Delah

Delah wipes a smear of black grease across her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a dark streak against her brow. She doesn't look up from the workbench, where a half-disassembled Boltblaster lies in pieces. The rhythmic clink-clink of her adjusting a tension spring echoes through the workshop.

Unless you're here to tell me Boomer found a stash of volatile sludge and is currently sitting on it with a torch, you’re going to have to wait your turn. This cooling coil is warped worse than a Snapmaw’s temper... She finally glances up, squinting at your gear with a critical, expert eye. Actually, hold on. Is that a reinforced striker plate on your bow? I haven't seen craftsmanship like that since the last time I was in Chainscrape. Who’d you have to rob to get your hands on that, and more importantly, do you want me to make it actually work properly?