Here you go!
“One thousand ninety eight, one thousand ninety nine… eleven hundred,” said Magus as he went through the coin purse of the recently deceased. “I think we have enough money to rearm ourselves. According to the map, there’s a discount magic item shop nearby.”
After a bit of travel, our heroes got to a shop which, for inexplicable reasons, had a picture of a cat on its sign. The store looked unfrequented, unlike the other shops to either side. Inside, there was dust everywhere. The weapons were cluttered together in umbrella stands, with labels on them saying things like “fifty percent off!!” or “GREAT BUY!!!!” which had not been changed for some time. Suits of armor were hanging from the walls, ranging from a chain hauberk to a full set of plate mail. There was no light other than that which came in from the windows, and although the merchandise had been taken care of, it looked like no-one had been in the store for a very long time.
Ærin took a broadsword out of a bin, swung it around a bit and said “This one. This one’s mine.”
“Why can’t we just steal weapons too?” asked Abda.
“Because,” said Magus, “any wizard capable of making magic items would be able to fireball anyone who tries to steal them.”
“Let’s go find the counter then.”
Suddenly, out of nowhere came a bald, stunted and gray bearded apparition with blue robes and a black cape. The specter walked up to the party before looking at Petrov and saying “Allo, Privet!”
“Allo!” responded Petrov.
“Wait,” said Magus. He then looked at Petrov and said “Your last name is Privet?”
The two dwarfs looked at Magus and burst into laughter.
“No, no,” said Petrov after recovering. “Privet is what you say when you meet someone.”
“And the allo thing?” responded Magus.
“Zat means Hello,” replied the dwarf.
Magus looked at Petrov for a bit and decided to drop it.
“Anyway,” he said to the dwarven shopkeep. “We’d like to buy this and a couple daggers.”
“And a battleaxe!” said Petrov.
“Really!” said the shopkeep, a rising hope in his eyes. “Bless you!”
“Why are there no other customers?” asked Ærin. “Your weapons are very well made.”
“Because,” said the shopkeep, “the adventurers’ guild is boycotting me. Said my goods veren’t up to snuff. What’s worse, it’s not because of their quality, it’s because of their effect. That sword you hold turns its victim’s internal organs into kittens! Sure, it doesn’t look as cool as a flaming sword but it has a far more useful effect! I haven’t had any customers in months! Hell, buy a shield too and I’ll throw in a breastplate for free!”
“All right then,” said Ærin. “Do you have them in red?”
What do you think? Comments would be appreciated.