The Writhing South

[Slayer of the Rot]

"I'm looking for a sword..."

That was perhaps one of the most common words too exit the lips of any well muscled man above six feet tall in the bazaar, but Ren wasn't one in particular to break tradition. His brow furrowed and lips set in a firm scowl, he cast his gaze around the armory. Normally, he wouldn't be in such a black mood these days, but after he'd traveled for uncounted miles to find that the dwarve's bazaar was currently closed, it did the trick well. "Unfortunately, a lot of the metal has taken on a lot of properties recently that make it rather...useless, or too expensive to buy a sword." He walked even farther in to the shop, at his own leisurely pace, picking up longswords from racks that would probably break int he first swing of it, in his hands. "Whatever happened to the old days," he grumbled, picking up a flail whose chain was about as study in his hands as a length of thread. "The bazaar used to carry all sorts of heavy stuff too...now it's just these...womanly rapiers. Ah...this'll work, I guess. Back to the familiar metals of the place I was born."

The slayer hefted a zanbatou (http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b72/i_heart_roisin_dubh/Zanbatou.jpg), that, while nowhere near as heavy as Rotslayer, would do well enough. The sword was sturdy, and had a few cutouts in the blade to make it a little easier to weild for a smaller person than himself. He estimated the steel sword to be at least two hundred and fifty pounds, or somewhere along those lines, and with it's long, pole like handle intact, it was about as tall as he was, give or take a few inches. "I'll take this," Ren said, settling it against his shoulder, digging into his dark cloak for his wallet.

[nekoprince]

The merchant rched an eyebrow at the man who approuched him, thinking of whether or not to talk to him as to why he was holding the blade, but thought better of it. The zanbatou was an old weapon in his shop, and the blade not nearly as sharp as it used to be. It was a great weapon, just old.

"For 2000 we will call it even," the merchant replied, smiling to the large man. "And I'll have someone sharpen it for you and give a whetstone."

[Slayer of the Rot]

"Hmmm?" Surprised, Ren touched a finger to the blade. It was indeed dull, though Rotslayer had been dull as well, just to make wounds hurt that much more. Still, Rotslayer was a lot thicker than the zanbatou, and could hold up to those punishing blows much easier. "Sold," he said, tossing a bag of coins onto the clerk's desk. He'd purposefully filled the bag with only two thousand coins, and was absolutely against spending anymore than that, even though he knew he could certainly spare it. "Careful," he told the two attendants, setting the blunt back of it into their hands, watching them stumble away to sharpen it.

'I've been gone three years,' he thought, tugging at the hem of his cloak before he began to rub his chin. 'Not much has changed, either. The streets are still bustling with people of every race, including the furries...which means it's been quiet for too long. Life is too unsettingly still. There's a war brewing...somehwere.' "Ah, thank you!" He leaughed softly as he took the long hilt of the sword from the attendants, sliding it into the sheath that once held the Rotslayer. "Have a goood day now." He took the offered whetstone, slipping it into a pocket, and slipped out the door, heading in the direction of the docks.

[nekoprince]

"Business should be more like that," the merchant commented, enjoying the newweight. "Simple and direct."

((Transaction complete. 2000 taken away. 7670 emains at time fo thread completion.))

[Cyrus the virus]

Done