abraxaslogs | [ OPEN ] the fate of the game is moving my way.

"What are you expected to do..." Ronan repeats, squinting his eyes like this is a difficult question and not one with an extremely obvious answer. He hums, pondering like this for a moment.

Then he smirks and answers, "Enjoy the hospitality? Be a good guest? Try not to murder any of the courtiers?"

Alright, alright. He knows what Hendrik's really asking.

"Figure out what you want your new life to be, because you're not going home anytime soon. You can help Thorne or not. If you'd rather just take advantage of living in a castle for free, go ahead. Be that kind of guy. They'll teach you magic if you want to learn it, but they won't make you use it. Don't expect an allowance if you're not doing any work, of course, but you don't really need money when you've got me, anyway."

Green eyes flit over to Ronan as Hendrik waits for an answer, his attention split between his voluntary guide and the halls through which they walk. The halls seem a little more familiar after another passing, so he trusts that he will be able to find his way back without too much issue.

What is he to make of the casual way that his question is answered? Perhaps Ronan is this way with everyone, regardless of familiarity or status. It wouldn't be the first time he met someone who surprised him with their attitude, though it does leave him pondering if there is a line of decorum to which he should be adhering.

He nods along with the ideas freely given, noting them for later consideration. There is still so much to learn, but the perspective of someone who has been (is?) in the same situation is grounding.

That last comment though... He tilts his head in confusion, another question already on his lips.

"Got you? Ah, I am sure you have connections, but I would not want to impose..."

"I don't have connections," Ronan says. "I am the connection."

That's not a boastful claim. He's not bragging. It just is what it is, and probably not much of an exaggeration, considering how the others around the castle seem to be reacting to his presence when he passes by.

"And it's not an imposition. I don't make offers I don't mean to keep. If there's something you need, you can ask me for it anytime. I can usually get it to you by the next day."

The matter-of-fact way with which Ronan speaks stills Hendrik's tongue for a moment, and once more he ponders the younger man's role in all of this. A Summoned who has been here longer, having established himself and earned no small amount of respect from the people around the castle. With respect came power -- something that he was now being offered, to a degree.

"I see."

Did he? Did he truly? A more accurate response would be that he trusts Ronan's words despite knowing nothing of his motivations. He would have to learn more about his surroundings for better answers to any other whys rattling around in his head.

"If our hosts will not furnish us with weapons, I would appreciate help in finding some. It is strange to be without them."

His is a world filled with monsters beyond the protections of cities and villages. He does not presume this world to be any different in that regard.

Ronan looks awfully pleased that Hendrik seems to be accepting the offer without further objections. On his particular face, it's an expression that looks about as reassuring as a bear trap.

But he doesn't follow up with a price or a caveat. All he asks is, "What kind would you like?"

As he catches that uplift in Ronan's expression, Hendrik wonders if he should in fact be more wary of what he is getting himself into in this new world. He already experienced a huge break in trust that had catastrophic consequences, so going down that road again...

For now, he silences that concern. This is a completely different situation with completely different people, without the Lord of Shadows hovering over all. He will accept the proffered necessities and go from there.

"A greatsword. A tower shield." Does he need to go into detail from there? "Something more functional than training or ceremonial arms."

Ronan looks Hendrik over, assessing his size the same way a tailor would. Everything he makes is perfectly suited to the person it's meant for, but it all starts with observation.

"No problem," he concludes, finding nothing particularly challenging about Hendrik's build. "Do you want them enchanted?"

"Enchanted?" The question leaves Hendrik momentarily dumbstruck until he reminds himself he was just brought into this world, ripped from his own world, by mages. Why should enchantments for weapons be so surprising?

Still, he glances at Ronan with no small amount of thoughtfulness as he replies. "I cannot say the thought would have occurred to me to ask. That takes special skill."

And yet, the fact that Ronan asked meant it was probably something regularly offered. It makes him believe he will see enchanted weapons with some regularity.

When it comes to Ronan, Hendrik will end up seeing rather a lot of enchanted things. Starting with Ronan himself. He looks amused by the surprise, satisfied by it, as if it's a charming reaction but also the correct one in his opinion. Magic is meant to be experienced with awe.

"I'm a very skilled person," he agrees.

You know what? Up until now, Hendrik had presumed that the weapons were somehow coming from their hosts (despite Ronan's remark), but this most recent comment has him focusing in on what he must have been missing this entire time.

"You will do the enchantments yourself?" Such skill is definitely not commonplace in his own world; in fact, it was more common to find old treasures that were enchanted (or cursed) than it was find someone capable of long-term enchantment. "My knowledge of such enchantments is quite bare. Besides magicked doors and seals, stories mostly speak of glowing blades and magic-deflecting shields."

"I'm doing all of it myself," Ronan clarifies. A statement delivered more like a shrug than a boast. He's perfectly aware his ability is a rare one, but it's in his nature. He was born with it. He doesn't need to brag about it any more than someone who was born with the ability to pick up a pencil and learned how to write with it.

"I don't have a lot of limits. What do you think would be cool and make you feel like a badass?"

"Badass...?" He hadn't questioned the mention of 'smooth-brained' earlier, but this was another term that made it clear that Ronan did not hail from any place that Hendrik knew. With a shake of his head, he forces himself past that to instead focus on the heart of the question.

"I suppose a shield that would either deflect or absorb incoming magic would be best? That is what I recall being impressive in stories." Still, it is a wonder to think he is even describing this, as if ordering tools or horseshoes from a blacksmith. "This is a generous offer to make to someone you have just met. I do appreciate it."

Ronan considers this for a moment. He doesn't like the idea of absorbing magic, having had quite a lot of terrible experiences with things that eat or nullify magic. That sounds like something that could easily slip into nightmare territory. But deflecting magic doesn't seem like it'll be an issue. He's pretty sure he could dream something like that without getting accidentally devoured.

"No problem," he says. "It's what I'm here for."

[ OPEN ] the fate of the game is moving my way.

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