Pocket Change

[Saxon]

Saxon had made more trips to the Bazaar in about a week than he had in years. It hadn't been an ideal way to purchase things in the eldritch's eyes, but he had some gold to spend here and there and felt the need to spend it. Sauntering slowly into the trade market as late afternoon approached, he found himself in the middle of the lunchtime lull.

Most of the merchants were on break and the horde of the patrons that normally flooded the market had vacated for the time being. The weird had gotten better in dealing with the presence of other people, but not by much. Putting either hand in his jacket pocket, Saxon traveled this way and that, looking at items for sale and things that could be of use to him in the time to come.

" I would've owned that bloody island if they would've let me.." Molotov's voice echoed in his mind as the eldritch recalled their conversation about the Gisela. It was true that what he was about to participate in wasn't the same thing, but it was similar, and thats what mattered. He had pretty much everything he'd need at his disposal, but something in the back of his mind said otherwise.

Maybe one last look around before I get shipped off, eh?, Saxon decided finally as he strayed towards the cluster of stands and booths while the merchants worked and toiled away at their craft. Either way, he didn't have enough to spend on anything friviluous or powerful, and the weird was sure that whatever he got wouldn't be much use in the trials to come.

[Slayer of the Rot]

Cyril chewed noisily at his sloppy roast beef sandwich, smiling quietly with bulging cheeks. He was staring out the door with half hooded eyes. Not expecting customers at such an hour of the day, he nonetheless kept the door propped open, just in case. It was one of his most scrutinized policies; he never turned away a customer. Old, young, fat, thin, human, orc, troll, elf, drow, everyone's gold was good in his store. Unusual for the little familiar, Bagley sat right on the counter top, emptying a bottle of rum straight into his infinite gut. The merchant let out a sigh of content, and reached for his glass of whiskey.

It had been only a week since the strange, cute little redhead had visited his shop, but the establishment was repaired after Bagley's cold saw the building nearly demolished. The thing had spit out all sorts of things over that time, though thankfully, only once had he coughed up a cannon.

The street had been empty for the most part of the hour. No customers in the slightest, just merchants rushing around with arm fulls of boxes or trays of steaming food. So, when he saw the tall, black haired man meandering down the road, his image framed in the door, Cyril perked immediately. It was always good to get a bit more of money, and lunch wasn't that particularly important. The man was inspecting the roadside stands and booths, but seemed to be finding nothing, grinning, Cyril sat up, and sucked in a deep lungful of air.

"HEY! Hey pal, I got anything you're looking for! We got a little bit of everything, and I mean everything!"

[Saxon]

Hearing the merchant's cantor, the eldritch immediately spotted the man that stood within the abode of his shop, beckoning him. Quickening his pace, Saxon headed towards the stand with a small smirk upon his face. Normally, he didn't like the kind of attention that was being brought down on him, but at this time of day there wasn't that much to pick over.

Arriving at the shopkeeper's threshold, the weird hadn't expected to find much, but made every effort to phrasing his next words very carefully. Gotta give the man an idea about what I'd like, he reasoned, but nothing came to mind. He had already brokered and negotiated deals with hordes, gangs, and guilds to accompany him in his campaign to come, but the eldritch had little in the way of personal defense aside from the obvious. He had no armor to speak of, and the only weapons he possessed were between knives, a staff, and whatever strange abilities he had attained at the moment.

Watching Cyril look at him expectantly in the middle of the awkward pause, Saxon gave him a small glance and nodded towards his wares," I have to be somewhere in about a day and I'm looking to unload whatever I have left in the way of money into something useful. Armor I don't have, and a weapon such as a sword or axe I could probably bum off of one of my men. So my question is; Got anything interesting?"

[Slayer of the Rot]

"Interesting? Ha! You kidding me? I'm not joking when I say that I've got everything." Cyril's huge grin faltered for a moment and he looked around at the bare walls of his shop. Dust was gathering on empty shelves. Mannequins that would usually present shining armor were bare, their stitching popped, with little tufts of stuffing poking out. The merchant chuckled nervously and began to backpedal, waving the weird farther inside.

"Don't worry. We just don't show it. Think of this shop as a...hidden little gem. I've been poor for a while, but business has managed to pick up a bit lately." Turning around the corner of his counter, Cyril pried the rum out of Bagley's clutching little burlap hands despite his protestations. He bent over the counter, and clapped his hands down, grinning all the wider.

"All right friend. You want interesting? I got anything you can think of. What catches your fancy?"

[Saxon]

Looking past the empty shelves and the poor selection across the scope of the shop, Saxon figured that the good stuff had to be in the back when he saw the shopkeeper wrench the bottle of rum from something that sat on the counter. Odd artifacts and things that looked to be relics sat in the shelves behind him, some looking more expensive than the eldritch cared to pay for and others looked to have been dredged out of some kind of scrapyard.

All in all, the shop looked to be more entertaining than the conventional weapons and armor shops the eldritch had been to. Thinking quietly to himself, Saxon's gaze slowly fixed upon a small pouch that looked to have been stitched together by some sort of tribe, and had been decorated as such. A single red eye was painted on the center as well as other archaic symbols that held some sort of mystical worth to it. Captivated by the fine, stenciled plaque beneath it, the weird read it carefully;


Small Bag of Mojo

" Contains mystical properties, but results may vary. All sales on this product are final. NO refunds. "

Overlooking the stinginess of such a buy, Saxon tore his gaze away from it and looked towards the shopkeeper who had been watching him carefully," Whats that thing do, the bag of .. what is it.. Mojo?"

[Slayer of the Rot]

"I don't know," Cyril answered honestly, shrugging. Taking the bag from the customer, he leaned over the counter and turned his eye on Bagley. The familiar stared back indignantly but too the patched leather pouch anyway.

"Urgh...I don't remember spitting this out. But from the feel of it, its just a leather-patched pouch bewitched and used by witch doctors. It can be used to contain memories of locations that can be put into the bag. It can hold up to 3 memories at a time and when opened the person holding the bag gets a crystal clear image of the memory inside their head. Kinda mundane. The enchantment is pretty basic when it comes down to memory charms."

"Ah. Two hunnert crowns for this, then. Pretty decent price, I think, for somethin' like this." Cyril grabbed the pouch out of the animate little sack's hands, and held it slumped in one of his palms. For some absurd reason, looking at the bag made him think of a little gold statue and a man with a whip and a hat, but he shook it away. "In your old years, you'll always remember the good places, and if you ever come across something valuable you can't pick up right away, well, you'll have one hell of a reminder. Sound good?"

[Saxon]

Seeing the creature upon the counter move and speak for the first time probably would've made most anybody jump, but Saxon had been in far stranger situations than this. Looking at the witchdoctor's bag hungrily, the eldritch knew the store owner could probably tell his interest was piqued.

Fixing his blue-eyed stare at Cyril, the weird already knew how much gold he had in his pocket and it wasn't enough to cover the expense of such a find. Figuring he might be able to haggle for it, Saxon gave a small smile and spoke softly," How does one-fifty sound?"

[Slayer of the Rot]

"Oi. One seventy sounds a lot better," Cyril yawned, sitting back down in his chair. The enthusiasm he'd exhibited before was quickly fading. He settled his chin into the palm of his hand and poked at the leather patched sack.

[Saxon]

" You've got yourself a deal," The eldritch said quickly as he reached for his pocket and pulled the contents free. Setting the small leather bag on the counter he pulled the leather cord free, tipped the bag over and spilled a portion of it's contents onto the counter with such grace it would make a professional gambler proud.

" One-Seventy on the nose."

[Slayer of the Rot]

"Yep. Thanks for your patronage." Cyril arched his back and stretched his arms high over his head. The chair shook as he stretched, and then he collapsed onto himself again.

"I need some coffee. Or maybe a nap," he mumbled as he gathered up the coins.

[Saxon]

Collecting the pouch containing the remnants of coin he had left and stuffed it in his coat pocket before he reached for the mojo bag that the shopkeeper had left upon the counter. The eldritch's fingers touched the fine, treated surface of the bag and felt a jolt run up his spine as some part of his brain flickered with life.

He hesitated.

Looking up at the shopkeeper one last time, the weird wondered where he had gotten such a find and why he had possibly picked it out amongst the other exotic artifacts Cyril held in exchange for a fair amount of coin. Ending the quiet interrogation with a small shrug, Saxon grunted something unintelligible and scooped up the mojo bag and let it rest inside his other pocket.

Tippin his akubra in the direction of the vendor out of courtesy, the weird had known Cyril probably wasn't paying attention, but it was the thought that counted. Turning towards the door the eldritch left as quietly as he came, disappearing in the growing throngs of patrons who flocked back to the Bazaar as the afternoon wore on.

[Slayer of the Rot]

[Saxon gains the following:
-One "Bag of Mojo". It can be used to contain memories of locations that can be put into the bag. It can hold up to 3 memories at a time and when opened the person holding the bag gets a crystal clear image of the memory inside their head.
-100 exp

And loses the following:
-170 gp]

[Witchblade]

EXP added! GP Subtracted!

Saxon reaches level 1!