Writing Warm-Up

Prompt: “Trade yourself in”
Character: Zyrath

Um, okay!

Zyrath stared at the blade that had been placed on the counter before him. It looked like a horror born from unspeakable nightmares; it had a foot and a half-long black double-edged blade that seemed to have been made from an incredible strong alloy, yet the weapon weighed half of what he’d expected. The lower edge of the blade was serrated with four hook-like edges that curved inwards towards the handle, making it twice as deadly for whomever or whatever was unlucky enough to be stabbed by the weapon, as whatever the hooked edged would snag on entry would get ripped out as the blade was pulled out, with even more gruesome results if Zyrath twisted the blade as he usually did.

Zyrath liked it… he really liked it… but he loooked up at the orc that was patiently waiting for him to stop examining the blade, the points of yellow light that served as his eyes practically staring through the green-skinned brute before him.

“How much?” There was a hint of resignation in Zyrath’s gravelly voice as he posed his question; he KNEW it wouldn’t be cheap.

“650 gold,” the orc replied with a deadpan expression, his annoyance with the entire situation broadcasted through the bored sigh that accompanied his response.

If Zyrath had a heart, it would have sunk at the price; it was CHEAP compared to what he was expecting, but he had recently spent a good chunk of his gold on improving his inscription abilities, and it would take him time to be able to build anew his monetary resources. Even if he haggled until the orc’s face turned blue, he likely still wouldn’t have enough.

“You could just trade some of your gear in or something… I’m sure you can scrounge up enough.” the orc said with a chuckle. “Or just sell a body part of two to the apothecary… I’m sure they could pay you some kind of coin for what’s left of your spleen.”

“My spleen’s gone,” he retorted with a glare. “Care for a rib instead?” He reached to his side at that, and with a wet, ripping noise, he extracted one of his looser ribs that he then shook towards the orc. “Could probably make a knife or two out of that.”

“I’ll pass… I’d need something useful out of you.” With that, he turned his attention to the back of the shop, leaving Zyrath and his rib to their own devices.

“Feh,” he said with a sigh as he stuck the rib back where he thought it should go; it felt a little off, but he was sure it’d fall into place soon enough. As he walked out of the shop, he idly considered asking Hrist for a loan… but he’d have to decide if the knife was actually worth the trouble of having to owe her a favour.