Thread: Guns of Camelot

Placing the hot apple pie on the windowsill to cool, Rose dusted a bit of sugar and cinnamon on top to melt into the buttery flaky crust. She sighed and dusted off the flour that had been on her hand, against the apron she wore. It was always good to bake. It was even better with the rest of her family there to eat it. As it was, Grandpa Mac and Rose were the only ones at the farm on the weekends. At the moment Grandpa Mac was tending the sheep. His back was better, so he figured he'd do it this time, instead of hiring.

"Sing of the roses..." She sang to herself the song Nuala had made for her.

The song was sung as she cleaned up the kitchen, here and there she paused to concentrate on a stubborn spot, but Rose went on to sing it a few times as she cleaned. When the kitchen was spotless, and not even a red curl of hers out of place, Rose went to the mirror. Oh, her face. It was smeared with four. Before she could wipe it away, a knock was heard at the door. Curious, she went to it, mentally reassuring herself that it was Saturday, not Monday. It won't be Mrs. Finton. So who could be coming to visit?

"Coming." Rose called, as she went to open the door. But then hesitated. Could this be the knock she had always dreaded? Angus...Was he alright?! She grabbed the knob and turned it, opening the door.

Martin stood by outside the house, holding onto his horse's reins as he waited for the occupant to answer the door. The horse was a stubborn old thing, always had been, but it was no trouble for the large Gunsmith to handle. Almost as heavy as a horse himself, Martin had little trouble whenever it came to matters of strength.

As one of the older Gunsmiths, he was also fully aware of Rose McNair's relatively new profession as a wool weaver. In fact, Martin had known Rose as an apprentice, though he himself was a late arrival when it came to the world of gunsmithing.

Before then, he was a blacksmith who specialized in making horse shoes and swords. And now he was one of the Merlin's chosen, perhaps closest to becoming his master's successor if experience counted for anything. You should be where I'm at now, Mrs Wesson, he thought.

When the door opened, Martin's immediate thought was that he was correct in his initial assumption, that Rose would have lost none of her once famous looks. Hers was a beauty that had captured the hearts of many a fellow Gunsmith, including Martin's. But that was a very long once upon a time ago, and Martin was well aware of how little chance he generally had with women anyway, except for the ones he paid for in dirty taverns and town saloons.

He looked down at Rose with as much consideration as he would have for any other Gunsmith, which was not much at all, and merely said, "The Merlin's calling all Gunsmiths to help out with the war. We're to make guns and ammunition."

"The Merlin's calling all Gunsmiths to help out with the war. We're to make guns and ammunition."

Rose blinked a bit, then raised her brows. It was Martin. She had known him from since she was an apprentice. Before she got married. On one hand, she was relieved that he was not here to tell her that Angus was shot in some duel. On the other hand, what kind of person greets one at their own door, with out even a 'Hows ya do?'. Rose pursed her lips, and placed a hand on each hip. People really need to learn some manners! With a glint of irritation in her pretty eyes, Rose let her upbringing and motherly instincts take over.

“Martin Cooper, you're just as tart and curt as I remember!” Rose spoke. “What kind of a person comes to someones home, on a Saturday, and just slaps on an order form the Merlin without even saying hello!? Have the flames you love so much gotten to your head? Now let's start over!”

Every once in a while, when her kids displayed a level of misbehavior to evoke such a response from Rose, she'd have them redo the action the way it is 'supposed to be'. Rose would explain the process as she went along, helping the child to redeem themselves. A part of her that was helpful when assisting Gunsmiths who were struggling with a task she knew how to do. Shutting the door, then opening it again, Rose smiled warmly.

“Hello.” She spoke, then told him that at this point, he should say hello. Going on to the next part, Rose said. “Oh, Martin, it's good to see you again. Everything is good I trust?-Okay, now you would tell me what the Merlin wants, and I'd say- Calling all Gunsmiths? I'll have to see what I can do to get over there. I am quite busy, but I understand there is a need. If you would be so kind, tell them I am on my way.”

“See, Martin? Now that's how you greet an old friend.” Rose was not mad in the least, shaking his hand, weather or not he wanted to, she was just momentarily taken aback by his sudden appearance and out of the blue instructions. “If you'd like some, you're welcome to stay for a piece of apple-pie. Grandpa Mac will be coming shortly to have some to.”

Martin remained silent throughout the entire time Rose was speaking. Without any change in expression, he blandly replied, "You have until tomorrow. Work will be at the ammunition factory and I'll be your supervisor. Don't be late."

Then he turned to leave and mounted his horse with all the grace of a falling rock. Martin could not care less about what Rose had to say. He was here to deliver a message and now it was delivered, but he figured that Rose at least deserved to know how things had been since she left.

"There's a lot of fresh faces nowadays. Most of them wouldn't even know about you, but there's still a few who do. Little Meredith Colt has grown up to be one of the Merlin's apprentices, and she knows all about what happened between you and her cousin. The Merlin's getting older these days, and more tired. Someone will have to take over for him soon... it could have been you, Rose."

With those last words, he spurred his horse off on a trot back towards the city. It was then that Grandpa Mac appeared, standing on the path to the house and watching as the ogre of a Gunsmith rode away.

"Who was that?" the old man asked.

At the mention of having Martin as a Supervisor, Rose inwardly grumbled. Who over there thought Martin was a good choice to be a boss? He's too short tempered in her mind, plus he's an ass most of the time. Yet, Rose was polite and nodded in acknowledgment. She thought that was the end of things. Rose was going to turn her attention back to her floury messy hands and face, but then Martin spoke of the 'fresh new' faces. That was a comfort in her mind, until Martin added that Meredith Colt was among them.

Ah, Charles...If Meredith is a true Colt, she'll be as indignant to Rose as the rest are. Charles wasn't too bad, since he had said to agree to be friends with her. Gunsmith's tend to keep in touch, even if Rose was out of the loop, she knew of Meredith. Rose was resigned to be as civil and lady-like as she was able. Besides, it's not like she was getting called over to be permanently reinstated. It's just to help with the war for a while. Rose decided to roll with whatever Meredith could punch.

“...The Merlin's getting older these days, and more tired. Someone will have to take over for him soon... it could have been you, Rose."

Martin just rode off after saying that. How cruel. Had Rose not made it clear to people that she chose her life? Where does Martin come off making that kind of a comment? Rose momentarily wondered what the Merlin thought of her. She hadn't considered his feelings about the whole thing. Rose was too much in love to worry about that. But now it was apparent that she'll have to meet with the Merlin some time, if not soon. Will he be upset with her? Had he even considered her a prospective Merlin? The man was hard for her to read sometimes.

Rose stepped out of the house. Tilting her head in wonder, Rose thought about the idea of it all. Could she really have been the next Merlin? No...it wasn't her vocation. Despite her qualifications, she just wasn't interested in that life. It didn't call to her. It wasn't what she loved. Rose loved Angus, so she married him and not Charles. Rose became a wool waver, and left the Gunsmith life behind. She worked wool as natural as breathing...okay, so it was just as natural to craft guns, as it was easy to weave wool...but who is to say Rose must be a Gunsmith?

"Who was that?" Grandpa Mac asked.

“An old Gunsmith friend. Martin Cooper.” Rose finally spoke, turning to Mac. She dusted herself off the best she could. “Tomorrow I'll have to leave for the ammunition factory. It seems the war is calling on reinforcements of the Gunsmith sort.”

“You will keep an eye on Nuala?” Rose really didn't have to ask, it was a sure thing. Mac nodded, and walked inside with his daughter-in-law.

“Don't ya worry about that Darlin' I'll take care of her while you're gone.” He said, eagerly awaiting a piece of the apple-pie.

“Poor dear, my Nuala. Her father's off to Camelot, and now I'll probably have to live up there to. I can't ride back and forth, it's too much.” Rose got out plates and placed a slice on each one, giving Mac two. Placing a fork in both, she put the plate on the table.

“She'll understand.” Mac spoke with confidence. He took a bite and spoke as only a good father-in-law could. “Nuala won't hold it against ya.”

“Oh, Mac...” Rose sighed. “The reality of this war is setting in for us here. If the Merlin is calling on Gunsmith's like me, we must be in serious danger. The Merlin wouldn't call on us otherwise.”

“Then he's called on the best woman for the job.” He smiled.

“What job? Martin is the Supervisor. I'll be an underling.” Rose sat down, eating the delicious pie. After a moment she spoke again. “If I remember Martin, he'll be watching the clock like a hawk. I'll have to get there early. Earlier than him, I should think.” Rose nodded to herself. That's what she'll do.

Martin was on his way back to the city when he heard the gunshots. He stopped his horse for a moment, listening rather than seeing in the darkness of the night. He could see the Avalonians by the light of their torches, and saw some kind of ruckus going on further back on the trail, as far as the eye could see. With a kick in the sides of his horse's flanks, Martin sought to investigate the commotion.

Meanwhile at the farm, Grandpa Mac was thinking of something encouraging to say when he heard the distant crack of gunshots, so faint that they were almost inaudible. The sound was familiar enough in Camelot, but it still made him worry about Rose's safety.

"Sounds a bit lively out there tonight," he said with concern. "Maybe it's best we wait a bit. Surely the factory can wait until tomorrow, short notice as it is. Did that Martin fellow say it was urgent?"

Gunshots made Rose look out the window with unease. They were normally not so close to the house. It sounded like it came from the front of Camelot, instead of within it. Rose noted Mac's concern, but as late as it was, as dangerous as it seemed, she had to do her duty.

"Yes it's urgent...Urgency is not thrown lightly around by the Merlin, Mac." Rose nodded to the Gunshots. "Looks like this more than proves that. I really should go tonight..." Rose looked back to Mac, and sighed. He wasn't too keen on that idea.

"Well...I guess I have things to pack." She mumbled. "And I need to wash up..."

"Alright, I'll head off tomorrow, but I'll be leaving before dawn."

Grandpa Mac sighed with relief as he returned to eating his apple pie. When there were gunshots going off in the night, anyone in their right minds would not wish to be anywhere near them. Besides, it was no business for anyone who wasn't a Gunslinger. Let those duster clad fighters deal with the problem if it didn't have anything to do with the McNairs.

"Probably just folks fending off some wolves," Mac speculated in between chews. "You know how things like that can get, all panicky and such. I remember when Angus was a boy, he had his own special way of dealing with dangerous animals."

The old man fell silent for a moment as he reminisced about the past. Simpler times when his son wasn't a gun toting warrior, or married to a former Gunsmith from a notable family of Gunsmiths. Goodness that had caused a whole heap of drama.

"I don't know where he got it from, it certainly wasn't anything I ever taught him, but it worked devilishly well, it did. Beasts learned to fear him soon enough and he wasn't even a man yet!"

“Hm.” Rose couldn't help but smile. Angus was as sharp minded as a whip against the hand. She could very well imagine a young Angus, bored, going after whatever he could use to lure in the monsters of the forest to come on over. No doubt to just have some fun in his life.

“Right, Mac. And when the beasts did get smart, he just moved on to boxing. How did you guys ever have such a hell-raiser?” Rose tried not to giggle at the thought of that. It wasn't right to laugh, but it was just so funny. Mac wasn't like Angus in that way. Not at all. And here he has a son. “I'm guessing he was quite the shock.”

“I'm glad Ryan and James aren't as wild. Nuala, thank heavens, doesn't even want to have a gun on her. But, in this town...well I think it might be a matter of time.” Rose sighed. It was indeed late and the next morning she would have to get going.

“Alright, Mac. I think I'll turn in for the night. Go ahead and have another piece if you want, but I'll take a slice to Angus. I am determined to meet that man tomorrow.” She smiled.

Rose got her things together. Packing and such. The next morning she'd saddle her horse, Molly, and ride to Camelot before the sun dawns. The first stop would be her sisters house. Jane wouldn't mind in the slightest to let Rose stay at ehr house until she can get over to the Grimm's Manor.

Getting to the factory before Martin was a big deal. It would start off well for her if he saw she wasn't just some silly old wool weaving housewife. Rose was married to Angus McNair, but she was still the Daughter of Thomas Wesson!

"I'll remember," Grandpa Mac said as he took another piece of the pie. "And don't worry about washing up, I can see to that. You just rest up for tomorrow."

As he finished eating and licked his plate clean, an old habit that had stayed with him from childhood, he realized that it was likely to be the last piece of apple pie he'd have in a while, perhaps the last he'd ever have. The fact of his old age had never escaped him and, for some reason, the thought of never eating apple pie again was more crushing than knowing that tomorrow, for the first time in many years, he'd be completely alone in the house... at least until Nuala came over and that in itself was a balm.

Grandpa Mac did not much care for the world of Gunsmiths and Gunslingers, but after washing the plates, setting aside the last piece of pie and then going to bed for sleep, he prayed that his family would return home safely. Angus, Rose, the boys in Avalon, Ryan and James, or 'Buck' and 'Scuff' as they were sometimes called, Grandpa Mac prayed for the safety of them all.

The thought never crossed his mind that Nuala would ever be in danger, so he didn't worry about her, but included her in his prayers all the same. It seemed to be all he could do for his family these days and as much as the old man hated it, he'd bear it all as well as he could for as long as he would live. If it was one thing he could be happy about, it was that his family understood the one golden rule of Camelot very well: you had to be tough to survive.

When morning came, Grandpa Mac did not rise with the sun as he usually did. After all, today was the day that Rose was going to leave and for how long, he had no idea. All he knew was that he was going to stay in bed and sham sleep until Rose was gone. He was always terrible with goodbyes.

Morning was bright and happy for Rose. She was always a morning person, but another reason to smile was the possibility of seeing Angus. It had been too long. Rose made breakfast, but knew Mac would be getting up after she left. It was something she had gotten used to over the years. Leaving Grandpa Mac's plate warm in the oven, Rose gathered her things and saddled Robin. Angus may be happy to see his horse.

"Come on old boy, let's go" She clicked her tongue and off they went.

With as much grace as one would expect from Rose, the beauty rode to Camelot as the sun just peeked over the hills. She rode side saddle like it was not difficult in the slightest. After all she was wearing a dress, and one does not ride on horses with ones legs on either side when wear an outfit like that.

Rose was greeted warmly by most people when she came into the City. It was morning, and whispers were being shared about the vampire attack last night. As much as Rose was worried if Angus had to have helped or not, she was resigned to believe he was doing well. After all, no one was contacting her about it, so that must mean Angus is okay.

"Rose Wesson?" Hilda Hoover meandered on over, following Robin's slow pace through the streets.

"No, Mrs. Hoover, I got married. I'm Mrs. McNair now." Rose didn't like Hilda just as much as Nuala. "Maybe you forgot, so I forgive you Mrs. Hoover, but please remember the next time you want to greet me."

As if this wasn't the thousandth time I told her!

"There was a vampire attack, you know." She ignored Rose's words. "Right in front of the gates it was! What are the Caliburns for if not to keep us safe? Where was your husband? I say, it's no good, no good."

"Yes, you're right." Rose felt a little curt with her. "Maybe I should see to him then? Yes, that's what I'll do, thank you Hilda I'll get right to it. Good day." And with a light tap to Robin, the horse hurried ahead.

Rose was able to get to Jane's house, to set her stuff there for the time being. This way she'd get to the factory early and know her things will be safe. Later on Rose would move over to be with Angus at the Grimm's Manor. Hopefully Desmond won't feel threatened by her, and her role as a homemaker. At the moment, Rose had made her way to the factory.

"Bright and early." Rose smiled to herself, knowing she had gotten there before Martin. Ready and willing, she set her coat on the rack and went to look over what to do.

Before Rose's arrival, most, if not all, of the Gunsmiths in the factory grumbled among themselves for having to do such a menial task as manufacturing bullets. Bullets of certain types, calibre, materials and other details that only an experienced eye would know to watch out for perhaps, but this was the work of apprentices and ammunition specialists, not the makers of the finest weapons in the land, the revolver.

The Gunsmiths derided the tedious work of making bullets, and the factory workers were flaring up at the insolence of these newcomers. Tempers were rising and bound to come to blows, if these professionals of related, but fundamentally different fields, could not find common ground between each other. They found it soon enough as Rose McNair (still Wesson to some) entered the factory and went about her business, getting ready for work.

The atmosphere quickly became quite hushed as the Gunsmiths noted Rose's presence and exchanged the odd whispered word, here and there. The older ones knew her by sight, the younger by reputation, and the younger still, the apprentices, had little or no knowledge of the eminent ex-Gunsmith, but could read the mood well enough. Confused by the aborted tensions in the air, the factory workers simply went back to preparing everything they needed for the manufacture of ammunition.

Not longer after Rose had arrived, Martin appeared at the entrance and stood there for a moment as every head turned towards him. He looked around for a moment and then a moment longer, then shouted in a sudden boom of annoyance, "Well what're you all gawking at? START WORKING!"

He threw his hands up in the air as if to say, look at what I have to deal with, then made a lumbering beeline for the foreman's office as the factory exploded in a flurry of activity.

Magic has no hard lines. It's nature isn't to lean to one aspect of the world, or the other. Healers, Pyro's, Frosties, and so on, they are all the doings of the individual who favors one of those. Rose tended to make revolvers with enchantments to keep them in working order, and generally stay hassle free when cleaning. Picking up tips and tricks with her trade, she got talented with enchantments that made the bullets hit their targets more often than not. A handy thing when in a heated gunfight. But right now it was time for making bullets.

“Ah, Margo, very well done, but don't touch Joe's hands until that spark of yours has left.” Rose nodded, referring to Joe and his work with the Frost bullets. “Don't want your hair on end or a dead fella.”

“This blows air.” One of them muttered, glancing up at Rose as she passed by. It was not said lightly, and although it was spoken to another, it was clear who it was meant for.

Rose sighed. It seems she's going to have to deal with more than Meredith. She saw some old faces. The newer ones were nice to speak with. Well, most. But the old 'buddies', her old 'friends', hah! Not so much friends as they were frenemies. Rose did her best not to snap back. She went on he business, keeping track of the working order of things. Especially with the people, but of course the machines. Then she'd go on to make sure the Gunsmiths that needed help, were getting it, and so on.

“Cain't weasel on in like you're some old storm, Rose Wesson.” A voice said from behind. Rose turned to face Hale. A lean brown eyed man, with a squint in his eyes.

“I'm not weaseling in on anything, Hale. I was asked to come. So I came.”

“Why? Humor me!” He laughed crossing his arms. “It's not like duty is so important to ya, you left to...what was it? To weave wool! What Gunsmith weaves wool, and expects to fall back into place here?”

“What I chose to do with my life, is none of your concern, now get back to your duty.” Rose crossed her arms, then added coolly. “Or is arguing with a silly old house wife more important you ya?

Hale glowered in response and turned as though to leave the matter alone, but then he faced Rose again and said, "Ya know, we don't need your advice or whatever it is you're doing. You've been out for too long for that to have any kind of value any more."

A few other Gunsmiths murmured their assent and, spurred on by this, Hale continued, "If ya think ya can just waltz in here and tell us how to do our jobs, forget about it. I mean when's the last time you even touched a gun, let alone a bullet?"

As Martin sat behind the desk in his office, checking the lists of all the raw materials at hand, he glanced up out of the window overlooking the factory and noticed the commotion with the Gunsmiths.

With his chair creaking and groaning as he stood up, Martin walked outside of his office, leaned over the railing and shouted in a booming voice loud enough to drown out all the noise of the machinery, "OI, YOU LOT OVER THERE! GET BACK TO WORK!"

Everyone in the factory had stopped for a moment, not knowing exactly who Martin was talking to. After a few seconds too long, Martin inhaled sharply then roared, "I SAID GET BACK TO WORK!"

The Gunsmith was literally breathing fire as he said the word 'work', which was enough to terrify most of the people in the factory, and production promptly continued. Satisfied, Martin went back into his office and thought of how much he liked his job sometimes.

“Hale, you don't know who you're talking to, if you think that.” Rose's glint in her eyes darkened, when he said she'd have little value there. “I may have been away, but I have plenty to contribute. I'm the wife of a Angus McNair, but I am still the daughter of Daniel Wesson.”

“Whatever you think you need or don't need, ins't the focus here, Hale. I was asked to come, by the Merlin. He must think I am good for something. If the Merlin's wisdom isn't enough for you, then take it up with him.” Rose placed her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised. “For now, you are on our time here. There is a war going on. Button up and buckle down, before I report you.”

“As for my talents, you don't know what I've been doing, Hale, so you can zip it.” Rose wanted to elaborate on these thoughts, but then Martin shouted down at them all with his usual lack of tact. Even a bit of his beloved flames escaped his mouth on that last word of his. Rose sighed, then turned back to her work. She was almost done with that half of the room. Going to cross examine, make sure no one was slipping up. Helping with the tough stuff.

“Mrs. McNair.” Margo spoke from the side.

“Yes Margo?” Rose didn't want the sweet new Gunsmith to see her tired irritation, so she smiled to her.

“We have a problem.” Margo led Rose to the machines, where the gears were getting stuck. “It's like, it's rusted, but, we can't get the hub to come off to clean it. And this isn't the only one either. These things are kind of old. We are having trouble getting them to be consistent.”

This was problem indeed. Here they all were, doing what they must to aid Avalon in the war. The last thing they want is to halt progress. Thankfully this was right up Rose's alley. Her smooth, clean, manageable guns haven't had one issue in that regard. None can doubt her long lasting magic. Rose inspected the machine and shook her head.

“Oh, dear. We need to clear this up before Martin sees it. He'll throw a flaming fit.” Rose said this without meaning to be funny, but the newer Gunsmith's chuckled a little. Rose let a little bit of merriment escape her lips as well.

“Here, we'll fix this. I can show you what I do, to keep things in working order. Not another crust of rust will plague this machine again.” Rose spent some time with them, working her magic and getting those persnickety machines back into shape. As good as new. Better than new!

"Whoa... shiny," Margo said as she examined Rose's work, impressed with the outcome. There was truly not a spot of rust left. "Well that's one down."

Some of the regular factory workers took notice and exchanged questioning glances. One of them, a slender grey-haired man, stepped forward and said, "Hey, I appreciate you being here to help out and all, but can I just ask you to please not mess around with the machines? We don't have many spare parts for them, y'see, and it only takes one mistake to cause problems."

Margo squinted at the man, not fooled by his civil tone. She 'knew' that the factory workers didn't want Gunsmiths around, just because they might do a better job of running the place, and Margo thought of telling the man just that, but managed to bite back her retort. She looked to Rose, wondering how the older Gunsmith would respond.

The intention of this mans words wasn't lost on Rose. The ex-Gunsmith met the mans gaze evenly, with as much honey in her expression as his flowery words to her were said. Hands folded in front, and a standing straight Rose listened to what he had to say before stealing a glance at the machine when he mentioned the lack of parts.

"Well, Sir, first I must say that your concern for these machines is admirable. When can only hope everyone here is looking out for them like you are." Rose smiled sweetly. "As for parts, well, I think being in a factory will aid in that respect, don't you think? You're all so innovative, I'm sure parts could be made."

Rose opened up a panel as she spoke and revealed her handy work. The shine of the metal, the way it seemed to hum and not scrape with sound like the other machines. Rose stepped aside and opened the panel of one of the others. It's insides were crusty and hurt the ears just to listen to it. One of the gears looked like it was about to pop off.

"As you can see, the mistake here isn't in what these hands would do." Rose said raising up her pretty little hands. Her manner calm and unphased. "The mistake would be to ignore my talents to serve the inflated ego of the factory workers, and their presumptuous arrogance that I'm not any good to serve the purpose for which I have been called for."

Rose let her hands fold in front of her again. She knew her last words must sting. It wasn't how she would have liked to do this, but it seemed he was just another one of those guys that kept popping up to get in her face. All because of her little past choices.

"Now, unless you want that rusty gear to pop out and shut down this machine, you can sit down and get to work." Rose smiled. "So that I can get to my work."