Old Jim’s Antique Weaponry

[The Forgotten God]

The sign outside says “Ladies get half off” so it is probably not at all a sketchy business.

[Kjell Ó Raghallaigh]

Kjell inspected the sign with a quizzical look before entering the store.

[The Forgotten God]

The store is a menagerie of weapons, old and new, imperial and elvish and dwarven. She sees armor and shields and guns. For al the clutter, whoever runs the shop keeps everything clean, the mark of a truly obsessive compulsive maintainer.

That owner approached her as she entered, the only customer at the time. He’s a short older man with a pipe and a monocle. “Well hello there miss,” hebsaid in a somewhat squeaky voice, like he oiled everything in the store but his vocal chords. “Ain’t been seein’ you ‘round here. Not seen no elf girl in...three years in fact, outsida Proscilla’s.”

[Kjell Ó Raghallaigh]

“Cool,” she said, giving him and the room a quick once-over before making a beeline for the pistol case. “I’ll get one of these,” she said, inspecting whatever was on display.

[The Forgotten God]

She sees a few different handguns. One has pearl handles and a silvery barrel, tunes marked up and down it. Old Jim himself has one much like it on his own belt. Another is smaller and less accurate but she thinks she could draw it damned fast with the right holster. The final one out of the norm has two barrels and “fuck you” written on the grip. “I see yer not one fer small talk,” Jim said. “Like you’re on a mission a’some sort. Revenging a dead man? Not the first time I heared that tale.”

[Kjell Ó Raghallaigh]

“Rough night,” she offered in a way of explanation. “How much for this one?” she asked, pointing at the ‘fuck you’ gun.

[The Forgotten God]

“Ten gold,” the man said in his squeaky voice. “Comes with ten rounds and powder too, and the holster you gotta special make on account of its size.” He peered up at her. She thought for a second she saw someone reflected behind her in his monocle.

[Kjell Ó Raghallaigh]

She ignored what she thought she saw. “Alright. Can I get a closer look?” she asked.

[The Forgotten God]

“Oh yes yes, nothing better than a lady with a double barrel,” he said. “And twice the gun is twice the fun!” He fumbled with his key a second then unlocked the stand the double barrel was secured to. He handed it to her. “I take it you don’t need private instruction on the operation o’this here spitfire?”

[Kjell Ó Raghallaigh]

She accepted the gun and aimed it at a random corner of the shop to test its weight, then pulled back the lock holding the flint in place to inspect the mechanism. “At what range can we talk about any accuracy with this thing?” she inquired.

[The Forgotten God]

“Well that entire depends on the quality of your ability to shoot, ma’am,” the little man said. “Like I said I offer private lessons. And a girl wanting a pistol when there’s a man doing his best to stay outta sight makes me think ye plan on using it sooner rather than later. I can blast a wine bottle off a bartop with that hoss at thirty paces.” He lit a pipe as he was speaking with one hand and puffed out a thin grey smoke.

[Kjell Ó Raghallaigh]

“Sounds about right,” she said. She could probably do it at forty paces, she thought. “Tell you what,” she nodded to the display. “No training, but I’ll give you fifteen for this and the small one.”

(0 Charm)

[The Forgotten God]

38.

“Seventeen,” he said. “I ain’t running a charity for lost lady gunslingers.” He grinned up at her.

[Kjell Ó Raghallaigh]

“With shot and a holster for that one as well?” she asked. Then, her sleep deprived brain finally made sense of his earlier words, and she turned around to look for that man.

[The Forgotten God]

It took her a moment with the strange crowded rope bridges and the need to look vertically as well as merely horizontally, but she saw the goateed man sipping a drink not too far away. “Ah, not seeing him before, eh?” Jim said. “He been eyeing you like most here eye gold.” He puffed the pipe again. “I ain’t yer dad but it ain’t safe not having no friend here.”