>>5204442>>5204445>Ask what his business is this deep in the CATACOMBS.>Look over the boy’s goods. Might as well toss him a coin.“So.. what business do you have down this deep in the CATACOMBS, boy?” You look the kid over. He appears infirm and meek, a far cry from yourself at his age. “Doesn’t seem the place for your type.”
“Ah. Well, our CORPUS CHURCH has sent choristers into the CATACOMBS for years, to study the monsters and investigate the immortality curse. I’m.. from one of them, you see.” He smiles as he steeples his fingers. “Spare a look at my goods?”
You look the boy’s goods over; you a spot a handful of noteworthy purchases. You see a SILVER STRAIGHT SWORD, a smaller and wieldier arm than the 200 kg slab of iron on your back–could be useful if you don’t need to obliterate someone. You catch sight of.. a strange vial, with thick red liquid within it, almost like blood. And in the corner is a strange weapon–a cleaver inscribed with a SAINT’S CALENDAR along the flat steel edge. How curious.
“The sword, the beast blood, or JUDGEMENT, then?” The choirboy catches the direction of your gaze.
“And how much would each of these be?” You look the goods over, curious. Each could prove useful..
“20 pent for each.” The boy responds handily. Your shoulders sink–there’s no way in hell you’ll spend 60 pent for all three. It figures that the church’s holiest would rob you blind..
>Ask where his attendant is. A choir boy is seldom far from their CHORISTER.>Purchase the silver straight sword.>Purchase the beast blood.>Purchase the saint’s calendar cleaver.>Degrade yourself to haggling over prices with a child.>Write-In. 