[Geran’s Exotic Weaponry] Shopping for death, later we'll have muffins (zen)

[Lyssoryl]

Lyssoryl was still a bit unnerved from her violin lesson of yesterbrightening. When the spirit of your teacher's dead lover performs a drum solo to warn you of danger, it seemed to her that you ought to do something to show that you were listening.

It was in that spirit that she found her way to Garen's Exotic Weapons the following day. She was not sure that she was perpared to do hand-to-hand battle with viscious opponents, and rather suspected that she wasn't. Still, it seemed best to be prepared for any eventuality, and if a foe saw a sword on her hip they might stand a pace or so farther back.

Garen looked up from the sword he was polishing to see a mass of blonde curls over a pair of startled looking grey eyes on the other side of his counter. The girl was evidently only barely tall enough to see over the counter.

"Serale!" she said, in a cheerful voice. "I have come to enquire about purchasing a sword. As you can see, I am a halfling, and my preference would be for a sword short enough that it did not drag on the ground as I wore it, which would seem disrepectful of your fine work. Do you have anything sized for a halfling? This one here..." She pointed to a wakizashi hanging on the wall, "...seems a good length but the whatchucallit, the holdy part, looks too thick for my hands."

[Zen]

The katana that was the pride of his shop; it gleamed wickedly from the weak rays of the Sun. Garen was just about finished with his daily polishing ritual when his new customer entered the premises. Ah, but she was a tiny little thing, wasn't she? Like a little child; the Kemite had to hold back his urge to squeeze those cute little cheeks.

Greeting her in the Kemite's customary manner, he listened to her request.

"Certainly. I can remake the handle of the wakizashi to suit your proportions. Now, you have to be careful with my blades, they're very sharp, not for playing with, alright? Does your mother know you're here?"

He carefully placed his polished katana back on its stand, and lifted the wakizashi in turn. He knelt down such that his head was about the height of Lyssoryl's.

"I make the best blades in town, in traditional Kemite fashion. Would you like to have a look at it?"

[Lyssoryl]

"Certainly. I can remake the handle of the wakizashi to suit your proportions. Now, you have to be careful with my blades, they're very sharp, not for playing with, alright? Does your mother know you're here?"

Lyssoryl fought down an urge to say "of course she does. She's tied to the hitching post outside." Sometimes it was hard to keep that story under wraps. Instead she replied "She does, as it turns out, but I am older than I seem what with being a cether and all. Still, I will be careful, and will never swing it with my eyes closed excepting if my enemy is especially scary. I should very much like to have a look at one of your blades."

The weapons were fascinating to Lyssoryl. She felt a vague sense that it was wrong for an instrument of death to be so beautiful, but she admired them anyway. She examined the offered sword with awe.

"This is a wonderful weapon, and will do very nicely once the handle is reduced to fit my hands. What I should like, if you have such a thing, is a scabbard to go with it done in basic black, and perhaps a bit battered, or even with notches filed into it as if to keep track of kills. The idea is for my foes to see it and believe that it has seen a lot of use, and perhaps take up a new hobby rather than molesting Cether girls. Maybe something nice, like floral arrangement."

[Zen]

Garen had the grace to look sheepish when the Cether explained the peculiarities of her race. Ah, but she did so look like a child. Cute and bratty.

"Oh, I see. Well... Hmm..." Garen paused, rummaging through his jumble of memories to recall if he had any such items readily available; otherwise he'd have to go through the laborious, time-consuming process of crafting a new customised Wakizashi for this Cether. He didn't often make them proportionately tailored for the smaller races. Then he remembered, a vague recollection of an abandoned miniature Wakizashi, lying near-forgotten in his storage room.

"Wait here, I might just have the thing for you. Why don't you have a look around, I'll be right back."

He left the Cether in his shop, and went through the backdoor to his storage room. Soon, he was back, with a sheathed Wakizashi in hand. The greying scabbard looked old; it was fraying and a thin layer of dust had collected on its surface. The handle of the sheathed Wakizashi looked of a similar vintage, decidedly lacklustre. But if Lyssoryl was to grasp the handle with her petite hand, she would find it a near-perfect fit.

"Ah, I haven't set my eyes on this Wakizashi since... Well, since it was returned to me by its last owner. Or rather, by his Father. Turns out his kid was too stabby-happy with it when playing with other children. Ah, kids these days."

He handed the sheathed Wakizashi for Lyssoryl's inspection.

[Lyssoryl]

Lyssoryl drew the sword and gave the blade a careful inspection. "This seems like just the thing I want! Quality construction with signs of age and use. I do hope that I won't be plagued by the ghosts of dead school children its previous owner has slain, I have enough ghost trouble at the moment."

"How much do you charge for a weapon such as this? And is there any care and feeding instructions I should know of? Polish it daily and only stab people in their soft bits, or something of that nature?"

[Zen]

When the Cether drew the blade, she would be hard pressed to miss a pungent, moss-coloured goo coating the length of the blade. The smell was reminiscent of gangrenous rotting flesh, gloriously delightfully stinky. Its slothlike movements belied its viscosity, and droplets spattered on the floor and onto the Cether's clothing, accompanied by the putrid stench.

Garen's eyes twinkled mischievously. The Cether was smart, to have figured out there this deal was too good to be true.

"No, no, there's no ghost inhabiting in that blade. Just a puddle of stinky goo. As long as you keep the blade sheathed, it the smell should start to fade away. Or at least it did for me.

But there is another thing you should be aware of if you're planning on purchasing the blade, I suppose."

He said the last sentence in as sinister a tone as he could master, just for effect. The Weaponsmith carefully examined Lyssoryl's face, seeking signs of disgust or a sudden disinclination to purchase the Wakizashi. Then he continued.

"According to its former owner, they found the most effective way to keep the blade sharp was to pierce the flesh of other people, preferably younger people. I don't know how true these stories are, but that's what they tell me. Maybe that would explain their erratic behaviour. Then again, you can just sharpen it via conventional means, with a sharpening stone and all."

[Lyssoryl]

"Bleeegggghhhh!" Lyssoryl made a comical face of exaggerated revulsion as the smell hit her. She quickly returned the blade to its sheath.

She gave Garen a puzzled look. Why would a person who had a blade coated in unspeakable filth try to sell it as is, rather than cleaning it off? This one could certainly use a cycle in turpentine, or some such thing. Could it be that the blade was cursed or something?

"I am puzzled as to why your prefered method of killing the stink is to keep it in it's sheath? Why not scrub off the goo? I mean, I understand why you wouldn't wish to interact with that ooze, but if you want to sell it.... Or does this blade somehow exude grotesque filth? And if it does, are there any advantages that offset its horrible smell? I should very much be proud to own a magical blade but if the magic all went to stinking and the craving of the flesh of children, I believe that I would prefer something more wholesome or at least standardly aromatic."

[Zen]

Just as the Weaponsmith foretold, the pungent stench faded with the sheathing of the blade. Garen's sharp expulsion of breathe belied his own relief at the disappearance of the offensive odour.

Being a renowned Weaponsmith across Zinn'Sunn, Garen made a fortune from his reputation for his well-wrought blade. He wasn't about to sully his name just to make a quick buck. He had a policy of honesty where his trade was concerned; and he divulged all the secrets of the blade as he knew it.

"Oh, I don't know about this blade being enchanted or some such. But I have tried wiping the goo off; whenever I do, it just comes back again. Maybe there's something in the blade or even the scabbard that makes it gooey."

"Well, there is another thing I suppose. Not really magical; but the goo - it glows in the dark. Very soothing green glow, except you still have the smell."

[Lyssoryl]

Lyssoryl blew out her cheeks as she considered the sword. There were some advantages to it, she supposed. For one thing, if attacked she could tell her tormentor that the goo was poisonous, which might well make them keep a respectful distance. In fact, perhaps the goo WAS poisonous, she certainly wouldn't want any of that horrible stuff in a cut.

On the other hand, she could hardly practice with the thing without a comically large clothes pin clipped to her nose, and even then she would wind up coated in the horrid slime- it had already spattered her dress just from drawing it. That would mean that if she actually wanted to learn how to use it, she would need to buy another one as well to practice with, and the current state of her purse could not well sustain that. Futher, if she actually used the sword while fighting in the presence of friends, she was likely to spray them with goo, which would not endear her to them. Trying to wring an advantage out of the thing seemed like more trouble and expense than it was likely to be worth.

"I believe I will pass on this sword," she said. "There might be some situations where I would be glad to have it, but I can hardly practice with the thing or take it to a swordsmanship class, so if I buy it I shall never learn to use it. Besides, I fear the ooze might be part of a curse or something. How much for your standard model wakizashi, with the handle reduced in size?"

[Zen]

"Well, if you intend to use the Wakizashi, you can wipe the goo off first. It takes a few brightenings before the goo builds up to any visible amount. It's just that I haven't taken this blade out for a good polishing recently, that's why there's a goodly amount of it still in there."

The sword, if it was cursed, was still usable with regular maintenance and care. In fact, if anything, the threat of gooey secretions would motivate its owner to take better care of the blade's condition. Hardly a loss in the long run.

Besides, who knew what sorts of other surprises lay in store for its owner.

Geran moved to take the wakizashi away from the Cether. She seemed adamant enough that she wanted a standard-issue Geran-certified wakizashi, with customised handle of Cetherian proportions.

"But if you want one of my conventional wakizashi, I can craft it for you. It might take a few brightenings to finish though. Were there any particular patterns you want me to etch onto the blade, or scabbard while I'm at it?"

[Lyssoryl]

Lyssoryl considered this new information.

"Well...I suppose it's a little different if you can clean the goo off temporarily. What price are you asking for it? I can't imagine that people are lined up to buy an oozing smelly blade. If you can offer me a good deal perhaps I will take it off your hands afterall."

[Zen]

The Weaponsmith grinned, and let go of the blade, returning the wakizashi into the possession of the Cether.

"Well, considering its smell, and gooey secretion, and it's a fairly old blade, I'll sell it to you for 100 crowns."

His standard-issue Wakizashi went for 200 crowns, but he couldn't pass up the opportunity to sell this blade off. He like the girl; she was cute and cute girls wandering the streets of Zinn'Sunn needed protection.

[Lyssoryl]

Lyssoryl considered his offer for a moment. She was not exactly exicted by the idea of carrying a stinking goo-dripping blade around with her, but the price seemed quite good. She did not have a lot of extra crowns to spare, and in her ideal world she would spend only the minimum number of seconds with the blade drawn in any event.

"Your price is fair, and I believe I shall take it." She counted out 100 crowns onto the counter. "If the thing proves to vexing I can always heave it into a bog. Does it have a name? If not, I believe I will call it 'Babykiller.' "

[Zen]

Geran accepted the 100 from the Cether, pocketing the money in his pouch. Well, that was a relief, he finally managed to rid himself of that blasted blade after all these patterns.

"Well, I'm not sure what its previous owner called it. I suppose you could name your blade what ever name as you please - you're its new owner. Now, were there anything else I could interest you with? Perhaps some shurikens? Or even a tessen?"

He doubted the cether would purchase any more weapons - clients were often satisfied with a single weapon, but he hold onto the hope that this particular one would. From what his keen observations gathered, this young lady was a novice - nay perhaps even ignorant as to how to even use a blade.

"Or perhaps you want training in using your Wakizashi?"

[Lyssoryl]

For a fact, Lyssoryl had only the vaguest notion of how to use a sword. Her plan was to grip the handle in both hands and swing it like she was beating the dust out of a rug. She really could use lessons, but on the other hand she was already enrolled in riding lessons and instruction in the violin, and it might not be a bad idea for her to find a job soon.

"Thank you, I believe this is all I need. I may well return for stabbing lessons after my schedule clears up a bit."

After paying her money, she inspected her new sword to make sure it wasn't leaking ooze, and then left for home.