Dragonscale Armor. Dragon age origins dragon scale armor
Denis YURIN Dragon scale armor
Chapter 1 On the past, future and present
“You will have a lot of happiness in your life, dear,” the tramp said in an insinuating voice, constantly looking into the eyes of the rosy-cheeked girl and tightly squeezing her soft, sweaty hand in his calloused palm. - I see a rich groom, rich and flexible ... He will come for you soon, but don't rush your happiness, you will scare you away ... Your house will be okay, the economy is excellent, the kids have a full yard. The children are beautiful: the girls are in the cha, and the boys will go to the father. You will live happily, no sickness, no trouble for ten years, but I don’t know there, I don’t see for the time being ...
The man finally let go of the hand of the magnificent beauty and turned his heavy gaze aside. What else could be said to a healthy peasant girl who was only thinking for days on end about her impending marriage and about a "zhanikh" who, perhaps, would be better than her father, would not torment her braids for every minor offense? Any girl dreamed of parting with her hateful parental home as soon as possible, especially when she was already in her eighteenth year and the village scoundrels were about to begin to dignify her old maid... Milva, who sighed languidly in front of the thing, was no exception to general rule; she was one of many to whom the prophet had already sold this prediction. At first, he varied words, selected different formulations and intonations, but then, as a result of exhausting repetitions, a unique product was formed, a product that is in demand among all unmarried village girls under the age of twenty-two.
- And about aunt, tell about aunt! Will he get well ?! Shall we sell Pestrushka by winter ?! - briskly mumbled the girl, who certainly believed the messenger who happened to be met at the inn.
“I can’t, she doesn’t want to…” the tramp shook his head and, finishing the dispensing horse beer from a tall mug, grabbed the copper that was lying on the table with his left hand. - The Goddess of Fate is wayward, she does not open the gates of the future twice in one day. In a week we can try it, but right now no-ah, I'm sorry ...
On the pretty face of the simpleton, regret, even resentment, appeared, but not with the prophet, but with the capricious Goddess. She pouted and, thinking about something of her own, about a girl's, unbuttoned the button of an old dress, specially washed and ironed before the trip to the city. The tramp in a worn, greasy shirt and a darned, darned cloak did not think to get up from the table sticky with hops and grease. He was interested not so much whether the dreaming girl would undo another button and whether a snow-white, magnificent chest would appear to his eyes, but more materialistic considerations. Milva's older brother, worn out during the day of trading and could not stand the moonshine marathon, peacefully dozed under the bench and only occasionally made inarticulate sounds from there, vaguely reminiscent of human speech. The girl believed the vagabond's chatter, the girl paid, which meant that it was possible to profit more, and not only in pennies ...
Only two circumstances prevented the swindler's greedy plans from coming true: the noisy hubbub of the peasants walking in the stuffy tavern and the disgruntled glances that the fat, constantly sweating owner and his two broad-shouldered sons, who helped papa not only with the delivery of dishes, but also with the expulsion of the rowdy, gave the tramp every minute. So far, the beggar-prophet behaved quietly and paid for beer, but as soon as he became a member of a full-fledged brawl or a little fuss with neighbors on the table, he would be instantly kicked out the door. The huge, almost two-meter growth of the wanderer, his wide, cheekbones, bordered by a short beard, heavy gaze of colorless eyes and even the impressive size of mud-stained fists with knocked down could not serve as a good reason to leave the tramp alone. The peasants cannot be surprised by their remarkable physical strength, and the servants of the inn at the city bazaar, even more so. They are accustomed to everything, they bludgeoned even less sturdy guys ...
- Well, goodbye, my dear, - tired of watching the beauty's face worried about the thoughts, the tramp decided to spur the course of her confused thoughts a little and therefore lazily got up from the table.
- Where are you going?! - instantly waking up, the girl grabbed his sleeve and nearly tore the thin fabric worn out to translucency.
“It's time for me, as much as I could, by helping,” the big man smiled amiably, but did not withdraw his hand.
- Tell me more chago ... well, how is it customary for you, those in the know ... about the present, about the past ... I will pay, do not hesitate!
“Ah, girl, girl,” the rogue shook his head reproachfully, sank back onto the bench. - Every fool knows your real thing, there it is ... under the bench lying drunk ...
For greater clarity, the prophet kicked the body that was quietly snoring and drooling from the mouth. Brother Milva, clearly dissatisfied with such rude treatment, let out a terrible growl and, without opening his eyes, promised some Kalva to break his jaws. Having heard no objections, the drunkard calmed down, and his specious sister suddenly felt shy and lowered her gaze.
- Your father is sick, your brother watches over your infallibility and mocks you for nothing. In fact, he doesn't care about thee, he only cares about "... people will say about?" - the wanderer exactly reproduced the voice of Milvin's brother, heard by him even before the merchant of hay and cereals fell under the table. - He drags thee behind him on a leash, and he plays dirty tricks ...
- Not without entovo ... - whispered Milva, wiping away a tear that had rolled up.
- I, a beauty, have not been trained to lie, I only tell people the truth, the truth that they do not know, and not the one that is already visible ... Look about your past, it's another matter, you can keep your word, but only you and without me you know. What has come true has already come true, - the bearded man threw up his hands.
The beggar's speech turned out to be convincing, perhaps even too much. The girl closed herself in and no longer persuaded him to stay. However, the fortuneteller was not frightened, a trump card was hidden in his torn sleeve, a reliable argument in favor of continuing the conversation.
- True, there is something in your past that can harm the future, - the prophet whispered conspiratorially, almost clinging to the sticky table with his beard. - If it comes out, then your wedding will not happen ...
The girl's reaction surpassed all expectations: up to this point, slightly pink cheeks were covered with a crimson blush, and a fright bordering on horror appeared in her eyes. He guessed right, threw the bait to speculation and now he could draw out a very appetizing fish. It was only necessary to carefully pull the line; so that the wounded, nervous little fool does not fall off the hook.
- What are you talking about? - stammering, said Milva and buttoned the top button of her dress with a trembling hand.
- Yes, about a lot ... - whispered the fortuneteller, grinning slightly. - Too crowded around to talk about such things. Who hears, then you won't wash yourself ... Come on, is there anyone here from your village?
How in Dragon game Age: Do Origins get dragon scale armor? and got the best answer
Answer from Alexey Zhurnevich [guru]
to get improved armor from the scales of the great dragon, it must be done immediately after the paid light armor
I remember something the following option - first we make an easy one and pay as much as he asks for. He says it will take time for us to go out and go back in. We get complaints from the seller and the blacksmith's dissatisfaction with his work. Then we go out again and enter and demand to see if we have anything from the average - he makes the average in two days (that is, one more exit), but this time it seems (I don’t remember exactly) he doesn’t take anything or simply doesn’t a choice is offered. But when we come for the last time, they are already attacking us with fists and saying that they will do it only on the condition that we will never appear there again.
At the same time, the blacksmith says that he used to spoil everything, but here he has a complete insight and he will do everything for free - so to speak, so that the sins of the old armor can be forgiven. Therefore, it turns out that we pay either once its price, or twice, but definitely not three, but last booking we get it for free.
Maybe I'm wrong, because the place was passed exactly once, but you never know
“You will have a lot of happiness in your life, dear,” the tramp said in an insinuating voice, constantly looking into the eyes of the rosy-cheeked girl and tightly squeezing her soft, sweaty hand in his calloused palm. - I see a rich groom, rich and flexible ... He will come for you soon, but don't rush your happiness, you will scare you away ... Your house will be okay, the economy is excellent, the kids have a full yard. The children are beautiful: the girls are in the cha, and the boys will go to the father. You will live happily, no sickness, no trouble for ten years, but I don’t know there, I don’t see for the time being ...
The man finally let go of the hand of the magnificent beauty and turned his heavy gaze aside. What else could be said to a healthy peasant girl who was only thinking for days on end about her impending marriage and about a "zhanikh" who, perhaps, would be better than her father, would not torment her braids for every minor offense? Any girl dreamed of parting with her hateful parental home as soon as possible, especially when she was already in her eighteenth year and the village scoundrels were about to start calling her an old maid. Milva, sighing languidly in front of the thing, was no exception to the general rule; she was one of many to whom the prophet had already sold this prediction. At first, he varied words, selected different formulations and intonations, but then, as a result of exhausting repetitions, a unique product was formed, a product that is in demand among all unmarried village girls under the age of twenty-two.
- And about aunt, tell about aunt! Will he get well ?! Shall we sell Pestrushka by winter ?! - briskly mumbled the girl, who certainly believed the messenger who happened to be met at the inn.
“I can’t, she doesn’t want to…” the tramp shook his head and, finishing the dispensing horse beer from a tall mug, grabbed the copper that was lying on the table with his left hand. - The Goddess of Fate is wayward, she does not open the gates of the future twice in one day. In a week we can try it, but right now no-ah, I'm sorry ...
On the pretty face of the simpleton, regret, even resentment, appeared, but not with the prophet, but with the capricious Goddess. She pouted and, thinking about something of her own, about a girl's, unbuttoned the button of an old dress, specially washed and ironed before the trip to the city. The tramp in a worn, greasy shirt and a darned, darned cloak did not think to get up from the table sticky with hops and grease. He was interested not so much whether the dreaming girl would undo another button and whether a snow-white, magnificent chest would appear to his eyes, but more materialistic considerations. Milva's older brother, worn out during the day of trading and could not stand the moonshine marathon, peacefully dozed under the bench and only occasionally made inarticulate sounds from there, vaguely reminiscent of human speech. The girl believed the vagabond's chatter, the girl paid, which meant that it was possible to profit more, and not only in pennies ...
Only two circumstances prevented the swindler's greedy plans from coming true: the noisy hubbub of the peasants walking in the stuffy tavern and the disgruntled glances that the fat, constantly sweating owner and his two broad-shouldered sons, who helped papa not only with the delivery of dishes, but also with the expulsion of the rowdy, gave the tramp every minute. So far, the beggar-prophet behaved quietly and paid for beer, but as soon as he became a member of a full-fledged brawl or a little fuss with neighbors on the table, he would be instantly kicked out the door. The huge, almost two-meter growth of the wanderer, his wide, cheekbones, bordered by a short beard, heavy gaze of colorless eyes and even the impressive size of mud-stained fists with knocked down could not serve as a good reason to leave the tramp alone. The peasants cannot be surprised by their remarkable physical strength, and the servants of the inn at the city bazaar, even more so. They are accustomed to everything, they bludgeoned even less sturdy guys ...
- Well, goodbye, my dear, - tired of watching the beauty's face worried about the thoughts, the tramp decided to spur the course of her confused thoughts a little and therefore lazily got up from the table.
- Where are you going?! - instantly waking up, the girl grabbed his sleeve and nearly tore the thin fabric worn out to translucency.
“It's time for me, as much as I could, by helping,” the big man smiled amiably, but did not withdraw his hand.
- Tell me more chago ... well, how is it customary for you, those in the know ... about the present, about the past ... I will pay, do not hesitate!
“Ah, girl, girl,” the rogue shook his head reproachfully, sank back onto the bench. - Every fool knows your real thing, there it is ... under the bench lying drunk ...
For greater clarity, the prophet kicked the body that was quietly snoring and drooling from the mouth. Brother Milva, clearly dissatisfied with such rude treatment, let out a terrible growl and, without opening his eyes, promised some Kalva to break his jaws. Having heard no objections, the drunkard calmed down, and his specious sister suddenly felt shy and lowered her gaze.
- Your father is sick, your brother watches over your infallibility and mocks you for nothing. In fact, he doesn't care about thee, he only cares about "... people will say about?" - the wanderer exactly reproduced the voice of Milvin's brother, heard by him even before the merchant of hay and cereals fell under the table. - He drags thee behind him on a leash, and he plays dirty tricks ...
- Not without entovo ... - whispered Milva, wiping away a tear that had rolled up.
- I, a beauty, have not been trained to lie, I only tell people the truth, the truth that they do not know, and not the one that is already visible ... Look about your past, it's another matter, you can keep your word, but only you and without me you know. What has come true has already come true, - the bearded man threw up his hands.
The beggar's speech turned out to be convincing, perhaps even too much. The girl closed herself in and no longer persuaded him to stay. However, the fortuneteller was not frightened, a trump card was hidden in his torn sleeve, a reliable argument in favor of continuing the conversation.
- True, there is something in your past that can harm the future, - the prophet whispered conspiratorially, almost clinging to the sticky table with his beard. - If it comes out, then your wedding will not happen ...
The girl's reaction surpassed all expectations: up to this point, slightly pink cheeks were covered with a crimson blush, and a fright bordering on horror appeared in her eyes. He guessed right, threw the bait to speculation and now he could draw out a very appetizing fish. It was only necessary to carefully pull the line; so that the wounded, nervous little fool does not fall off the hook.
- What are you talking about? - stammering, said Milva and buttoned the top button of her dress with a trembling hand.
- Yes, about a lot ... - whispered the fortuneteller, grinning slightly. - Too crowded around to talk about such things. Who hears, then you won't wash yourself ... Come on, is there anyone here from your village?
- Yes, - the intrigued simpleton nodded her head.
- Here I am about that ... I will not say anything, and if I do, it will not be here ... - the swindler began to develop his success. - I'll go out right now ... breathe fresh air and recover, and you, if you really believe me and want to help yourself, then come to the stable a little later.
- To the stable ?! - the girl, who suspected something was wrong, was frightened and drew back from the table.
- People are all the same, - on the face of a voluptuary who had already worked out this simple technique many times, a contemptuous grin appeared, as if he had seen a snake in front of him, and not just a snake, but the most disgusting and disgusting-looking viper. - If you want good, you fools, but you accuse of evil intent. I will be near the horses, but as you know, I will not persuade! Only then do not vilify me with dirty words, that I did not insist ... I did not reason.
Dexterously throwing a well-worn knapsack over his shoulder and picking up a staff lying on the bench, the man got up and waddled, demonstratively scratching his protruding stomach, went to the exit. The fat innkeeper sighed with relief: the wanderer, fed up with his beer and a couple of stale crusts, decided to continue on his way. The biggest loss that the filthy bearded man could now inflict on his farm was not worth a damn: to urinate on the corner of the establishment or to relieve some other need in the stable. The walls of the inn were suffering every night from poorly educated men, and the horses were strangers ...