Post by stephena on Jan 30, 2022 21:55:12 GMT
Sorrel Unloads the Dark Stuff
The room is even smaller than it seems from the outside. Narrow, low ceiling, with displays and shelves stuffed with odds and ends lining the walls pressing in on the customer, a trestle table at the far end, with a door beyond that leads to gods-only-know-where. Sorrel carefully enters this claustrophobic realm of commerce, hairs standing to attention like a battalion of soldiers.
Behind the table stands a red-skinned tiefling in a great-cloak, hood pulled low. His eyes are black pits, but his smile sparkles all the brighter for it.
“Welcome, welcome! I haven't seen you here before? New, are you, from Daring Heights? We serve all needs and desires here, oh yes! Come to buy or to sell, have you? But where are my manners!” He leans back for a throaty laugh, then leaning forward as quick as a dagger’s thrust, “I may be known by many names, but while slanderous tongues call me a Menace,” he leans in close, familiar, whispering, lips almost brushing Sorrel’s ear,” to my friends it is just Mace, and I can already tell - we will be the very best of friends…”
Sorrel bows politely, hand on heart, the warrior's way. “Sorrel Darkfire, at your service and your family’s,” she says formally. “I’m sure we will get along famously, Mr Mace. Your establishment is impressive and I trust that business is good. I believe you buy and sell all manner of unique items, or so I am told. Everyone speaks so highly of your business acumen. Personally, I am looking to sell - if you are open for business? I have some unusual… well, things few shops prepared to handle.”
The tiefling nods eagerly. Red fingers steeple with the practise of a thousand repetitions, black fingernails reflecting what little light remains in the gloom.
“I am always eager to do business. You have something to sell? In need of coin, are you? We can accommodate all needs here, at the Emporium of Pre-Loved Wonders…”
Sorrel shivers. “I am glad of coin, but my need - to choose an unassailable negotiating position right at the outset - is to be rid of these things. They are darkness to me,” she lets her mind drift and snatches it back on course. “These are not things of darkness in themselves. Mostly. But they have dark associations. The first is a qaal feather - it transforms into a boat yada yada, you know the score. 24 hours. Big. Powered by itself. The usual. I believe the asking price is six or eight thousand. I won’t be asking that. I also have a drow longbow, which I acquired and bring on the understanding that you ask no questions….?”
Mace breaks into a smile. “Oh, I am full of questions, but I know better than to ask, if you would rather not part with the answer. Not to worry! The mystery may be allure enough for the next buyer. But, just so we understand each other, these items are not cursed, likely to explode, or summon a demon, are they? I have to make sure. Returns mean unhappy customers, and those are the death of any business…”
Sorrel looked into his eyes, the echo of her battle with the Hunger Spirit still haunting her gaze. “Mr Mace, I know about curses. Yes, that is one thing I know all about. And these items are not cursed. You can trust me on that.”
“Well…”, he goes, shrugging and smiling his easy smile, “...as you say, you are in a bit of a bind, wanting to sell these pieces, and I am happy to buy. But not at the asking price, oh no! I will offer you 1000gp for the Quaal feather; it's valuable, sure, but if the market won’t cough up what you claim it is worth, then it isn't worth much at all, and in my considerable experience, I doubt anyone will pay more for it. The bow though…” he cocks his head, looking Sorrel up and down, “...how about I trade you for it? I have a saber here that I believe would suit you quite well. A fast and accurate weapon, for when the business comes up close and personal? It’s blade is so keen, you could split hairs with it - so why don't we cut to the heart of the matter:
deal or no deal?”
Sorrel pulls a tightly wrapped bow from the straps on her backpack and unrolls the thick canvas so that it rolls onto the counter. It’s a longbow of midnight black metal with a delicate cobweb pattern. The bow has been constructed into the shape of Red back spider, the large abdomen featuring the prominent red stripe forming a small buckler sized arm guard while four elongated legs stretch out and meet at the tips to form the bow limbs. She shivers.
“It is very convincing, no? But very accurate and very deadly. I have recently acquired a rapier that offers me an equally accurate and equally deadly blade, a little more effective than your otherwise admirable sabre. Indeed,” she looks a little regretfully at the stylish weapon, “whilst I confess this impressive sword is very much to my tastes, I suspect it will gather dust. I’m not averse to a swap - do you have anything else in the sabre line? Or something defensive? Or perhaps stealthy? Otherwise, I would prefer the cash. It never rains in the accurate and deadly weaponry world and then it pours…”
Mace pores over the bow, traces the cobweb pattern with a long red finger. “Very nice. Drow design, is it? Haven't seen one like that since I went to visit Xarribia… Yes, I believe I could find a buyer for it. In terms of other things to trade… No, i don't think I have something at the moment that might suit you. Except for gold! Gold suits everyone; the king of colors. 1600 pieces of the good stuff, for both your items, what say you?”
Sorrel is about to argue - the fine work involved in the bow would make it a collectors item to someone, and it’s arcane accuracy added further value. But that would involve keeping the bow on her person for a while longer. And every time she saw the spider’s legs curling around she felt the Abyss swirl around her.
“I say that sounds reasonable,” Sorrel hastily wraps the bow up and hands it over with the feather in a small envelope. “It is a pleasure doing business with you Mr Mace.”
“Likewise, Master Darkfire.” He pulls a pouch from an inside-pocket of his cloak, briefly revealing rows upon rows of them sewn into the lining. The sweet jingle only coins can make escapes the bag as Mace hands it to Sorrel.
“Say, when you entered my shop, you mentioned you could be at my service. What kind of services do you provide? The up-and-personal kind where my goods come in handy? And are you for hire perchance?”
Sorrel looks at Mace as if for the first time. Friends call him Menace… and not built like a shopkeeper… with exceptional understanding of unusual items… and a pawnshop on the docks. Of course. She could have kicked herself.
Her father’s pawn shop on Baldur’s Gate dockside was his post adventuring sideline, keeping him up with the gossip. Her father’s career - whilst still shrouded in darkness - had taken him to… well, to places so dark that he’d sold his daughter to the House to survive.
Interesting that Mace has picked up on the House greeting, but purely a coincidence she was certain. Either way, the trade this shop saw made him a valuable person to work with. Advance notice of items, perhaps even discounts.
She smiles and nods a more formal bow. “I am indeed for hire, Mr Mace. I’m skilled in close protection, hostage retrieval, investigations, bounty hunting, valuable item exfiltration, insurance, home or workplace security… all sorts of things in that area. I don’t do divorce work but I will operate in alternate planes of existence for a small premium. What did you have in mind?”
The meagre light reflects off his black eyes, twinkling in the gloom of the shop.
“Oh, I am always looking for new talent. And you, my friend, have what it takes… this is plain to see… Maybe not at this moment, but I may have a job for you in the nights to come, should you want it. Something that requires your special touch. Feel free to visit me again when you are in Port Ffirst. You are always welcome here. And take this,” he pulls a smaller pouch from his cloak, tossing it to Sorrel with a wolfish smile, the clink-clink of a further 100gp ringing sweet as temple bells, “your tab is on me. Enjoy yourself. I find one cannot have enough friends these days. And I think you and I will go the distance…”
Sorrel catches the pouch instinctively, looking carefully at Mace. She was taught to be wary of unspecified cash advances. “I have no immediate need of a loan, Mr Mace, although I would not be so rude as to reject anything you offer. I assume this is an interest free down payment on future services - although, of course, a gentleman as experienced in these matters as yourself would know that a down payment cannot be placed on a job that breaches any previously stated conditions of contract. I know I need not even say such things. You would never be so impolite. I feel sure we understand each other and a promising relationship awaits us.”
She bowed again. “I can be found at Lucan’s Leather’s where I have rooms,” she met his eyes. “I can also be reached through a cleric at the Temple of Selune - her name is Netta. I am rarely in the adventurer’s fort, although the goliath Kavel is a good friend should you need to meet me there.”
The room is even smaller than it seems from the outside. Narrow, low ceiling, with displays and shelves stuffed with odds and ends lining the walls pressing in on the customer, a trestle table at the far end, with a door beyond that leads to gods-only-know-where. Sorrel carefully enters this claustrophobic realm of commerce, hairs standing to attention like a battalion of soldiers.
Behind the table stands a red-skinned tiefling in a great-cloak, hood pulled low. His eyes are black pits, but his smile sparkles all the brighter for it.
“Welcome, welcome! I haven't seen you here before? New, are you, from Daring Heights? We serve all needs and desires here, oh yes! Come to buy or to sell, have you? But where are my manners!” He leans back for a throaty laugh, then leaning forward as quick as a dagger’s thrust, “I may be known by many names, but while slanderous tongues call me a Menace,” he leans in close, familiar, whispering, lips almost brushing Sorrel’s ear,” to my friends it is just Mace, and I can already tell - we will be the very best of friends…”
Sorrel bows politely, hand on heart, the warrior's way. “Sorrel Darkfire, at your service and your family’s,” she says formally. “I’m sure we will get along famously, Mr Mace. Your establishment is impressive and I trust that business is good. I believe you buy and sell all manner of unique items, or so I am told. Everyone speaks so highly of your business acumen. Personally, I am looking to sell - if you are open for business? I have some unusual… well, things few shops prepared to handle.”
The tiefling nods eagerly. Red fingers steeple with the practise of a thousand repetitions, black fingernails reflecting what little light remains in the gloom.
“I am always eager to do business. You have something to sell? In need of coin, are you? We can accommodate all needs here, at the Emporium of Pre-Loved Wonders…”
Sorrel shivers. “I am glad of coin, but my need - to choose an unassailable negotiating position right at the outset - is to be rid of these things. They are darkness to me,” she lets her mind drift and snatches it back on course. “These are not things of darkness in themselves. Mostly. But they have dark associations. The first is a qaal feather - it transforms into a boat yada yada, you know the score. 24 hours. Big. Powered by itself. The usual. I believe the asking price is six or eight thousand. I won’t be asking that. I also have a drow longbow, which I acquired and bring on the understanding that you ask no questions….?”
Mace breaks into a smile. “Oh, I am full of questions, but I know better than to ask, if you would rather not part with the answer. Not to worry! The mystery may be allure enough for the next buyer. But, just so we understand each other, these items are not cursed, likely to explode, or summon a demon, are they? I have to make sure. Returns mean unhappy customers, and those are the death of any business…”
Sorrel looked into his eyes, the echo of her battle with the Hunger Spirit still haunting her gaze. “Mr Mace, I know about curses. Yes, that is one thing I know all about. And these items are not cursed. You can trust me on that.”
“Well…”, he goes, shrugging and smiling his easy smile, “...as you say, you are in a bit of a bind, wanting to sell these pieces, and I am happy to buy. But not at the asking price, oh no! I will offer you 1000gp for the Quaal feather; it's valuable, sure, but if the market won’t cough up what you claim it is worth, then it isn't worth much at all, and in my considerable experience, I doubt anyone will pay more for it. The bow though…” he cocks his head, looking Sorrel up and down, “...how about I trade you for it? I have a saber here that I believe would suit you quite well. A fast and accurate weapon, for when the business comes up close and personal? It’s blade is so keen, you could split hairs with it - so why don't we cut to the heart of the matter:
deal or no deal?”
Sorrel pulls a tightly wrapped bow from the straps on her backpack and unrolls the thick canvas so that it rolls onto the counter. It’s a longbow of midnight black metal with a delicate cobweb pattern. The bow has been constructed into the shape of Red back spider, the large abdomen featuring the prominent red stripe forming a small buckler sized arm guard while four elongated legs stretch out and meet at the tips to form the bow limbs. She shivers.
“It is very convincing, no? But very accurate and very deadly. I have recently acquired a rapier that offers me an equally accurate and equally deadly blade, a little more effective than your otherwise admirable sabre. Indeed,” she looks a little regretfully at the stylish weapon, “whilst I confess this impressive sword is very much to my tastes, I suspect it will gather dust. I’m not averse to a swap - do you have anything else in the sabre line? Or something defensive? Or perhaps stealthy? Otherwise, I would prefer the cash. It never rains in the accurate and deadly weaponry world and then it pours…”
Mace pores over the bow, traces the cobweb pattern with a long red finger. “Very nice. Drow design, is it? Haven't seen one like that since I went to visit Xarribia… Yes, I believe I could find a buyer for it. In terms of other things to trade… No, i don't think I have something at the moment that might suit you. Except for gold! Gold suits everyone; the king of colors. 1600 pieces of the good stuff, for both your items, what say you?”
Sorrel is about to argue - the fine work involved in the bow would make it a collectors item to someone, and it’s arcane accuracy added further value. But that would involve keeping the bow on her person for a while longer. And every time she saw the spider’s legs curling around she felt the Abyss swirl around her.
“I say that sounds reasonable,” Sorrel hastily wraps the bow up and hands it over with the feather in a small envelope. “It is a pleasure doing business with you Mr Mace.”
“Likewise, Master Darkfire.” He pulls a pouch from an inside-pocket of his cloak, briefly revealing rows upon rows of them sewn into the lining. The sweet jingle only coins can make escapes the bag as Mace hands it to Sorrel.
“Say, when you entered my shop, you mentioned you could be at my service. What kind of services do you provide? The up-and-personal kind where my goods come in handy? And are you for hire perchance?”
Sorrel looks at Mace as if for the first time. Friends call him Menace… and not built like a shopkeeper… with exceptional understanding of unusual items… and a pawnshop on the docks. Of course. She could have kicked herself.
Her father’s pawn shop on Baldur’s Gate dockside was his post adventuring sideline, keeping him up with the gossip. Her father’s career - whilst still shrouded in darkness - had taken him to… well, to places so dark that he’d sold his daughter to the House to survive.
Interesting that Mace has picked up on the House greeting, but purely a coincidence she was certain. Either way, the trade this shop saw made him a valuable person to work with. Advance notice of items, perhaps even discounts.
She smiles and nods a more formal bow. “I am indeed for hire, Mr Mace. I’m skilled in close protection, hostage retrieval, investigations, bounty hunting, valuable item exfiltration, insurance, home or workplace security… all sorts of things in that area. I don’t do divorce work but I will operate in alternate planes of existence for a small premium. What did you have in mind?”
The meagre light reflects off his black eyes, twinkling in the gloom of the shop.
“Oh, I am always looking for new talent. And you, my friend, have what it takes… this is plain to see… Maybe not at this moment, but I may have a job for you in the nights to come, should you want it. Something that requires your special touch. Feel free to visit me again when you are in Port Ffirst. You are always welcome here. And take this,” he pulls a smaller pouch from his cloak, tossing it to Sorrel with a wolfish smile, the clink-clink of a further 100gp ringing sweet as temple bells, “your tab is on me. Enjoy yourself. I find one cannot have enough friends these days. And I think you and I will go the distance…”
Sorrel catches the pouch instinctively, looking carefully at Mace. She was taught to be wary of unspecified cash advances. “I have no immediate need of a loan, Mr Mace, although I would not be so rude as to reject anything you offer. I assume this is an interest free down payment on future services - although, of course, a gentleman as experienced in these matters as yourself would know that a down payment cannot be placed on a job that breaches any previously stated conditions of contract. I know I need not even say such things. You would never be so impolite. I feel sure we understand each other and a promising relationship awaits us.”
She bowed again. “I can be found at Lucan’s Leather’s where I have rooms,” she met his eyes. “I can also be reached through a cleric at the Temple of Selune - her name is Netta. I am rarely in the adventurer’s fort, although the goliath Kavel is a good friend should you need to meet me there.”
