands of units produced. Several of the armour plates on the shoulders and chest seem mismatched and bolted or welded on as battlefield modifications. Judging by how you yourself like trinkets and mementos though, you figure that the unit kept them in part as a living memory of their service. At your question, they speak in a low baritone: "Yes, sister. I'm here to provide assistance. It is my current assignment by the Ministry of War and it is an honour to serve in such a capacity." With a loud clang, it slaps its metal fist to its chest, as some form of salute.

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Tarian, you make your way to Villamov's establishment. Getting close, you spot two people outside smoking and chatting in a language you don't understand. They look the rough sort, like you'd expect to see in the docklands, but they seem far calmer than the typical gangsters boasting with their bravado. As they spot you though, they quickly extinguish their cigarettes and head back into the backroom of the store. Upon entering Villamov's shop, you see that several new items have arrived, from large porcellain vases and Mirrors in gilded frames to imperial army regalia, such as orders of valour, cavalry sabres and the like. Seeing you enter, the gaunt cold figure of Marius Villamov looks up from his ledger. "Miss Rhydderch! To what do I owe this visit?"

Arc nodded politely as he listened to Thia's reply on her own well being, "It's good to see that you're able to contribute so readily and ably to the common people. I'll admit I have a hard time doing so myself...but that aside, I've managed to transition my move towards independence quite smoothly and subtly. I hope stealthily as well, but I'm not yet sure." A light, self demeaning smile crept up his face, but was quickly pushed back in favor of his more polite one. 

"And glad you asked." Smiling brightly, Arc motioned back down towards his drawings, "While I believe myself to be a skilled engineer and specialist of energy, magical and non, I'm not as nearly versed in biological matters. Thus, if you'd recall...the reason why I took it upon myself to begin developing this prosethic, I hope you'd understand why I wish to differ to someone who is more...knowledge and specialized in such things...I don't wish to potentially scar or injure people more so than they already are." He gave a more somber sigh as he kept his gaze down on his designs for a minute, fingers shifting slightly to peer at smaller details or notes left on the papers. He raised his gaze towards Thia, firming his gaze, "I can easily understand mechanical or material flaws with my designs, but before all that I want to make sure that such designs are safe to be incorporated into a biological body...and that said body would be able to properly utilize it...so. To that end, I was hoping you'd be willing to partner up with me." Arc lifted his hand towards Thia, leaving it open between them, "I know you're busy, I am to. But I was hoping that between both our schedules, we'd be able to shine some light and help onto people who'd need this...plus, I get the feeling the both of us could benefit from having an excuse to not lock ourselves up all day." He chuckled a little at the end of his statement. "So...what do you think?"

Brandt sighs. "You could've led with the whole war thing, you know. In the note. Way you worded it in the letter made it sound like a simple assassination. War is more expensive. What's your plan?"

Corti, you notice small metal shavings near the screws around the front chest plate of the unit. Judging by your own design, you know that opening that panel would allow access directly to the unit's core chrystal, which includes its core tenets.

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Brandt, Milo offers you a big smile: "I'm always happy to defer to the expertise of a professional and I like to know what they think. Helps, when I'm not showing my own cards up front. I'm happy to see you don't mind the extra complication and I'm willing to negotiate on price. Don't you worry, we halflings might be lucky, but you gotta know what to do with an opportunity when it stares you in the face. Part of that is knowing when something's worth the cost. And you, Brandt, I believe to be worth my coin... I've got the rough outlines of a plan, sure. And you have access to other motivated people to help you carry them out. I see three avenues to take- one, we go for the eyes. I'm hoping to increase pressure on the suits through use of the best control mechanism in the city- the papers. Now, I have other means to get that done, but I'm willing to have you help with preparing the ground, if you see an opportunity. Two, go for the gut. Hit their establishments, a series of raids on their warehouses. We steal their goods, and show everyone in the docklands that they are weak. The sharks will soon start to circle. Three, we strike at the brain. Take out the lieutenants and Borrick, have the Suits scramble to find the real threat. Whatever's left of the suits will be torn apart by the other gangs, and my project and I will be able to go ahead unmolested." Flashing his smile again, he stretches his hand out: "What say you, Brandt? Can I call you my trusty lieutenant?"

Corti gives the warforged a small smile, unease warring with excitement at meeting another of her people. She ducks her head a little and shifts her voice to a more respectful tone, conscious of this unit's age, "Thank you for your service, friend," Corti feels another jolt of unease as she spots the shavings around the core, instinctually wary of the possibility of tampering with something so private. Don't be paranoid, Corti, it is just as likely they did it themself. "My name is Corti. I was wondering, is there anything I should know before registering?" Still nervous, she is hoping to spot any red flags ahead of time.

The large unit seems to beam with joy at Corti's words: "And I yours! The ministry of War and Cannith Industries are very happy to reimburse you for it as well!"

“Mister Villamov,” Tarian returned, and offered a handshake. “You expressed interest in making use of my services last I was here. As it so happens, I have some other work in the neighborhood, and it works well with what you need.” Tarian made a rather obvious show of looking at one of the new pieces but failed to express any interest in making a purchase. “So I thought I’d pay back what I owed from last time.”

Thia's eyes would glance up to Arc. "Now that you've transitioned towards independence, perhaps you may not have as much difficulty contributing to equal scientific advancements for all." Her brow would quirk. Though with that said, she'd quickly carry on to return her attention to the task at hand and listen to the fellow artificer work his way to his proposal. There would be a moment the medic would pinch the bridge of her nose, but she would of course soften up in understanding to nod along in agreement with a few of his points along the way.

Thia would stand back upright from the drawings, pausing a moment to look Arc over thoughtfully before continuing. "Truthfully," She'd start. "Previous conversations had already inspired me to think on what kind of approach I would take from a biological standpoint." She'd reach into her satchel to pull out the early prototype prosthetic Arc had given her, and gesture to him with it to reference his last point. "I locked myself up, pouring over page after page, losing myself in the paper and ink..." The redhead would flop the mechanical hand around dramatically as she spoke, "Telling myself that if I just spend another hour on this specialty, and another hour on that discipline... Voila!" Grand theatrical gesture with it. "It'd all come together." She'd visibly deflate. "But alas, I've hit that wall." The medic would purse her lips.

Then after a moment, Thia would shrug and her mouth would relax into almost a smile. "As you've alluded to, nothing a few collaboration outings couldn't fix." Her eyes fall back over the chunky prosthetic. "Besides, it was absurd of me to think I could do this without..." She'd wiggle the limb at him with a guilty grin. "My right hand gal."

Giggle or groan, Thia would smile with pride. "Corti." She'd say. "I need Corti." The medic would clarify for Arc. "I believe if I'm to have any profound success at a breakthrough, I require her assistance. And quite frankly, if anyone can provide a third perspective to merge both our respective sciences, it's her. Wouldn't you agree?"