Hail to the king, baby!

[Malagen]

Malagen didn’t want to be here. Bazaars generally annoyed him, with their high concentration of worthless people that ran around like headless chicken, with squint-eyed, itchy-palmed hawkers that would sell their own mother to make a profit if only she wasn’t a toothless old hag that nobody wanted, with everybody wanting something and below the price that stood on the tag. They were all beggars, all unworthy of the very air that was squandered on their miserable existence. One day, if the fate led him down that path, he would conquer them all and sweep them off the streets as if they were litter.

For now, though, he had to enter the Bazaar. The little excursion to Salvar cost him the functionality of one arm and all of his possessions, and while Malagen learned to make do without the semi-useless left arm that wasn’t nearly as dexterous as his right anymore, there were some necessities he direly missed. Like his blades. Killing people with bare hands was doable, but not nearly as efficient as most situations required. Luckily, the merchant he killed while he fled from Salvar prison had a rather hefty money pouch which had to suffice for everything he needed.

Walking into one of the shops that looked somewhat decent, Malagen wasted no time on introductions and small talk. “I need a specially crafted sword.” he said to the shopkeeper in a flat, uninterested voice. “The blade should be damascus and curved, a tempered katana blade. I want it imbedded in a saber hilt with a sharpened armguard of the same material. The scabbard should be made out of blackened steel.”

With the first set instructions dictated, he moved towards the clothing rack and picked three items. One of them was a heavy, thick canvas trench coat as black as the night, the other two denim pants and a short-sleeved shirt of the same color. He dropped them on the counter. “I want the insides of the coat covered with steel scales, below the inner cloth.” Seeing a pair of high leather army boots, he added them to the pile and waited for the clerk to do as told.

[nekoprince]

The new customer was something of an enigma, aside from the missing arm, the shopkeep knew that this was going to be a bad man and deal. He didn't bother to interupt him as he spoke, instead simply, and discreetly, pointing at the large sign on the side of the store. It was large, written in dark blue block letters in tradespeak, and under it in smaller red ink in other languages. The way it was set up so that everyone outside could read it as well.

The sign seemed to scream at the public to come into Abra Caroma Ian Flitch, Armor and Clothing Store.

"70 gold for the boots, and for the pants and shirt will go for 40 gold each. The trenchcoat on the other hand..." the merchant paused, sighing slightly and standing straight. He was youngish, but working retail every day of his life had aged him prematurally, making him appear far older than he was. Though, he took the same approuch as a few merchants, and had two skilled guards in his shop at any time, just in case. He had faith in them, as much as the many princes and two kings that trusted them and survived under their watchful eye.

"That trenchcoat will cost many a pretty coin, I can't give a definate answer, but over 900 gold pieces. You could get a full shirt for the same price, you know. As for that sword, well. We con't sell that type of stuff here sir. You might want to try Lionel's down the street, I'm sure they could handle that request."

((Yep. Everything is Very Good quality/Above average. The chainmail is excellent though. And yeah, no Swords at this shop :D

Also, I think your profile link is screwy, might wanna fix that)

[Malagen]

This was one of the reasons why Bazaars annoyed him. There were about a thousand shops in the District and no one shop had everything, regardless of how much of a general store it was. Apparently this store was dealing only with clothing and armor – though Malagen didn’t ascertain that from the sign whose letters he couldn’t decipher, but rather from the assortment of products that he noticed around him – though what kind of metalworker made armors and not swords was beyond the barbarian. Likely a craven metalworker, a no-good pacifist that thought swords kill people, or just an inept fool that couldn’t forge metal the right way. Whichever was the right reason, it did enough to assure Malagen that he didn’t want any metal from this shop.

“Fine. I’ll the take just the clothing then, sans the steel plates in it.” the dark Dram said, taking out the appropriate amount of gold pieces from his pouch and lowering them on the counter in a nice cylindrical shape. He stuffed the clothing beneath his lame left arm and walked out of the shop. Before he completely departed though, his right grabbed the top of the sign and yanked it down. There was no anger in that movement, almost no emotion whatsoever, but it was something that Malagen felt should be done. With that little act of mischief, he disappeared into the crowd outside.

Truth be told, Malagen wasn’t nearly this benevolent usually. Usually, the shopkeeper that had no swords for sale would probably be lying in a pool of his own blood right now, just because he had no swords for sale. However, Bazaar was heavily guarded and with his only weapon being a rusty butcher’s knife, Malagen doubted he could kill one of the merchants and get away with it. It was more likely that he would wind up in a prison yet again, and he had quite enough of jailbird life in Salvar.

He changed into his newly acquired garment in one of the shadowed back alleys. A young lass, probably no more then ten years old, wearing ragged clothes and a filthy face caught him just as he was donning his black coat, and froze in her tracks. Malagen’s hand instinctively reached for the knife, but he opted not to make a fuss out of it. He tossed his old clothes aside and walked away and the young girl collected them almost immediately, hugging the warm northern clothing greedily before running away.

“Goddamn Skyler. I must be getting soft.”

Perhaps. Perhaps it was just a wise thing to do. He didn’t waste time on pondering on it. He never wasted time pondering. Instead he made his way to the shop that the merchant mentioned. Malagen couldn’t exactly read the signs, so he entered the first place that was down the street and had swords in the window.

He walked in with his hood down and his pale-blue eyes – murderer’s eyes – locked on the shopkeeper. Though he loathed repeating himself, there was no other way to finish the transaction. “I need a blade forged for me. A curved damascus katana blade imbedded in a saber hilt with an armguard of the same material, curved around the front of the hilt and sharpened. The sheathes must be made of blackened steel.”

Figuring it was enough info for the merchant to go on, he turned to the other wares. The sword was a priority, but there was at least one other thing he needed. On a rack adjacent to the counter a rather wide assortment of combat knives stood, from the giant useless ones to the pocket knifes that thieves and small time goons preferred. Malagen’s knife of choosing stood somewhere in the middle. He picked it up and placed it on a counter. “One of these (http://soldiersurplus.com/images/3281_big.jpg) too.” he said, placing the steel knife on the counter.

“I’ll also be needing a sharpening stone and some oil for keeping the blades from rust. Now get to it.” he finished, folding his arms over his bulky chest and standing as stoically as if he was a statue.

((Just take whatever is needed for the coat. And thanks for the heads up, I’ll fix the link right now.))

[nekoprince]

There wasn't many things more comforting to the merchant then than the small hand signal he gave to the two guards on both sides of them. It wasn't big, if anything, nothing at all. The merchant merely tapped on his desk, impatiently as well as warning the two men to be ready. He trusted the gaurds with his life, the same as other princes, Lords and princesses that they cared for at one time or another. He was more than sure their crossbow bolts would make short work of the man if he tried to run or pull something.

He nearly smilied when the strange man put his money on the table, mentally sighing with relief that he didn't do anything stupid. He collected the gold he took wordlessly, still wary for any movement that he wouldn't like. It was one of the reasons why the man was making a good life at the Bazaar with his own permenet shop, he could sense danger when it may happen. It also thankfully applied to business as well it seemed. He grinned somewhat foolishly as the man left, pulling down his sign as he did so. the 200 gold he made was good, but not giving someone he didn't trust worthwhile armor was even better.

-------------------------------------------------

"No you weren't," a young girl's voice said. It came from a somewhat short girl, sitting on the counter of Lionel's emporium. Her tawny tail swished from side to side as she stared ahead at the cat merchant himself.

"Yes, I was, well, almost anyway," Lionel replied, smiling broadly. He didn't often have many slow days, and hardly ever where the entire shop was empty like it was now. He knew enough to guess two or three other shops was probably begining to undercut his prices, not that it mattered. The customers would come back when their swords broke or the rival merchants put themselves out of business.

"There's no way you won a knife throwing competition," Kate replied to him, sticking her tongue out at him. "Or made it to the finals."

"Ouch, my pride," Lionel said with a grin. He produced a gleaming steel blade in a quick, graceful movement. He flipped it around, so he was holding the blade instead of the handle. "Make you a bet, I hit a small target and you buy my lunch, and if I miss I'll get yours."

Kate noddded and opened her mouth to speak when the door opened, the first customer in a couple minutes actually coming in for the first time. He sighed, putting the knife away before so much as a flash could have caught the man's eye. He listened to the order, walking over to the counter as he did so, tail wagging almot behind him.

"You heard the man, go grab the weapon. Send it to Wilt to get the hilt made for him," Lionel said, ussing excessive hand gestures to tell the girl to scurry off. Kate did so, exiting into the back room imediatly behind them. He could hear her go up the stairs to the second floor and exit. "No then, that dagger will be 100 gold, I belive the sword will be in the 750 ranges, and 175 for the sheath. That armguard will be 75 extra and only 25 for a pint of oil and a sharp rock. It'll be a bit though, making a new handle on a sword can take some time. Still, you may also want a wooden sheath, be a bit easier on you and your gold pouch."

[Malagen]

“They let animals keep these shops nowadays.” Malagen thought as the shopkeeper and his young bestial squire maiden started to work on his order. The contempt that was so apparent in his mentation wasn’t reflected on the barbarian’s face though, which remained as emotionless as ever as he listened to the prices that the catlad dictated. Though probably not the brightest man on the world when it came to letters and advanced algebra, Malagen wasn’t an illiterate yahoo. The only reason why he couldn’t decipher the sign in the last shop – and why he consequently tore it down – was because the inscription wasn’t in Dram. Adding the prices that the furry merchants spoke was done automatically in his brain with the precision of a machine. The bastard was probably overcharging him, and while that would usually earn him a meeting with his already departed ancestors – which, by the looks of him, were probably some street tom or some scrawny one eyed cat – Malagen remembered full well the reaction of the guards in the last shop. If he did his bloodwork here, he would have dozens of them on his back in a matter of seconds. So the dark man made no hostile movements. After all, he had enough money, though just about.

“If I wanted a wooden sheath, I would’ve asked for it. Now get to work. I’ll get back at dusk and the blade better be ready.” the barbarian said, tossing his money pouch on the counter and tucking the combat knife inside his coat. He left without another word said, figuring that the cat freak wouldn’t try to cheat him if he wanted to see the next morning.

***

It was hard to kill time in a place that he disliked so much, and it seemed that it took twice as long for the sundown to finally come. Malagen moved through the emptying Bazaar at a resolute, even gait, his left arm aching dully, the old wound reminding him of the time spent in Salvar and the possible weather change. He always believed that it was just an old wives’ tale that old hurts ached as the weather changed, but he never had an old wound that improperly healed until now. Still, the sky above seemed clear and set aglow by the evanescing sun so for the time being he abandoned the foolish thoughts.

He entered the shop pretty much in the identical manner that he did the first time, eyeing the cat thing with his icy blue eyes as he approached the counter. There was no sword on the wooden surface yet and Malagen already spied the layout of the shop, just ascertaining it in case he had to do some killing today to get his sword. “The blade.” he simply said, his tone cold and almost annoyed.

((If I added correctly, it was 200 for the boots, clothes and the coat, 100 for the dagger, 750 for the sword, 175 for the sheath, 75 for the grip and 25 for sharpening stone and oil which comes up to 1325 GP. If you concur, consider this a done deal. Just leave it open until I make my outro after your post.))

[nekoprince]

The cat merchant smilied, samll pointy fangs gelaming somewhat at the man as he bent down his head, quickly writing down what was being sold and the price of it. He was writing in a large leather, bound by leather and nearly three hundred pages long, even Lionel's tiny scrawl had managed to fill up half of the book so far. Most of it some sort of sword or dagger. Occasionally though, he sold one of his custom sets of chain-mail for a pretty penny. Not that it mattered, they were sold very far and few between. He smilied, remembering how he picked up the trade in Alerar.

"See you then sir," Lionel said cheerfully, in stark contrast to the blank face that stared at him. He thrummed his paws on the counter top,watching him leave the store before dropping into the back room for a moment. The oil and sharpening stone were always kept in the same place. He even hired a kid off the streets to polish swords every once in a while. Cheap work, and he didn't have to deal with shop-lifters too terribly often. Then again, slitting open a theif's arm from bicep to wrist with a bony claw when he tried to steal a dagger also helped with it. Nevertheless, Lionel had something of an odd reputation amoung the merchants there.

"Bout time, Lionel said, as he heard the back door open again, and the familiar steps of Kate. "How soon will that sword be done."

"Actually, he had one surprisingly like the one that guy had, it's in the back room," Kate said, beaming with the pride of a job well done. She hopped up on the counter again, letting her legs hang off the edge. "About that bet..."

----------------------

When the man returned, a few more customers had entered and left before him. In total, it made for a very slow day at Lionel's shop, though, his roast fish was probably the best he had eaten in a long time. Something about someone else's money paying for it probably had something to do with it.

The man entered slowly, and Lionel himself ducked into the back room for a moment, returning with a large bundle with evrything the man ordered, all wrapped up with a small ball of twine. He waved at the man, smiling as he did so.

"Already got the gold, you need anything else?"

((All done if you are

Bazaar Transaction complete!
Gold taken : 1325
Gold left at time of Thread Completion: 10 *snigger*))

[Malagen]

Malagen picked up the wrapped item calmly, unfolding the rather neat package and taking out his newly acquired blade. Only a fool bought what they liked to call in Ferioh “a cat in the sack” and Malagen was no fool. His significantly weaker left took the saber by the cold steel sheath, fingers of his right slipping below the razor-sharp guard and wrapping around the hilt. He pulled it out slowly, eyes examining every inch of the polished steel as it emerged from the scabbards. Once completely out, the barbarian made a single practice slash at thin air, bringing the guards present at the shop to full alert. There was no need for them. The blade seemed flawless, save for the fact that it was a bit unbalanced because of the heavier hilt. Since that was nothing he couldn’t adjust on his own, one could say that Malagen was satisfied with the work. Hence, there would be no massacre in the shop today.

“It will suffice.” he said more to himself, returning the saber in the dark scabbards and turning away from the counter. The ten extra gold pieces he left to the cat freak weren’t an example of his benevolence or gratitude though. They were irrelevant. Now that he finally had a decent weapon, he would put it to test. And whoever would serve as his “training” partner was bound to have a gold or three on their soon-to-be-dead bodies.

((No point in having 10 GP, so you make the transaction 1335 GP and consider this closed. Nice doing business with you.))

[Cyrus the virus]

Transaction complacent. I mean complete.

That wasn't funny =/