Re: Chapter #6f: That's Armory (Kellan, Liseth)
It was a long walk to the Feathered Serpent; the establishment was located in the southeast part of town, on Rum Street just south of the Sandpoint Bridge, fronting the Turandarok River. Kellan, Liseth, and Kerr left Savah’s Armory, heading down High Street, then right on Festival Street, taking it all the way to Southmarket Square.
As they walked, Kerr received several comments from passing townsfolk admiring his new, more-martial appearance.
“Looking good, Kerr!”
“Joining the Guard, Kerr?”
“Wow, Kerr, nice!”
"You training Kerr now, Kellan?"
“Is that KERR MOLLIN!?!” This last from a sultry-looking brunette stopped in the middle of Festival Street, with full red lips slightly open, hands on hips, and a shocked look on a beautiful face just below a pile of dark curls that had clearly taken a great deal of time to arrange. A tight-fitting dress accented her slim, full-breasted figure; it hinted to all observers of delights contained within while still staying within the bounds of small-town modesty.
“Kerr! My goodness, look at you! Armed and armored!” The woman walked up, giving Liseth a dismissive glance as she concentrated on her quarry. “Joining the guard, are you?”
Kerr flushed a deep red. “Um, hi Cerlynne. And no.” Liseth could feel the tension in his arm. “Cerlynne, this is Liseth, and this is Kellan. Kellan and Lis . . .”
“Pleased to meet you.” The brunette bombshell waved a dismissive greeting at Kellan while never taking her eyes off of Kerr, whom she was now viewing in an almost predatory manner. “Kerr, you should visit for dinner some night. Daddy’s always telling me what a nice young man you are. I think it would be a very . . . fun . . . time.” She grinned.
Kerr stood stunned, looking for all the world as if Kellan had just hit him in the head with his polearm.
“Oh, don’t answer now, Kerrie. I’ll talk to my parents and stop by the Cathedral later to let you know when to come over. I’m looking forward to it.” With a brief look at Liseth, eyes flashing, the woman continued on up Festival Street on whatever business had originally brought her that way.
“Um, that was Cerlynne.” Kerr said weakly and somewhat redundantly, looking back and forth between Kellan and Liseth. “That was really strange. I’m not sure she’s ever said that much to me ever, and we’ve both lived here our entire lives.”
The trio moved on, arriving in Southmarket Square to find militia training well underway. Rows of men stood in surprisingly well-organized blocks as Alergast Barett paced before them, speaking in an authoritative voice about the proper use of polearms in combat. Kellan could see Sergeants Tiller and Peltnor walking back and forth along the rows of conscripted soldiers with grim looks on their faces, correcting a man’s position here, his grip on a polearm there.
Skirting the training militiamen, the party headed east down Market Street towards the Sandpoint Bridge. As they took a right onto Rum Street, the Feathered Serpent loomed ahead, overlooking the Turandarok; it seemed strange, secretive, and shadowy in the soft light of the early evening. The door was inscribed with golden symbols of unknown import; above it hung a beautifully carved feathered dragon.
The store had absolutely no windows.
Kellan turned the doorknob, which looked as if it might have been made of pure gold. Of course, no one in their right mind, not even the Sczarni, would even think about trying to rob Vorvashali Voon’s establishment. Well, not for very long, anyway. And certainly not when they heard the (possibly apocryphal) stories of what had happened to thieves attempting that feat in days of yore.
As the three youths entered, they encountered a cramped and cluttered shop that smelled of a strange mixture of incense, spice, and dust. Relics, statues, and monument fragments stood about as if arranged for display in a museum. Artifacts, jewels, staves, and other weird and wonderful objects were placed about the store seemingly at random.
Kellan and Kerr knew that Vorvashali’s stock changed constantly as his dozens of strange and mysterious contacts and clients from parts unknown, often hiding within large cloaks or other concealing garments, visited weekly to buy and trade items. It was widely reputed that if you needed something, and no one else could help, Vorvashali Voon was the man to see. His ability to procure items both wondrous and mundane was truly legendary.
The man himself stood at the back of the shop, arms wide, welcoming them inside with a large smile. Vorvashali Voon, an exotic-looking character with bright blue eyes, long red hair, and almost bronze-colored skin, did not disappoint; he was dressed in the outlandish attire for which he was justly famous. Today he wore what seemed to be a ridiculously-mismatched outfit more at home in a color-blind bazaar, with billowing orange pantaloons, sparkling teal shoes curving up at the tip, a crimson vest over a long-sleeved, cream-colored button-down shirt, and a hat made of what looked very much like various pieces of fruit.
The shopkeeper greeted them with the gregarious excitement that was his wont.
“Kellan! Kerr! And Liseth Thoradin.” The man bowed low to the ground, sweeping his hat off his head in the process. “What brings you to my humble shop? Please, look around and let me know if you find anything of interest! I am happy to tell you all about it! But be warned! Not everything is for sale!” Voon said this last enigmatically, sweeping his hand around the room before bringing it, closed but for an extended index finger, to his mouth as if to encourage his visitors to silence about the marvels they were about to witness.
“Here you shall find wonders galore. Your heart’s desire, and the key to happiness. All it takes . . .,” Voon placed the fruit-bedecked hat back on his head with some difficulty. “Is wisdom and discernment.”
“Take this!” He held up a large, grey-colored object. “This,” he said with a dramatic air worthy of Cyrdak Drokkus, “is the horn of a rhinosorcerous!” He nodded sagely, as if his visitors might doubt the object’s origin. “Just grind a little of this into a powder, stir it into your drink, and badoom!” The man made a sound like an explosion. “You are irresistible to the ladies.” He winked at Kellan, then looked at Kerr. “And have endless stamina, to boot.”
Voon placed the object back upon his desk. “So, how can I help you?”
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:29, Sun 09 Feb 2014.