“A good strong horse, or so I have heard, is crucial for any adventurer” thought Demos as he silently padded his way through Neverwinter. It was like he had never seen a horse, always considering them noisy things, unsuitable for the good life(so to speak). Demos is certain that a trained warhorse is worth at least 400 Gold. He adjusts his concealed bag of 2000 Gold and continues on his way.
Rubbing the bruises under his tunic, he vowed to find some of those red bottles of health potion fighters seem so quick to consume in their endless quests to die a gruesome death. He felt like one. On second thought, a nice covering of leather armor may be just what the doctor ordered to stop the pain from piercing the shell.
On the offensive front, he’ll need three more daggers for his repertoire before he can start throwing the things around willy-nilly. He’s a pro. If he can find a less common quarterstaff to beat things with, all the better.
To see, a bullseye lantern, to tie, silken rope, to climb, crampons for his boots, to do other things, oil. So many things for the thief on the move in todays society.
He sits down and tries to get a feel for the city. If you quiet the mind, you can feel the underbelly of society. He heads to the seedier districts not for women or illicit substance, but for the tools of the trade. If he can find the damn place…