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Post by kakashilova on Feb 9, 2009 1:17:12 GMT -5
Shin hated water in all of its sneaky forms. Whether it was a calm and tamed version of it like in a placid lake or harmless droplets of liquid falling from the heavens above; he’d even been known to walk on the other side of the street to avoid puddles of the wet substance. So when the bubbly winged waitress with the particularly short skirt and low cut tank-top on generously brought him over a cup of refreshing ice-cold water as he was inconspicuously sitting at the bar on this especially hot and chaotic day in one of the many taverns in Bizyn City, the unsuspecting girl had no idea that her nice gesture would lead to a complete and totally breakdown of orderly restaurant conduct. Shin took one look at the glass filled to the rim with the clear fluid and sent the object flying across the room where it just so happened to hit a monster of a man, standing at almost seven lengths and as wide as he was tall, who had been perversely leering at the same beauty that had just served him the offending drink. The place grew unnaturally silent.
Now for any place in Bizyn City, silence was not a luxury its citizens ever really experienced due in part to the many repugnant figures that traveled through the trade city, but today the metropolis had broken sound barriers with the news of the Duke of Bizyn’s death. Talking at a normal level must have been considered a disrespectful act towards the dead duke because, as Shin had annoyingly observed all morning, the rumors about his passing were shouted from one group of people to another until all of the clatter had run together into one garbled mass of noise. So now, sitting at the bar and sipping (through his mask of course) from a silver flask obviously filled with some sort of impairing drink, the silence was a welcome sound to the Halflings sensitive ears. “Ah see, you can all hear yourselves think now. Isn’t that better?” He explained waving a leather-gloved hand into the air as he continued to down the alcoholic beverage before him.
“Eh! You Stinkn’ oaf!” The bear of a man struggled up from his chair, knocking the wooden seat over as he turned to point a huge, sausage-like finger at Shin. “Who een da h’ll da ya tink ya are?!” Shin held one finger up, signaling the man to wait a second before he gave his answer, and chugged the rest of the liquid in his flask, drops of the brown substance dripping down his masked chin before being absorbed into the material completely. Giving a satisfied sigh of pleasure he slipped the container back into his trench coat and then turned to face the giant before him.
“Well sir, I am Shin and I can honestly say that the only person who stinks in this room is you. Seriously though, when’s the last time you showered?” A look of shock fell over the audience of people watching the two and everyone’s attention flew to the oversized human who was still registering the comical insult in his ironically small brain. Oh, the humor of the gods. Then two beady eyes disappeared in the man’s fat folds as his pimpled, stubbly, double-chinned face turned into a look of horrified rage. He charged Shin, stubby arms reaching out to grab the significantly smaller man and rip him in two. The screams of the innocent bystanders were heard as he trampled through tables, and knocked over old ladies, in his attempt to kill the detestable masked creature before him.
As amusing as it all turned out to be, Shin did not plan on dyeing that day so when the enormous man came within inches of seizing him, the half-elf slammed a nicely polished shoe into the piglet’s face, sending him sprawling backwards, a stream of blood shooting from his broken nose. He hit the floor unconscious and Shin stepped over his body to exit the now crazed tavern.
An all out war had broken out within the restaurant, people screaming profanities at one another in languages that Shin had never had the pleasure of hearing before. Some wrestled on the floors punching, kicking, and scratching anything within reachable distance, and others took to throwing plates, cups, and even small children (just kidding) in their attempt to come out victorious in this out of control restaurant battle royale!
“So much for silence.” Shin muttered, slipping out a back door. But not before he had grabbed two bottles of tequila from the preoccupied, he was fighting off the teenagers who were trying to grab his booze since their parents had all been swept into the fight, bar tender.
“Damn KIDS!” Was the last thing Shin heard before he slid into the crowded streets of Bizyn before anyone could notice his sneaky escape.
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How Shin had ended up at the Southern West docks was a mystery to him. He never ventured near the docks because they were near water and well does anymore need to be said. Now, staring out at the white-tipped waves that looked like they were ready to swallow him up, Shin could do nothing but scratch his head in confusion. Stumbling a little bit he stared down at the half-empty bottle of tequila in his grasp. “What’s in this stuff?” He slurred taking another swig of the substance before turning to depart in the direction that he had come when a shrill melody pierced through him. Dropping the bottle, he slammed his fists against his ears and winced as the tone brightened to an obnoxious degree. Then as suddenly as it had started, the vile song stopped and left a faint ringing in the Halfling’s ears. Peaking around a pile of crated lobsters, Shin found the source of the raucous and was surprised to find a slender, beautiful girl proudly standing in front of a group of huge bloodied men. Had she done this?
A small feeling of respect for the brunette appeared inside of Shin as he watched her turn her back on the faction of muscled strengths, no hint of fear evident on her grinning visage. He wanted to applaud her as she cantered away from the shocked brutes, wanted to congratulate her on her courage as he watched her graceful exit, but then she wobbled, once, twice and down she went, snoring before her face even hit the wooden boards of the dock. A small sweat-drop appeared on the side of Shin’s masked face.
He continued to watch as the men left standing gave small victory slaps on the back to each other like they had actually bested this young lady, when it was really the alcohol that had gotten the best of her and then he saw something else enter the thug’s eyes, lust. A disgusted breath left Shin as his fists clenched at his sides, “They are the vile filth that plague this city.”
It wasn’t until two cloaked figures appeared on the scene that a sense of order registered back in the ranks of the repulsive men. Soft, quick words were exchanged between the newcomers and old, Shin catching bits and pieces of the exchange. He was able to hear one line very clearly though and his masked face twisted into lines of sickening distaste after it passed through his ears. "She'll be heading to the dungeons...where no will hear her scream."
“We will see about that…” Shin whispered. “ But first,” he reached within his coat and grabbed the second bottle of tequila breaking the top if it against a crate and gulping down its contents. “Now, hiccup, where were we?”
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KyahRyorin
Elite Fatesayers
[M:-995]
In this fragile existence, will we ever find ourselves?[D3v:animeluver711]
Posts: 222
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Post by KyahRyorin on Feb 15, 2009 9:10:18 GMT -5
((OOC: AAAAGH I KNEW I was missing out on an RP. Bah. Okay, time to catch up.))
Sharkov snorted in disgust. Here he was, trying to be friendly to people he didn't know, and he was already being mocked and told to go to and see a doctor by a satyr with a horrible taste for wit and satire. His tail twitched in agitation, even more so after he picked himself up and noticed the two who were originally talking to him were now halfway down the road, leaving him behind, his presence completely forgotten.
"Hmph. A fat lot of help they are." Well, at least he knew why people were so solemn today. Their duke was dead. There would probably be several services and offerings to the Muses in his name, hoping for a safe journey to the afterlife.
He headed in the opposite direction, his eyes focused on the interactions of those around him. People were hushed, unsure, quiet. It didn't help much that he had shouted earlier and alienated himself from everyone.
Wandering further down the streets of Bizyn City, the young Pheonite searched for a place where his cleric powers would be needed. Here and there, a few people needed a quick ailment curing, but there was little left for him to do. He began to wonder as to why exactly he had come here in the first place, but couldn't think of a decent reason, other than just wandering.
He stood out by one of the docks, gazing out into the water, unsure as to where he should go. There was no need for him here that he knew of, and Bizyn City was full of greedy people and merchants, two types of people he found that he didn't tend to get along with.
He was about to wander once more, when he felt someone tug on his shirt. Looking down, he noticed a young boy pulling at his sleeve. Sharkov kneeled, to face the boy at his height, smiling.
"Hello there. What's your name?"
The boy shyly dug one of his rugged shoes into the ground, looking down. "Millis."
Sharkov nodded. "And what do you want from me, Millis?"
Millis pointed a small finger at Sharkov's staff, his eyes showing his curiosity and eagerness to hold it. Seeing his eyes light up as the Pheonite took his staff and placed it in his hands, Sharkov closed his eyes and smiled happily.
"It's a staff used to heal people. In case they get sick, or they need treatment for somethi-" He opened his eyes again, to notice the absence of the once keen-eyed lad. Looking up, he saw the boy dart down the street and around a corner, his staff in tow. "HEY! GIVE THAT BACK! GET BACK HERE!! THIEF!!" He shouted, starting to run after the boy. People watched as the Pheonite chased after him, nearly running into crates and other fishing accessories, trying to keep up. He knew he would tire out soon, if he didn't find other means of traveli-
Sharkov's mind clicked as he felt the wind suddenly blowing in his favor, quite literally. He lifted his wings a little, testing on how far he could go on how much effort. Taking to the air, he followed the boy from above, turning and speeding along as the boy twisted through alleyways and crowded streets, almost never pausing. Bizyn City was a maze, as Sharkov soon discovered, and the boy knew the city apparently very well.
Soon they found themselves in a not so good section of the city. The Pheonite gulped a little at seeing all the darkness and shadiness of the southwestern docks, but kept going. He noticed that the boy, Millis, had paused in front of a massive fork of docks, deciding on which one to take. Sharkov saw his chance, and landed in front of the boy, who was looking behind him, possibly seeing if he was still being followed.
"I'd appreciate that back now, Millis." He said, extending his hand, causing the boy to nearly jump out of his skin. "I need it to help others."
The boy sheepishly gave it back to him, looking slightly ashamed. He turned, unsure as to where to go, and Sharkov gave him a slight whack to his rear with the staff as he paused. Immediately the boy took off, causing the Pheonite to chuckle slightly, and then sigh. He had no idea where he was, and judging by the look of things, it didn't feel like a nice place.
He wandered for a bit, taking turns here and there, trying to remember which way he had come. Once in a while he'd float up a bit in the air, trying to find his way back to the main center of Bizyn City, but his wings were getting tired, and he couldn't stay up for long. It was beginning to grow darker, and he became more worried about making it safely to a nice spot for the night.
He was about to turn down another corner when he heard a shrill note pierce the air like moonlight through clouds. Holding his hands to his ears, he yelled. "EEEGADS! What the heck is that?!" Turning another corner, he saw a few people gathered around a younger woman, sounding pleased with themselves. He tip-toed forward, trying to get a listen in on what was being said.
"...the dungeons... no one will hear her scream." He saw the two men maliciously smile, revealing toothy grins and greedy eyes.
At this, the Pheonite began backing up. These guys mean trouble. I'd better get out of here, and go for help. He carefully made sure he didn't step on anything that would break or he would trip over and make some noise. The last thing he wanted to do was cause attention to himself. If that happened, then bad things would-
CREEEEEEEAAAAK. One of the wooden boards on the dock let out a terrible groan as Sharkov placed his foot on it. The two men paused, looking right back at where Sharkov stood.
"Oh, crap." The Pheonite whispered. "Uh. Hi guys. Just uh, checking the area. Really nice boats you have here. Very splendid." His voice was stammering and full of fear, though he tried his hardest not to show it. "Well, if you excuse me, I need to be going. People of Bizyn City need me and my services, hahah." Sharkov bolted, darting to the nearest open road and running from there. He heard footsteps behind him, and look forwards to notice a few bandits meeting him at the end of this said road. He swore under his breath, then leaped upwards and began flying, ignoring the tiredness and the aching pain that was beginning to take over his wings. The men tried jumping at him, but he moved higher, folding in his wings a little, and picking up more speed. Seeing how they didn't look like the brightest crayons in the box, he got an idea.
He began circling the bandits, causing them to run around chasing him, and bump into each other in the process. Some grew dizzy and stumbled as they tried to keep up with him, others fell on their rear and fall backwards, hitting their heads on the wooden dock and knocking them out. Sharkov smiled, watching them fall apart and get knocked out, and he finally pulled himself out of his circular motion, speeding along once more.
What he had failed to notice was that during this entire chasing scene, while he had insisted he had gone far away from the two men he had first ran into, he had in reality only circled the block. Which meant as he turned the corner, he came upon them once again, at top speed and unable to stop this time. Sharkov let out a screech as he came upon the two like a hawk diving after its prey.
"OHCRAP OHCRAP OHCRAP OHCRAP OHCRA-" WHAM!!!! The Pheonite flew headfirst into one of the two men, sending him flying into the water, and poor Sharkov to the dock boards with a massive headache. He crash landed, sliding to a stop a few feet away from the woman the group was standing over earlier. "Aaaagh. Ohhhhhh man. Am I gonna feel that one tomorrow. Ughhhhhh." He said, clutching his head and falling unconscious on the wood below him. A thought crossed his mind as he passed out.
Well. I'm sure other clerics have died in far worse situations.
And he succumbed to darkness, his body giving out, and wings and tail drooping as if dead.
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Post by kakashilova on Feb 19, 2009 23:45:09 GMT -5
It’s an odd thing how fate will sometimes step in when you least expect it to. For instance, when you’re about to jump into a gang of gruesome, dangerous mercenaries who happen to be equipped with every weapon known to man, while you yourself are armed with nothing more than a broken Tequila bottle and the stench of your intoxicated breathe, and suddenly an oversized bird ends up crash landing in between you and the men you are incapable yet intent on destroying. These were the exact thoughts that ran through Shin’s inebriated mind as he watched the silver-haired, golden-winged man smash head first into one of the uglier soldiers of the detestable group, before skidding unconscious across the planks of the Southwestern Docks.
After a few moments of deathly silence followed by angry grunts and shouts from the rest of the warriors as they kicked and prodded at the comatose phoenite, Shin re-concealed himself at the rear of the smelly lobster crates he’d expertly hidden behind before. “Jumping into a situation without thinking…” He mumbled, quietly breaking off small parts of his already damaged alcohol container and chipping them into deadly, pointed pieces of glass. “That would have been real smart.”
As Shin continued his crafty weaponry work a hefty giant of a man, the ex-protector, Eustace, of the now dead duke, stepped towards the vulnerable phoenite and roughly kicked the creature in the side, sending his motionless body flopping down the dock leaving a trail of feathers and blood in its wake. A shiny, black boot then aggressively nudged the defenseless being’s chin up as the overdressed brute stared down at his new victim.
“Disgusting creatures, phoenites.” The body guard’s shoe fell away from the winged-man’s jaw, and moved to the boy’s fragile chest, which was struggling for air as it was. “All they do is heal what men like us-“ He waved a hand to his fellow mercenaries, “Work so hard to break.” A sickening crack was heard as he began to dig his heel into the phoenite’s ribcage. “I guess we’ll just have to make sure there’s nothing left to repair eh boys?”
A wild uproar was heard from the bandits as they hooted in approval of Eustace’s little speech before rushing forwards to rip the poor phoenite limb from limb; besides they were already battered and broken from the petite drunken lady so they had to conserve their pride somehow and killing an innocent creature, like Sharkov, would restore their damaged manhood right?
That is when Shin decided to make his elegant entrance, well if you call flicking a handful of glass shards at the unsuspecting group of men and while they are distracted with their newfound wounds, throwing the girl and phoenite over each shoulder to make a not so cunning escape, graceful.
As the masked vigilante quickly cut around a corner, the fabric covering his face twisted into a small sneer. This expression stayed plastered on his facade for a few good seconds until he realized that the entire mob of men were already chasing him, and they were closing in fast.
“Damn.”
The situation that Shin had unwillingly found himself in was getting more complicated by the second, but then again that's what made it interesting for the half-elf. Bending his knees, Shin careened himself onto an abandoned cart, his dead-weight baggage still in tow, and then made his way onto the rooftop of a low-rise, broken down warehouse making sure to leave a path of falling debris in his wake.
"Catch me if you can." He murmured as his adrenaline, or was it the alcohol, kicked in along with a new found burst of speed.
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RedSong
Out in the World
[M:-15]
Je pense donc je suis
Posts: 19
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Post by RedSong on Mar 4, 2009 16:39:11 GMT -5
After hours of carrying a very small yet very heavy object of which he knew nothing, Faelan Quixar finally arrived at just the wrong end of Bizyn to deliver the thing to its recipient. His patron and "friend" this time, Vohn Makheel, had tipped him rather heavily to deliver it within four hours. Faelan was known for his speed throughout the chaotic port city, so the tip was well-appreciated. Approaching the door of the recipient, someone he had never really heard of...Tibael...or...something, he caught his breath for a moment before knocking to announce his arrival.
The splintered door opened just an inch or so after a series of locks were undone. A very tall yet withered old man peeked his head out, his eyes going straight to the parcel in Faelan's hands. "Are you...uh..." Faelan began, digging the slip out to read the man's name. "Yes, I am!" the recipient said before grabbing the object and trying to make a run for it. However, the old man didn't expect the young demi-wolf to stop the door from slamming with a quick move of his foot. "Good. Then, you wouldn't mind signing this for me," he said, holding out a delivery slip, pointing to a bright red "X" indicating a place to sign at the bottom of the paper with a pen. Tibael growled and grudgingly signed before almost crushing Faelan's foot with a slam of his door. He sighed and stuffed the pen with the delivery slip in his belt. "Vohn, sometimes I wonder how in the world you met all these people..." he commented to himself before turning around.
"HEY!"
Must not have been for him. No...seriously...why would someone in this city want to call him out? It wasn't like he had any connections to anyone. And...the sarcasm in his own thoughts was starting to get on his nerves. Wow. That must have put him on a whole new level of smart-ass.
"Hey! You're Vohn's kid, aren't you?!"
Faelan finally turned to the voice, seeing what seemed like a drunken bear. Those were always fun. His eyes darted nervously to the right, then to left. "...No, I'm not?"
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And that was how he ended up on top of a dilapidated old warehouse, staring up at the sky, thinking of witty things to say to his...employer when he returned with the signed delivery slip. Honestly, the drunken bear person had been easily confused and shaken off very easily, but Faelan didn't feel like going back to Vohn quite yet. That encounter simply drove it home that he needed to be more careful. His face was rather well-known in Bizyn.
One of his black, white-tipped canine ears twitched when he heard a lot of noise going on down below. A drunken elf...or...no, she was a half-elf was being hauled away for...uh...being drunk and annoying? If that were the case, he had the perfect person for them to drag away. There was something malicious in the men's eyes, though. He crouched down, hiding himself from anyone who might happen to glance up and see him. Dungeon...no one can hear her...scream. Really. There were really people who honestly and sincerely spoke like that. Uh-huh. Before he knew it, there was a big scuffle happening inside the warehouse. One person joined them and was incapacitated, and another person joined in and was apparently making a getaway. He sounded rather drunk, too. Drunkards were so entertaining. Before he knew it, the entertaining hero had made his way onto the roof of the warehouse and was heading right for him. He was now carrying the half-elf girl and what looked like a Phoenite. Why not help? Vohn owed it to him to wait for a while.
Standing, he beckoned for the hero to follow him. He knew this town like the back of his hand. Now that he got a good look at this fellow, he was a drunken half-elf himself. Nice pattern. Anyway, there was a building adjacent to this one that had an underground tunnel in the basement that only a few people knew about. Luckily, he was not only one of the ones who knew about it, he was a true friend to the person who owned it. Not waiting for the hero follow, he began the short course to the house.
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Tyrant
Adventurer
[M:-250]
Posts: 57
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Post by Tyrant on Apr 25, 2009 0:31:49 GMT -5
What a nimble fellow. Urisk watched the inebriated human bob and weave across the street carrying two passed out good-for-northing's across his shoulders like sacks of bloody potatoes*. The satyr was following behind, albeit at a safe distance.
A very safe distance.
Closing his pocket telescope (He knew there was a reason he kept this thing on him) he reached a furless finger into his mouth and reached around inside until he pulled out a small, pointy, bloody tooth. Euck. It must have gotten knocked loose when his tapioca for brains minion gallantly decided to throw the both of them into harm's way to escape the goliath with the single syllable vocabulary.
Oh well. At least now he had something new to torment Julius with.
Urisk spit and calmly started walking in the opposite direction of all the action, doing a pretty good job of ignoring the high pitched screams coming from somewhere behind him. He took this moment to reflect on the success of his little adventure.
--Met an old friend. --Remembered why he hated meeting old friends. (Where the muse did he go anyway?) --Avoided death not once, but twice.* --Lost a tooth. --Learned a valuable lesson: Never open doors first when you have a willing companion who probably wouldn't know better to do it for you.
He adjusted the gleaming, golden goggles embedded in his vines of sugary brown hair and removed a cigar from his money pouch, placing it on the tip of his tongue and beginning to chew.
Still though...he hadn't made any progress as far as the murder of the Duke went. He bit down, grinding the tip of the cigar into a moist pulp as his tombstone shaped teeth went to work. Obviously, those two at the ship had been involved, but it was probably best not to pursue a course of action that involved the man with the evil sounding name and his companion with the demeanor of a castrated bear, with his black, bloody mask, spiked shoes, and ripped vest containing bulging muscles and who knows what else? He shuddered at the thought of him.
Retro goth was so last season.*
He reached the spot where the initial alcohol fueled struggle had taken place. The sun shone high in the sky, reflecting its cascading beams of light down onto the blood and beer stained street, the golden bricks shining like ripe bananas in the afternoon heat.
If it hadn't been for the exact angle of the sun, he never would have seen it-a twinkle in the corner of his eye. Urisk turned and bent down for a closer examination. "Now...what have we here?"
His eyes widened as he realized what the fallen object was. He stared at it for a while more, then looked back behind him, his large, pointy ears twitching as they picked the faint sounds of scuffling and projectile vomit (Related?). A faint smile crept across his face.
"Oi...you little bugger."
And with that he dashed off, trying not to remind himself he would be regretting this later. -- *--Not a very positive memory. Best not to dwell on it. *2-Under-achieving. *3-He had gone through a phase. Black horn polish, over-large boots. Ending every sentence with a question. Most people grew out of it.
-- No idea! Just trying to get back into the flow!
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Rahimah
Out in the World
[M:-45]
Posts: 10
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Post by Rahimah on Apr 27, 2009 21:10:41 GMT -5
It was loud. Her head pounded, and the light burned her eyelids, her throat in hell. She felt sick. Against all better judgement, Chamera opened her eyes. Perhaps things would be better if she knew where she was; the plan didn't work out too great. It was bright, though. She couldn't tell if it was sunlight or lamplight yet, but it hurt her eyes and elicited a groan from the rather hung over bard. She was strewn somewhere, but her everything ached, and if it was a cot or solid stone made not a lick of a difference. She rolled onto one side, and off something with a hiss of irritation. Cot, then. Lovely. Peering blearily at her surroundings, she pushed herself off the floor, trying to ignore the pounding in her head to get her bearings. Her bag was nearby, and she seemed to be alive, not run through by a blade or anything... Her eyes flew open in alarm and she offered a distinctly unheroic shriek as realisation struck. Scrambling to her feet, she scoured the area, hunting... "Cain!" The word was panicked, enraged, and in a register that hurt even her own ears. But she couldn't bring herself to care, because her lute was gone, and if someone laid their filthy hands on it, he'd likely murder the fool and then she'd have a dead body on her hand and Cain would have managed to get her driven out of town or something... and considering she hadn't even met up with the person she'd come to meet yet, that would be rather problematic. And, not that she would admit it, but the Vampiric Lute was the closest thing she had to a friend ever since her last Adventuring Party ended up with reanimated corpses and holy symbols. "CAIN?!" She could barely see straight, and she stumbled quite fantastically. Her stomach churned, protesting, and she obeyed, slumping against a wall and meeting yesterday's lunch. Something had been off about that cheese, she noted, glowering down at the watery mess. That had not tasted so good the second time around. The back of a hand cleaned her mouth, and she looked up, finally beginning to focus. She appeared to be in a rather well-lit room. The doorframe was sans door, with some sort of curtain (in obnoxious violet) instead. That seemed the most promising direction, and Chamera stumbled towards it, slowly managing to get her bearings. Wish I hadn't made Constitution my dump stat, she mused bitterly as she lifted the curtain. The sight of her demonic lute made her smile, spirits buoyed. They plummeted fantastically as she realised it was marked 'For Sale, Cheep'. The spelling mistake only served to incense her, and she found herself shuffle-running awkwardly for the lute, a woman possessed (or, rather, a woman who wanted to possess), and lifted it lightly from a pile of shoddy merchandise, glowering. "Hmph," she huffed, ripping the sign off and dusting her lute off protectively. "The nerve, honestly–is that my rapier?!" The sword sat there innocuously, a small sign informing her that it could be bought for the low low price of thirty gold pieces. "Oi! Who's trying to sell my equipment?!" [ ]
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