<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://imageftw.com/uploads/20091029/Female_Warforged.jpg) (http://imageftw.com/uploads/20091029/Female_Warforged.jpg)</td><td> <strong>Sword</strong><br/><br/><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote">Quote</div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote"><strong>"Ew! It's impolite to touch people you don't know!"</strong></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div>The warforged put her arm down.  "Sorry," she stated flatly.  The word didn't have much meaning to her, but she learned it was usually the right thing to say when other sentients got angry.  That the flying light was a sentient at all was new, and she carefully filed that away, her future assumptions broadening.<br/><br/>The back and forth negotiations seemed to be much like the haggling she observed in markets:  seller starts low, buyer goes high, they meet in the middle somewhere.  She supposed it was due to mutual errors of value appraisal, so the rounding error become competitive.<br/><br/>In any case, the negotiations seemed to have come to an end, so she lifted her case and walked back downstairs, her weight softly thumping the wood.</td></tr></tbody></table>