Flying Feline Boots
Boots crafted with brown fur.Absorb shock and reduce fall damage.
These boots, used in celebrative festival, are light, rugged, and retain warmth.
Sweet Shalquoir suddenly picked her head off the table, her ears twitching for several moments before a smile appeared beneath her whiskers.
"Oh, so those rats have finally stopped their squeaking, how marvelous!" she said, a laugh in her tone. "I guess that undead that's been coming around here managed to do something useful for the community for a change. Oh ho ho ho, I should fine a way to thank them somehow, but how?" She hummed to herself for a short time, then made a small gasp. "Oh, I know!"
Shalquoir jumped her her resting place on the table and moved into the corner of the room and pawed at a large chest. Pushing open the lid with her nose, she then jumped into it and began to rummage around for a bit. Things flew out occasionally, rings, glowing stones, and dusty old bones, before a lump of fur was tossed out. Shalquoir followed it, and arranged it, dusting it off, and setting it straight to reveal a pair of fur boots and a pair of shorts.
"Yes, yes, they will certainly like this. They'll have to pay for it, of course, hehe..."
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"Don't worry about it," Shalquoir said. "You can trust me when I say that these things can certainly safe."
The Bearer of the Curse looked down at the fur boots and shorts they were now wearing. "Are you sure that this can prevent me from long drops?"
"I never said that, I said they would reduce the harm you suffer. Why, those boots, along with that ring, I'm more than certain you could even reach the bottom of this pit. I mean, yes you'll probably have broken every bone if your body, put without them you'd end up dead."
"You do not inspire confidence, Shalquoir," the Bearer of the Curse said flatly, looking down into The Pit.
"You really let that cat rip you off?" said Gilligan, carving another miniature from some sticks. "You should have just bought a ladder from me, I certainly would have given you a fair price."
"No one is talking to you, vagabond," Shalquoir said, her nose up, before turning back to the undead. "Now go ahead, try them out, you will no regret it."
Looking back down The Pit, the Bearer of the Curse took a deep breath and stepped off ledge.
Moments later, there was a wet crunch, echoing deep below.
"They're dead you know," Gilligan said.
"Well, I can't be held responsible for whatever their deaths are. They should know better than to jump off the deep end right off the bat, should have at least worked their way up to that." She gave a feline version of a shrug. "Oh well, I guess not everyone can land on their feet."