View Full Version : A Sudden Reprisal
Duffy's need to adapt was at best distracting, at worst, a hindrance his coffers could ill afford. Whilst the menagerie the Tantalum kept in its theatre chamber was extensive, it did not contain real weapons and as such, he found himself in a reputable smith in the heart of the Market District of Scara Brae with the intent of purchasing something more suitable for the killing of others; oak simply did not cut it.
"Evening," he mumbled, slipping through the doorway and allowing the doorbell to tinkle ominously. Today, the Tantalum wore a mix of desert sand and brilliant white, to reflect the intense glare of the Spring sun that was still strong so late in the day. The city had been sweltering long enough for people to have brought up every parasol, icicle and ice mage in the city in a futile effort to keep cool. The item he required was something he had thought about purchasing for a while, but had no need to do so whilst his daggers did him justice. Whilst his fighting style was developing, it was well past the time for Duffy to learn the definition of diversity, and to be able to fulfil his role as leader; he had to keep learning, and learning, and learning some more.
"I was wondering' if you 'ad any steel short swords, a manner of speaking mind, I'm lookin' for summat very..." he stepped across the expanse between the entrance and the counter, not taking too much notice of the shop keep, "specific." With an expectant smile he waited for the customary reply to come, his hands buried in his pockets and his demi-cloak and bandanna clouding his face with an air of mystery that peered out with stubble chin and hungover eyes.
Bootchie was an unfortunate knickname for the old blacksmith. It was one that no one could remember the origins of. He had always been, and simply always would be, Bootchie. He rubbed his soot-stained hands in a rag, but it did little good. As his stubby, calloused fingers drummed over the top of the countertop, they left smudges in their wake.
"Wotcher mean, now?" He said. A steel short sword was hardly specific. He had loads of them waiting to be sold, and every peasant and his mother these days could get one easy. In fact, Bootchie couldn't think of anything at all that could possibly be specific from one blade to another. A fancy colored wrapping for the hilt maybe.
Duffy smiled, the old blacksmith was the archetypal 'veteran' of the Scara Brae merchant circle and he clearly knew his wares. He pictured the two swords he had seen in his dream and tried his best to describe them. "I'm looking for two blades, matching, about 45-50cm in length. Keen single edge but with small edge on the back swing, and a simple black pommel," he plucked a piece of paper from his pocket and scribbled down a curved hilt and robust design.
"Lightweight, if possible, and no sheath or what not required." He waited for a few moments, "anything like that knocking about?"
Pretty much the swords in my display pic at present.
The Bootch scratched his chin, one eye closing as he concentrated to form the weapons in his mind. He didn't have anything quite like that in the shop, a curved hilt was an odd request, or at least one he hadn't come across before. However, he knew he could make it, and as he thought the design was writing itself. Adjustments would be made to keep things balanced, so that the weapon would be easy to use as well as beautiful. He was lost in a world of the joinings of hilt and blade, and by george, he thought he had the perfect idea.
"Right..." he murmured, turning his attention to his customer. "That's custom ye'll be wantin', but I ken get it done in just two days. 150 for both swords, 160 if ye change yer mind 'bout leather sheathes fer 'em."
Duffy beamed a smile at the old man, a sign of agreement and satisfaction with the price levied. He was feeling particularly generous and felt good about his forthcoming debut into the world of swashbuckling anarchy. He had doubted at first the desire to purchase the longer blades, fearing his daggers would feel lonely if he ever left the house without them, but there were dark times ahead and he had to be prepared for all eventualities.
"That would be smashin'," he rattled, giving the shop a casual once over just in case anything else popped to mind whilst he was out and about the city. Ah, he clocked what else he had gotten up for. "One fifty is a bargain and a deal sir, but, tell me...do you also sell glove mounted spikes or claws, and could you make a spring loaded or slide and locking pair of climbing spikes for boots?"
Perhaps this wasn't the right time or the right place to discuss such a ludicrous and perilous invention, but as he pictured the climbing gear he would need for his ascent through the Windlacer Peaks he thought of Sparrows and madrigals. They sung a song of such enthusiasm that it was easy to get carried away in the lunacy.
Essentially, if possible, I'd like to also purchase the mechanical/metallic aspects of The Trappings of Sparrows (http://www.althanas.com/world/showthread.php?p=164903#post164903)which I intend to request as a new item in Duffy's Level 4 profile. A thread showing their use and the whole outfit/gear as one is forthcoming. Thank you for your time!
The mighty smith bellowed with laughter. This was certainly the oddest transaction jump he'd seen in a great while, from simple yet unique short swords to a pair of gloves and boots that one would be more likened to see in Akashima.
"The pins and springs aren't going to be too much 'f a problem, but I gotta get a leatherworker to send over some boots. 'F ye aren't too picky about the boots 'n' gloves, I can do the glovs for 100, the boots for 125. If'n ye wanna provide yer own boots and gloves, you'll be out of them fer a coupl'a days, but it'll knock off 25 gold from the price of each, makin' the gloves 75 and the boots 100."
Duffy was already taking the sturdy boots he lived in off and without a thought he plonked them onto the counter. He was going to attempt to hammer his own spikes into them but professional workmanship to give them a sturdier edge was more than worth the price. The climb ahead of him was daunting, so he had to be prepared for all eventualities...including death.
"Smashing!" It was a simple enough acceptance of the transaction. He rested his gloves next to the boots and adjusted the buckles which pinned his bandages in place to cover the bare skin. It was sunny, yes, but still chilly. "Hundred and seventy five for the climbing equipment and a hundred and fifty for the blades," he paused for thought, having never been good at maths. "I make that three hundred and twenty five or there about, that right?" He smiled cheekily and hopped from foot to foot, carefully avoiding the somewhat ancient and needle laden floorboards.
"Right ye are, m'boy!" he said, nodding as he took the garments carefully. "Three twen'five, pay when ye come back. If'n ye give me just two days, ye'll have both yer blades and the mods to these things done, sure as rain." Bootchy paused for a moment and then added, "Can't send a payin' customer away with naught on 'is feets, so if'n yer game, I've got a spare of boots in the back ye can use." Of course, Bootchy was a giant of a man, and his shoes reflected that.
____
Two days later, Bootchy opened up the smithy with the sun. Bringing the door open, smelling the familiar scent of dew on the breeze, he smiled. The boots, gloves and swords were sitting on the counter. The gloves had been reinforced with steel plates that contoured with the knuckles, ensuring that with a climb, the claws wouldn't be ripped from the material. The spikes in the boots were expertly hidden, with the switch to activate the spring resting on the top of the toes. It would be difficult to set it off just with just the jostle of walking, but a casual bump would send them into action, while hard pressure against the back of the heel would allow them to be slid back into the sole.
The Bootch was proud of his workmanship, and the swords themselves were nothing less than excellent. Now if only his customer showed up...
Clump. Clump. Clump went Duffy Bracken through the street. He had endured the laughter and the torment for two days straight, and he was about fed up with all the commotion the boots had caused. Whilst certain observations made by spurious individuals had been accurate to a tee, there was simply no need to go on and on and on about them!
The door bell jingled as he entered the shop, hoping the work had been completed and that he could be back in his own soles once again. He approached the counter with a dead faced expression and went about undoing the straps purely for show; they were big enough to slip off with ease. "Here," he mumbled, dropping them on the counter with a disgruntled nod. "Thanks n' all, but I'd be likin' me own shoes back if it's all well n' good?" He pulled his purse from his trouser pocket and jingled it enticingly.
"Let's be aven' a look?"
The Smith had already had all of the items laying on the counter. He took his boots and nudged the boots closer with his elbow as he inspected his footwear. There hadn't seemed to Bootchy to be anything terribly wrong with their size, though the older man wasn't much for this newfangled appreciation of fashion that the rest of Radasanth seemed to have acquired.
"Now, ye trigger the boots with yer toes, and use the heel switch to bring the grips back inter the sole, alrigh? Dun go runnin' round with the metal out on yer feet. Ye'll jus' trip up and wear down the grip ter make 'em useless fer climbin', righ'?"
The Bootch was a tactful shopkeep if anything. He waited patiently for his client to look at the wares, and tried his best not to pay too much attention to the jingling of coins.
Duffy plucked the boots up with a chirpy smile and deposited the gold onto the counter the moment the satisfying shiing sounded that the mechanism did indeed work as planned.
"I cannot thank you enough," he applauded, going about the businesses of lacing them up and recovering the edges of his gloves with the bangles around his wrists. With everything in place, he jumped slightly and giggled with childish glee as the spikes rushed out. He clipped them together to test their general sturdiness, and smiled at the shop keep. "This is most satisfactory guvnor, I be thanking you!" Next he inspected the gloves, and punched the air triumphantly; they were more mobile and easy to manoeuvre with than the boots, but he expected to get used to both in time.
With intrepidity and growing excitement, the thief looked to the twin blades next. They were almost too perfect, every bit as elegant as he had imagined. He picked up one and instantly felt that it was the right weight for his nimble strikes and talentless pirouettes. He had little experience with short swords, but he factored in his training with his daggers and his growing skill with the katana as aids to learning the ropes soon enough. The sudden rush of blood to the head came as a surprise, surging into his subconcious and forming the image of a goat for a fleeting moment.
He shrugged, picked up the second blade and tucked them into his belt. "I'm sure you'll find the correct amount, although you might want to check?" He half turned to the door and took a step, waiting for an approving nod to depart. He was very satisfied, more than he let on.
Outside in the sun, the sparrows that had inspired this sudden reprisal of Duffy's roles chirped in the trees and fluttered in great flocks above the lofty heights of Scara Brae. Things were afoot, and whilst Duffy's pockets were much lighter, his soul felt weighted with responsibility.
Transaction complete I reckon? Triffic' work m'lady!
Transaction Complete.
Duffy Bracken loses 325 gp, and gains 25exp.
Taskmienster
05-14-10, 12:56 AM
GP removed, exp added.
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