Chachanji shifted a bit uncomfortably as he looked over the strange amalgamation of architectural designs. Not due to any particular understanding of the aesthetics at play here, but more in a sycophantic reaction to the general sense of unease that just seemed to pervade the place mixed with a basic discomfort from the biting breeze. He was dressed well enough for it, but given the situation they might possibly be dealing with, he would have to have been an absolute fool not to have some manner of protection at the ready.
Not that one would be able to identify the armor at a glance - it was a design made out of necessity during the incident with the crimson-earringed rogues a few moons back. Clothing that hid a thin layer of high-quality chainmail underneath, a level of misdirection that was highly uncommon for such a straight-forward Lalafell like Chachanji. However, after attempted poisonings, attacks on his person, and even arcane hypnosis, one had to forgo their scruples a little in order to survive such altercations. Though, what bothered the little Lalafell about the results of such actions was a little more intangible than just having concealed chain sewn into his clothing. But those were thoughts for another time, and he was forced to press them down rather than dwell on them - what mattered was the here and now.
At his back, strapped in the usual manner, was an oversized hammer that had come to be Chachanji's trademark - though, in truth, it was a tool in keeping with the Gegenji family tradition. This one was, again, a divergence from the norm however. His usual hammer had been left at the smithy, as it was a tool and he intended to keep it as such. The protective hand-guard and armor-piercing spike on the reverse of this one marked it more a heavy warhammer, though the finer details were hidden within its snap-sheath - leaving only the forearm-sized head visible. It was a weapon that seemed more appropriate in the hand of a Roegadyn than a Lalafell, but Chachanji had proven on multiple occasions that he could handle such things surprisingly deftly given his stocky and diminutive form.
"'s defin'tely a fittin' place, I 'spose," he murmured in response to Virara's initial announcement. She was always rather terse with words, but he was rarely left wondering what she meant - though whether it was due to her ability to transmit intent succinctly or his own empathetic nature or some combination of the two was left uncertain. Or perhaps he simply took her words and intentions to mean whatever he thought them to mean, which could explain the lengths he had gone to seek to befriend her and show her a gentler path that deviated harshly from the teachings of her merciless Master. A highly-trained pugilistic assassin and a stalwart armorsmithing pacifist - they made for quite the odd pair.
And a pair that would remain as such for the course of this venture, as he shook his head in response to her follow-up.
"I came this far, y'know? I ain't givin' up on ya now."
Which was a given truth, if one knew Chachanji well enough. Like Virara, he had a stubborn streak; but his was more in his almost childish desire to protect people, especially those closest to him. The former had resulted in a rather odd secondary goal for the smaller Lalafell as well, another reason to be at her side on this trip. While he understood Virara's fear and repulsion of the Tsuchigumo - he had been there when she had been taken and had participated in driving it off - the Kuze group's assertions to the earth spider worthlessness via their strange Hyur contact had kindled a strange desire to try and help the thing. Everyone else seemed to want it dead, thinking that it didn't belong and had no place in this world... and that tugged at his stubbornly protective nature.
He was here to help Virara seek closure with the issue, but at the same time he sought to give a second chance to the very creature that had scarred her so. It was an illogical dichotomy that seemed to entertain the Kuze group just as much as it likely bothered Virara. Not that she had spoken too openly about it, since she begrudgingly admitted that this was in Chachanji's very nature to behave. And one of her most adamant demands of him was to never change who he was.
And so here he was.
"So, um... do we jus' knock? Ring a bell?" he questioned, looking over the front gate with a canted gaze. "Though, I'd figger given th' design'a this place, they prolly already know we're 'ere. Still, can't hurt ta be polite 'bout it."
Not that one would be able to identify the armor at a glance - it was a design made out of necessity during the incident with the crimson-earringed rogues a few moons back. Clothing that hid a thin layer of high-quality chainmail underneath, a level of misdirection that was highly uncommon for such a straight-forward Lalafell like Chachanji. However, after attempted poisonings, attacks on his person, and even arcane hypnosis, one had to forgo their scruples a little in order to survive such altercations. Though, what bothered the little Lalafell about the results of such actions was a little more intangible than just having concealed chain sewn into his clothing. But those were thoughts for another time, and he was forced to press them down rather than dwell on them - what mattered was the here and now.
At his back, strapped in the usual manner, was an oversized hammer that had come to be Chachanji's trademark - though, in truth, it was a tool in keeping with the Gegenji family tradition. This one was, again, a divergence from the norm however. His usual hammer had been left at the smithy, as it was a tool and he intended to keep it as such. The protective hand-guard and armor-piercing spike on the reverse of this one marked it more a heavy warhammer, though the finer details were hidden within its snap-sheath - leaving only the forearm-sized head visible. It was a weapon that seemed more appropriate in the hand of a Roegadyn than a Lalafell, but Chachanji had proven on multiple occasions that he could handle such things surprisingly deftly given his stocky and diminutive form.
"'s defin'tely a fittin' place, I 'spose," he murmured in response to Virara's initial announcement. She was always rather terse with words, but he was rarely left wondering what she meant - though whether it was due to her ability to transmit intent succinctly or his own empathetic nature or some combination of the two was left uncertain. Or perhaps he simply took her words and intentions to mean whatever he thought them to mean, which could explain the lengths he had gone to seek to befriend her and show her a gentler path that deviated harshly from the teachings of her merciless Master. A highly-trained pugilistic assassin and a stalwart armorsmithing pacifist - they made for quite the odd pair.
And a pair that would remain as such for the course of this venture, as he shook his head in response to her follow-up.
"I came this far, y'know? I ain't givin' up on ya now."
Which was a given truth, if one knew Chachanji well enough. Like Virara, he had a stubborn streak; but his was more in his almost childish desire to protect people, especially those closest to him. The former had resulted in a rather odd secondary goal for the smaller Lalafell as well, another reason to be at her side on this trip. While he understood Virara's fear and repulsion of the Tsuchigumo - he had been there when she had been taken and had participated in driving it off - the Kuze group's assertions to the earth spider worthlessness via their strange Hyur contact had kindled a strange desire to try and help the thing. Everyone else seemed to want it dead, thinking that it didn't belong and had no place in this world... and that tugged at his stubbornly protective nature.
He was here to help Virara seek closure with the issue, but at the same time he sought to give a second chance to the very creature that had scarred her so. It was an illogical dichotomy that seemed to entertain the Kuze group just as much as it likely bothered Virara. Not that she had spoken too openly about it, since she begrudgingly admitted that this was in Chachanji's very nature to behave. And one of her most adamant demands of him was to never change who he was.
And so here he was.
"So, um... do we jus' knock? Ring a bell?" he questioned, looking over the front gate with a canted gaze. "Though, I'd figger given th' design'a this place, they prolly already know we're 'ere. Still, can't hurt ta be polite 'bout it."