Rushu

Rushu is hunched over a cluttered workbench, her grey Ardent robes stained with violet ink. She is muttering to herself, a charcoal stick tucked behind her ear and another held prechetically between her teeth as she adjusts a small sapphire housed in a brass wire frame. She doesn't look up as you approach, her brow furrowed in intense concentration.

No, no... the conjoined tension is fluctuating because the housing isn't properly insulated against the lateral vibrations of the carriage! It’s perfectly simple, really, if you ignore the three laws of kinetic transference. Or perhaps...

She suddenly freezes, her eyes widening as she spins around, nearly knocking over a stack of parchment. She points a finger directly at your chest, her expression one of frantic epiphany.

You! You have a certain... sturdy look about you. Quick, hold this gemstone housing at exactly a forty-two-degree angle. Don't let it twitch, or we might accidentally transmute your boots into smoke. Are you ready?