Post by Triunis on Apr 16, 2004 18:07:32 GMT -5
The only sound that could be heard under the full moon and stars was the blowing of leaves and the slow patter of feet as Setthirosa trudged down the boulevard. He tried to keep the squirming bundle in his trench coat still, but to no avail; it's muffled cries were beginning to worry him, as were its occasional envelopments of his arm.
Coming to a small, deteriorating building on the street, the Archarialite looked into a window. Steam condensed on the glass below his nostrils as he struggled to see a smudgy shape inside. Smiling, he opened the door and went inside, approaching a cracked wooden counter. The man behind it looked up at him, and his eyes widened in surprise at his squirming chest. Setthirosa ignored this.
"I'd like a replica of this weapon."
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out the Tigris and placed it on the counter in front of him. The gunsmith picked it up and examined it closely.
"Erm, that'll be . . ."
His words were cut short as Setthirosa placed a large gold nugget on the table. Scraping this into his pocket, he looked at the Tigris again.
"Fine. This size, color, caliber . . . ?"
Setthirosa shook his head, sending specks of dirt cascading from his matted blue hair.
"No. I want it to be . . . ahh, golden, if it can be done."
The man nodded.
"It'll be a few hours."
Setthirosa nodded and sat down in the lone metal chair in the corner. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a large, squirming, insectoid creature. It squealed at an ear-piercing pitch, and attached itself to his arm.
"Hey, come on now, that's not nice . . ."
Three hours and thirty-seven minutes later - by Setthirosa's keen time-keeping skills, that is - the man came back, holding the large, glittering shotgun. Standing up and stretching, Setthirosa walked over to him, took it carefull,y and waved it around aimlessly.
"Well-balanced, good size, easy to hold . . . Well done."
Replacing Rift, Setthirosa exited the way he'd come in and vanished into the night.
Coming to a small, deteriorating building on the street, the Archarialite looked into a window. Steam condensed on the glass below his nostrils as he struggled to see a smudgy shape inside. Smiling, he opened the door and went inside, approaching a cracked wooden counter. The man behind it looked up at him, and his eyes widened in surprise at his squirming chest. Setthirosa ignored this.
"I'd like a replica of this weapon."
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out the Tigris and placed it on the counter in front of him. The gunsmith picked it up and examined it closely.
"Erm, that'll be . . ."
His words were cut short as Setthirosa placed a large gold nugget on the table. Scraping this into his pocket, he looked at the Tigris again.
"Fine. This size, color, caliber . . . ?"
Setthirosa shook his head, sending specks of dirt cascading from his matted blue hair.
"No. I want it to be . . . ahh, golden, if it can be done."
The man nodded.
"It'll be a few hours."
Setthirosa nodded and sat down in the lone metal chair in the corner. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a large, squirming, insectoid creature. It squealed at an ear-piercing pitch, and attached itself to his arm.
"Hey, come on now, that's not nice . . ."
Three hours and thirty-seven minutes later - by Setthirosa's keen time-keeping skills, that is - the man came back, holding the large, glittering shotgun. Standing up and stretching, Setthirosa walked over to him, took it carefull,y and waved it around aimlessly.
"Well-balanced, good size, easy to hold . . . Well done."
Replacing Rift, Setthirosa exited the way he'd come in and vanished into the night.