(See more on money & rings in the OOC thread)
"Does anyone wish to join me? I promise not to spend overly long at my Temple."
"Overly long? We wouldn't want that!" Hiritus quips. "I'll come along, of course."
Turning briefly, he tosses his coinpurse to Raven. "I could use a good bow, if you don't mind picking one out for me. You seem like a better judge of bows than I would be... But whatever that money can buy, I want that. And arrows." He shrugs. "If it's no trouble."
Kester nods you out silently; the road outside stays straight long enough to see Shavah, Nurthk, and Niccolo, who are caught up to easily.
The shops:
As Kester indicated, this little district is full of shops which seem long-established, and of quite some quality -- Gilter's armory is flanked by a jeweler and a wine-seller, with a stable just across the road which looks cleaner and finer than the rooms you stayed in just last night.
Most of what Gilter has on display is ostentatious, to say the least... At first glance it seems like the sort of shiny, showy toy stuff generally used as decor by aristocrats and nobles, but on closer inspection it becomes clear that everything has been crafted to function as gracefully in battle as on display.
There is a large-lipped young man behind the counter as you enter; his immediate response is something akin to contempt, but for no apparent reason Gilter emerges from the back room, greets you warmly, and is stunningly attentive about helping you find what you're looking for.
(Again, 10% off PHB prices for arms and equipment, non-magical.)
Shavah, for her part, is torn between getting a new longsword which swings well and looks pretty but which she can barely afford, and a somewhat more practical suit of scale mail and mismatched tower shield which Gilter brings from the back, both looking in need of aesthetic repair.
"I can't
decide," she says, though openly happy to have this predicament. "Is it better to be the turtle, or to be the, the... the girl with the gorgeous sword?" She sighs.
The Temple of Pelor:
Arriving at the humble temple, you find the front doors closed but unlocked... Odd for midday, but by no means sacreligious.
Entering, however, it seems at first that you have wandered into some halfling's funeral: There are several short figures in dark veils huddled near the front, listening silently to the speaker's address.
This impression, though, is quickly disproven. For one, the human participants -- a half-dozen worshipers, two clergymen and a candleboy -- are not dressed for a funeral. Indeed, judging by the vestments and the arrangement of candles on the altar, it looks like a Safecoming, a ceremony in anticipation of a coming birth. Except even
that seems off, because where the expectant mother should be standing, wreathed and proud, the is instead a large speckled egg, seated on a pedastal.
To top it all off, the performing priest is sermonizing in some hissing, clicking foreign language which you eventually recognize as draconic.