Might Makes Right

The shop has one square window, covered with grime, that lets barely any light inside. As your eyes adjust to the darkness and the unusual heat, you look about the weapons and armor shop.

A cat man snarls slightly in your direction and returns to grinding out the nicks in a broken blade. A centaur, tall and well muscled, tests the strength of several lances and staves, bending them with large arms to check their flexibility. A Dark Elf woman keeps her eyes glued to you, grinning constantly as she wipes down a long blade, making it gleam in the light of the several fires in the shop.

An elf girl with red and blue hair looks at you and yawns, then looks away, moving to the back of the shop. And as she draws your attention to the back rooms behind this front room, you notice a red haired half elf fixing feathers to the shafts of long arrows. He takes a moment to glare at you.

You turn to one side, trying to become lost in the racks of tall weapons…axes…swords…polearms… Each blade shining and straight edged, each handle smooth and firm.

Behind you, you hear the sound of heavy padded feet, of claws clicking on the hard floor of the shop. A shiver goes up your spine. Maybe turning your back to this lot wasn’t so wise, after all. You turn to stare up into the deep blue gaze of a grey furred Wolven man. He smiles down at you, showing his set of jagged and dangerous looking teeth. As one, the group behind him rise, walking over.

“Can we help you with something?” comes his deep rumbling voice.

And with great shame you pull out your plain and slightly rusted blade. The Wolven laughs and clamps a paw on your shoulder, leading you to the counter, talking eagerly about the best weapon he can find for your money. The Dark Elf nudges the centaur and begins to tease him about his ‘equipment’ and its size. The half elf man whistles as he works, and the red and blue haired elf hums along. The cat man purrs quietly, working near the fire.