Bloodrose
12-08-07, 11:29 PM
Teric strode the docks of Scara Brae in a foul mood, shrugging through the normal midday crowd and halting those stepping into his path with a dark glance. In one hand he carried the dented and punctured breastplate that had served him well over the years, and in the other a broken piece of the cane-scabbard that paired with the steel blade at his hip. Both had recently been damaged in the old warrior's battle with the ghoul Lorenor; a battle that had ended in Teric's death. And yet here I am. He could think, upset. Striding around like nothing ever happened to me. All I have to show for being killed is another ugly scar...
One might suppose that being alive would have elated the old man, all things considered. Over the years though, after many lethal battles in the Citadel, the novelty of being revived by skilled monks had worn off. Nowadays it was more an annoyance to have to live with the black knowledge of death that loomed in the back of a man's mind after being dragged back to life...
The clump, clump, clump of the old veteran's boots on the narrow dock at the end of the harbor heralded Teric's approach as he made a relatively direct line for one particular boat. Tied up to the end of the jetty was a wide, ugly Akamishman Junk (http://www.stainedglassvisions.com/CHINESE_JUNK_side_view.jpg). It was the preferred trading vessel of the Quan Company, a questionable cabal of merchants operating out of Yanbo Harbor.
Dangerous, if you play them wrong. Teric contemplated. He approached the ship's gangplank carefully, scanning the rigging for archers. But the Quan have done me good in the past...
"Permission to come aboard!" He shouted, stopping just off the wooden plank leading onto the gently rocking deck.
There was some crashing and banging as someone below deck stirred, and the din of overturned boxes and upended racks travelled parallel to the dock until a squat little man with long black hair stuck his head out the door of the ships small cabin.
"Who are you?" The man shot back angrily, stabbing an angry finger in Teric's direction. A dark splotch of movement above the junk's sails caught the old warrior's attention as the man asked his question, and Teric knew almost instantly that the archer he'd been watching for before was now watching him as well.
"Someone who wants to do some business." Teric answered calmly, hoisting his breastplate up where the man could see it. The expression of the squat merchant's face shifted from an angry scowl to a pleasant smile almost instantly.
"Come, come then!" He shouted back, moving back below deck before Teric could follow.
Stepping up the gangplank, Teric made his way to the cabin and descended the narrow stairwell leading below deck. Paper lanterns hung from the low ceiling, illuminating a cargo area literally stuffed with boxes, crates, and racks - even the walls were skewered with dozens of hooks to help hold the ridiculous variety of merchandise the Quan carried around from each port-of-call.
Swords, axes, spears, and any other weapon a seasoned warrior could name off the top of his head were strewn about the hold in various numbers and in various materials. Armors, clothes, and accessories in a multitude of styles were piled unceremoniously about. In one pile you might find bucklers and shields alongside studded leather jerkins, while another was comprised of mismatched gauntlets and boots. It was all very much a mess, but the sheer variety of items the Quan offered for sale made any trip into their lairs a veritable treasure hunt...
"Hello?" The old warrior called out into the dimly lit hold, wondering where the squat merchant had disappeared to. Most likely he was further below deck, in an entire second hold of merchandise like the hold here, and would come running when gold was mentioned. To start out, Teric made his way to a conspicuously empty table and set the damaged breastplate atop it. Experience with the Quan informed him that this empty table was essentially the counter where all the haggling would take place...
Without his breastplate, Teric went about the arduous task of sifting through the various piles of items for anything that caught his attention. Primarily he was looking for a replacement to the cane-sword's scabbard, new armor, and perhaps a buckler or other small shield. Such an item would have come in very handy in the last couple of fights the old warrior had found himself in, and he meant to enter his next battle better prepared...
"Oh, hello..." Teric murmured to himself as he poured over a table of various blades. The item that had caught his attention was a short Plynt dirk with a leather bound handle. Picking up the guardless dagger, Teric twirled it and tossed it in his hands, testing the balance and admiring the blade. He went so far as to test the edge, drawing a thin red line across the tip of his finger before glancing around the hold inquisitively. Confident that the Quan merchant wasn't standing right next to him, Teric reached down and slid the dirk into his boot. Doubt he'll miss this anytime soon, especially in this mess... The old warrior thought slyly...
Further digging in the various piles of mismatched armors, weapons, and accessories turned up a solid Eklan buckler, leather and steel vambraces, a sleeveless, steel chainmail shirt, and even a sleeveless chainmail shirt of Mythril.
The last item Teric brought along to the table just out of mild curiosity. A twitch in the back of his mind told him it was probably a little out of his price range, but it would be interesting to see how much the Quan wanted for it.
Placing the items he wished to inquire about on the table, Teric started jingling his coins loudly to draw out the merchant from wherever he was hiding...
One might suppose that being alive would have elated the old man, all things considered. Over the years though, after many lethal battles in the Citadel, the novelty of being revived by skilled monks had worn off. Nowadays it was more an annoyance to have to live with the black knowledge of death that loomed in the back of a man's mind after being dragged back to life...
The clump, clump, clump of the old veteran's boots on the narrow dock at the end of the harbor heralded Teric's approach as he made a relatively direct line for one particular boat. Tied up to the end of the jetty was a wide, ugly Akamishman Junk (http://www.stainedglassvisions.com/CHINESE_JUNK_side_view.jpg). It was the preferred trading vessel of the Quan Company, a questionable cabal of merchants operating out of Yanbo Harbor.
Dangerous, if you play them wrong. Teric contemplated. He approached the ship's gangplank carefully, scanning the rigging for archers. But the Quan have done me good in the past...
"Permission to come aboard!" He shouted, stopping just off the wooden plank leading onto the gently rocking deck.
There was some crashing and banging as someone below deck stirred, and the din of overturned boxes and upended racks travelled parallel to the dock until a squat little man with long black hair stuck his head out the door of the ships small cabin.
"Who are you?" The man shot back angrily, stabbing an angry finger in Teric's direction. A dark splotch of movement above the junk's sails caught the old warrior's attention as the man asked his question, and Teric knew almost instantly that the archer he'd been watching for before was now watching him as well.
"Someone who wants to do some business." Teric answered calmly, hoisting his breastplate up where the man could see it. The expression of the squat merchant's face shifted from an angry scowl to a pleasant smile almost instantly.
"Come, come then!" He shouted back, moving back below deck before Teric could follow.
Stepping up the gangplank, Teric made his way to the cabin and descended the narrow stairwell leading below deck. Paper lanterns hung from the low ceiling, illuminating a cargo area literally stuffed with boxes, crates, and racks - even the walls were skewered with dozens of hooks to help hold the ridiculous variety of merchandise the Quan carried around from each port-of-call.
Swords, axes, spears, and any other weapon a seasoned warrior could name off the top of his head were strewn about the hold in various numbers and in various materials. Armors, clothes, and accessories in a multitude of styles were piled unceremoniously about. In one pile you might find bucklers and shields alongside studded leather jerkins, while another was comprised of mismatched gauntlets and boots. It was all very much a mess, but the sheer variety of items the Quan offered for sale made any trip into their lairs a veritable treasure hunt...
"Hello?" The old warrior called out into the dimly lit hold, wondering where the squat merchant had disappeared to. Most likely he was further below deck, in an entire second hold of merchandise like the hold here, and would come running when gold was mentioned. To start out, Teric made his way to a conspicuously empty table and set the damaged breastplate atop it. Experience with the Quan informed him that this empty table was essentially the counter where all the haggling would take place...
Without his breastplate, Teric went about the arduous task of sifting through the various piles of items for anything that caught his attention. Primarily he was looking for a replacement to the cane-sword's scabbard, new armor, and perhaps a buckler or other small shield. Such an item would have come in very handy in the last couple of fights the old warrior had found himself in, and he meant to enter his next battle better prepared...
"Oh, hello..." Teric murmured to himself as he poured over a table of various blades. The item that had caught his attention was a short Plynt dirk with a leather bound handle. Picking up the guardless dagger, Teric twirled it and tossed it in his hands, testing the balance and admiring the blade. He went so far as to test the edge, drawing a thin red line across the tip of his finger before glancing around the hold inquisitively. Confident that the Quan merchant wasn't standing right next to him, Teric reached down and slid the dirk into his boot. Doubt he'll miss this anytime soon, especially in this mess... The old warrior thought slyly...
Further digging in the various piles of mismatched armors, weapons, and accessories turned up a solid Eklan buckler, leather and steel vambraces, a sleeveless, steel chainmail shirt, and even a sleeveless chainmail shirt of Mythril.
The last item Teric brought along to the table just out of mild curiosity. A twitch in the back of his mind told him it was probably a little out of his price range, but it would be interesting to see how much the Quan wanted for it.
Placing the items he wished to inquire about on the table, Teric started jingling his coins loudly to draw out the merchant from wherever he was hiding...