Jack Callahan
10-06-11, 04:27 PM
“Wow.”
That was it. No questions. No colorful language. Jack could not nothing more than stand in awe of the sight before him: the Market of Radasanth. The butterflies currently fluttering about in his stomach took him back to the first time he had ever set eyes on the State Fair – his reaction to the bazaar was identitcal. Aine simply grinned up at him with her typical, homegrown charm.
“C’mon,” she urged, looping her hand through the crook of his elbow and leading him directly into the heart of the sea of shops.
Scents ranging from sickly sweet to pungent and spicy assailed his nose, singing his lungs and bringing water to his eyes. Jack didn’t have the mental fortitude to resist their allure, instantly lost in his setting: brilliant sheets of silk, colors so vibrant they could have been alive; racks of armor and stacks of swords as far as the eye could see and as varied as one could imagine; animals, both mundane and utterly bizarre – the stalls, stores, and tents were as infinite as their wares. He wasn’t prepared for it.
Thank God Aine’s here.
It took almost half an hour before Aine brought him to the right vendor. It was easy to miss, the store – it was barely more than four posts and a roof. A single rickety table stood in front, nothing atop it save for a small, humble set of brass scales that hadn’t been polished in far too long. Behind, however, was stacked a set of chests. The three hearty lockboxes looked to be antiques, with thick steel bands and black metallic rivets holding them together.
Aine looked about for the shopkeep, shading her blue eyes with a palm. She huffed, as she was wont to do, puffing a stray multicolored bang up and away from her freckled face.
“Where is he?” she asked no one in particular. The girl was already tapping the toe of her boot – preemptive impatience.
“Can’t we just check the other stores?” Jack asked her, keeping his voice low in case the man in question was within earshot. He glanced about as well, eager to do business and leave. The duo’s connection to the Rangers made him feel a bit uneasy in the heart of Radasanth, even if no one could know about such ties.
“No. He’s the only fella’ who sells gloves like the ones you’re lookin’ for.”
“They’re called cestus,” he whispered, regretting the fact he’d opened his mouth before the words had finished leaving his lips.
Aine promptly turned about, her glare as cold as the frosty hue it held.
“Jack,” she warned.
“Sorry.”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping as her anger faded. The farm girl continued her search with diligence.
“ ’Sides,” she explained after a moment, “You can buy ‘cestus’ in just any ol’ shop ‘round here. You can’t buy prevalida an’ arctic leather in them, though.”
She was right, of course. Jack just hoped the vendor would show up before he melted under Corone’s merciless sun.
Here's the lowdown: Jack wants a pair of elbow-length fingerless cestus made of arctic leather. The prevalida plates would be molded to adhere to human anatomy and cover his forearm, the back of his palm, his first set of knuckles, and the first segment of each digit (including his thumbs). I hope this specification helps!
That was it. No questions. No colorful language. Jack could not nothing more than stand in awe of the sight before him: the Market of Radasanth. The butterflies currently fluttering about in his stomach took him back to the first time he had ever set eyes on the State Fair – his reaction to the bazaar was identitcal. Aine simply grinned up at him with her typical, homegrown charm.
“C’mon,” she urged, looping her hand through the crook of his elbow and leading him directly into the heart of the sea of shops.
Scents ranging from sickly sweet to pungent and spicy assailed his nose, singing his lungs and bringing water to his eyes. Jack didn’t have the mental fortitude to resist their allure, instantly lost in his setting: brilliant sheets of silk, colors so vibrant they could have been alive; racks of armor and stacks of swords as far as the eye could see and as varied as one could imagine; animals, both mundane and utterly bizarre – the stalls, stores, and tents were as infinite as their wares. He wasn’t prepared for it.
Thank God Aine’s here.
It took almost half an hour before Aine brought him to the right vendor. It was easy to miss, the store – it was barely more than four posts and a roof. A single rickety table stood in front, nothing atop it save for a small, humble set of brass scales that hadn’t been polished in far too long. Behind, however, was stacked a set of chests. The three hearty lockboxes looked to be antiques, with thick steel bands and black metallic rivets holding them together.
Aine looked about for the shopkeep, shading her blue eyes with a palm. She huffed, as she was wont to do, puffing a stray multicolored bang up and away from her freckled face.
“Where is he?” she asked no one in particular. The girl was already tapping the toe of her boot – preemptive impatience.
“Can’t we just check the other stores?” Jack asked her, keeping his voice low in case the man in question was within earshot. He glanced about as well, eager to do business and leave. The duo’s connection to the Rangers made him feel a bit uneasy in the heart of Radasanth, even if no one could know about such ties.
“No. He’s the only fella’ who sells gloves like the ones you’re lookin’ for.”
“They’re called cestus,” he whispered, regretting the fact he’d opened his mouth before the words had finished leaving his lips.
Aine promptly turned about, her glare as cold as the frosty hue it held.
“Jack,” she warned.
“Sorry.”
She sighed, her shoulders slumping as her anger faded. The farm girl continued her search with diligence.
“ ’Sides,” she explained after a moment, “You can buy ‘cestus’ in just any ol’ shop ‘round here. You can’t buy prevalida an’ arctic leather in them, though.”
She was right, of course. Jack just hoped the vendor would show up before he melted under Corone’s merciless sun.
Here's the lowdown: Jack wants a pair of elbow-length fingerless cestus made of arctic leather. The prevalida plates would be molded to adhere to human anatomy and cover his forearm, the back of his palm, his first set of knuckles, and the first segment of each digit (including his thumbs). I hope this specification helps!