Teppic picked up his hat and checked it's lining for the coil of cheesewire. As an afterthought he opened his sock drawer and took a pistol crossbow, a flask of oil, a roll of lockpicks and, after some consideration, a punch dagger, a bag of assorted caltrops and a set of brass knuckles. He winced, checked the blade of his rapier and slung the baldric over his right shoulder, to balance the bag of lead slingshot ammunition. A blowpipe was attached to its leather thong and dropped down the back of his cloak Teppic picked a slim tin container with an assortment of darts, their tips corked and their stems braille-coded for ease of selection in the dark. A thin silk line and folding grapnel were wound around his waist, over the chain-mail shirt. A couple of long-bladed throwing tlingas were slipped into their sheaths inside his boots. Various cunning and intricate devices were taken from velvet bags and dropped into pockets. Another box held a set of knives and Klatchian steel, their blades darkened with lamp black. “He sighed and opened the black box and took out his rings and slipped them on.
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