Mallside 9: Waaagh!

[Artemis97]

[Erin's Emporium]

"Oh that's lovely. Father, look at the inlay." Erelae seems pleased. "I am going to have to get a whole new outfit to go with this." She decides.

Raril gives the fire and ice shortswords a try, swinging them through a tight routine. "These aren't bad. I used to have a pair of frozen shortswords, but the fire could be useful."

[The Bushranger]

[Erin's Emporium]

Crissy giggles happily at Erelae's declaration, before looking to Raril with a smile. "Well, if you'd, like, prefer a symmetrically matched pair, I could totally take a look for those?" she asked, tilting her head with curiosity.

[Artemis97]

[Erin's Emporium]

Raril waves the flaming sword in front of his face a few times and says "No, I think I like this set."

[The Bushranger]

[Erin's Emporium]

Crissy proceeds to quote the price!

...it probably won't induce cardiac arrest.

"And do you see any of the daggers you like? We SO have some good deals if you buy them in combination with the swords!"

[Artemis97]

[Erin's Emporium]

Neither drow even blinks at the price. Raril slides the swords into their sheaths and nods. "I'll take them, and the daggers should be small, concealable and well balanced." He decides.

[The Bushranger]

[Erin's Emporium]

Crissy nods - and in a flash, the boxed sets of daggers on the counters are shuffled, with those now set out for perusal being light, matching sets, designed to be kept up sleeves and coming with several vareities of stylish leather arm-holsters for securing them there.

[Artemis97]

[Erin's Emporium]

Raril picks up a dagger and flips it through the air a few times. He likes the weight and the thinness. He then picks up a sheath and straps it to his wrist, testing how smoothly the dagger slides in and out. Satisfied, he shifts the lot over to sit next to the shortswords on the counter.

"Now I'd like a good rapier and maybe a defending dagger?"

[The Bushranger]

[Erin's Emporium]

"Oh, of course!" Crissy hurries, motioning for them to follow, to a display of rapiers, where she picks up a pair that is a matched set of a rapier, gleaming with a Keen edge, and a katar. "What do you think of these?"

[Artemis97]

[Erin's Emporium]

"Lovely." Raril comments, "but I don't like the munching style dagger. Do you have something more traditional?"

[The Bushranger]

[Erin's Emporium]

It's but a moment for Crissy to swap the set on offer for another, of a more traditional style. "This particular set is also cold iron forged," she explains with a smile.

[Artemis97]

[Erin's Emporium]

Raril tests the weight of the rapier. "Very nice. Never used cold iron before, but it can be useful. Actually, I should ask, do you have things that are effective against outsiders? Mind flayers and aboleths and elder evils and the like?"

[The Bushranger]

[Erin's Emporium]

"Those are, like, special order," Crissy says apologetically. "But we can totally get some if you'd like!"

[Artemis97]

[Erin's Emporium]

Raril frowns, uncertain. "How quickly can you get them?"

[Deathkeeper]

Concourse

Not everyone in the mall comes to buy. Plenty come just to window shop. And today, that's all Sam is doing, walking past shops and longingly looking at all the fancy consoles and extra-giant TV's and such that he can't afford. Oh, and things for Sherrel. She's still a bit of a mystery but all girls like presents, right? He's not oblivious but he's not exactly paying attention to his surroundings either.

[Morty]

[Concourse]

Sam might bump into someone who seems to be occupied in a similar manner - a tall, handsome, bronze-skinned tiefling. The man doesn't appear intent on buying anything either, but simply strolling among all the luxury goods.

[Deathkeeper]

Concourse

The poor stranger will likely meet a soft impact in the shoulder as Sam's lower arm bumps into him.
"Oh, sorry 'bout that." he says sincerely with his deep but perhaps surprisingly young voice, giving the fellow an apologetic pat on the shoulder. Sam has been a bit annoyed in the last year at the number of people who don't seem to have any idea that he's still a teenager, albeit barely.

[Morty]

[Concourse]

Fayyaad turns around.

"Truly, it's fine-"

The answer is automatic, before he sees Sam. He blinks several times. The lad in front of him is... unusual, even by the standards of this land. Still, the composure of a noble of Moran-Ir is meant to be iron-clad. He smiles.

"It's fine. Here to shop? Or just admire, like I am? Feels more like the latter to me."

[Deathkeeper]

Concourse

Sam sighs, tugging at the ends of his vest with his upper arms while his lower hands get shoved into the pockets of his ever-large shorts. His tails lash in embarrassment.
"Looking, mostly. I don't have any debts but that doesn't mean I can get whatever I want on a junior cook's salary." he grumbles.

[Morty]

[Concourse]

Fayyaad nods.

"I'm not exactly overflowing in means right now either. It takes some adjustment. I'm Fayyaad ibn Haashid al-Zafar, by the way. But just 'Fayyaad' is fine."

[Deathkeeper]

Concourse

Sam pulls a bit more into a smile, offering a large hand.
"Not quite the same way as you, probably. I have more money now than I've ever had. Sam Bacon. Sam is fine." he says, taking a sidelong glance at a beaten up Super Nintendo in a window.

[Morty]

[Concourse]

"Whereas I've fallen on hard times. Comparatively speaking," Fayyaad says, shaking Sam's hand. "Still, I wander around here and look at all the wonders I might be able to buy someday. If my adventuring career kicks off."

[Deathkeeper]

Concourse

Sam chuckles a bit, patting a part of his vest.
"I've tried my hand at it, but I don't think I'm the right type for it. " he mentions. "I don't think I have much of a head for fighting." he admits.

[Morty]

[Concourse]

"I suppose I was trained since I was very young, Fayyaad admits. "Might as well use it now. Right wrongs, protect people..." And sleep with them afterwards. But he's not going to talk about that. "Well, to each their own. I'm mostly here for things I'd like to adorn my house with, if I ever get one here."

[Deathkeeper]

Concourse

"I'm just too big a target, I think. I'm not very fond of bleeding. I have a roommate but I don't think she'll mind whatever I bring back so long as it doesn't get in her way. My girlfriend is likely more picky, but that's because she's hard to buy stuff for. She's really...practical, you know?" he says, pondering again.

[Fenric]

[Food Court]

Four foot one inch tall, sandy brown fur, and ears that never quit... a sand-fox Vulpan is hard to miss. Grass-stained brown leather overalls and a bewildered, overwhelmed look give a charming country-bumpkin air...

And he's complaining rather loudly (if high-pitchedly) about a bowl of what the "Mediterranean" restaurant unfortunately described as lentil soup.

If any of my bushes grew lentils like this, I'd call them weeds and pull them up. What in the world were you thinking cooking these and serving them? Even the antelope wouldn't eat this stuff!

[Morty]

[Concourse]/[Food Court]

"Buying gifts for a lady, then. Always tricky." Fayyaad doesn't really believe in monogamy at this point in his life. The fun he's had, and plans to have again, with Dena and Fetty was of the non-committal variety. "What do you mean by 'practical', though? There's always a way to please someone." He turns towards the commotion. "Really now... is food worth making this much of a racket over?"

[Deathkeeper]

Concourse

"I don't know if she likes normal girly things! She's the kind of person who had an eye replaced just so she could see in more uh, whatever's. Spectrums. Sam is not good with science jargon. "And food is always worth it. Give me a moment; this is my profession." he adds, trotting over to the fox. He's so tiny! He has to be very careful not to let slip if he thinks someone looks tiny and cute.
"Did they botch your soup?" he asks conversationally.

[Fenric]

[Food Court]

Kitnick looks up... and up... at the tall people who his complaining has attracted

Uh... well... it's supposed to be brown lentil soup, but they taste like cardboard and there's not enough salt and no chilies at all!

He offers the soup for examination: it's really not that bad, for mall food, but it's certainly ... inoffensive ... in the seasoning department and was likely made from dehydrated mix that came in a box. The "onions" and "tomatoes" floating in it in particular have that wax-paper look that comes from dehydration.

so... um... yeah.

[Morty]

[Food Court]

Fayyaad was about to offer more advice, but then Sam's attention shifts to the food. He can't really tell what's wrong with the soup.

"Sounds bad," he says non-committally.

[Deathkeeper]

Food Court

Sam takes a sniff with his oversized nose.
"Yeah, smells cheap. You're better off not buying mall food. Usually ain't cheap, and you ain't getting what you pay for." he says with a shrug at the poor tiny fox.