Rigard Armor Shop
Twopenny's Used Protectives
To say that the interior of Twopenny’s is cluttered would be an understatement.
Looking around, you’re greeted by racks, stands, and shelves of varying sizes and states of fullness, ranging from stacked to bursting. Everything seems to have been arranged to fit as much merchandise in as little space as possible - helmets are stacked up in a corner, suits of half-plate lie arranged on racks, and the lighter pieces hang from hooks on the walls. Accompanying all this is the smell of old fabric and oil, rising until it escapes from small, barred windows set high in the walls.
There doesn’t seem to be much in the way of organization - which is perhaps to be expected, given how the shop gets its stock - though there does at least seem to be a broad categorization of armor types and where on one’s body they’re supposed to go. Shelves groan under the weight of shields. Sabatons catering to all kinds of feet have been set out as if they were simple shoes, though not all of them come in pairs.
The end result of the shop’s barely controlled chaos is a claustrophobic interior, with just enough space between displays to get around. The store’s clientele is largely comprised of morphs, perhaps because the proprietor is one of their number, or more likely because his goods are more affordable to them.
Whatever the case, you get the feeling that you’d better inspect everything you’re thinking of buying before actually parting with your money, especially with the sign above Donovan that declares ‘WE ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR INJURY OR LOSS’ in big red letters.
- Donovan sits by the only place which isn’t occupied, a small counter by the door, at which he watches his customers come and go. He rarely seems to move from that spot during opening hours, and must do his stock-taking and inventory only after the doors are closed.
How To Get Here
- Donovan - Owns the shop