IC Contact Post [Hadriel]

[mismanagement]

This is Maketh Tua. State your business.

Comments

[hotspurred]

'Tis a pity that you cannot.

[Henry, wielding the pliers, picks up an open ring and slips it into place on his haubergeon, making sure that it leans in the correct direction. He then closes the opening, and keeps hold of it with one set of pliers.]

This may work best if you seal the rings as I weave them in.

[mismanagement]

[If only she had her data pad. It's burnt beyond recognition now, tucked into one of her drawers in case its parts might prove useful later on. Maketh nods, leaning in closer.] All right. Show me first?

[hotspurred]

[Henry nods, then pauses, narrowing his eyes critically. He is, regretfully, no blacksmith.]

On second thought.

[He opens up the ring again and frees it.]

If you heat the ring here where the ends are open, then I shall weave it in and close it.

[That likely makes the most sense, given the present limitations. It's hardly as though they have the supplies, tools or skill to wedge rivet mail. So, welded.]

These must be done one at a time, I fear.

[This would be a horribly dull task without the company.]

[mismanagement]

All right. [It seems a simple enough procedure, though regrettably tedious. Nonetheless, it must be done. She will not see Henry without proper armor.

She tugs on a pair of gloves and activates the iron, waiting until it steams.] Ready now?

[hotspurred]

[Henry nods, holding the ring aloft with the pliers and eyeing the tool with mild interest.]

Ready.

[He confirms.]

[mismanagement]

[There's no point in stalling, so Maketh presses the iron against the ring. It's less dangerous than a blow torch, but requires a steady hand. It doesn't take long for the metal to begin to change colors.] There.