Falcon Darkflight
08-08-06, 05:11 AM
Canen dabbed furiously at the sweat running down the slipstream of his recently healed nose, and peered around the shop with furious focus.
Today was an unusual day for the Nocturn. Although he was no stranger to the public eye thanks to his former activities as the Grand Commodore of the Grander's Order and his various, and somewhat failed, appearances in both the Lornius Coporation Challenge and most recently The Cell, Canen still felt he had some inner desire to remain living a reclusive sort of life. It had been hard enough to cast away the veil of secrecy he had kept surrounding himself since the day he had left Khaia for the new world, but to have been publicly humiliated twice and left to die in the eyes of those who had once believed him to be much stronger than the Nocturn had portrayed was almost unbearable, and made him want to scurry right back into obscurity.
The justification for his reason of stepping into a very public bazaar was simple. He needed to be versitile. He needed an edge, one which a continuous string of defeats was not going to bring him in the forseeable future. Canen had realised through his defeats that relying on his skill with a blade and his limited magicks were simply not enough to beat the best. He needed to be broad in his range of offense, he needed that bite that could topple even the most unpredictable of warriors. Due mainly to his very physical upbringing, Canen had become too predictable to enter major tournaments, and that habit was something he was desperate to lose.
"Faustus and Mephistopheles..." He said to himself, running a digit over a wall mounted pair of steel sickles.
The pair of hand sickles seemed to be crafted from steel and linked with two metres of steel forged belchor chain. Each sickle had a curved blade not unlike a scythe, about twelve inches in length each and curved to the tip with a sharp cutting edge on both sides of the metal. The handles of both sickles were fine steel tubes that linked at the base by the chain to ensure durability whilst attacking. The sickles would reach any target up to the length of two metres, and as Canen finished probing the weapon he allowed a sickly thin smile to creep over his face.
Next to it, again wall mounted, was a Titanium version of the weapon. Canen indicated to both of them, and approached the shopkeeper.
"My interest is noted, kind sir. How much for either of these?"
Today was an unusual day for the Nocturn. Although he was no stranger to the public eye thanks to his former activities as the Grand Commodore of the Grander's Order and his various, and somewhat failed, appearances in both the Lornius Coporation Challenge and most recently The Cell, Canen still felt he had some inner desire to remain living a reclusive sort of life. It had been hard enough to cast away the veil of secrecy he had kept surrounding himself since the day he had left Khaia for the new world, but to have been publicly humiliated twice and left to die in the eyes of those who had once believed him to be much stronger than the Nocturn had portrayed was almost unbearable, and made him want to scurry right back into obscurity.
The justification for his reason of stepping into a very public bazaar was simple. He needed to be versitile. He needed an edge, one which a continuous string of defeats was not going to bring him in the forseeable future. Canen had realised through his defeats that relying on his skill with a blade and his limited magicks were simply not enough to beat the best. He needed to be broad in his range of offense, he needed that bite that could topple even the most unpredictable of warriors. Due mainly to his very physical upbringing, Canen had become too predictable to enter major tournaments, and that habit was something he was desperate to lose.
"Faustus and Mephistopheles..." He said to himself, running a digit over a wall mounted pair of steel sickles.
The pair of hand sickles seemed to be crafted from steel and linked with two metres of steel forged belchor chain. Each sickle had a curved blade not unlike a scythe, about twelve inches in length each and curved to the tip with a sharp cutting edge on both sides of the metal. The handles of both sickles were fine steel tubes that linked at the base by the chain to ensure durability whilst attacking. The sickles would reach any target up to the length of two metres, and as Canen finished probing the weapon he allowed a sickly thin smile to creep over his face.
Next to it, again wall mounted, was a Titanium version of the weapon. Canen indicated to both of them, and approached the shopkeeper.
"My interest is noted, kind sir. How much for either of these?"