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[h2][color=ed1c24][i][b]Rickard Barriden[/b][/i][/color][/h2][i][b][color=ed1c24]Elf, Fighter (Eldritch Knight), Level 03[/color][/b][/i]
[color=ed1c24][i][b]HP:[/b][/i][/color] 31 / 31 [color=ed1c24][i][b]Armor Class:[/b][/i][/color] 19[color=ed1c24] [i][b]Conditions:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=ed1c24][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Neil and Bob's Public House
[color=ed1c24][i][b]Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=ed1c24][i][b]Bonus Action:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=ed1c24][i][b]Reaction:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
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Lynda stands over Rickard as he cleaning a sword. She drops a mail shirt down on the wooden floor in front of him "There is still rust in this mail Rickard. Grab the wire brush and start over."

"[color=ed1c24]Why must I use the wire brush? I could clean this much faster with my magic.[/color]" He was frustrated that he had to clean the mail again. It was the second time today he had to clean the mail, and the fourth time in the last three days. He was beginning to think that she was doing this just for her own amusement.

"This is true but you may not always have your magic. And some times it is better to clean your armor this way as it forces you to take your time. You may even learn patience and to not rush into things." A slight smile crossed her face. "Now when you are done with that meet me in the common hall. The inn keep is serving roast lamb with a mint sauce." She left the Rickard in the room to tend to the weapon and armor. 

He muttered to himself as he finished cleaning the blade and ran the whet stone over the edge. "[color=ed1c24]This is ridiculous, clean the armor with the wire brush. Slow down, be patient.[/color]" He ran the stone down the length of the blade to quickly and slipped near the end of the edge and cut two of his fingers on his left hand. The blade and the stone fell from his hands and clattered to the floor. Rickard swore in elvish as he grabbed some cloth and pressed it to the wound. Fortunately it was a shallow cut and the blood stopped flowing shortly. Still he wrapped the cut with the clean cloth. Afterwards he started to clean the area where he had bled and resumed cleaning and oiling the blade. The armor took nearly a hour but at last the remaining bit of rust was finally gone. With a soft clean cloth he started to oil down the mail taking his time ensuring each link was well oiled.

After the gear was stored Rickard made his way to the common hall looking for Ser Lynda. She was seated near the hearth with a tall mug of ale in hand and the remains of her supper on the plate in front of her. "What happened to your hand?" She asked as he sat down at the table gesturing to his bandaged hand.

"[Color=ed1c24]The whet stone slipped while I was honing the edge of the blade. I was... going to quick.[/color]"

She gave a slight nod and took a deep drink from the mug. "Not to serious is it? Let me see it." Her hand reached out and grabbed his before he could move. With a deft movement she removed the bandage and examined the cut. "You're lucky you didn't take your fingers off. We'll go see a healer to make sure that you didn't do to much damage."

Rickard nodded and stood with Lynda to leave the inn. In the physical realm his hand twitched some as if moving to hone a blade or scrubbed rust from mail. The night moves on around him as he continued to dream on.