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Post by Ian (Menace) on Aug 4, 2019 7:49:17 GMT
Update: New magic weapons in stock! Come check it out!
There is a common joke that Port Ffirst is the "jewel" of the Shield Coast, but it is, in all fairness, a remarkable place. Originally a sleepy fishing village, it grew over the years into a small mercantile port, and then, when the catastrophe of an orc invasion swept over Daring Heights, the resulting torrent of refugees filled the town and burst it at the seams. The relative peace that followed saw the development of stately New Town, where the merchant elite built their townhouses and markets, even a subterranean sewer system. But Old Town, the seedy underbelly of the buzzing port, is where the city draws its breath; where new arrivals get swallowed, digested and spat out again; where in the streets, back-alleys, and rat-runs you can lose yourself in the miasma of petty trade, crime and poverty – or truly find out what you are made of. It is in this maze of claustrophobic humanity that Menace is truly at home.
Carl looks skeptical. The small shop front is wedged between two warehouses that have seen better days, to put it charitably. The back alley is small and seedy, old crates and refuse strewn across. Over the door a creaking, faded sign swings lazily in the breeze, the words washed away by the merciless onslaught of the rain given many years. Glancing over to his newest “colleague” Ishmael, Carl can tell that the gruff man shares his assessment that this is a place even the loan-sharks would avoid. It positively reeks of desperation.
Only the boss is beaming.
“My friends!” he exclaims, “this will do nicely! Truly, it will! This is the beginning of a wonderful time for all of us.”
Ishmael spits out a gob of phlegm into the dirt, his eyes betraying more than a measure of doubt, probably wondering what he signed up for, when he took up Mr. Mace’s offer of employment.
“…Are you sure, boss? You couldn’t have gotten something a bit nicer from the Countess? I mean, if I was desperate, I’d sell my last shirt, but in a place like this…? I’d wonder if I’d be leaving more than that shirt here. Like, my teeth. Or a kidney.”
“Nonsense, my friend!” Mr. Mace exclaims, “this place is just right for us. With a bit of love and time, it will become a palace. I can see it already! And away from prying eyes, yet so central that we can get to anywhere in town in a heartbeat, wherever the business takes us. And don’t worry about the customers; they will come, in time. If I have learned anything here, it is that desperation is an excellent motivator…”
Carl swallows his doubts and chimes in. The boss has always treated him well, and working for him has already markedly improved his lot in life. What did he have to lose by trusting and following this man after all, who had given him a chance when no one else had? He is a scrawny 14 years old, maybe a little short for his age, but the regular meals he eats since Mr. Mace took him under his wing have already done wonders for his health.
“This place looks fine. We will clean it up. The boss always knows what he is doing.”
“Thank you Carl”, Mr. Mace laughs, while Ishmael still looks on with the wrinkled forehead that betrays his doubts, but saying nothing.
“Now listen up.” The boss straightens his back and assumes a commanding demeanor. “Ishmael, you and your men will get this place cleaned up and ready for business. Carl, you will run the shop while I am out on business. I trust that you can handle all mundane items; we take anything really, wherever it may have come from. But if someone comes by looking to sell or buy something special, you leave it to me. And don’t let anyone hoodwink you with a sad story: you don’t go handing out good coin for pity – only for good value. This is a pawn shop, and I am running a business here.”
Carl nods. He isn’t about to argue. This is his big chance to prove himself and win a respectable job - his ticket off the streets.
Ishmael hawks up another lump of phlegm and lets it join the drying slime in the dirt for company. “And what shall we put on the sign? What do you want to name this rat hole, boss?”
Menace gives him his best toothy grin. “I’ve got just the name for it:
the Emporium of Pre-Loved Wonders.”
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Post by Igrainne (RETIRED) on Aug 4, 2019 8:27:14 GMT
Igrainne narrows her eyes at the signpost. Menace had mentioned his plans of opening a pawn shop in Old Town during their last game of sava. A few days later, the news started floating around in the Shank, and she decided to check it out for herself. She followed the address into this piss-stinking alleyway--dodgy, even by Old Town standards--and to the door of this ramshackle building. The half-drow isn't thrilled with the prospect of being shivved, but she is tired of carrying around this stupid Amaranthine Games trophy, which is currently covered in a blanket and tucked under her arm.
"Lolth's bloated thorax," she mutters and pushes the door open.
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Post by Ian (Menace) on Aug 4, 2019 8:50:48 GMT
The shop room is even smaller than it seems from the outside. A narrow room, shelves stuffed with odd, ends and detritus at the wall, and a threstle table at the far end, with a door beyond. The room has recently been cleared of dust, but anyone can tell that at least a carpet is sorely lacking to cover up the floor boards that might as well have been the site of a grizzle murder - decades ago.
Behind the table stands a red-skinned tiefling in a great-cloak. His eyes are black pits, but his smile sparkles all the brighter for it.
"Igrainne! Dearest of all my friends, how nice of you to drop by! Welcome to my humble shop, only recently opened. What can old Mace do for you today?"
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Post by Igrainne (RETIRED) on Aug 4, 2019 9:08:31 GMT
"Menace," she greets him breezily."Looks like I'm your first customer. I have something to sell to you."
She puts the trophy on the table and takes off the blanket with a bit of flourish. A crystal ball perched on a silver stand glimmers in the sunlight pouring in from the windows. A small piece of lizard skin parchment is stuck to its base, with the word "WINNER" scrawled on it in black ink.
"My Amaranthine Games trophy. As you may have heard, I played for Queen Titania's court on the day of the finale. You know, the winning team," she says, a bit chuffed with herself. "Shall we start with the base price of 150 gold pieces?"
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Post by Ian (Menace) on Aug 4, 2019 9:21:11 GMT
Menace carefully picks up the crystal globe, turning it this way and that, and sniffs at it before putting it back down.
"Very interesting. I had planned to participate in the Games myself but was waylaid by... Other business. Yes, I could take this off your hands, but 150gp is an outrageous ask, I have only now opened this shop, you see?" He squints at the ceiling and strokes his chin thoughtfully, then smiles and says "however, for you my friend, I can apply the 'friends&family' rate... 50gp is the highest I can do. What do you say?"
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Post by Igrainne (RETIRED) on Aug 4, 2019 9:34:48 GMT
"Come on. You can do a little better than that, abbil. One hundred gold pieces."
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Post by Ian (Menace) on Aug 4, 2019 9:43:26 GMT
Menace lets out a sigh
"You flatter me, my friend, but that is truly beyond my means for this item. 50gp is what I can offer you at this point, and I am really cutting my own flesh to do it."
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Post by Igrainne (RETIRED) on Aug 4, 2019 10:00:16 GMT
Igrainne studies the tiefling's face for a moment and sees that he is hard-set on this price. She sighs in irritation. "Fine. 50 gold pieces. But I'll have you know that this is a lousy price for a winner's trophy. A real collector's item, I'm telling you."
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Post by Ian (Menace) on Aug 4, 2019 10:38:40 GMT
Menace laughs and claps her shoulder, "isn't winning a contest supposed to be its own reward? But fume not, keep bringing me interesting trinkets and you will always find a willing buyer in me."
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Post by Igrainne (RETIRED) on Aug 4, 2019 10:45:24 GMT
She lets out an annoyed grunt and takes her payment. "Ssrigg'tul xundus chaon*," she says curtly as she steps out of the shop.
*"Pleasure doing business (with you)"
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Post by Ian (Menace) on Aug 30, 2019 10:21:35 GMT
Menace carefully arranges the new centerpieces of his shop's inventory on a green velvet cushion:
A pair of beautifully crafted daggers, their hilts made of silver, the crosspieces fashioned in the form of snapping snakes.
"These will make some lucky adventurer very happy, I'm sure..." he murmurs, as he tugs the cushion just so, catching what little light falls through the tiny windows of the pawnshop on the precious metal.
The snake eyes sparkle expectantly.
---------------
FYI, these are two dagger+1
Magical but not silvered blades
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Post by Skylerian Morningdew on Aug 30, 2019 10:49:04 GMT
Later that day, Sky makes their second appearance at the Emporium.
"Good afternoon, Master Mace. I trust you're keeping well?
My, what a quaint set of ornamental, decorative weapons - did you pick these up on a recent trip? I don't recall seeing them last time I was here.
I must confess I am here to report my total failure at uncovering any more information about the topics we discussed on my last visit. My apologies, but my time has been occupied setting up my concerns and interests in Daring Heights and Port Ffirst. So much to do, so little time. Have you had any further luck?"
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Post by Ian (Menace) on Aug 30, 2019 11:23:48 GMT
"That is most unfortunate, I was very much hoping that you could come through for me... Alas, I have not yet discovered anything of note concerning the Drow and their surface activities either." Menace shrugs, "but maybe we both get lucky in our respective endeavours soon, yes?"
He waves across the shop, his hand coming to rest over the silver daggers as if by chance.
"Might there be anything else I could interest you in?"
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Post by Skylerian Morningdew on Aug 30, 2019 11:31:33 GMT
"Hope spring eternal in the breasts of all creatures. I'll redirect my efforts to these matters at first chance." Sky flashes a brief but warm smile, before nodding in the direction of the blades. "As it happens, my employers are always interested in shiny curios from distant places. Particularly if they have an added quality or two beyond the mundane? These have the look of the Snake Cult about them."
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Post by Ian (Menace) on Aug 30, 2019 11:38:48 GMT
"ah yes, my most recent addition. Found by a group of enterprising adventurers on a trip to the south-eastern isles. I know nothing of a potential link to a snake cult, but they are clearly of historical significance. The quality of the craftwork alone shows their worth! And the blades are as sharp as ever. Might you be interested by any chance?"
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