Cailin Hammerfoot, "That boy has absorbed a lot of electricity"

“Dougan Hammerfoot, the famous dwarven paladin who trained the failed prince of Keldaerin was my uncle. While my uncle is dead, we still have to deal with the Drow. Thanks to the great Skass Riddari failing to do anything but get killed before he could finish his one job, the Drow have taken over everything. That’s why I don’t put my faith in some god, but in cold hard steel and a nice warm boiler.”

“I know dad.”

“That’s why we build with steam power. Much more dependable.”

“I know dad.”

“That’s why tomorrow you start learning the new family business of mechanika. For now though, go to bed. But bring me another ale first.” As Cailin went to get another ale, he thought about his new design for a mechanikal arm that he had discussed earlier with his father. Cailin had turned 38 years old a few months ago, and despite his drunken father’s ramblings about “tomorrow,” Cailin had been training to be a mechanik for the better part of a decade. Whenever his father got drunk he told the same story, all about old Uncle Dougan and the great failure that was Prince Skass, and that Cailin would start learning the “new family business tomorrow.” He’d get his father another ale, then head back to the workshop.

He knew he would be up all night figuring out how to get a mechanikal arm to work off of a stormchamber instead of an arcane accumulator. It had never been done before and it was proving to be quite difficult. Since he didn’t have the skill to make a mechanikal arm himself, he had to buy one from another, more experienced mechanik, the same with the stormchambers. This wasn’t too much of a chore since his shop was doing so well. Then again, war was always good for the economy. It made people want the weapons, armor, and other mechanikal wonders that he and the few other mechaniks could make. At the age of 38, Cailin was considered young by the other dwarves, but for three years, he had worked hard, saved every copper he could, while helping his dad run their shop. That was two years ago and the shop was kept just as organized and just as spotlessly clean as the month it opened. That is to say, the store part of it was spotless; the back workshop on the other hand, while just as organized as the front half, was considerably less clean. This was where he worked on his little “pet project,” as his father called it.

Last month his father had found him out cold on the floor of his workshop after the stormchamber he had been attaching to a mechanikal arm had ruptured. He got a pretty good shock and had been thrown against the opposite wall. Luckily, the arm he had been working on didn’t get damaged at all so he could use that again next time. The stormchamber, of course, had been damaged beyond repair, so he would have to get a new one. He decided that possibly the arm needed more power to properly power it so he placed a special order for a superheavy stormchamber to be constructed. It had arrived 2 days ago and tonight he would finally have a chance to test his theory. He was up early to finish up all of his other work to make certain he would have the whole evening to himself.

Right around closing time his father stopped by and invited him to grab a pint after he finished closing up. Cailin agreed, figuring he could have one or two and then head home. Of course, “one or two” turned into a few hours discussing things with his dad. Afterwards, Cailin headed back to his workshop to get started. He made sure that everything was in order in the front half of the shop, locked the door and headed in the back room. He took the stormchamber out of the crate it came in and carefully placed it on his workbench next to the mechanikal arm. He made sure the arcano-conduction coil he would need was nearby as well as all the tools he would need. This being done, he lowered his goggles and set to work. The next thing Cailin knew, he was lying in a cot with his father asleep in a chair nearby. Once he woke up fully and got a complete grasp of his motor functions, he sat up and tried to remember what happened. He remembered connecting the arcano-conduction coil to the mechanikal arm. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the cot.

He laid there for a while trying to figure out what happened. He took stock of what he did know: His clothes were in tatters, his beard was scorched, and, after some careful probing, learned that two of his ribs were bruised and he had some pretty bad scratches on his face. After doing all this, he realized his father was now awake and looking at him. “How do ya' feel, son?”

“A little banged up but nothing a few days and some good ale won’t fix. What the hell happened?”

“Before I answer that, I have a question of my own. How big was the stormchamber you used?”

“A special ordered superheavy. Why?”

“A superheavy?! Yer lucky to be alive then! It appears that it ruptured. I found ya' barely breathin', lying on the ground about twenty feet outside the shop. From the looks of it, you got blown right through the wall. That was yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday morning?!”

“Yep, yesterday morning. I brought you here and you’ve been asleep on this cot since then.”

“What about the stormchamber and the mechanikal arm? Were they damaged in the blast? Can they be repaired?”

“I don’t think you quite get the whole picture yet. The stormchamber didn’t just rupture and let out a little energy, it fully exploded. It’s utterly destroyed, as is the arm…. and your shop.”

Cailin didn’t know what to say. Everything he had worked hard to achieve for the better part of the past five years was gone. He had to know the extent of the damage. “Dad, was anything salvageable? Any of my equipment? Tools? The cashbox?”

“I don’t know, son. Once you’re better we can go look, but I don’t think it looks good. I’ll go get you some food and drink. After being asleep for that long you must be hungry and thirsty.”

"Thanks dad. And thanks for taking care of me.”

“No problem, son.”

For the rest of that day and straight through the night, Cailin ate, drank and rested. The next morning, Cailin and his father went to the site of his shop. All that was left was rubble. Most of his tools were melted down; those that weren’t were bent beyond repair. The only thing he could find intact was the cashbox, and unfortunately after buying that superheavy stormchamber, there wasn’t much in there. What little he had, only about 800 gold pieces; that was not enough to rebuild the shop and definitely not enough to restart his "pet project." It was enough for a new start though.

Cailin Hammerfoot
February 25, 2011 - August 18, 2011
R.I.P.