Well, crit failed trying to find "The Confessor" so I guess I'll use the Benny on my 3rd attempt to spend some money.
El Paso was brighter and cleaner than New Del Rio, but Penitent senses the rot below the surface -- and just across the river, where the fanged earth-demons ruled the night, no matter who walked the streets in daylight. In El Paso, the chattel were better fed, oblivious to their slavery and the dark masters they served.
Penitent pays the damned of both kinds little mind, preoccupied by thoughts of his daughter, and the possibly false apok who followed her. A confrontation seems inevitable, so best to be prepared -- and in that respect, at least, El Paso is a fine place to be. Walking through the bazaar, Penitent is reminded of the markets of Worldgate, where he often traded spoils recovered his demonic prey for tools he could use to hunt more.
This shopping trip does not go so well as those. At his first stop, a weapons emporium, he is asked politely but firmly to leave after engaging in a rather graphic discussion of the effects of various forms of enchanted ammunition on flesh and bone -- with the shopkeep's 5-year-old daughter. His second sojourn, at a shop selling magical footwear, is cut short when his imp consumes another customer's small dog, rather messily, in one of the dressing rooms.
After a brief conversation with the local enforcers, Penitent is about ready to give up, when he spies a small shop at the end of an alley, lit by a neon sign: "Survivor's Guilt." Guilt was something Penitent could understand, and the monstrous horns and skulls mounted above the doorway were another promising sign -- here, perhaps, was someone not put off by the realities of killing.
Inside, the smells of ozone and gunpowder mingle in a familiar perfume. To the right, wooden shelves are stacked with crates of traditional energy weapons, armor and e-clips, with little thought given to display. On the left, a transparent energy field protects arms and armor of a more mystical nature.
A woman emerges from a door in the back, peering at Penitent through a pair of welding goggles. She is tan and strong -- fetching, even, if Penitent were inclined to be distracted by such things -- with several jagged scars running down one side of her neck. As she limps forward, the apok sees that one of her legs is withered, supported by a mechanized brace covered in arcane sigils.
"I've got an engramatic actuator opened up in the back that's liable to explode if I leave it too long, so whatever you need, be quick about it," she says, sizing Penitent up and apparently deciding that, despite appearances, he may actually have money.
The apok grunts, his lip twisting in something approximating a smile.
"A sidearm, something capable of cracking open armor, to start."
Without conversation, the woman walks to a nearby crate and pulls out an oversized revolver with two barrels -- one large at the top and a smaller one below. Along with a couple of e-clips, she gathers a dozen miniature grenades that look like the right fit for the cylinder on the top barrel.
"This here's a Bandito Arms knock-off of the NG Super, an over-under laser pistol and grenade launcher. Northern Gun had the laser up top, but Bandito swapped it around cause the launcher barrel looks more intimidatin'," she says.
"Anything else?"
Penitent's smile/smirk grows wider, at least on the inside.
"I recently fought a brodkil that had some sort of chemical system installed, pumping something called "juice" into his veins and making him a more fearsome fighter. He died anyway, but I thought perhaps about acquiring something similar, perhaps a device to administer magic potions?"
The woman stares at him for a moment, thinking, then nods.
"I think I got something that might suit. Come with me to the back."
In her workshop, she goes to a rune-covered locker and returns with a black leather case. Inside is a coat of scaled armor, the individual plates ranging from a dark red, almost black, to the yellow-white of a sword-blade being forged.
"You don't look like you're from around here, but we gotta kind of snake in these parts called a fire rattler. Meaner than sin, tough as nails with a venom that'll kill you before you can spit. Only good thing about 'em is you can mix that venom with some spirits and other things and make a potion that'll hit you like a gallon of adrenaline. I got the idea to do something special with a couple of carcasses, work 'em into this armor here. Why don't you try it on?"
Doffing his clothes, Penitent dons the armor, which is light -- perhaps too frail for the kind of combat he engages in -- and incorporates tubes of silver-lined cabling that runs from a reservoir on the chest down each limb. As he cinches the armor tight, he feels the prick of fangs at his wrists and neck.
"Don't mind that," the woman says.
"That's just the delivery system. The reservoir here has the venom, but when you activate it with a little magical energy, it'll send a flood of the treated mixture direct into your veins.
She points to another set of buttons at the belt.
"This here will thicken the armor up, grow a second set of scales over the chest and other vulnerable bits. It takes a minute or two, so you'll want to plan ahead, but the button next to it will shed those real quick, if you need to move with a lighter step."
Penitent's smile grows to the point that his teeth are actually showing.
"It's perfect. Name your price."
With his credstick considerably depleted, Penitent returns to the hunt. Most passers-by take pains to avoid him, so he looks for the sort of place that might be welcoming to killers.
He soon finds his way to an arena, where a wolfish Dog Boy out front seems to be recruiting warriors for some sort of tourney. It seems rather silly, but Penitent perks up when the canine busker mentions Reid's Rangers.
"My comrades and I must meet with this Reid and his rangers," Penitent says.
"Your competition is asinine -- why have your warriors kill each other, when they could at least sacrifice themselves fighting demons? -- but if we must kill these other hopefuls to do so, we will not shy from it. How much did you say it was? I believe I have the funds."
"By the way, I am looking for two women. One is a shifter, the other has a mask like this ... Have you seen either of them, or have you been too engrossed hawking this silly match?"
As it turned out, the Dog Boy proved rather unhelpful, taking Penitent's remaining credits with a snarl. So it was that the apok returned to the group's lodgings with a stack of registration papers and some new armaments, but little in the way of information. But his arrival in town had not gone unnoticed ...