83rd day of Spring, 512 AV Xuphim hadn't dealt extensively with Centroc. The length of their meetings typically involved Xuphim asking a question on how something in the capture pack worked, or looking to refill its contents with more of the same. The Akalak wasn't much for engineering, but he had to hand it to whoever took the time to put these tools together, they made the job much easier. Why couldn't a puny, weak race become feral beasts? Instead the Jamoura, while peaceful and omnivores, were bulky, heavy, and impossibly strong. Even stronger than Xuphim, and Xuphim didn't much care for anything that was stronger than he. The creature's were strong enough to put meaty hand imprints into his armor, denting the mild steel that made up a majority of its frame. The plates of the armor was meant to take a beating, but the misshapen pieces were starting to become a bother. Not only would the structural unsoundness reduce the protective quality of his armor, but they simply managed to get in the way of his range of motion. It was time to try and call upon all those 'armor maintenance' lessons he always daydreamed through during his years as a squire. Even if Xuphim wasn't immediately at the helm, his light brother Xalet wasn't one for lectures himself. He knew it required a wooden mallet and a hard surface, and that with enough pressure and elbow grease nearly any shape could be regained so long as it wasn't too brutalized. "Uh-huh..." Xuphim grumbled as the Eypharian, whom had most recently got done telling the Akalak of the various potential places he could find such a tool in the haze filled city. The Syliran took his job here seriously, but the reality was that even he wished to stay out of that Gods forsaken mist as much as possible. With a heavy sigh his chrome tinged eyes lifted upward to the tops of the trees, contemplating the many difficulties he had dealt with ever since coming to the Spires. He didn't regret it, but it reminded him why both he and Xalet detested magical forces all these years. Unable to fully clear his head, he stepped to the side and un-shouldered his pack so that he could take an inventory of the items he had left at his disposal. If the purple skinned man had to go in for the proper necessity to keep his armor from falling into ruins, so be it. |