Tired Of Death

Exploding into the open from the trees, Veronica yanked on his mounts' reigns, eliciting a loud whinny from the devil horse as it drew to a halt in a cloud of dust.

He dismounted with a slight groan. The healing potion had done its job, but he'd been near death and he was still stiff and sore. His clothes hung about him, torn and tattered.

"Curse Dreth," he muttered to himself as he staggered over to the door.

It had been a long ride, and with his sword bent out of shape and useless from his 'accident', as he had decided to call it, he'd had to kill a group of bandits who had waylaid him with his b.a.r.e hands. Even that piece of brutality hadn't cheered him up though, and he was in a foul mood as he entered the shop.

"Good day sir!" A small form, short and fat, peered over some half moon spectacles from behind a counter nearly as tall as he was.

"Says who?" scowled The Violator.

"Oh dear, looks like someone climbed off his horse the wrong side this morning," the gnome carried on brightly, apparently oblivious to the sensitivities of the large man in front of him.

"Listen short arse, you can dispense with the happy talk right now." Veronica leaned over the desk and jabbed at finger down at the shopkeeper.

Who smiled up at him regardless. Putting down a wicked looking dagger he was polishing, he gazed back at his customer without fear. Half the height of a grown man*, the short fellow was dressed in cheery green dungarees and bright red shoes. As with most gnomes it was hard to tell his age, but somewhere in his late hundreds would have been Veronica's guess. The man was completely bald except for two grey tufts of hair over his rather large ears. He wasn't as fat as usual for a gnome, but that didn't mean he was slim.

"So what can I do for your evilness today?" he said, waggling hairy eyebrows.

"I need a new outfit and weapon," snarled the Anti-Paladin.

"Met with a bit of misfortune have you?" The gnome scuttled off to a large pile of garments that were stacked up on one side.

"Just show me what you have!" Veronica followed him.

The shop was surprisingly big, considering the outside was merely a door set into the side of a hummock with a sign over it. There was probably magic involved somehow, but The Violator didn't care. This was a speciality shop, catering to 'distinctive' clients. Magic was the probably the least surprising thing about the place.

He moved to look at a selection of cloaks that were nearby. The rack took up a tiny fraction of the interior, which stretched away on both sides as far as the eye could see. The ceiling was pale stone, as were the walls. Underfoot were wooden boards, seemingly freshly varnished. Around him were goods of all kinds, from the cloaks through potions to Demon summoning orbs. Occasional signs proclaimed unlikely discounts and special offers.

"Buy one Portal to Hell, get two free souls!" Read one.

"Shrunken Heads! Final Reductions!" Another screamed.

"Child Sacrifices! Going Once Only!" One further away proclaimed.

"Here's our 'Dark Minion' pack," the gnome announced, scurrying up with a pile of black garments decorated with silver trim. "If you buy this we throw in a spare sacrificial dagger free of charge."

The Violator picked through the clothes. "Mmm, not bad, but I prefer something of a higher quality. I have the gold, show me your good stuff."

The shopkeeper beamed. "At once sir!" He toddled off through a curtain in a side room that Veronica was certain hadn't been there a moment before.

He carried on browsing through the cloaks whilst he waited, trying one or two on for size, swirling them about experimentally.

"Here we go sir." The gnome was suddenly back, placing more robes on the counter and sorting them out. "Our 'Dark Lord' premium selection. Made from the finest materials, stain resistant too! Just imagine, no more hours of scrubbing to get those blood splatters off!" He picked up one item and held it out for the Anti-Paladin to examine. "The robe is especially nice. It has a trim of skin cut from still living innocents, with the silk interior stained by blood from the same. Look at the vibrant colour sir! You just don't find that quality any more, real workmanship."

"Hmmm, it certainly looks up to snuff," said Veronica, examining the merchandise.

"Oh very good sir. May I suggest you try it on? The changing rooms are over there." He pointed to one side.

Veronica nodded. "Very well." He picked up the pile, carrying the boot awkwardly with two fingers, and pushed his way through the door. Dropping the goods on a small stool, he proceeded to attempt to change into the clothes in a cubicle that was just too small for the deed**, and had no hooks to hang up his old clothes.

Eventually he finished. Straightening everything up he stepped outside to where the shopkeeper was waiting, holding a helmet.

"Oh, suits you sir!" he said admiringly. "Your victims will be so impressed they'll forget to scream as you butcher them. I found this as well, a Helmet of Defence, Hades brand, the very best."

Veronica took the helmet and admired it. Coloured in basic black, it was etched with hellish runes in dull red, and tastefully decorated with jewel encrusted silver and gold skulls. "Very nice," he admitted eventually, putting it on.

The gnome wheeled a mirror over, and The Violator scrutinized his reflection, twisting and turning to check out the different angles.

"Very nice," he said again, "but I need weapon to finish it off. What do you have in stock? I'm going to need something magical to deal with my quarry."

The gnome put on a show of thinking hard for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "I have the very thing sir. Wait here if you would, this one is special."

He scampered off through the back again, leaving the Anti-Paladin arranging his new attire to best effect.

Some time later, just as Veronica was considering going to look for him, the shopkeeper re-appeared holding a long wooden case banded with shiny metal.

"Sorry to keep you, this one was in the lower vaults, locked securely away." He staggered over to the counter and placed the box carefully on it. Looking up at the Anti-Paladin, he paused before opening it.

"This is one of the legendary 'Devil' blades. Rumour has it four were made in total, though only three have ever been seen." He opened the case slowly, pulling back the lid to reveal a dark silk cloth covering the weapon. "This one last belonged to Alan the Agitated, the legendary warlock warrior who supposedly r.a.p.ed, pillaged and then killed an entire country because someone knocked over his beer."

The gnome leaned forward and carefully pulled the cloth away to reveal the sword. "Allow me to present: 'Soul Taker'. A blade of pure and una.d.u.l.terated Hate. It comes with our 'Good free' guarantee, money back if your victims don't die writhing in horrible agony."

Veronica admired the sword. The blade was black as night, with silvery runes inscribed along the length, which seemed to shimmer on the edge of his vision. The handle was black, silver and gold, inset with diamonds in the guard and etched with demonic images. The whole thing was half as tall as he was.

"Magnificent," he breathed. Reaching up he paused, looking at the gnome. "May I?"

The shopkeeper looked at him. "Well, in all honesty sir, I'd rather you didn't whilst I am the only target nearby. You see, it's been mostly dormant ever since it was found on the battlefield where Alan was finally vanquished. Since then those who have tried wielding it have gone into an insane berserk fury, and killed all around them before dropping dead themselves. It will take a true follower of Evil with a strong character to resist the swords' will. Are you that man sir? Can you handle it?"

"Yes, oh yes. This is the one for me," said Veronica. "I can feel it. With this by my side, Evil will reach new heights!"

"Good show sir!" said the gnome. "Very well, it's yours. Just don't open it until you are outside please. Now then." He closed the box with a snap and beamed up at the Anti-Paladin. "Shall we discuss payment?"

*Human

**Some things are the same wherever you go in the multiverse. The door didn't close properly either.

~ * ~

"Hey! Stick man! You sleeping?"

Dreth jerked upright with a start, prodded out of his revere by a small red finger jabbing him in the neck. Shaking his head for a moment he looked around, scowling. "I don't sleep," he said to the devil, who was sitting on his shoulder.

"Could have fooled me," the devil said. "Muttering to yourself and everything. I was afraid you were going to mess yourself. You should be thanking me for waking you before you did."

"I was not going to mess myself!" Dreth snapped, jiggled his shoulder in a vain attempt to shake the pest off.