During the next week, Delilah keeps exceptionally busy. Sleeping for just a couple short hours each morning, she spends most of the day helping with the cleanup and preparation of the castle. Moving stones, fetching tools, digging trenches; she is determined to pull her weight and defend this place--and her friends--with her life. Because of that, she seems to fight tooth and nail against this new tiredness that often catches her short of breath. 

In the afternoons she slinks down to the alchemy lab to prepare more healing salves or read up on processing techniques. If there's not much time, she at least leave a bundle of new herbs hanging to dry for the others.

During the evenings she's seen patrolling the parameter of the keep, often lost in thought with a notebook in hand and a grimnettle stem in her mouth. She'll jot down notes occasionally, and watches the forest with an uneasy eye. 

When she can slip away in the pre-dawn... She'll practice in the woods with her weapons and whatever scraps of cultist armor she could find in the keep. When she's lucky enough to catch something edible, Delilah leaves it in the kitchens before retiring exhaustedly back to bed.

Briar Luther is ever at Delilah's side, aiding her when she needs it, and training with her in the woods in the pre-dawn hours. "Need to be ready for anything," he'll often say as they trade off shots in the wee hours of the morning. At one point, he holds up a sling like contraption and dons it on his shoulders. "I managed to salvage this before the airship crashed." He has a grin on his face.

Delilah smiles at Luther, his ever-abundant enthusiasm infectious. She chuckles, eyeing the sling. "What even is that?"

"It's my...my..." He can't control his chuckling. "It's my gun-sling, so I guess that makes me," he struggles, stifling his laughter, "a gunslinger!" Slapping his knee, he laughs freely and loudly, his rich voice echoing through the woods.

She shakes her head, struggling to keep her laughter in check. "Wow, Mr. Luther. Wow. You are something else."

"I know, right?! 'gunslinger!!'" His laughter takes a minute to calm down, and he still chuckles from time to time, rethinking about it again and again. "This is what I had on my person for self defense in Alwyn. I had to hide it when the Rhens took over, but I figured, for the coming battle, it could be put to good use." He steps the mechanical sling device on his shoulders and torso, and unfolds a set of arm-length boom arms from the device that come to his hands.

She cocks an eyebrow, a smirk growing on her face. "Really? I had no idea. You are a surprising man, I must say!" She walks over and admires the contraption. "How does it work?"

"Well," he beams, "it works by depressing the buttons on top of the trigger device for the uppers, and pulling the triggers on the same device for the lowers." He looks a little crestfallen. "Alas, Delilah, I lack the one thing that could make this whole contraption worthwhile: guns."

"Aaah, well..." she smiles, "I'm sure we can remedy that mighty fast. Perhaps there are some still in the keep from the cultists?"

"Perhaps...," he muses. "I've never taken a life, Delilah, but until...." He pauses, his face growing dark, "...until now. I was always hoping I could avoid bloodshed, but in this day and age...this world...You never can be too careful." He thinks, musing again. "You know, before the Rhens came in and took everything, we had a constitutionally protected right to keep and bear arms in Alwyn. I took it as my personal responsibility to be armed, even though I despised the idea of killing." He laughs ironically. "Now, waiting on the edge of a battle I can't escape, I have no choice."

 Delilah nods, dropping her gear by a tree and taking a seat. "It is pretty inevitable, isn't it?" Her hands twitch a little, remembering her rope. 

"We will have to fight for our lives, Briar... I'm not sure what will happen, to be honest with ya. I'm downright frightened inside. If we want to live, we'll have to be ready. We'll have to be smart. And we'll have to be lucky." She shakes her head good-humoredly. 

"We do have good terrain here though. And a fortress. And some proper allies. That's somethin' at least, more than we ever had before."

Luther thinks on that for a moment. His eyes grow determined and bright. "You know, Delilah, you're right. I think we just might have a fighting chance." He winks and makes to head back to the castle. "Let's find some guns, shall we?"

"Sure! Oh!!" Her eyes light up. "What am I thinkin' I know where we can get some..." 

She leads him back to the fortress, down where the new Mech Bay is being fabricated. There is a huge stack of weapons piled high in a large crate in the corner. She beams. "Ragnar built these... And Rodrick brought em back here for us and the villagers. Take your pick!"

Briar's eyes light up at every facet of the fortress as it undergoes renovations and rebuilding. When he comes to the crate, his eyes narrow. "I think I'll take these four," he says, gathering up four pistols. He checks to see if they are loaded, and finds that they are. "Ahhh, IFA .357s! Perfect! Double stack, too!" With that, he mounts each of the four guns to his sling harness, and secures the trigger mechanisms. "This should do it! Now I am a real 'gunslinger!'"

Delilah snickers. "That's just like you, Luther." She eyes the crate of weapons, contemplating. "Any others you'd like to hold as backups? Or is your sling pretty accurate?"

He ponders for a moment, thinking. "Hmmmm... Some backup wouldn't be baaaaaaaaad, but..." He smiles at Delilah. "I think my contraption is pretty accurate. I'll certainly get myself some extra ammo for the battle ahead." He sighs aloud, his shoulders drooping. "I've never wanted to be in a battle...but waiting on a knife's edge of one I can't avoid is a much worse feeling." He looks up at you, his eyes bright with determination. "I will not fail you...ANY of you."

"Waiting is far worse, I must agree with you..." Delilah gives him a strange, but sincere look. "I know you won't, Briar. You have never failed me. And neither will I fail you." 

She flashes him a reassuring smile. "What did you use to tell me, anyway? Success is no accident, it's hard work. And you're the hardest worker I know."

He returns the smile with one of his dashing grins. "Success IS no accident, Delilah. Hard work, and smart work, too, will always net results. Taking risks of opportunity when it is inconvenient will also garner success. This battle is a huge risk to us all! We could always run and hide, but that would make enemies to a great many people, and it would mean endangering their lives. I couldn't live with myself if we up and ran. That's why I'm staying, Delilah. That's why I'm fighting: because there's dine good in this scary world, and it's worth fighting for. THAT'S my opportunity, and I plan to grab that bull by the horns!"

She chuckles. "You're absolutely right. There is a lot of good out there. And a lot of good people. People worth protecting." 

Delilah sits next to him, pulling out her pistol to start cleaning it. "What brought all this on, eh? You seem more fired up somehow." She looks inquisitive, but not pushy in any way.

"Just...had an epiphany within the last day or so. I'm thinking I believe in something a little greater than myself, and it was an opportunity, you see. I wasn't going to turn it down." At her look of concern, he holds up his hands, and quells her worries. "No, it's not who you think, if you're wondering. Tarj has done nothing for me, and I've really done nothing for him. I've never really been a fan, to tell you the truth."

Following Delilah's example, he pulls out one of his four guns, and begins the arduous process if cleaning them.

 She looks even more confused at his comments, but quietly contemplates them. Scrubbing the barrel of her gun with a bore brush, she finishes and sets it down, pulling out a soft scrap of fabric from her satchel. 

"Believing in something bigger can be... Empowering. Reassuring." She polishes the metal meticulously. "As much so as believing in ourselves."

She smirks, holding up her weapon to check the action. "And you never were a man to turn down an opportunity."

"You're not wrong, Delilah. You're not wrong."