(2022-11-16) Bruuk's Brothers: Mutual Admiration Society

Details

Author:	inkie
Summary:	Ben and Sil are joined by Parabolus "Bonk" Bonkladle and by Siege Engineer Kerlo Quarterflash of the Seventh Legion, and make the acquaintance of newcomer Aiseia "Ace" Stormhammer (of the Ironforge Stormhammers). It is say-nice-sh*t-about-Sil night. Bonk has mastered his sausage.
Rating:	M for Mature 17+

Arc: The Bros of Bruuk's Corner

Ben has his chair tipped back, one foot propped on the table's edge. He's got a notebook open on his knee and a pencil in his other hand, and he's frowning into space absently.

Sil takes the stairs two at a time and waves at Ben when he gets to the top. He seems a little out of breath. "Whew, sorry I'm late."

[Sil]: Missed the tram.

Ben blinks and looks around. He doesn't seem aware of the time. "Oh, hey. S'awright. Sorry you missed it. Everything okay?"

Ben drops his chair down flat and sets the notebook on the table, closing the pencil inside it.

[Sil]: Oh yeah, things're going pretty well. How 'bout you? Whatcha writin'?

Ben rubs the back of his neck. "Ain't sure. Sir Elohad says I ought to be writin' my journal, you know, keepin' up with it? For practice and posterity. I was thinkin' maybe I'd get back at it."

[Sil]: Maybe I ought to, too. I sorta fell off the habit?

[Ben]: Yeah. Yeah, you ought to. For posterity. An' maybe little Nate will get to read it someday, see what all his Uncle Sil was about.

Ben waves at Edris and indicates the table vaguely. You know, the usual.

[Sil]: I never was good at stickin' with stuff long term, but I could give it a shot.

[Ben]: I mean, you done okay the last year or so.

[Ben]: At the stickin' with.

[Ben]: You know what I think? An' you can tell me to fuck off if I'm wrong, but I ain't.

[Sil]: Uh, okay? What do you think?

Ben leans forward and folds his hands before him on the table. "Sometimes Mizz tells me I listen to my dad too much, you know? Like, it's still his voice I got in my head. And when I am kind of thinkin' on reflex about what kind of a fellow I am or what I could be doin', it's my dad I am hearin'. I think you have got your people in your head too much.”

[Ben]: Like, you still say shit about yourself that ain't been true in months or years or whatever.

[Ben]: When we went to talk to Patricia, you act all surprised at some of the shit I said about you. An' I admit I framed some things, but I never said a thing that wasn't true.

Sil sits back in his chair, a little shocked.

Ben regards him steadily, seriously.

[Sil]: I guess… I guess maybe some of the stuff I say is maybe sorta like stuff my folks used to say. But it was true, too?

[Ben]: Was, sure, maybe. So was some of the shit my dad used to say. But also he ain't really know shit about me or why I was like the way he said I was.

[Ben]: Same with your people. They ever ask you why you was interested in what you was? Why you went off and done the things you did? Or they just give you shit for it?

Ben is still watching Sil earnestly.

[Sil]: No, not really. *Sil shrugs* Anything I was into that wasn't on the whole path they had laid out was just… trash. But it wasn't like you. I know I had it easier.

[Ben]: So what? Easier ain’t mean it was easy. If they was wrong, they was fucken wrong. An' you still got 'em in your head.

[Sil]: How d'you get 'em out, then?

Aiseia peruses the menu, frowning over the choices. "I know I need some milk for the field, but… just the stout, I think."

[Ben]: I dunno. Learnin’ to hear friends instead. Like Mizzy, an' you, an' Sir Elo–

Ben glances over at the unfamiliiar dwarf.

[Parabolus]: Good evening, gentlemen.

[Ben]: Just learnin' new habi– hey, Bonk!

Sil flashes a quick smile at Ben and turns to the new arrival.

[Parabolus]: Please don't let me interrupt you.

Ben sits back and drapes one arm over the back of his chair. He waves a hand at Sil.

[Ben]: Bonk, say somethin' nice about Sil.

Parabolus peers at Sil searchingly.

[Parabolus]: You seem to have extraordinarily healthy hair!

Sil laughs. "Why thank you Bonk, I try."

[Ben]: … okay, well. That's… for a start, I guess.

Ben grins.

[Parabolus]: I'm afraid I don't know the gentleman well enough to speculate further.

[Ben]: Fair 'nough. But, I mean, you know he's Cobalt, yeah? You'd trust him in the field an' all, right?

[Parabolus]: Of course!

Ben spreads his hands. Q.E.D.

Parabolus peers at Sil searchingly.

[Parabolus]: Is something the matter?

[Ben]: Nothin' the matter. Just say-nice-shit-about-Sil night.

Sil shakes his head. "Just talkin' about how to get people's voices out of your head." He glances over at the dwarf lady. "Hey, miss, table's open if you're up for a beer."

[Parabolus]: I wouldn't blame a young woman if she didn't want to come sit at a table with three strange men…

[Sil]: Hah, well, not pressin', just offerin'.

Ben glances over at the dwarf again as well, and flashes a crooked smile at her. His front tooth is chipped. It is charmin', maybe, if one is charmed by such things.

Parabolus, despite the bright colors of his hair and robe, is doing a remarkable job of disappearing against the woodgrain of his chair. Only metaphorically speaking. Nothing arcane involved.

[Ben]: Edris will vouch for us. But yeah, just a chair on offer. No pressure.

[Parabolus]: Doing all right, both of you?

Ben sits up, un-draping his arm, and leans forward to fold his hands on the table again. "Yeah. M' okay. How you been, Bonk? Been a minute."

[Kerlo]: Ah, so it's true. The weekly Cobalt Company social!

[Sil]: Yeah! Cobalt and friends. Anybody's welcome.

Ben raises his eyebrows and nods respectfully to Kerlo.

[Ben]: I know you. Seventh Legion fellow, yeah? You come to some events.

[Kerlo]: That's correct! How kind of you to remember.

Ben gives an aw-shucks shrug at Kerlo.

[Sil]: Have a chair! We got beers on the way.

Parabolus looks shyly at the other gnome and doesn't say anything.

Kerlo gazes at the other three occupants of the table with somewhat dreamy lavender eyes, stroking his goatee thoughtfully. "How long have the Cobalt members been meeting here on Wednesdays?"

[Sil]: Oh gosh like, maybe a year now? Been a while. Regular tradition.

Edris makes her way over with a tray of pints and pretzels, and distributes them with practiced efficiency before whisking away again.

[Kerlo]: Oh, and I'm Kerlo, by the way, if you only knew the association and not the name. Siege Engineer Kerlo Quarterflash.

[Ben]: Yeah. Year or so, somethin' like. Nice to meet you properly, Curly. Beer?

Sil snags a beer and takes a gulp.

[Kerlo]: I wouldn't say no to a drink! But how about I buy this round?

[Ben]: No worries, this one's paid for. You can buy next, f'you like.

[Parabolus]: Parabolus Bonkladle. *He says to his own fingertips, which are tracing the woodgrain of the table.*

[Ben]: Bonk here was a Son of Lothar. An' Bonk, you prob'ly heard me say but Curly is Seventh Legion.

[Sil]: And I'm Sil. Sure seems like the Seventh has a lot of interest in Cobalt sometimes.

[Kerlo]: Oh we do, we do indeed.

Ben slides a pint over to Kerlo.

Kerlo dips his head in gratitude toward Ben, then picks up the mug between his four fingered hands and takes a hearty drink.

[Kerlo]: You do know, don't you, that High Commander Wyrmbane and your Sir Elohad Ference were both knights together in the Second War?

[Ben]: I did know that.

Ben nods solemnly and drinks his own beer. He glances at Bonk, just to see how the little guy's doin'.

[Sil]: Were they pals?

[Kerlo]: They weren't exceptionally intimate, but both became paladins after that, and so they share a mutual respect and affinity of sorts. I understand there has been occasional correspondence.

[Kerlo]: The High Commander does occasionally mock the whole… theatrical period of Ference's career however.

[Sil]: Oh, come on now. They were popular, weren't they?

Parabolus is just taking in the conversation, his eyes wide and curious.

Ben bristles a little. He drinks his beer instead of answering immediately. He can be taught.

[Kerlo]: I personally am a great admirer of all the arts! But the High Commander is a bit… hmmm.

[Ben]: Hm.

Kerlo seems to be searching for an adjective.

[Ben]: Well, Sir Elohad got nothin' but nice to say about him. But he is like that. Stand-up fellow.

Sil tries to hide a grin.

[Kerlo]: Let us say he has very particular ideas about the sorts of things that are befitting of men.

[Kerlo]: I'm sure you know the type.

Parabolus nods. He clearly does.

Ben snorts. He does too.

Sil chuckles and shakes his head.

[Kerlo]: The company is still thriving, I hope? All the er, leadership are well and hale?

Parabolus peers at Kerlo searchingly.

[Ben]: Well an' hale, yep.

[Sil]: Oh, yeah, for sure. Lots of new people. Workin' here and Outland both.

[Kerlo]: My unit has just been pulled back from there.

[Ben]: Oh, yeah? Where's the Seventh goin' next?

[Kerlo]: Ideally to Northrend, once the transportation is sorted out. The High Commander likes to have his people first on the scene of any new conflict.

[Sil]: Bet we'll all be headed up north soon. Once the whole Legion and whatever situation is sorted out.

Ben nods and grimaces. "Would not mind if we was pretty fast up there ourselves."

[Kerlo]: In the meantime my expertise was requested in looking at some potential builds for new types of ships. It's not my precise area of expertise, but I am an engineer, and it's all hands on deck right now.

[Ben]: Hah. Ships, all hands on– I get it.

Parabolus smiles at Ben.

Kerlo greets Aiseia warmly.

Parabolus immediately hops up and offers his chair to the lady.

Ben had just glanced over, a little startled, and picked up his beer to shift over and do the same thing. He hesitates when Bonk beats him to the punch.

Parabolus bows before Aiseia.

[Ben]: Evenin', miss.

Sil chuckles. "Oh, hi again miss. Have a beer?"

[Aiseia]: Tank you. I couldn't help but overhear.

[Kerlo]: Interested in Northrend?

[Parabolus]: Or ships?

Ben gets up anyway, and goes to the far table. He swings up an empty chair one-handed and carries it back to the group.

Aiseia nods. "And opportunities."

Ben sets the chair down with a thunk and nods at Bonk.

Parabolus totally sits in it.

Ben settles back in his own chair and picks up his pint again.

[Sil]: Gonna be a lot of those in the future, for sure.

[Kerlo]: If you have an eye for opportunity, my lady, you have approached the right table! This is the weekly haunt of none other than the illustrious Cobalt Company!

[Sil]: And the Seventh Legion, maybe, this week.

Ben lifts his drink briefly to Kerlo.

[Kerlo]: Ah if only I could claim to properly reprsent the Legion! Alas, I am here only as a simple gnome, seeking conversation and catching up on a bit of news.

[Sil]: Most of my news is local, for the moment. Ben, anything new since last week?

Ben shakes his head. "Just… mission shit. Work in Netherstorm, y'know?"

Parabolus seems curious as well. He's remained very quiet, but his gray-blue eyes take in every word the others speak.

[Ben]: … pardon my Common, miss.

Parabolus 's eyes go even wider at Ben's statement. "Netherstorm? Really?"

[Ben]: Yeah. You been out that way?

Aiseia is silent, and her eyes are a bit wide as she listens.

[Parabolus]: Oh, heavens, no. I never ventured out of Honor Hold.

[Kerlo]: What were you doing at Honor Hold? Magnificent place, so noble in its desolation!

[Parabolus]: Just a cook and engineer, nothing terribly adventurous. *He colors slightly.*

[Sil]: Netherstorm is one hell of a place. I only been there a little bit, but its all purple and lightning and floating rocks.

Parabolus listens intently to Sil.

Kerlo nods, his eyes alight.

[Ben]: I got to break in a minute to say that Bonk was not just a cook an' engineer. Son of Lothar, you know? He put in twenty years in that fu–uhhh, mess. Hell of a engineer, kept 'em runnin'. Learned a lot of ways to cook a fel pig.

[Sil]: Some of that cooking stuff looks harder to deal with than Netherstorm. Oh, just cheese and some peppers.

[Kerlo]: You were with the Sons of Lothar? I salute you. *He then proceeds to do exactly that.*

Parabolus blushes and salutes Kerlo awkwardly back,

Sil smiles at Bonk. "I've been learning to cook! I made like an omelette the other day."

[Parabolus]: Oh? What sort? *He brightens with curiosity.* What sort of cheese? What sort of peppers?

Ben leans back again and tips back his chair, putting his foot up on the table's edge. He sips his beer and looks from face to face. His gaze lingers curiously on Aiseia for a bit before moving on.

[Sil]: Oh, um. Dalaran sharp? And bell peppers.

Kerlo studies Bonk, clearly reassessing him.

[Sil]: I could try with spicy peppers, but I thought maybe that should not be experiment one.

[Parabolus]: A wise choice.

[Sil]: What's your favorite thing to cook, then?

[Parabolus]: I've never really gone for sharp cheeses with bell peppers though…

[Aiseia]: Perhaps a small amount?

Ben tips his head at Aiseia. "Nothin' wrong with spicy peppers."

Aiseia shrugs. "I cook over a fire. Heat's something to taste."

Ben nods and raises his drink to her briefly. "I did not catch your name, miss, beg pardon. Ben Hazan."

[Kerlo]: Kerlo Quarterflash.

[Aiseia]: Ace Stormhammer, of the Ironforge Stormahammers.

[Ben]: Ace? *Ben whistles appreciatively through his teeth.* That is a damn good name.

Aiseia blushes, and mutters, "Aiseia."

[Aiseia]: I just… like Ace.

[Kerlo]: I think it's a wonderfully dashing name!

[Ben]: What Curly said, yeah.

Sil nods. "Dashing, yeah."

[Kerlo]: First in your class!

Aiseia grins. "Maybe not first."

Parabolus glances shyly at Aisea. "What are your thoughts on Thelsamar-style blood sausage, Ms. Stormhammer?"

Parabolus is rummaging around in his bag for something. His bag does not seem particularly organized.

[Sil]: What're you looking for?

Parabolus at last pulls out a bundle wrapped in thick brown paper, which he pushes toward Ace. "Blood sausage," he explains, not quite meeting anyone's eye. "I've been trying to get it just right."

[Parabolus]: Everyone but dwarves tells me it tastes just as though dwarven-made. Until a dwarf agrees, I will have to keep trying.

[Kerlo]: I would offer to try it, but I see I am not your target audience.

Aiseia examines it and tastes.

Parabolus rubs his hands together in an agony of anticipation.

Ben watches, bright-eyed with interest.

[Parabolus]: If it's not quite right, that's fine… but if you have any suggestions…?

[Aiseia]: Oh yes, that's right. Good hard cured, fights back against the teeth!

[Parabolus]: Yes… yes! I've improved on the texture then, excellent!

[Parabolus]: That's been my primary problem thus far. I'm so pleased!

[Aiseia]: Very good with beer. Any sort of beer!

Parabolus settles back against his chair, quietly beaming.

[Sil]: Sounds like you got dwarf-approved.

Ben salutes Bonk solemnly. "Congratulations."

Parabolus turns quite pink, but smiles, eyes downcast.

[Kerlo]: I find myself hungry suddenly. Edris my dear, could you bring me a plate of sausages?

Kerlo beckons Edris Barleybeard over.

Edris nods, and says "Sausages, coming right up."

Edris heads down to collect the sausages.

[Parabolus]: So I understand Cobalt Company determined how to shut down the manaforges out there in Netherstorm? Absolutely splendid.

[Sil]: Yeah, I read about that in the newsletter! Sounds like pretty important stuff.

[Ben]: We got some data on how it goes. There's an Aldor team gonna take 'em offline for good, but we did some nice sabotage work.

[Parabolus]: If there are any more detailed reports about that I'd love to read them. If I'm authorized, of course.

[Sil]: I guess it'd all be about shuttin' em down, which anybody could know. Right Ben?

[Ben]: It's naaru tech, yeah? It's all, like — crystals. And they kind of… get in your head? I mean, I tripped one of 'em offline, and you know I am as engineer as a bull.

[Sil]: In your head? That sounds pretty wild.

[Parabolus]: The naaru are fascinating.

[Kerlo]: I keep up with the newsletters as well! Ben, the last one said you're a published author, which is remarkable! I haven't yet managed to get a copy of your account of the Light's Hope battle, but I'm very eager to read it.

Ben 's ears turn scarlet. He tips back the last of his beer very fast, coughs, and sets the empty glass down. He clears his throat.

[Ben]: Uh, yessir. Thank you, sir.

[Kerlo]: Wyrmbane is utterly livid that somehow the 7th managed to entirely drop the ball on that offensive.

[Ben]: Well. Could've used more good people, for sure. But it might've gone just as bad in a bigger way, until the turn. You know? It was… ugly. For a while.

Sil nods quietly, taking another sip of beer.

[Kerlo]: We try to be everywhere at once, and we're bound to fail sometimes, but still, he is taking this particularly hard, and I think that is part of the reason for his current obsession with Northrend.

Aiseia purses her mouth, and says, "What do you do?"

[Kerlo]: Was that a rhetorical question, my lady, or are you inquiring as to my, or Ben's, occupation? *His lavender eyes twinkle with good humor.*

Edris returns and sets a plate of sausages down in front of Kerlo.

[Kerlo]: Oh, thank you, good lady! *He passes her a few coins.*

[Aiseia]: I mean. Are you mercenaries, or are you–

Aiseia is a little star-struck. "Special operatives?"

[Ben]: Yes'm. Cobalt Company, Alliance best mercenaries.

[Kerlo]: These three young men are! I am a siege engineer with the 7th Legion's Ninth Expeditionary Unit.

Ben nods at Kerlo respectfully.

Aiseia is properly impressed, and ((IRL)) getting ready to dish up dinner.

Sil yawns. "I think I'm gonna have to turn in. Great to see you all here tonight!"

Sil waves.

[Parabolus]: Yes, yes, I only wanted to stop by and say hello, I should be on my way as well…

Kerlo stays and eats his sausages, but his player just got called to dinner.

[Ben]: I got to duck out too, m' afraid. Sorry, y'all. It was nice meetin' you, Ace. I hope we will see you again?

Aiseia nods. "I hope so."

[Kerlo]: You should really apply to Cobalt Company.

[Aiseia]: I need to train more. but I'll be in touch.

[Kerlo]: Their roster is a bit light on dwarves, and I know that sort of thing matters to the captains.

Ben flashes a smile at Kerlo and looks back to Ace to nod. "Lieutenant Ben Hazan. F' you want to talk to someone about it. We are hirin'."

[Ben]: Headquarters is over to the Mystic Ward. But I will catch you both around, yeah? Night.

Kerlo finishes his sausages and does not disappear randomly.

[Aiseia]: Good night!