Gawk at the oversized weasels for a while, then remember what I was supposed to be doing and approach the owner/shopkeeper of the stall with the armour to make preliminary enquiries about purchasing a bulk amount of cheap helms and breastplates.
Also, give some thought to where I might be able to hire a trustworthy bodyguard in the city.
Perhaps an old comrade-in-crime who moved to the big smoke or something, preferably not one with a big mouth.
Oh dear, I think Jalak may be more of a notorious, big-time criminal than I had originally envisaged.
Also, apologies once again for my late post. Currently my only internet access is via my old smartphone, which makes posting far more time-consuming and difficult than usual. Hopefully I can get internet connected at my new home before too long.
You stare at the large mustelids, watching as they twist in mesmeric ecstasy in their cages, dooking and chirping. Such animals are favorite pets of the wealthy in this region, and wild specimens can be captured and bred. Unusual ones can command a staggering price. There are even reports of some weasels manifesting strange, unexplained powers. As you watch, one catches your eye; a large angora with a flowing mane of satiny golden fur. It stands with poise, posed like a proud lion on four incredibly stubby legs, ivory fangs protruding from its mouth and gleaming white in the searing desert sun. Its fur seems to flow as if blown by a mountain breeze, but the day is still. Something ineffable speaks to you, calls out to you from the beady dark eyes of the shining angora.
You tear yourself away and approach the armor vendor, inquiring about his helmets and breastplates.
"Some of the finest you'll find anywhere at this price!" The burly turbaned man grabs a breastplate off the stack and a helmet off the rack and sets them before you, encouraging you to examine and touch them. "The very same type used by the city guard, when the situation calls for metal armor. The visors are all detachable, of course, and so are the pauldrons."
You look over the armor; it actually appears to be quite sturdy for something sold in a stack, and you begin to negotiate a price. [4] You speak intelligently about what you value in armor and manage to negotiate a discount for a bulk purchase. I can't remember how many silver coins I said a guinea is worth, but let's say 10. You have 100 silver coins, and the shopkeeper is willing to sell you armor at the following rates;
Less than five sets:
Helmet - 5 silver ducats
Breastplate with pauldrons - 9 silver ducats
Five or more sets:
Helmet - 3 silver ducats
Breastplate with pauldrons - 7 silver ducats
Ten or more sets:
Helmet - 2 silver ducats
Breastplate with pauldrons - 5 silver ducats
[6] Seeing all this armor in one place reminds you of your banditry, and your comrades in the desert (and city). You try and think of who might be worth hiring as a bodyguard, but you can't stop thinking about all those people who would be totally unsuitable, like Osuttasue-Uhasab, who was completely unable to restrain himself from victory-screeching and shooting arrows up into the air after every successful robbery in the entire time you knew him. Or Tesen, who meditated instead of slept and had no attachment to worldly goods, and so was a totally ineffective bandit. Or Minos Maxos, who wore a minotaur mask made of a bull's skull and leather and would routinely kidnap a woman, tie a cowbell around her neck, and demand that she make mooing noises for him.
In retrospect, you're glad that you killed that chamberlain (whatever a chamberlain is) and stole his identity. You're not sure you ever want to go back to banditry. The job itself isn't that bad, it's just the people.
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Topic: Turaco's Sellswords RTD: Turn 17: I Guess This Counts As Taking Casualties (Read 29107 times)