The Styx Oarsman is not traditionally welcoming to humans. But Jarkman recognizes this Leaguer by now, and he only makes one crack about how she owes him a new pack of cigars before letting her pass.
The faint candlelight isn't much help to someone of her pedigree, but no one comes to this tavern to admire the view.
The barman greets her with the usual grunt, and everyone returns to their conversations. Humans may be uncommon around here, but business is business.
There's a halfling from Arcadia, a former Hardhead supposedly involved with loss of the third layer.
There's a sorceror, recently arrived to the city, whose shop purports to have the skulls of various legendary figures.
There's a Clueless blacksmith who makes armor for dragon slayers.
Yes, it's all a bit morbid, isn't it?
Supposedly famous skulls make for better mimirs.
Aoskar is historical but they probably don't want to hear much about that? It's sort of done with, the Lady won that battle. And anyway someone claiming to have found him isn't news, it's the babbling of addle-coves.
She thinks they might like to see these daggers she bought from an erinyes, they're really something. Real orc bone for the hilts.
She probably shouldn't whip them out in the street! Someone might think she was threatening them, and no one needs the long claw of the law grasping at them. Her house?
The halfling leads them to her home. Richly appointed, the most notable feature isn't the expected landscapes on the walls or the fine wooden doors, but the fresco on the ceiling of her living room, which is where she leads them.
Her nupperibo servant looms at them vaguely. It's not very threatening, which is probably by design.
"It was a bit of trick to negotiate her down, but I offered her a skilled craftsman in trade."
She retrieves a small, wooden box from her bookcase; fairly plain and weathered by time, it doesn't stand out, surrounded as it is not by books, but various curios and trinkets.
She carries it over to them slowly, breathing methodically, as if in awe herself.
She opens it, revealing nastily sharpened daggers, with the promised bone hilts. Their species of origin is difficult to identify at a glance, so their authenticity is still up for debate, but their beauty is not.
The nupperibo focuses its stare on Elatra, tilting its head gradually, further and further to the left.
"I thought so. I haven't had cause to use them yet. You can hold one."
"Tiefling," rumbles the nupperibo.
"Shush," snaps its master. "Don't be rude to our guest."
It's well-balanced, and the hilt is cool, slightly unexpected for bone.
Sefi may notice her host's gaze lingering on her more than her companion. She seems to have taken an interest in her particularly.
The nupperibo sways but offers no further comment.
"I thought they were well-crafted, but the novelty really convinced me. Beautiful, and functional. I haven't had cause to use them yet. Do you need someone skilled with a dagger?"
She pouts.
"Fine. You can try using it, seeing if you have any talent for it. I'd be willing to part with one, for the right price."
View Flat HTML
View Metadata
Search Post
