*There is a large crashing sound outside the shoppe, as if someone was just pushed through a large stack of pots and pans and then fallen down three flights of stairs. Horses neigh, as if startled by something. The door bursts open suddenly and noisily. Ryath stands in the doorway, looking frazzled, and out of breath. She steps in deliberately, not noticing the other patrons. She walks slowly to the counter.*
"Shopkeep...I need a sword....not just any sword, either. I need a SWORD. Something insanely powerful, naturally, but light enough for a woman. There's an issue of weapon inequality in the House of Wit n' Wisdom, you see. Custom make it, if you must, or if you have anything ancient, lengendary or anything...I don't know... particularly smite-y...MONEY IS NO OBJECT! NO. OBJECT."
*Ryath stares a moment, to make sure the point is taken. Then she sits down on a nearby chair, clasps her hands tightly in her lap and looks agitated. She stares straight ahead, grimacing, as if in some sort of stress induced psychosis. Every now and then she mumbles incoherently to herself*