Greetings, Smith-in-Gold, this sentinel has n-n-noticed substantial damage to its scissor-blades have s-s-sustained damage from its voyage through Bilewater. Is it within your purview to perform m-m-maintenance upon them?
Of course, Sentinel of Scissors! It would be our pleasure to help you in your troubles with your weapons.
Hmm, it seems it is scratched and the tip of one is dull. Oh, the other tip is snapped. How unfortunate, it looks a pretty damn good weapon.
Yes, we can fix this. It just requires some average metal smithing. Thank you for bringing to us!
Okay. This was written for the @aromanceforthedragonages gift exchange for @threerattsinatrenchcoat. First of all, Special thanks to @foofyschmoofer for Beta-ing for me! Second, I know far too much about repeating crossbows now, and third, every single word was very deliberate to get the point across. Having one of the participants in these shenanigans not alive was a unique challenge and I'm happy to say I can add that to my smut writing bucket list and immediately cross it off :D. Also on AO3 if you prefer...
Varric takes time out of his busy schedule to give Bianca some much needed maintenance…
Varric hummed Bianca’s Song to himself as he puttered around his room, collecting a small length of cord, several bolts, four jars of varying size and a few tools, which to the untrained eye was just a bunch of junk, but to those closest to him, it was Bianca’s maintenance day. Every four weeks, like clockwork, he set aside a day just to pamper his best girl and give her his undivided attention—if he would devote the same energy and diligence to his writing, his publisher would be ecstatic. Hawke had walked in on them once upon a time and had immediately peeled out of the room, not wanting to interrupt such an…intimate moment—though that hadn’t stopped them from needling him about it every chance they got afterwards; constantly asking if they should leave him and Bianca alone. He didn’t see what the problem was; so what if he enjoyed maintaining her? Bianca was his baby, and he wanted to keep her in pristine condition, particularly after the cocking ring misalignment incident back in Kirkwall. His embarrassment that Sebastian had noticed it before he did, would not be replicated ever again.
Though Choir Boy was a fellow archer, so maybe he could cut himself a little slack—just not where Bianca’s maintenance was concerned. Especially since she’d been slow to fire in the field and he’d had a minor panic attack thinking his baby was done for—but then he noticed the worn string and dried rail lube. He really shouldn’t be surprised how often he fired her in the midst of the world saving endeavors he embarked upon on the regular, still joking that he was too old for this shit, and yet he did it anyways. And now Bianca needed a little tender love and care—she wasn’t as young and new as she once was. He ran his hand lovingly over every inch of the wood of her body, fingers tripping over a few deep scars, the reignited memories of all they’d been through together bringing a smile to his face as he made sure every nut and bolt was tight.
“That’s my girl. Nice and tight.” He purred, easing her into the crossbow press, to hold her arms and keep her still so he could expose the old worn string that needed replacing to his gaze. “Let’s get you ready for me.”
At this point it was second nature to remove the frayed cord and replace it and he finished quickly, fitting a brand new one in place and giving it a playful tug before picking up one of the small jars. He dipped his fingers into the substance within, massaging the wax over the pliant and willing new cord with his palm before replacing the serving as well. He always preferred a hands-on method to using a cloth because he liked to feel how Bianca responded to his touch and use that as a guide. The second bottle held a clear, odorless oil which he dipped a small pipette into, collecting a small amount, and placing a few drops of the rail lube very carefully so as not to get it on the rest of her body, and rubbing it in onto her rail in slow, even circles with his thumb.
Varric grinned at the sight of her glistening for him. “Look at you. Just beautiful.”
When he was sufficiently satisfied at how slick her track was, he moved to fill her bolt chamber with more arrows, having fired more than expected in the last fight. One hand closed around the cylinder, the other holding Bianca steady as he gave it a firm tug but the bolt chamber didn’t want to release, almost like she didn’t want to take a new load inside her. Varric clicked his tongue in dismay, tapping the side of the chamber with the head of a small hammer, hoping to loosen it enough to remove and oil it so it would slide back in smoothly.
“Naughty girl. Open up,” he muttered, shaking his head at her stubbornness and turning the crank on the crossbow press to tighten the restraints holding her in place.
Two fingers plunged into the cylinder, curling against her inner wall to strengthen his grip, tugging firmly enough he felt her relax and come apart under his touch. Sometimes he just had to show her who was in charge. He collected a handful of bolts and released them into the chamber, filling her. Varric chuckled and patted Bianca affectionately, oiling her up first—taking special care of all four arms—and then the cylinder, sliding it into place and pumping it back and forth a couple times to make sure it was lubed up correctly before flicking several latches and locking it back into place. She felt perfect, every part of her responding to his touch and he breathed a sigh of relief—she’d just been used too much lately and was feeling neglected.
“Just like that. You took that so well,” he cooed, teasing fingers stroking over her to rub the rest of her down with the wood polish.
All that was left was to double check his work. He picked her up, his grip sure and confident as he turned towards a shooting target he had set up in the corner of his room ages ago as he wrapped his hand around her handle, pressing a calloused finger to her trigger. Bianca shuddered to life, loosing an arrow into the dummy with a satisfying ‘thwack’ and an almost inaudible twang as the string snapped back into place, ready for the next time he fired her in combat. He loved the sounds she made. It was good to know that even after all these years, he still knew exactly what made her tick, responding to his touches so quickly and it made her such a pleasure to use.
“That was beautiful, Baby. Absolutely perfect.” He smiled softly as he gently lowered her onto a pillow, her performance earning her a brief respite while he got himself cleaned up before they charged back into the fray, the Inquisition’s work apparently never done.
As they walked away from the crash site, Maxima studied the long two-handed gunblade resting across the Shadowhunter's back several paces ahead of him. He had a nagging thought he should recognize who the Shadowhunter was. The man should have been too distinctive for him to go unnoticed by the Empire.
There was not many two-handed gunblade wielders in Garlemald, and even fewer in the standing military. It was an old art, one practiced more by history enthusiasts and stage fencers then true soldiers. Compared to a one-handed gunblade, it lacked flexibility of intent and options and required the wielder to know to not over-commit, but plan ahead to an absurd degree in a live combat situation. For most soldiers, it left them too open to use for all the extra power it could provide if used well. And the Shadowhunter had used it masterfully.
Maxima was sure he would have heard of someone in the Garlean Legions who was as good as the Shadowhunter was. And it was all too obvious the Shadowhunter had been in the Legions at one point. Had more than likely held rank even. He had known who the Emperor's Guard was immediately and had known without asking what rank Maxima was. Most telling was how he had carried himself on the battlefield. He had read the flow of battle in an instant and had known exactly where to place himself and his companions for maximum effect. It spoke of years of training and being in the thick of battle, all while using a fighting style almost no one ever bothered to learn.
It all added up to the Shadowhunter being a carrier legionnaire with a talent for field command and the patience to match. How such a talented individual had deserted the Legions and not had a man-hunt called for him yet troubled Maxima. Only slightly more discomforting was the thought that Maxima knew of no such individual that matched the Shadowhunter's talents on either side of the War of Succession. Whoever the Shadowhunter was, he had not been part of the Legions for a long time.
As the assault craft disappeared behind them, Maxima reminded himself that it really did not matter who the Shadowhunter could be. He was the reason they had survived and for now, that was enough for him.
The Shadowhunter let them rest once they got to a cluster of Allagan buildings Maxima was quite surprised to find in the Burn. Even more surprising was when Alphinaud said they were Allagan field generators and that he had seen such structures before in Azys Lla, the airborne Allagan research facility the VIth Legion was currently investigating.
What was not surprising was that all of them pulled out their weapons and did maintenance on them. The Shadowhunter's companions and Alphinaud's weapons did not need much; their weapons lacked the mechanical parts so common in Garlean weapons and needed nothing more then to have the sand of the Burn brushed off them. The Shadowhunter and Maxima's weapons needed more care. Maxima had the barrel of his gunblade opened and the chambers emptied before he thought to look at the Shadowhunter's weapon.
What he saw was nothing short of stunning. The Shadowhunter's gunblade's hilt casing was removed so the delicate magitek inside could be serviced. What Maxima could see of the magitek was like nothing he had seen on a gunblade before. Rather, it was like the magitek produced by the few artisans who dabbled in it; every gyro handmade, every gear and wire perfectly tuned to each other. The rest of the gunblade's hilt followed similar design principles. The metal tubing molded around the hilt was all smooth molded curves and the tubing itself was thinner than usual and there was more of it. The excess tubing led from the elaborate trigger guard to vials further up in the hilt. The blade itself was one solid sweep of metal with no visible seams. If Maxima hadn't seen the Shadowhunter use the gunblade in combat, he would have thought it belonged in a museum; the blade was work of magiteknical genius.
Hoping the Shadowhunter had not caught him almost drooling over the weapon, Maxima turned back to his own. It turned out sand and grit had gotten stuck in the trigger gears. Unfortunately, Maxima didn't have any of the specialized tools needed for magitek maintenance; those had been lost in the crash.
"Do you need these?" The Shadowhunter held out a collection of screwdrivers small enough to remove the screws in the casing around the trigger.
Maxima nodded and took the screwdrivers. As he did, he got a look at the Shadowhunter's gunblade and paused. With the hilt casing back on, it looked more like a normal gunblade.
"What?" The Shadowhunter demanded. He followed Maxima's gaze to his own weapon.
"I have never seen a gunblade like that," Maxima said honestly. He tried to shake the feeling that he was being questioned by a superior officer.
"You would not have." The Shadowhunter's mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. "My friend knew something of magitek," he elaborated, "and decided he should try his hand at designing a gunblade at least once." He rubbed a polishing cloth over the blade and looked at the weapon with something close to a sad fondness. "I am most pleased with the result."
Maxima looked down at his standard issue gunblade and injected more lubricant into the gears before sweeping out the grit. The Shadowhunter's gunblade being a custom model put to rest any thought that the Shadowhunter had taken up the weapon style recently. That it had almost certainly been designed specifically for the Shadowhunter confirmed the feeling in Maxima's gut that the Shadowhunter had been someone important once. Maxima only hoped whoever the Shadowhunter had been wouldn't come back to bite them in the future. Their circumstances were bleak enough as they were.
Author's Note: Poor Maxima. He's probably the only person at the end of 4.3 with enough knowledge of how the Garlean Legions work (and a high enough security clearance) to realize there's nothing normal about Shadowhunter's skills, weapon or knowledge base. Too bad the person he's trying to remember probably hasn't been to the Garlean homeland in over a decade...
I've been a little reluctant to put the new Sig offerings in the same category as I would have an old P226 or even the old West German stamp sheet metal P220s. Ever since the P320 debacle, my perception of the company has change quite a bit.
These two guns have had the same treatment, these photos were taken in a CCW class, the first day there was a pretty heavy rain, but certainly nothing a "defensive" handgun shouldn't be able to take, I mean, it's a CCW class, not an over the beach insertion.
The guns were dried and stored in the cases. At the start of the second day, the P365 was in a state that I would hardly consider serviceable, the slide, the trigger, the mag release, the mags... There weren't many spots you could look and not find rust... The light ant the dot were ok though...
This is not the durability I expected of a gun that's marketed towards defensive and carry use and sells for a not so competitive price. Can you go hiking with this thing? Maybe if it's a short hike, but as one of the instructor in the class said "This is what happens when you take the R&D and quality control money and give it to gunfluencers to do marketing tricks".
pun absolutely not intended, but blake was definitely ooblek’s teacher’s pet. he loved how often she interjected and asked about lessons, and pointed out discrepancies, and asked for side content to absorb. i wrote somewhere else that blake is a c to b average student just because she doesn’t put a lot of effort into the lessons she doesn’t care about, and history was definitely one the lessons she cared about and excelled in.
