When you're lost and lonesome...

[The Archer]

(Requesting Slayer)

Seth had been dragged from the coldest section of Althanas to the hottest, and now here he was, back in a temperate environment. That wasn't the best thing in the world, though, he supposed, since he still didn't really have anywhere to go.

What he did have, walking around in those same Bazaar streets, was a weaponless kitsune who wanted to follow him into places unknown. He had some money, so he figured he'd arm her. Something sturdy, because it would have to last...and something special, just in case...

He stepped into the musky weapons shop, his ears perking up to compensate for the sudden darkness.

"Hello?"

[Slayer of the Rot]

Afternoon sunlight spilled across the snoring face and steady, rising chest of the young blond merchant behind the counter, his snores soft as the lycanthrope entered. He didn't stir a single inch -- not at the thump of the closing door, or even the footsteps approaching him. The customer could have probably robbed him blind; but even the punishments of the Furies would seem tame if Cyril Lagarius caught him.

The greeting did the job, though. The merchant jerked upright at the word sitting up in his chair in one quick motion. Cyril blinked at the customer with bleary eyes and glanced about with a confused expression. His eyebrows arched in surprise when he noticed where the sun was in the sky. Hands fumbling under the counter, he produced a tall battle of amber liquid and scratched his thin chest.

"Yeah. Can I help you? Armor, weapons, magical items poison -- I got a little bit of everything. And I do mean everything."

[The Archer]

A sleeping merchant wasn't a common thing here in Radasanth, but Seth supposed that there were worse places to sleep than behind the counter of one's shop.

"Yeah, I'm actually looking for a couple of daggers. One something a little more durable than steel, preferably, and one solid silver. Oh, and the person I'm buying these for has little hands, so nothing with hilts too big."

A lycanthrope buying a silver dagger was a rare thing, and buying one for someone else rarer still...but Seth didn't figure he'd get too many questions. After all, his gold was as good as anyone else's.

[Slayer of the Rot]

"Some daggers? Better believe I got 'em..."

Cyril yawned loudly and arched his back as he stretched his arms high over his head, kicking the dark oak door of a cupboard under the counter. The door swung open and a burlap sack fell out, thumping as it the ground. The merchant bent in his chair and jabbed at the bag with the bottle before taking a deep drink from it.

"C'mon, wake up you lousy bastard. We got a customer, and you need to do some work to pay off all those velvet sacks I buy for you."

Cyril glanced back up at Seth, giving him a lopsided grin.

"Loves his whores, he does. Wake up Bagley, god damn it."

A pair of rough cut burlap lids opened slowly over two dirty gold coins -- and then the sack pushed itself up, using it's upper corners as hands. The mouth of the bag curved into an angry grin.

"Listen to me, ya drunk," the bag roared, shaking it's fist up at Cyril, "You're the on that sleep all damn night, and here you are, sleeping the day away too! There's no point in making me stay up if you're just going to doze away in the warm sunshine."

"Whatever, Bagley. Listen; the customer here wants two daggers. One in in silver and the other in...just give me a silver dagger for the moment. With a small hilt, for little hands." The sack rubbed it's makeshifts hands on it's stomach as it began to swell, and Cyril looked back to Seth.

The silver dagger will be about a hunnert and sixty crowns. I knocked a bit of the price for the smaller construction. As for the other, I can get you a dagger in plynt for about twenny crowns. Plynt's a little more durable than steel, will retain poisons, and it's flammable. But if you leave it burn for too long, it ruins the metal. I could get you one in damascus for one hunnert and forty crowns, or one in mythril for two-fifty-two."

"Is 'un."

Cyril glanced down at the animate sack, his pale blond hair falling over his shoulder. Sticking out of the bag's mouth was a small hilt and crossguards, and a shining silver blade followed it when the merchant pulled. He set it down on the counter before the customer and took another drink from his bottle.

"Will that work for you?"

[The Archer]

Ten fifty minus one sixty is...I should have paid more attention in math... I'd have about 890 left...

As he was doing his calculations, Seth picked up the little silver dagger. It looked like a toy in his massive paw, but it looked like it would fit just right in Ai's tiny one. All that was left to do was test it, which he did by pressing the flat of the blade against his forearm, only to yank it back after a moment as the scent of burned fur and flesh filled the room.

"Aich...yeah, that'll work. As for the other one...I was hoping for something really nice...something more in the eight hundred range."

Seth flexed his arm, tail twitching at the momentary pain. It'd take about as long as a regular burn to heal, but he wanted her to have an effective weapon against him, just in case. He had his bow and some sturdy arrows, he was all set for anything.

[Slayer of the Rot]

"You did that wrong, you idiot."

Cyril cast a heated glare at the sack, which was wiping it's mouth after it had finally spit out the dagger. He kicked at the odd little thing, but rode the momentum and power behind the blow and the next thing Cyril knew, Bagley was in his face and yanking at his hair.

"You get off me or I'll toss you in a fire!"

"The silver's only fiddy two crowns!" The bag roared, clinging as the merchant swatted at him. "The damascus is fiddy two too, and the mythril's eighty!"

"So what? I screwed up the prices. I would have figured it out before he left. Get the hell off, you're embarrassing me in front of the customer!" Bagley dropped to his lap, and he let out an irritated sigh as he brushed himself off and thrust his hair back over his shoulders. Throwing his head back, he took in a large mouthful of the whiskey -- and spit it right back up on the counter.

"Eight hundred? Damn, that'd be a nice dagger for that price, and you better believe I can find something. Lemme think..." The merchant leaned back into the chair, taking another drink from the quickly depleting bottle as he stared out the window.

"Well, it's not eight hundred, but I can get you a prevalida masterwork dagger for your small handed needs for about six hunnert and twenny crowns. Or....or! If you're feeling pricey still, I can get you a masterwork dagger in imported Kachuck prevalida for eight hunnert and fifty crowns. So with the silver dagger, if you add on just a normal masterwork prevalida, it'll come out to six hunnert and seventy two crowns. With a silver dagger and a Kachuck masterwork prevalida, it'd be nine hunnert and two crowns. What do ya say?"

[The Archer]

Seth's ears twitched at the ruckus between shopkeep and (he guessed) familiar. To be fair, he'd never seen a bag that could spit stuff out before, much less one that could do any form of math.

"Well...I don't suppose there's much of a difference between regular and Kachuck daggers, save for where they were made. I guess I'll just take the regular one."

[Slayer of the Rot]

"All right, customer knows best. But those dwarves are fine smiths. The best in the world, in my opinion. If I could afford it, I'd use nothing but weapons imported from Kachuck. Okay Bagley, you heard the man. Spit out a prevalida masterwork." The sack hopped from the lap to countertop and managed to cross it's little hands over it's girth.

"No. Can't you get off your lazy ass and just have these things imported? I work for god damn peanuts."

"And if you don't shut the hell up and spit out that dagger I'm going to dump some scorpions and fireballs into you and give you the worst case of heartburn you ever heard!" The little bag glowered at Cyril for a few moments before it belly swelled, and a small hilt poked out of it's mouth. The merchant retrieved it and set the weapon on the counter. The difference in the care of it's creation was vastly obvious compared to any simple dagger. Cyril couldn't help himself; even he marveled a bit over it's design.

"Wow. Great stuff. I never know what this thing is exactly going to spit out. I mean, I know if I tell it 'iron broadsword', it'll give me an iron broadsword, but unless I ask for an exact pair, no weapon is ever exactly alike. So, your total's six hunnert and seventy two crowns, unless you'll be needin' something else."

[The Archer]

Seth picked up the pretty blue dagger, turning it in his hands. It was perhaps the most beautiful weapon he'd ever seen in his life, much less held. It would serve its purpose for a long time to come, and that was a good thought.

"Uh...no, I don't think I'll need anything else. Thanks."

He set the money on the counter, picking the silver dagger up more gingerly than the prevalida. Business done, he turned and left the shop.

[Slayer of the Rot]

"Yeah. Have a good day."

The merchant's tone was as if he had already dismissed the customer, and once the gold was glimmering in his eyes, it may as well be that Seth had never been here at all. Cyril lunged across the counter, cupping both hands around the glittering little stacks, and tossed them a short distance into the air to let them shower down around them. He heard where they dropped, where they rolled, there would be time later to pick them up.

For the moment, a celebration was called for.

"Yeeee-haw! Gold! Beautiful, wonderful gold! If I could, I'd fuck it!" Cyril laughed loudly and jammed his hand into Bagley's mouth, pulling a sawed off shotgun out. With the sack sputtering and spitting as though the merchant's intrusion had tasted foul, Cyril leaped onto his counter, flailing his leg in a disjointed jig. He fired the gun as he drained the remainder of his whiskey, two ringing blasts, and spent, smiled at the cieling, wobbling.

"Good day," he mumbled before toppling, snoring to the ground.

"It's four in the afternoon, you drunk!"

((The Archer gains the following for this transaction:

-- One silver dagger of average craftsmanship
-- One prevalida dagger of masterwork craftsmanship
-- 75 exp.

And loses the following:

-- 672 gp.

Thanks for shopping Slayer of the Rot.))