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[GiglameshDespair]

"Very well, priestess. I thought we had a consensus on aiding the dragonslayer, but I suppose a definite vote cannot hurt."

---

Kannii followed with the others to the market, looking for a small crossbow or bow inspecting the light armour out of habit and wont for something to do.
As they walked, she talked to the others. "Have you been in much combat before? I've spent my life in the use of the blade, but less walk my path than the path of others."

[kj1225]

Wesley wiggles the cutlass at his hip.
"Pirate."

[runhidesurvive]

"Mostly I just spend it running. I was taught how to parry and dodge, I got quite good at that, apparently I'm just not good at going on the offensive." And Gerwick holds up a small sheath, which looks to contain a small dagger. "This has been the dagger I've had for a long time, it was a good luck gift from a friend."

[Dwarmin]

Sorrel, on the lookout for a small place of meditation of her own still, chimed in.

She used her staff to help her walk, though she didn't seem to need to-it is almost an affection.

"Those who walk the long roads such as myself find danger enough. Though I'm only a stripling in the reckoning of my own order, I've been in a fair number of situations that required force...a lone mira makes easy prey, or so some think.

I wouldn't say it's a habit, though. Most of my most hard won experience I came about in the last year-I served for a time in a medical attachment in the troubles you may have heard down south-with the Ogres and the Harad-Men. Ferrying Dead and wounded and whatnot. We saw to anyone that needed us.

Needless to say their are the sorts of things which don't respect the rules of war for either side, and we had to defend ourselves...and our charges."

[GiglameshDespair]

She looked at Gerwick. "Maybe I should spar with you, teach you to strike your foe properly? Our task may require a lot of killing. A better weapon might be useful. Something simple, like a spear, perhaps? Hmm."

[runhidesurvive]

"If you didn't mind teaching me, then I'm all for it. I'll keep an eye out for weapons, maybe if I'm lucky there will be a sale."

[sjm9876]

 Despite the bustle of the city, a number of oases of peace present themselves to the Mira. The temple district, centred on the temple of the Four, rings with bells and chimes throughout, but the alleyways and crevices, as well as the buildings themselves, often hold a reverential silence. Beneath the shadow of the archmage’s tower lies a great park, and whilst it is currently occupied by the few unscavenged remains of dragon flesh, it too serves as an escape for much of the city’s population. Further up, beyond even the third tier, there lead a path into the mountains and plateaus that serve the city as countryside, and where the quiet is only broken by the sounds of the animals and the occasional farmhand or overzealous hunter.
 The rest of the group, seeking much the opposite, find themselves besides the markets. They nestle between the docks and the more permanent traders, and nestled within them, between the fish and the trinket vendors, all sorts of treasures and bargains - both rare and mundane - may be found. A weapons dealer and armour vendor stand side by side, seemingly brother and sister, with some sort of portable forge nestled between them. A jewelry stall hawks charms, perhaps real or perhaps fake. And deeper still lie more exotic wares - although by the time the crowds have been navigated the outskirts may already have been picked dry.

[GreatWyrmGold]

Krom examines some of the charms.

[runhidesurvive]

Gerwick will head over to the weapon dealer, looking at what weapons they have.

[GiglameshDespair]

Kannii looked for either a small bow or a crossbow, and browsed through the armour - looking for things like bracers and other things that could be concealed under her cloak.

[kj1225]

Wesley sees if the armorer has any clothmail. It's was a common tactic of the captain to wear it under his jacket to prevent damage to his vitals.

[GreatWyrmGold]

((I'd be more convinced that that exists if the first page of Google results wasn't almost entirely examples of it from games...
I mean, cloth armor of some kind, sure, but what the heck is clothmail?))

[kj1225]

'Well I tend not to deal in gauntlets, fiddly to draw runes on. But I do have some clothmail in. Not as tough as normal mail, but lighter and without all the clinking, and it fits a lot nicer too. I'll fetch it out whenever everyone's ready.'

((This.))

[Dwarmin]

Sorrel took her rest in a small space located somewhat centrally between the temples-an otherwise unadorned nook, with a single place for a candle. It was a shrine to those recently slain in the Dragon attack-trinkets,  memory flowers and small mementos, all too painful to keep, had been left there-and with them, the grief of the living. Not even the most callous thief would dare desecrate this place.

She lit the candle with a incense stick, and sat down to meditate, and dream the paths of the grey...

Action: Meditate on what comes next

[sjm9876]

 Most of the charms fail to show any outward sign of magic. Unless they have received some amount of divine magic, they are almost entirely useless. A few however, do seem to hold runes on them. Amongst these are a copper ring, advertised as offering protection from the weather; a knuckle bone fashioned into a crude amulet, granting some small degree of power over death; a defaced coin of unknown make, said to bring luck; and a tattered ribbon that apparently prevents the loss of any item it is tied around. However, the vendor refuses to allow closer inspection of the items - an understandable precaution given the prevalence of thieves in the city.
 The sibling armourers are much more accepting of the handling of their wares - the huge crossbow slung over the mans shoulder serves as more than an adequate deterrent. On the stalls themselves are a vast array of mundane gear - almost all equipment that requires minimal special expertise is available. A sign on the wall reveals that prices are available on demand, and items may be adjusted for a small fee and a wait - although it is safe to assume the message is aimed at trolls and ogres in the most part.
 An enquiry into ranged weaponry and small armours reveals a range of items.

Spoiler: Bows/Crossbows (click to show/hide)

30g Hand crossbow (Short range, easily concealable)
40g Light crossbow (Medium range, small damage bonus, small knockback)
60g Heavy crossbow (Medium range, medium damage bonus, medium knockback)
1g 5 bolts
20g Shortbow (medium range, slightly concealable)
30g Recurve Bow (Medium range, small damage bonus, small knockback, slightly concealable)
35g Longbow (Long range, small damage bonus, small armour penetration, small knockback)
1g 10 arrows

Spoiler: Minor armours (click to show/hide)

10g Cloth armour (1/3 chance of granting +1D)
30g Leather armour (+1D)
20g Iron bracers (1/12 of +3 D)

On being asked about clothmail, the woman shakes her head sadly.
 ’Sorry, not here. Clothmail is damn fiddly to make, and neither my brother nor I have the knowledge or the skill to make it. As far as we know we don’t have anyone local who can either, although there may be a stall buried in that mess-’ She nods at the sprawl of the markets ‘- that could give you some, if you have the coin.’
 Meanwhile, the Mira sits, surrounded by memories too painful to keep. Few disturb her, and those that do seek only to lay their own ghosts to rest.
 (15+1) For Sorrel, these ghosts are only too real. Her order call it the grey, the place between life and death, where the fresh dead lament their own loss. She sees glimpses of this place, vague shapes and images, none clear and most ignorant of her presence. An elf, crushed beneath fallen masonry. A drow, flesh burnt from his bones in flames of unimaginable heat. A dwarf, dagger buried in his back in the ensuing chaos. And another, this one watching a meditating Mira.
 Her eyes snap open with a start, but the shrine remains empty. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lets them close again, seeing the walls around her fade to the slightest of shadows, serving only to highlight the figure that sits before her. A dwarf, face aged past the point where years can be distinguished. His skin hair runs both short and long in the dream world, as does his beard, but all in a ghostly grey. The only feature that stays with the memory for longer than an instant is the dwarf’s tattoos - a snake in a murky green, writhing visibly over his face and presumably below. Even as it is watched, it ducks from sight, only to emerge a moment later from behind his other ear. And when the dwarf speaks, the snake seems to also, a strange hissing accompanying his words.
 ‘Beware the wolf, walker. Its lust for freedom would see burn even the stones themselves.’
 The line is delivered without ceremony, in a voice flatter than could be made by a living tongue, that seems to ring both high and low at once. It echoes for a moment, before the snake twists once more from sight, the walls return to reality and the Mira lurches back to wakefulness - her attempts to return to the grey are met by a strange resistance, slowly dissipating to reveal the absence of the strange ghost.
 In the mind of the mira, only two memories ring clear - the message, and the snake.