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| Topic Started: Nov 1 2010, 09:34 PM (1,096 Views) | |
| Jet Blackbeard | Feb 28 2011, 10:27 PM Post #11 |
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aka Bear
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Bear paused on the corner and hefted his money pouch. Loosening its tie-strings he took stock of his current funds. "Hmm, getting a little scarce in there." He grumbled. The magical items he'd purchased had been more expensive than he'd thought. "I'm sure they'll be worth the cost though." He reckoned, pulling the pouch closed and replacing it on his belt. Fortunately he'd been reimbursed for their cost. Fishing Illyrian's bank note out of his pocket Bear made the short walk to the town's bank. Located in the central square it was within convenient distance of nearly every shop on the island. A bell chimed as the Viking pushed open the door and walked in. A balding man with thick glasses peered up from the desk and greeted him with a plastered-on smile. "May I help you?" He asked. "I'd like to have this cashed." Bear answered, presenting the bank note. The clerk accepted the slip of paper and adjusted his glasses. His eyes widened a bit as he read Illyrian's signature. "One moment sir." The clerk said as he bustled out of the room, presumably heading for the vault. He fumbled with a set of keys as he left the room, leaving Bear to his own devices as he gathered the money. Bear's attention fixed on the wall behind the counter and a group of handbills that were tacked to its surface. The big Glacian chuckled as he observed the handdrawn visages of surly criminals and read the names underneath them. "Gilder the Unfettered, 5,000 G bounty. Baltor the Blackbearded, 7,500 Gs. Bear of......what's this? I'm worth only 2,500 Gs? That's just pathetic! I'm worth three times that in Nasr!" The Viking was still fuming over his lack of worth as a bounty in Mid-Ocean when the clerk returned. "Alright sir, here's your money. 300 gold coins from Lord Telcondera's account. Be sure you earn it." He added, leaving Bear to wonder at the last remark. Now that he'd replinished his funds Bear could purchase any other necessities. "Let's see. Food should be provided by that mage fellow and I have my own camping gear. Hmm, guess I have everything I need." Satisfied that he was ready for another adventure Bear headed back to Polly's Tavern. His personal effects were already in his room at the inn where he'd be spending the night (now at a discount thanks to Illyrian) but it was too early to retire. "I wonder what those two have plans for the day." Bear wondered as he retraced his steps back to the tavern. Edited by Jet Blackbeard, Mar 7 2011, 07:04 PM.
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| Raiu | Mar 3 2011, 01:54 AM Post #12 |
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Alba listened in as the man spoke, moving in when he instructed her to and resuming her normal sitting posture when he leaned back. A good bit of what he said about magic she had already been told, mostly from the lessons from her tutor and a little of the more militant, which is what Illyrain was saying nearly word for word now. Really popular with the combat mages. "I'm Alba Adelina, sir. I don't doubt anything you say at all, given your reputation... Though I don't think some of the stories are real, since you are not a ten foot tall giant with red eyes and hair that moves with an will of its own. At least, that is how some of the old sailors in Lower Valua discribed you. Between fits of old sailing stories." Alba sighed as she brought herself back under control. "Sorry." When the plate of Molly's Special came around, Alba dug into it, still posessing her maners but, as she had not eaten too often to save funds, it was of a slight degree less control than when she was in Upper Valua. One of the other lessons that she had drilled into her head was that glutony was also dangerous to magic users. Still, while she considered herself to be of healthy weight, her new teacher aparently did not think so. 'Ass hole.' |
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| The Karlminion | Mar 5 2011, 08:03 PM Post #13 |
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180-proof Redneck
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"Never trust the word of an old sailor from Lower Valua, Miss Adelina," Illyrian replied. "If he's not begging for food or for a spot on your ship he's looking to slit your throat and sell your gear for drinking money. Oh, there's an honest one now and then, but on the whole they're an unsavory lot." He looked away as the food came, carefully arranging a napkin in his lap and picking up a knife and fork. "Remember, death penalty for bad manners," he warned as he started in. "And don't scowl, either, it makes you look old." He ate neither too fast or too slow, measuring each mouthful. "If you ever find yourself in an eating contest, eat slowly," he said between bites, "and do not gorge. You won't feel full so quickly, and you can fit more food into your stomach when you take smaller bites." He paused, and a smirk crossed his face as he wiped his mouth off. "You'll still be swallowing away after all the gluttons and fools are groaning and being sick in the background. Very satisfying, let me tell you." As if to prove his own point, he was neatly finished with the large spread of food in twenty minutes. "As always, Polly's cooking is superb," the Black Mage said appreciatively, leaving a few coins on the table and wiping his mouth off for the last time. "Now come, I will show you my ship." He waved at the waitress and pointed at their table, then swept on out of the building into the afternoon sunlight, where he paused and shielded his eyes briefly. "Bear!" he shouted, catching sight of the Glacian on his way to the Inn. "Hoy, this way!" That taken care of he turned back to Alba. "I'm sure you were told that gluttony is bad for mages, yes?" he went on, leading the way toward the docks. "That's quite true, and don't forget it. More dangerous, however, is not eating enough; most wizards think there's some image to live up to, some aesthetic of the frail, weak spell-slinger that will get cut down in one slash of a cutlass. Idiocy, my dear, sheer fallacious idiocy, that I will not allow you to perpetrate." Abruptly he stopped and seized her hands, running his thumbs over the palms. "Hm... fencing, was it? Good, we'll buy you a new sword along with better clothes this afternoon," and he turned to keep walking again. "Many a sorcerer has fallen in battle to plain bandits and scum, overconfident in their magic; I have not, and this is the reason." He drew his dagger out and showed it to Alba; its thick blade was a foot long, double-edged and cruelly serrated, and an ornate purple moonstone glimmered in the pommel. "From far away I can blast my enemies with magic; up close I can eviscerate them and leave their entrails for the Loopers. You will learn such as well." They reached the docks, and Illyrian's ship was not hard to find; amidst the colorful Nasr traders and subdued but ornate Valuan merchant vessels, the Dark Score Run stood out like a sore thumb. Blue paint, so dark as to be almost black, covered the plated hull; the decks carried many large, powerful guns, and behind the prow were clearly a matched set of torpedo tubes. The prow itself carried an embellished figurine of Illyrian's namesake, the god of wandering sorcerers from ancient myths, and beneath the prow was a final cannon, an elaborate magic cannon for firing enchanted shells. "Six Twelve-inch guns, two Serpent torpedo tubes, one experimental magic cannon," Illyrian explained to Alba, and to Bear if he had followed. "Crewed by veterans of the Fourth Armada, under the lady Admiral Belleza, who was herself a powerful and battle-hardened sorcerer. She is one of the fastest ships in the sky, capable of outrunning anything the ruined Armadas of this world can throw at us." He turned to them and grinned, and for the first time there was a spark of emotion, wild and fierce, in his face. "The Dark Score Run, my friends. Your home for the next I-don't-know-how-long, come tomorrow morning anyway. "Bear, there's lunch for you in the tavern if you want it, on me; Miss Adelina, we're going shopping, you and I," and he went back through to the town again. |
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| Jet Blackbeard | Mar 7 2011, 07:58 PM Post #14 |
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aka Bear
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(OOC - I edited the end of my last post. For some reason I kept thinking we were eating lunch at the inn.) Bear spotted Illyrian and Alba as they were leaving Polly's Tavern and trotted to catch up to them. Falling into step behind the pair Bear found himself being led towards the docks where Illyrian's ship was moored. He had to admit that he was curious as to what sort of vessel the mage owned. As they walked Bear listened in on their conversation. Illyrian was in the middle of teaching his young student a lesson on battle magic. He nodded his head in agreement with the mage's assessment of his ilk. On more than one occasion the Viking had been in the presence of a spell-caster, sometimes an ally and sometimes a foe, and he was well aware of what they were capable of. But slinging spells wasn't his cup of tea. Bear would leave that to Illyrian. His trade was in muscle and stone. If there was physical violence to be had he'd hold up that end of the field himself. Then there was Alba. The Black Mage had mentioned she was also a fencer. Bear wasn't a master swordsman by any means but perhaps he could teach her a thing or two about fighting. "If you want I can show you a trick or two. Stuff they don't teach in fencing school." He offered helpfully. Soon they'd reached the docks and Bear got his first look at the Dark Score Run. It was an impressive sight to be certain. As Illyrian listed its credentials Bear could clearly tell that the man took great pride in his ship and had sunk a great deal of money into it. If the Dark Score Run was to be retired after this voyage the Viking had to wonder what manner of vessel the Black Mage was having built to replace it. Bear's musings were interrupted by the mention of lunch. The ever-hungry Glacian was tempted to partake of the free meal but decided to hold out until supper. "I think I'll tag along with you two if you don't mind." He announced, suddenly reminded of his offer to assist with Alba's combat training. At the very least he could help her pick out a new sword. Edited by Jet Blackbeard, Mar 7 2011, 07:59 PM.
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| Raiu | Mar 13 2011, 09:17 PM Post #15 |
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Most of what Illyrian said was review to Alba but it was a good review. The life of a person who wanted to develop their natural magical abilities was one a bit like a Valuan noble whose family was prepareing to sell her away before she was ready. The only difference was that it was herself that was keeping herself in check, not her family. Alba's hands were hardly calloused but the muscles in her fingers were slim and her wrists had some power in them, showing that she had used them quite often. To someone like Alba though, she would not noticed that, such was her lack of experience. It was not that show of experience but the sight of the Dark Score Run that filled Alba with awe.It was doubtlessly worth more than any of the other ships that were docked at the dock. Perhaps more than all of the ships at the dock combined... No. That was a bit too much. Still it was impressive. Alba nodded at Bear when he decided to join them, "I would like that." Still, her foil was not a very strong weapon, one she would have to find a better replacement for sooner rather than later. "You may call me Alba... Miss Adelina is... Just not me." She flustered a little at being called miss, it made her sound older than she was. Being clueless in the matter of weaponry, she allowed Illyrian to help her chose, or rather, make the choice of weapon for her. |
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| The Karlminion | Mar 13 2011, 09:52 PM Post #16 |
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180-proof Redneck
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Illyrian regarded Bear briefly, but shrugged. "Miss Adelina would doubtless benefit from your advice," he said cordially, leading the way back into the city. He seemed to know the island very well, as he led them straight through the crowns and down little-traveled side streets to an out-of-the-way clothiers' shop. "Meers has done work for me before," he told Alba, "you need not fear for your high-society reputation." This last was said with a smirk as he pushed the door open and went inside. Inside it was cool and well-lit, both from the sun and from a number of electric lights. A young woman came out of the back room when she heard the bell over the door ring, her eyes widening when she saw who it was. "Lord Telcondera!" she exclaimed breathlessly, curtsying clumsily. "I- It's an honor, m'lord, an honor!" "Relax, Valerie, you aren't in Valua anymore," the Black Mage said with a wave of his hand, "there's no need for theatrics and ceremony anymore. These are my associates, Bear of Glacia and Alba Adelina; Miss Adelina needs new clothes." "I'll say," Valerie muttered, grimacing as she examined Alba's so-called clothing. "Let me go get the master, and he'll take care of you." The woman retreated again, allowing the customers to observe the quiet little shop. Well-made clothing of all sorts lined one wall, from society dresses and formal tuxedos to light leather armor that could be readily dyed and decorated according to the needs of the buyer; the opposite wall held rolls of material, silk and cotton and leather of every quality. A wide space in the center, behind a thick paper wall, was for being fitted, and the rest of the floorspace was given to racks of more common attire like work shirts and heavy trousers. Shortly, Valerie returned with a much older man, clearly a relation of some sort; they both had the same ears, the same tilt of the eye, even very similar eye coloring. "Master Illyrian, it has been too long," the old man said, his voice a little too loud as if he were hard of hearing. "My granddaughter says you have a scamp in need of a new wrap?" "That scamp is my new apprentice, in fact," the Black Mage replied, the slightest tinge of sharpness coloring his voice. "Yes, she does need new clothes; I will not tolerate a penniless crossdresser following me around, after all. She'll also be needing a couple of practical outfits as well; we're headed for much colder climates very soon, after all." The two tailors bowed and affirmed the request, and Valerie took Alba behind the screen to be measured. The process would take time, so Illyrian went for the door again. "Come, Bear, we can find her a weapon or two while this is going on," he told the taller man. "Unless you need new clothes as well?" This last was clearly a joke, not serious at all. |
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| Jet Blackbeard | Mar 14 2011, 06:53 PM Post #17 |
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aka Bear
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Bear blindly followed the two Valuans into the clothing store but it wasn't until he was already inside that he took a look around at where they'd led him. Seeing all of the fancy clothing and the overall cleanliness of the store made the Viking cringe. He suddenly felt out of place and was loathe to touch anything for fear of breaking it. Trying his best to blend in Bear pretended to examine some of the less gaudy clothing in the store. He lifted the hem of a woolen sweater with his beefy hands as if inspecting its weave. "Do you need help sir?" A voice from behind startled Bear. He glanced over his shoulder at the aging clerk who had materialized behind him. "Er, no. Just browsing." Bear replied. His forehead broke out in a sweat as the clerk lifted his eyebrow, appraising Bear's appearance. He looked less than impressed with the Glacian's fur cloak and homespun garments. "Well, if there's anything I can help you with do let me know." The clerk sniffed, vanishing once again into the depths of the store. Bear dropped the sweater's hem and sighed. ~ It was with great relief that Bear followed Illyrian out of the boutique and into the weapon's shop. As he pushed through the door the scent of oiled leather and blade wax wafted across the Viking's nose like the scent of a sweet perfume. Bear smiled, definitely feeling more at home in a place like this. "Bear, you old ruffian! Have you finally come to trade in that hatchet of yours for one of my weapons?" A burly man who was easily as large as the Viking called cheerfully from behind the counter. "Heya Roscoe! Er, no. The opposite actually. This fellow here," Bear returned, indicating Illyrian. ",and I need to find a weapon suitable for a young lady." The weaponsmith, Roscoe, arched an eyebrow at the prospect. The big Viking in the company of a robed mage, and apparently a young woman, was something of a novelty to him. "Hmm? A lady you say? What sort of weapon does she use?" Bear scanned the store with a practiced eye. The walls were hung with all manner of blades and pistols. A group of spears were stacked in one corner and various other weapons were laid out atop tables for inspection. A large tomahawk of Ixa'takan design caught Bear's eye and Roscoe's previous comment returned to his thoughts. The Glacian's hand lowered to his belt to caress the haft of his hand axe affectionately. Bear knew it wasn't the best of weapons, as it was built to chop wood rather than win battles, but he wouldn't have parted with it for the world. In truth Bear preferred to use his fists to strike his opponents and relied on the axe mostly to block other attacks. But when it came to bloodshed the hand axe more than made up in versatility what it lacked in lethality. It was light enough to wield in one hand, allowing Bear to keep his other hand free for grappling, but the haft was just long enough to be swung two-handed when a powerful chop was called for. Plus his axe's smaller size gave it the perfect balance for throwing from a distance. But that was what suited him. Illyrian had his dagger and a short blade of that nature was probably what suited the mage's style of close-range combat. Neither of those were in question however. What they were here for was to find the weapon that best suited Alba. Turning his attention away from the axes Bear moved to a section of the store where several swords were hung upon the wall. Illyrian had mentioned Alba was a fencer right? Eyeing the weapons Bear reached up and pulled down a slender rapier and held it up for Illyrian and Roscoe to see. "How about something like this?" Edited by Jet Blackbeard, Mar 14 2011, 07:29 PM.
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| Raiu | Mar 15 2011, 02:44 AM Post #18 |
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Alba hardly got a word in as the tailors pulled her behind the screen and had her remove the rough and common clothes that she had been wearing leaving her in her leggings and camisole. While the young noble blushed at her scandleious lack of clothing, the tailors just busied themselves with first measureing Alba, writting down the numbers in a pad that made the girl feel like she was being judged down to the smallest hair. After the mesurements were done, ideas were thrown out into the air as the tailors attempted to think about what Alba would look best in, in which Alba gave only two requirements. No frills and very little lace. As imagined, that set the tailors off in a wild fire that scared her a little. How could they be this into their jobs? After what felt like years of their proking and prodding, Alba had finially been presented with a few pieces of clothing, the expensive ones which were aparently woven with combat in mind, translation, the cloth had spells designed to protect and aid the wearer had been used. Amoung the dark colored cloth which matched the color of her hair, she found a set of light weight black leather armor which matched her size nearly perfectly and was easy to move in. In the end, Alba was given a bag to put the clothes and the robes that she had been given in and she walked out in one of the pieces of clothes she had been given, being told that Illyrian would take up the bill. When someone was as rich as he was, footing a bill like this was childs play. She entered the weapon shop and blushed a little at the look the man at the counter gave him. She hoped she would not be too expensive. [[Thanks to Karl I have inspiration strike me. It was fun. Here is the dress she is wearing: http://i297.photobucket.com/albums/mm225/yuuki_fish/Blogshop/Dresses/D013-1.jpg only with the skirt being slightly longer and black leggings finishing the look. Here is part of the leather armor set as it is in real life: http://ny-image1.etsy.com/il_fullxfull.76633037.jpg )) Edited by Raiu, Mar 15 2011, 03:08 AM.
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| The Karlminion | Mar 17 2011, 05:18 AM Post #19 |
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180-proof Redneck
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Illyrian regarded the weapon Bear had pulled down, but shook his head after a few silent moments. "No, too light; she'll need something heavier." He went up to the rack and ran a finger along the rows of swords, eventually pulling down two blades; one was a longer and heavier rapier forged of Red Moonstone alloy, with separate Red 'stones in the pommel and the hand guard, and the second was a blunted practice weapon of plain steel, similar in design and balance to the first but heavier yet. Neither would be too heavy for Alba, or too foreign for her previous training, but they would tax her and develop her hand and wrist strength as she wielded them. Which was, of course, the idea. "These will suffice, Sir Roscoe," the sorcerer went on, turning to the counter and laying the weapons out. He barely listened to the price, dolling out the requisite moneys for the blades as well as scabbards and sword belts; once they were paid for Illyrian held the lot under one arm and glanced at the door, clearly expecting his student to be arriving soon. "Thanks for your business, m'lord," Roscoe said with a bow, also glancing at the door. This was when Alba walked in, relatively stunning in her new dress. "She's your student...?" the weapons merchant muttered, blinking. "Indeed she is," Illyrian replied cheerfully. "Look, Bear, it was a girl all along," he said jokingly, walking up to the girl. "You look splendid, Miss Adelina, but you'll be even more splendid when you are properly armed." He put a hand on her shoulder and turned her about, undoing the belt that secured her foil, and set the lot aside; then he wrapped the new sword belt about her waist and secured it in place, turning her about again to face the men. "Now you look like my student, instead of a beggar." Illyrian turned to Bear. "Bear, arrange the sale of that old thing," and he indicated Alba's former blade, "and you are free for the remainder of the day. Supper awaits you at the tavern; don't drink too much, don't cause trouble, get a decent night's sleep and be at the docks by seven tomorrow morning. We leave at seven-thirty." That done he turned and went for the door, prodding Alba along ahead of him. "You and I have practice, Miss Adelina, but first a few more things to be procured..." Their first stop was the tailors, where Illyrian paid the bill for Alba's new wardrobe with the same lack of reaction as he had bought her blades with. Then he arranged for a porter to take her clothes and her practice blade to the Inn, where he apparently had a suite for the night. "I am afraid separate lodging could not be arranged for you, my dear, so you and I will have to share a room," he explained as they departed the clothiers'. "Fortunately it is a two-bed room, and I do not snore, so you should yet be comfortable." Their next destination was the outfitters, where the sorcerer bought Alba an Immunity Ring. "This will make you harder to damage," he explained as the store clerk measured Alba's fingers for the bauble. "I have one myself, as you can see," and he held out his hand; sure enough, one such ring resided on his left pointer finger. "Perhaps you noticed your sword had a Red Moonstone or two in the hilt," the Black Mage went on as they left that shop. "You will be learning Red magic during the trip down to Glacia; the monsters there are predominantly of the Purple Moon, and their primary vulnerability is to Red magic. Their other weakness is Green magic, which I assume you have some basic skill with." Obviously he had noticed the Moonstones on her ring. "My ship is already stocked and armed; I had a windfall of sorts during my recent excursions in Yafutoma, which will doubtless save me quite a bit of money on ammunition and supplies for my ship. Now, follow me." He led the way to the Inn this time, and around the back to a large open square; it was currently deserted, fortunately for them. Illyrian positioned Alba at one end, and walked to the center; there was now twenty feet between them. "Attack me with your spells," he commanded as he turned to face her. "Just your spells, mind you, no special attacks or swordplay. Hold nothing back, either; I must see what strength you currently possess." |
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| Jet Blackbeard | Mar 18 2011, 03:13 AM Post #20 |
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aka Bear
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Bear arched an eyebrow as Illyrian and Alba left the shop. "Pushy lil' fop ain't he?" Roscoe chuckled from behind the counter. "How'd you get chained to a guy like that?" "He pays well." Is all Bear could say in response. He was preoccupied with the inspection of the foil that had been left in his keeping. It was in fairly good shape but hardly a collector's item. "How much do you think this is worth?" He asked, handing the training sword over to Roscoe. The weaponsmith scrutinized the foil with a more practiced eye than Bear's. He scowled upon reaching a conclusion. "It'll buy you lunch for a couple of days but that's about it." He replied. Bear nodded thoughtfully. "How about as a trade-in? That girl could use more than just a sword I think. A dagger maybe....." Roscoe smirked at Bear's attempt at beating around the bush. "Maybe. Have a look." He answered, gesturing at an assortment of knives that were laying in a display case built into the counter. Bear inspected the knives, lifting them up to scan their blades for defects, testing their edges against his skin. "That rapier he picked out. It didn't have a matching gauche did it?" Bear asked, not looking up from his task. "No, not that one. I might have one that'd fit it though. Want me to look in the back?" Roscoe replied. Bear shook his head. "No, that's okay. What about this one?" He asked. His hand came up clutching an elegant poinard with a wire-wrapped handle and a sharp blade crafted from a gleaming silver moonstone. "Whoa, that's worth more than some fencing foil!" Roscoe protested. "You'll have to wait until your new buddy pays you if you want to buy that one." Bear scowled. "Can you give me credit? You know I'm good for it." He offered weakly. "Silver moonstones are expensive." Roscoe sighed. "Do you have any money at all? Or something else to trade? Something other than that battered old blade of yours I mean." Bear had money, just over 300 in gold thanks to his advance payment, but he wanted to hold onto that for a while. As for a trade, his axe wouldn't cover the bill even if he'd been willing to part with it. It was as much a memento of his homeland as it was a weapon. His homeland? "Say, you know I'm shipping out for Glacia in the morning right?" Bear began, suddenly struck with inspiration. "Yeah? Going home eh?" Roscoe answered. He was happy to change the subject. "How about if I bring you back a cask of Olga's homebrew? Would that be worth an IOU?" Roscoe mulled the proposition over. "Olga's mead? Er, it's tempting but....." "Y'know, I think this might be my poor axe's last outing. It's getting pretty worn." Bear continued, upping the ante a bit. "I'll probably need to replace it when I get back. By then I should have more than enough gold to buy a really nice one too." Roscoe threw his hands up in resignation. "Okay, fine. You bring me back that cask of mead and I'll find you the biggest, most expensive axe I can find!" "We'll raise a toast to my new axe!" Bear laughed. He accepted the poinard from Roscoe and clasped wrists with the big man. "See you when I get back!" "You'd better come back!" Roscoe called after the Viking as he left the store. "Don't get yourself killed out there." He added in a quieter voice. Bear stepped out into the street and held the poinard up to the light. It was a fine blade to be sure. But from the sounds of things Illyrian wanted to spend some time alone with Alba. His mention of sharing a room brought a blush to Bear's cheeks. "I'll just give this to her later." The Glacian decided, shoving the dagger's sheathe through his belt. "For now I think I'll have that lunch Illyrian mentioned." (OOC - I can edit this post and change the poinard's design if it's not what you wanted Raiu.) Edited by Jet Blackbeard, Mar 18 2011, 03:20 AM.
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6:56 PM Jul 11