The best investment Vincent ever made was the two grand in coins he spent on the binoculars that swung at his chest. They were originally made for wildlife photographers and bird watchers, but on a clear day they had more clarity and a greater field of vision than most military grade scopes. Through the magnified lenses he managed to spot every possible danger that threatened him and his business. As long as he stayed on flat open terrain, he could either avoid the chaos that surrounded him or simply shoot at it before it got too close. This had so far been a sound strategy, as his career as a traveling merchant had been going on five years strong.<br/><br/>Another strategy he liked to deploy on slow days was to climb on top of the tallest hill he could find and sit very, very still. There he would stay, hours on end, peering through his binoculars and waiting for a large enough gang of bandits to wander by. He could always identify them by the prevalence of spikes and skulls that adorned their armor. When they passed he would follow behind them, very slowly, until they came across a group of adventurers or another gang of bandits that would spark a confrontation. If there were no survivors, he would loot the bodies to restock his inventory. If there was but a few remaining, he would position himself ahead of their path and set up his make shift shop and sell his products to the moderately wealthy survivors. It came at no surprise that Vincent picked up the nickname 'Buzzard' in his travels.<br/><br/>The confrontation he witnessed this day was particularly bloody, though not nearly the worst he had seen. A large man with a sword from the remaining party seemed to intimidate him even at half a mile away, so he kept his distance. He scanned the horizon and spotted a lone figure trudging across the landscape atop a sorry looking mule. Vincent had long lost his sympathy for most of humanity, and the sad sight before him tickled his senses and brought him to laughter. He got up off his feet, stretched, straightened his trademark pith helmet, slung his massive ruck sack over his shoulder and sauntered off to meet what had to be the most depressing man he had ever seen in his life.<br/><br/>"I say good day to you, sir! How have you traveled well?"