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Post by popkop on Apr 23, 2009 9:42:34 GMT -4
Up ahead was something with the gleam, the gleam of GOLD.
Recalling the door he'd seen, with a bit of gold leaf on it, Roseaxe was cautious. It might be real gold, it might be another trick...
It proved to be a sword in a finely-made leather scabbard. The gold was ornamenting the human-sized weapon's hilt, and the pommel bore a decent sized ruby with just a hint of blue in the redness.
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Post by stjimmy on Apr 23, 2009 9:57:23 GMT -4
Roseaxe gave the sword some consideration. It was certainly no match for a dwarven-made axe, patriotism alone was enough to prove that, but as his own axe was dropped in the encounter with the cookie monster this would have to do.
"Wish I'd just cut his hand off" thought Roseaxe "Why didn't I... ah yes, the axe was out of reach. That was it."
Back near the entrance, a cloth duffel-bag stretched and shaped itself into a leather backpack, an axe-handle jutting out of the top.
He picked up the sword and gave it a few swings, finding the right balance for his height. It wasn't as bad as he was expecting.
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Post by popkop on Apr 23, 2009 10:02:50 GMT -4
Indeed, the sword felt lighter than it looked. Angular script along the length of the blade spelled something, but not in any language Roseaxe knew. And the metal it was crafted from, well, the blade portion at least, was neither iron nor steel.
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Post by stjimmy on Apr 23, 2009 10:06:54 GMT -4
He swung the blade a few more times, trying to figure out exactly what it was.
"I hope you're not a transformed person, 'cause I have NO idea how to change you back."
He tested the edge with his thumb, drawing blood a lot more easily than he was expecting. "Ouch! Well, you're certainly sharp."
He sheathed the sword and began moving again. He was sure he was getting closer to something.
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Post by stjimmy on Apr 24, 2009 12:54:36 GMT -4
"Phew. For a second there, I was worried the sword would turn me into something. Seems like everything else here will."
He moved on.
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Post by popkop on Apr 27, 2009 3:29:37 GMT -4
After a short distance, the path changed from having mostly crates along the sides to having shelves full of jars. Jarred pickles, for the most part. Pickles labelled with names. Betsy, Arturo, Hank, Dromio, Charles, Gwen, Mindy, all people names. On jars containing a single pickled cucumber apiece.
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Post by stjimmy on Apr 30, 2009 4:56:25 GMT -4
"Named Pickles?" he thought to himself, "Whatever next? Well, I suppose it's less strange than a talking map that thinks it's a tin of soup."
He considered taking a closer look, but the idea of a new jar with the label "Roseaxe" dissuaded him. Instead he walked straight past the jars, giving them the occasional glance and hoping not to see a face on them.
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Post by popkop on May 5, 2009 3:16:59 GMT -4
Not a face to be seen, thankfully, just shelf after shelf of pickles. With an occasional gap among the jars here and there, but nothing else on the shelves.
A dozen shelves later, the pickles came to an end, with another aisle crossing this one at right angles. On the other side, the shelves continued, but it looked like they were covered with toys. To the right, mostly stuffed animals. Although that box labelled Torture-Me Elmo looked kind of disturbing. To the left, the aisle went a short distance and ended at a simple wooden door with an illuminated exit sign over it.
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