Renee had watched Brokks show with mixed feelings.
It was a totally other selling technique than her own. It seemed effective, she had to admit this. The cart-woman was making business all the time, speedy business, quick deals with products that were as self-explanatory as pie and beer. And it was the same thing with the tunics; the show was admirable, and the sales woman knew her customers, this was obvious. But it was also very different from how Renée used to work. Renée had to ask herself if she liked the tunics well enough to be able to sell them to others. Many of her wares served no down to earth practical purpose. They were things people wanted for totally other reasons; for beauty, for entertainment, for fun and for gifts, and as substitutes for impossible dreams. It took subtlety to sell this.
She hesitated.
Then again, the tunics had extraordinary properties. Cloth that everything ran off of in a magical way without a trace so it couldn’t become dirty ? Cloth where shimmering text appeared in a magical way and became permanent? Wasn’t that amazing? Yes it was amazing, bordering on magical, there was no way to be blind for this. Although Brokk had said the cloth was “chemically treated”, this wasn’t anything Renee had ever heard about before. The more Renée thought of it, the more questionable the whole thing seemed. How came this brand new, exclusive and amazing method for treating cloth was something nobody else in Marn had heard about before and only this simple street seller with the cart had for sale? How was the treatment done, really? Renée pondered this and could guess at several answers, not all of them politically correct or even guaranteed to be legal. There was of course no way to know though.
This...seemed...potentially...murky.
But, to her own silent horror, Renée also found that she was tempted by the interesting possibilities business with the street seller might mean. Her puradyne belief told her it was time to report the mysterious tunics to some kind of authority, but her sense of business told her that could mean she would miss out on a great opportunity. This reaction scared her a bit. The cause was her elven blood, she thought to herself, her evil elven blood ! She felt she was getting closer to lines she hadn’t thought she would consider crossing. As she studied Brokk and her swift and never stopping business, she was actually under the impression that more than pie and beer was traded here, in a very deft and discrete way. This added to her ambivalence in two ways. It made her more worried, but also more curious.
Just walk away? Buy a lot of tunics on speculation? Figure out what those small extras were that seemed to come with some of the pies? Go on to investigate more of the saleswoman’s rarities for sale? Give up? Propose a new meeting at a better and more private place? Or report this instead? What to do?
None of these options would do, she realized this after a glance up the street.
The constables Karris and Quirke were on their way back, much earlier that Renée had expexted. Karris walked first, and Quirke followed a half step after. Renee couldn’t be sure at this distance, but she thought they were walking at a higher pace this time, like they weren’t looking around for somebody like the last time. They moved like men who knew their exact target and are going straight there. It was hard to know for sure, but they seemed to be headed back to the cart. Maybe they were just aiming to get more beer? But Renée wished she had just walked away earlier, instead of lingering at the cart so long. Now it would look like she was just standing there at the pie cart and hadn’t moved on despite not shopping anything either.
She settled for a quick compromise and told herself she was innocent in case something wasn’t as it should be. Innocent! She’d buy a tester tunic and see if it was possible to sell in on to higher price in her shop. But not one of the tunics Brokk had used for the show. If she would have to spend money on this dubious stuff she at least wanted a better color.
“I don’t like the grey ones” she said. “But if you would have that tunic with the text, but in a bright and beautiful color and a finer material, like silk, then I could be interested in buying one. And I could have a look at the scarves you mentioned.” After a short pause she added: “You seem to have a few interesting small things. But your admirer is coming back already."
Meanwhile, patriotism was peaking. The street sellers activities had been really, really successful and the crowd that was gathered around the cart didn’t pay attention to anything else than the tunics now. They cheered and they shouted comments and questions at Brokk and were overall exited. They wanted to see the whole show again !
A Marnian Welcome
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Renee Raialagos
- Citizen
- Posts: 87
- Joined: Fri Feb 20, 2015 6:45 pm
- Name: Renee Raialagos
- Race: Human-Elf Halfbreed
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Ren smiled a broad, honest smile as Miss Raialagos fought valiantly against her growing desire to purchase the products on offer. Ren was very familiar with the stages of that process and opted to let the fine lady make her own mind up. The crowd, it seemed, had turned rabid, and she smiled her best, showman's smile, bowing and holding up the tunics for people to see and feel, though she was careful to keep a hold of them. Give them a show, make them smile, that was the trick, and Ren played up to the crowd's needs, jauntily explaining what they did, but coyly refusing to demonstrate the write your own tunic. Those, she told them, they had to buy, and more than a few were bought. But there was still that subtle change in the crowd, and Ren had noticed the nervous look that Miss Raialagos shot towards the end of the street. It seemed that the wonderful guardsmen were on their way back. Such a joy to behold, she thought, passing out a pie and sharing an anecdote about the origins of the tunics. She almost didn't hear Miss Raialagos asking a few questions.
"I keep tellin' ya, Miss," she said, laughing, "that depends what you're after. Trinkets, both mundane and modified, feats of gnomish engineering, both large and small. Tomes and treatises. Rare medicines and cure-alls. You name it! These tunics? These are just testers, miss, to see if the process works."
Almost imperceptively, Ren ducked to fetch out more of her stock of mundane and modified tunics, and came up with a selection of brightly coloured silk scarves, embroidered with the Marn Crest and slogans for those with a higher class education, in addition to a number of silk tunics in deep, vibrant reds, blues and purples, expensive dyes that, while not exactly in this woman's colour palette, spoke of wealth and prosperity. These too bore the Marnian crest in gold and silver embroidery, but they were light, long sleeved and luxurious, with a mixture of blackwork vines and cogs down the sleeves, the back and along the well appointed collars. She didn't have many of these, but she had high hopes of moving them on to the right investors. The silk was hard to come by, but she had her sources, not that she wanted to reveal them just yet. If word got out that she had a supply of cheap silk to hand, then prices would plummet, and that wouldn't do at all. She held them up for perusal, leaning in to extol their virtues to Miss Raialagos.
"Beautiful stuff, aren't they, Miss? Quali'y, jus' like I said. Now, if'n ye has the money, I c'n get any fabric altered to suit. The real trick tho'," she whispered, "is the Mood Cloth. That's the good stuff."
She winked, to let her know that that was a secret between friends and turned to let the crowds admire her new selection of wares. Never let it be said that she didn't cater to all kinds, she thought, passing some more pies and beer out to those who felt that fashion appreciation was hungry work. The Guardsmen were still approaching, but Ren could handle that in time. It was always easier to handle complaints with a full wallet and well-heeled shoes. She took a sip of water and leaned back towards the nice lady, in case the point hadn't been made.
"Clothing that changes colour wi' yer mood, miss, jus' think of it!"
She winked again, letting people ooh and ah over the merchandise and turned to greet the Guardsmen in the same fashion, displaying her wares and genuinely overjoyed to see them. She was so overjoyed in fact, that it gave them pause.
"Care to by a tunic, my loves? Best quality. Best in Marn! Support local business!"
"I keep tellin' ya, Miss," she said, laughing, "that depends what you're after. Trinkets, both mundane and modified, feats of gnomish engineering, both large and small. Tomes and treatises. Rare medicines and cure-alls. You name it! These tunics? These are just testers, miss, to see if the process works."
Almost imperceptively, Ren ducked to fetch out more of her stock of mundane and modified tunics, and came up with a selection of brightly coloured silk scarves, embroidered with the Marn Crest and slogans for those with a higher class education, in addition to a number of silk tunics in deep, vibrant reds, blues and purples, expensive dyes that, while not exactly in this woman's colour palette, spoke of wealth and prosperity. These too bore the Marnian crest in gold and silver embroidery, but they were light, long sleeved and luxurious, with a mixture of blackwork vines and cogs down the sleeves, the back and along the well appointed collars. She didn't have many of these, but she had high hopes of moving them on to the right investors. The silk was hard to come by, but she had her sources, not that she wanted to reveal them just yet. If word got out that she had a supply of cheap silk to hand, then prices would plummet, and that wouldn't do at all. She held them up for perusal, leaning in to extol their virtues to Miss Raialagos.
"Beautiful stuff, aren't they, Miss? Quali'y, jus' like I said. Now, if'n ye has the money, I c'n get any fabric altered to suit. The real trick tho'," she whispered, "is the Mood Cloth. That's the good stuff."
She winked, to let her know that that was a secret between friends and turned to let the crowds admire her new selection of wares. Never let it be said that she didn't cater to all kinds, she thought, passing some more pies and beer out to those who felt that fashion appreciation was hungry work. The Guardsmen were still approaching, but Ren could handle that in time. It was always easier to handle complaints with a full wallet and well-heeled shoes. She took a sip of water and leaned back towards the nice lady, in case the point hadn't been made.
"Clothing that changes colour wi' yer mood, miss, jus' think of it!"
She winked again, letting people ooh and ah over the merchandise and turned to greet the Guardsmen in the same fashion, displaying her wares and genuinely overjoyed to see them. She was so overjoyed in fact, that it gave them pause.
"Care to by a tunic, my loves? Best quality. Best in Marn! Support local business!"
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Renee Raialagos
- Citizen
- Posts: 87
- Joined: Fri Feb 20, 2015 6:45 pm
- Name: Renee Raialagos
- Race: Human-Elf Halfbreed
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Whatever reason the constables had to return this quickly, Aimsbury Quirke had his own agenda and he was going to go for it, despite being on duty.
Quirke had secretly hoped that miss Raialagos would still be shopping so he would get a new chance at speaking with her. He didn’t see the lady often. He worked most of the days, and although he and Karris patrolled the Business District a lot it wasn’t like he could leave the troop and go watch some kitsch instead (and try to court Renée). Oh no! Under Karris command they marched past her shop, and all he could do was try to peer in through all the crap that cluttered the windows and get a glimpse of his target, farther inside the shop. It was mostly unsuccessful.
In the evenings there was the curfew. This was an effective obstacle for happening to run into miss Raialagos, as she was a good law-abiding citizen and obeyed the laws to the book. This was of course a good trait in a woman, he couldn’t deny it; in particular it was a good trait in a wife.
Constable Quirke had completely honorable intentions when it came to Miss Raialagos. She had everything to recommend her. She was a titre, important, as the constable wanted to improve his social standing in the city. He was a city guard, but he knew that people secretly looked down on him a bit for being from Shim instead of born and raised in Marn proper. They weren’t stupid enough to say it, but he knew they thought it. This was what made him have no qualms when it came to getting a bit extra paid for his protection of the citizens, so to speak.
Quirke was set on marrying a titre and on advancing in the City Guard. The former seemed to be a kind of unspoken merit for achieving the latter; married men seemed to be promoted quicker. In Quirke’s case a good marriage was a prerequisite in other ways too. His education back in Shim hadn’t been so intellectual. In order to advance at work he needed to be good at reading and writing, mathematics and things. This wasn’t his forte, but he was sure he would be able to learn enough, with a knowledgeable wife to support him.
His plans had proven utterly hard to get anywhere with. His luck with the eligible ladies he had tried to court had been limited; well, non-existent even. This discrimination, which had been going on for a few years by now, made him and seethe and become even more set on success. He was going to show them!
Miss Raialagos was known for her eccentric style. It was normally not what he looked for in people. But she was a titre and she knew many things and could lecture a whole lot. An intellectual wife who owned her how shop would make him seem smart and successful. Not like Karris, who came off as a goof for having married that virago Mabel in a youthful fit of “love” once upon a time.
Boldly, he left work to Karris and took off his helmet again. He held it under the arm in a stylish way he had practiced at. Then he stepped forth to have a look at the silk wares Brokk had been showing. He had been lucky with the cards, and was by no means poor. This was an excellent opportunity show off to miss Raialagos and impress her with a gift. Not a tunic of course, that seemed a bit too much, but he would buy a nice scarf for her. Fortunately, Karris was right now focused on Brokk and had started to speak with her, and the saleswoman was babbling like a whole henhouse. This meant there was room for Quirke to do his own things.
When he started to speak with Renée about the silk scarves and which one she preferred and how every one of them would become her, as nothing could ever look bad on her, she knew there was no escape. The constable was as resolute as a city guardsman came. Nonchalantly, like he was too rich for caring about money, he put some gold bishani on the cart without counting them, and generously told Renée to choose a scarf. Feeling lame, Renée pointed at a beautiful green scarf with colorful embroideries. Without caring about speaking to Brokk about the purchase, Quirke took the scarf and handed it to Renée.
“You’d better have a really good explanation to this “ she heard Karris say to Brock, in a harsh tone that could only be called menacing. He had raised his voice. “First, the pie! Second, the tunics!”
Brokk said something, but Karris raised his voice even more and shouted in an attempt to drown out the saleswoman’s river of words. “ I want you to show me one of those write your own tunics people are speaking about. I want to see how it works, with my own eyes. If it works and isn’t just fraud, that is. And you’d better have a really, really good explanation!”
At this point he was fed up with Quirke’s lack of attention to work. “Please try to use your brain Aimsbury” he bellowed. “Everybody here can be involved in whatever is going on at this cart.”
The bystanders turned their curious gazes on Renée. Was Karris implying that she was involved in something shady? All of a sudden facing a potential social disaster, Renée found herself forced to do something. She received the green scarf with a smile, looked at Constable Quirke and asked him what was happening. Surely they weren’t thinking she had done anything wrong?
Quirke had secretly hoped that miss Raialagos would still be shopping so he would get a new chance at speaking with her. He didn’t see the lady often. He worked most of the days, and although he and Karris patrolled the Business District a lot it wasn’t like he could leave the troop and go watch some kitsch instead (and try to court Renée). Oh no! Under Karris command they marched past her shop, and all he could do was try to peer in through all the crap that cluttered the windows and get a glimpse of his target, farther inside the shop. It was mostly unsuccessful.
In the evenings there was the curfew. This was an effective obstacle for happening to run into miss Raialagos, as she was a good law-abiding citizen and obeyed the laws to the book. This was of course a good trait in a woman, he couldn’t deny it; in particular it was a good trait in a wife.
Constable Quirke had completely honorable intentions when it came to Miss Raialagos. She had everything to recommend her. She was a titre, important, as the constable wanted to improve his social standing in the city. He was a city guard, but he knew that people secretly looked down on him a bit for being from Shim instead of born and raised in Marn proper. They weren’t stupid enough to say it, but he knew they thought it. This was what made him have no qualms when it came to getting a bit extra paid for his protection of the citizens, so to speak.
Quirke was set on marrying a titre and on advancing in the City Guard. The former seemed to be a kind of unspoken merit for achieving the latter; married men seemed to be promoted quicker. In Quirke’s case a good marriage was a prerequisite in other ways too. His education back in Shim hadn’t been so intellectual. In order to advance at work he needed to be good at reading and writing, mathematics and things. This wasn’t his forte, but he was sure he would be able to learn enough, with a knowledgeable wife to support him.
His plans had proven utterly hard to get anywhere with. His luck with the eligible ladies he had tried to court had been limited; well, non-existent even. This discrimination, which had been going on for a few years by now, made him and seethe and become even more set on success. He was going to show them!
Miss Raialagos was known for her eccentric style. It was normally not what he looked for in people. But she was a titre and she knew many things and could lecture a whole lot. An intellectual wife who owned her how shop would make him seem smart and successful. Not like Karris, who came off as a goof for having married that virago Mabel in a youthful fit of “love” once upon a time.
Boldly, he left work to Karris and took off his helmet again. He held it under the arm in a stylish way he had practiced at. Then he stepped forth to have a look at the silk wares Brokk had been showing. He had been lucky with the cards, and was by no means poor. This was an excellent opportunity show off to miss Raialagos and impress her with a gift. Not a tunic of course, that seemed a bit too much, but he would buy a nice scarf for her. Fortunately, Karris was right now focused on Brokk and had started to speak with her, and the saleswoman was babbling like a whole henhouse. This meant there was room for Quirke to do his own things.
When he started to speak with Renée about the silk scarves and which one she preferred and how every one of them would become her, as nothing could ever look bad on her, she knew there was no escape. The constable was as resolute as a city guardsman came. Nonchalantly, like he was too rich for caring about money, he put some gold bishani on the cart without counting them, and generously told Renée to choose a scarf. Feeling lame, Renée pointed at a beautiful green scarf with colorful embroideries. Without caring about speaking to Brokk about the purchase, Quirke took the scarf and handed it to Renée.
“You’d better have a really good explanation to this “ she heard Karris say to Brock, in a harsh tone that could only be called menacing. He had raised his voice. “First, the pie! Second, the tunics!”
Brokk said something, but Karris raised his voice even more and shouted in an attempt to drown out the saleswoman’s river of words. “ I want you to show me one of those write your own tunics people are speaking about. I want to see how it works, with my own eyes. If it works and isn’t just fraud, that is. And you’d better have a really, really good explanation!”
At this point he was fed up with Quirke’s lack of attention to work. “Please try to use your brain Aimsbury” he bellowed. “Everybody here can be involved in whatever is going on at this cart.”
The bystanders turned their curious gazes on Renée. Was Karris implying that she was involved in something shady? All of a sudden facing a potential social disaster, Renée found herself forced to do something. She received the green scarf with a smile, looked at Constable Quirke and asked him what was happening. Surely they weren’t thinking she had done anything wrong?
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Ren was beginning to wonder if she was wasting her time with this woman. Here she was, practically turning her enterprise upside-down ot get her a bargain and the best she could do was hum and haw. There was just no helping some people, she decided, holding out the scarves for perusal. Just one more person as couldn't tell a bargain from a bill of goods, that was all she was; lots of promises, but no action. Now the Constables on the other hand, they were all action, which was a different kind of obstacle.
"What's all this then?" Said Karris. "I turn my back for a second and you have the street in an uproar!"
"Its just patriotic spirit, sah," she said, "got some new merch in and theys' eager to see is all."
Quirke was absorbed in Miss Raialagos,who was doing her level best not to look cornered, repulsed and desperate, though Ren privately doubted that he would have noticed if she'd had the emotions tattooed on her brow. That was something, having one block headed guard to deal with was hard enough without two of them confusing one another into the bargain. Besides, it did the heart good to see two people find one another in the hustle and bustle, it really did, and Ren maintained her smile as she addressed Karris. Any number of things could be wrong with the man, as she well knew, and she found it best to let them broach subject in their own time. Asking about it only got one into trouble.
"I don't want your excuses, I want an explanation!"
"Well, I..."
"I said no flannel! Now, what is all of this?!"
Slightly mesmerised by Karris' insistence on interrupting to demand the answer that he was interrupting, Ren held her ground, feeling specks of saliva hitting her face. The crowd, as absorbed as ever by the latest twist in the day's Street theatre, somehow managed to press closer while still giving the Guardsmen a wide berth. She tried two more times to speak, each time being cut off by Karris' increasingly aggressive demands for an answer. Noting Quirke's purchase, she used the distraction of scooping up the coins to break the tension.
"I can't speak for the pie, sah, cept to say tis quality made,"she said, "and if'n ye find tis not to yer taste I'll appily elp ya pick out another one, sah."
"Show me the damned..."
"And I can't show you the tunics, sah," she continued, "on account o' me avin sol' t'last one."
There was a titter somewhere in the crowd, which stopped abruptly when Karris turned to glare. The explanation wouldn't fly on its own, she knew, but when you had a crowd on your side, it didn't have to. Karris couldn't work a crowd and an asset you couldn't use belonged to the enemy. Clapping her hands, she straightened and turned to the crowd.
"Right, who 'ere wants to show the nice man 'ow t'tunics work, eh? Two free pies an' a free stain proof tunic for any as volunteers!"
There was a pause, along with some shuffling and milling about as people digested this. It was as good as a play to see, and before Karris could erupt again, Ren felt a small tug on her arm and looked down to see a young girl holding her purchase and looking doubtful. It was probably a scam, knowing how the people thought, but Ren smiled like a sunbeam at her.
"Ta very much li'l miss," she said, "very brave. Isn't she brave, lads? Give 'er a round o' applause!"
There was a smattering of applause and even a cheer or two as the girl blushed furiously, and Ren surreptitiously herded her to the front. Momentum and charm, she thought, they were key; that and having no doubt whatsoever that things would go any way but your own. Karris never got to put a word in edgeways.
"Right, love, wha's yer name?"
"Sophia."
"Sophia, lads an' lasses," Ren said, beaming. "An' wha' were ya going to do with your tunic, Sophia?"
"I was going to draw a flower for my mum's name day."
Yes, it was undoubtedly a scam, but Ren had to run with it now or risk losing everything, so she smiled wider, to a chorus of approval from the crowd. Karris was, by this point, seething, but he had to watch or deal with a riot. As far as Ren was concerned, he could go and roger his frustration away with some strumpet down ham alley
"For your mum's name day? Oh, bless me! Well, tell you what," She said, "you'll get what I promised, plus a lovely silk scarf and blouse. Just for yer mum."
The girl looked at her, wide-eyed, and the crowd cheered again. Ren wouldn't have swapped places with anyone for love nor money.
"Now, twist the top like ye were shown an' draw a flower for the nice man."
The girl hurried to comply and Ren continued, holding up a tunic.
"These are all gnome made and not an ounce of magic in 'em. Jus' love and care, made by a little old gnome who sewed small clothes all 'is life. They're safe as anything you can buy, they won't cost a fortune and they're registered wi' the commerce office and licensed for sale!"
To drill her point home, she brandished the sealed, embossed documents and handed them to Karris. Sofia, glad to be out of the limelight for the time being, had finished her drawing and held it up for inspection. Bewildered, Karris glared at it as though willing it to explode, but it remained stubbornly intact, and he shoved it back rudely to the girl. Patting her on the shoulder, Ren handed her the promised goods and clapped.
"Sophia, everybody!" she said, to widespread applause Aas the girl scampered off.
Karris' eyes were pinpricks of fury by then, and he coldly handed the documents back to Ren.
"You're causing an obstruction,"he said, with exaggerated calm. "Clear off."
"What's all this then?" Said Karris. "I turn my back for a second and you have the street in an uproar!"
"Its just patriotic spirit, sah," she said, "got some new merch in and theys' eager to see is all."
Quirke was absorbed in Miss Raialagos,who was doing her level best not to look cornered, repulsed and desperate, though Ren privately doubted that he would have noticed if she'd had the emotions tattooed on her brow. That was something, having one block headed guard to deal with was hard enough without two of them confusing one another into the bargain. Besides, it did the heart good to see two people find one another in the hustle and bustle, it really did, and Ren maintained her smile as she addressed Karris. Any number of things could be wrong with the man, as she well knew, and she found it best to let them broach subject in their own time. Asking about it only got one into trouble.
"I don't want your excuses, I want an explanation!"
"Well, I..."
"I said no flannel! Now, what is all of this?!"
Slightly mesmerised by Karris' insistence on interrupting to demand the answer that he was interrupting, Ren held her ground, feeling specks of saliva hitting her face. The crowd, as absorbed as ever by the latest twist in the day's Street theatre, somehow managed to press closer while still giving the Guardsmen a wide berth. She tried two more times to speak, each time being cut off by Karris' increasingly aggressive demands for an answer. Noting Quirke's purchase, she used the distraction of scooping up the coins to break the tension.
"I can't speak for the pie, sah, cept to say tis quality made,"she said, "and if'n ye find tis not to yer taste I'll appily elp ya pick out another one, sah."
"Show me the damned..."
"And I can't show you the tunics, sah," she continued, "on account o' me avin sol' t'last one."
There was a titter somewhere in the crowd, which stopped abruptly when Karris turned to glare. The explanation wouldn't fly on its own, she knew, but when you had a crowd on your side, it didn't have to. Karris couldn't work a crowd and an asset you couldn't use belonged to the enemy. Clapping her hands, she straightened and turned to the crowd.
"Right, who 'ere wants to show the nice man 'ow t'tunics work, eh? Two free pies an' a free stain proof tunic for any as volunteers!"
There was a pause, along with some shuffling and milling about as people digested this. It was as good as a play to see, and before Karris could erupt again, Ren felt a small tug on her arm and looked down to see a young girl holding her purchase and looking doubtful. It was probably a scam, knowing how the people thought, but Ren smiled like a sunbeam at her.
"Ta very much li'l miss," she said, "very brave. Isn't she brave, lads? Give 'er a round o' applause!"
There was a smattering of applause and even a cheer or two as the girl blushed furiously, and Ren surreptitiously herded her to the front. Momentum and charm, she thought, they were key; that and having no doubt whatsoever that things would go any way but your own. Karris never got to put a word in edgeways.
"Right, love, wha's yer name?"
"Sophia."
"Sophia, lads an' lasses," Ren said, beaming. "An' wha' were ya going to do with your tunic, Sophia?"
"I was going to draw a flower for my mum's name day."
Yes, it was undoubtedly a scam, but Ren had to run with it now or risk losing everything, so she smiled wider, to a chorus of approval from the crowd. Karris was, by this point, seething, but he had to watch or deal with a riot. As far as Ren was concerned, he could go and roger his frustration away with some strumpet down ham alley
"For your mum's name day? Oh, bless me! Well, tell you what," She said, "you'll get what I promised, plus a lovely silk scarf and blouse. Just for yer mum."
The girl looked at her, wide-eyed, and the crowd cheered again. Ren wouldn't have swapped places with anyone for love nor money.
"Now, twist the top like ye were shown an' draw a flower for the nice man."
The girl hurried to comply and Ren continued, holding up a tunic.
"These are all gnome made and not an ounce of magic in 'em. Jus' love and care, made by a little old gnome who sewed small clothes all 'is life. They're safe as anything you can buy, they won't cost a fortune and they're registered wi' the commerce office and licensed for sale!"
To drill her point home, she brandished the sealed, embossed documents and handed them to Karris. Sofia, glad to be out of the limelight for the time being, had finished her drawing and held it up for inspection. Bewildered, Karris glared at it as though willing it to explode, but it remained stubbornly intact, and he shoved it back rudely to the girl. Patting her on the shoulder, Ren handed her the promised goods and clapped.
"Sophia, everybody!" she said, to widespread applause Aas the girl scampered off.
Karris' eyes were pinpricks of fury by then, and he coldly handed the documents back to Ren.
"You're causing an obstruction,"he said, with exaggerated calm. "Clear off."
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Renee Raialagos
- Citizen
- Posts: 87
- Joined: Fri Feb 20, 2015 6:45 pm
- Name: Renee Raialagos
- Race: Human-Elf Halfbreed
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Renée had watched all this silently.
It would be a lie to say she wasn’t a bit surprised by how Karris was behaving, even if it was of course not uncommon for the guards to be a bit harsher to people of lesser social standing. But he had seemed rude to the small girl too. Perhaps it was the higher stress and pressure stress the guards must feel nowadays that was taking its toll?
The saleswoman had been lying though. Renée knew this, but like all the other people in the street she didn’t say anything. There was at least one more of those tunics for sale; the silk tunic she had been showing Renée when the constables had interrupted. Now when Renée had heard about the “old little gnome” and seen that Brokk seemed to have papers that proved the tunics were fully legal she felt a bit stupid for having hesitated. She would buy that tunic, she decided hastily, as she heard Karris say “clear off”. It might be her only chance to get her hands on one of those interesting garments. She would for sure have wanted to ask more questions before buying. But it seemed to be too late for questions now.
In the nick of time (or so she felt) she managed to ask Brokk for the price and due to the imagined lack of time she paid without bartering. It was likely too much. It could likely be said to be a bad bargain if the tunic was all she would get for the money. But. Renées brain was in business mode now and she saw the tunic as a possible clue that could lead her to the “little old gnome”, or whoever provided Brokk with her wares, rare or not. In worst case, if she failed to track the source of the tunics, it might help her fabricate a reason to come back to the streetseller and nose more, or start some kind of cooperation ... Renée didn’t know yet how it would be.
She paid for the tunic and saw it as an investment. In passing by she dropped her name and the location of her own shop to Brokk. Just in case. It sounded like random chitchat.
All this was done very quickly.
Karris looked like he was about to explode despite the extremely calm tone he had been speaking in. Deftly, Renée put her new tunic (and the green scarf) in her basket and took several steps back, aiming to get out of range for whatever the constable would do next. She was hoping to slowly move out of the area step by step and then turn around, speed up her pace and head home. But Constable Quirke promptly followed when she started to back away. “A lovely lady like you can’t do anything wrong” he said smarmily. “Of course we know you aren’t involved in anything murky. We are only here to protect decent citizens like yourself against terrorists and criminals.”
Renee nodded, still keeping an eye on Brokk and Karris to see what would transpire. Was this over now? Would the saleswoman with the cart leave or try to stay? She looked around and saw the crew dispersing, everybody suddenly in a rush.
She didn’t feel safe, but it wasn’t because of terrorists and criminals. She could see it come, and knew she wouldn’t be able to stop it. And sure. In a loud and pompous voice, Constable Quirke announced that he was going to escort her safely home, in order to make sure she wouldn’t get in trouble if she wasn’t able to get indoors before the curfew was on. No, no. no trouble at all. It was just his duty. He said this so loudly that it would be hard for Karris to annul the decision and give him other orders without making the city guard seem whimsical. Karris could react as he liked. Quirke wasn’t going to sacrifice his own agenda.
Hesitating, Renée would linger a bit and see ...
It would be a lie to say she wasn’t a bit surprised by how Karris was behaving, even if it was of course not uncommon for the guards to be a bit harsher to people of lesser social standing. But he had seemed rude to the small girl too. Perhaps it was the higher stress and pressure stress the guards must feel nowadays that was taking its toll?
The saleswoman had been lying though. Renée knew this, but like all the other people in the street she didn’t say anything. There was at least one more of those tunics for sale; the silk tunic she had been showing Renée when the constables had interrupted. Now when Renée had heard about the “old little gnome” and seen that Brokk seemed to have papers that proved the tunics were fully legal she felt a bit stupid for having hesitated. She would buy that tunic, she decided hastily, as she heard Karris say “clear off”. It might be her only chance to get her hands on one of those interesting garments. She would for sure have wanted to ask more questions before buying. But it seemed to be too late for questions now.
In the nick of time (or so she felt) she managed to ask Brokk for the price and due to the imagined lack of time she paid without bartering. It was likely too much. It could likely be said to be a bad bargain if the tunic was all she would get for the money. But. Renées brain was in business mode now and she saw the tunic as a possible clue that could lead her to the “little old gnome”, or whoever provided Brokk with her wares, rare or not. In worst case, if she failed to track the source of the tunics, it might help her fabricate a reason to come back to the streetseller and nose more, or start some kind of cooperation ... Renée didn’t know yet how it would be.
She paid for the tunic and saw it as an investment. In passing by she dropped her name and the location of her own shop to Brokk. Just in case. It sounded like random chitchat.
All this was done very quickly.
Karris looked like he was about to explode despite the extremely calm tone he had been speaking in. Deftly, Renée put her new tunic (and the green scarf) in her basket and took several steps back, aiming to get out of range for whatever the constable would do next. She was hoping to slowly move out of the area step by step and then turn around, speed up her pace and head home. But Constable Quirke promptly followed when she started to back away. “A lovely lady like you can’t do anything wrong” he said smarmily. “Of course we know you aren’t involved in anything murky. We are only here to protect decent citizens like yourself against terrorists and criminals.”
Renee nodded, still keeping an eye on Brokk and Karris to see what would transpire. Was this over now? Would the saleswoman with the cart leave or try to stay? She looked around and saw the crew dispersing, everybody suddenly in a rush.
She didn’t feel safe, but it wasn’t because of terrorists and criminals. She could see it come, and knew she wouldn’t be able to stop it. And sure. In a loud and pompous voice, Constable Quirke announced that he was going to escort her safely home, in order to make sure she wouldn’t get in trouble if she wasn’t able to get indoors before the curfew was on. No, no. no trouble at all. It was just his duty. He said this so loudly that it would be hard for Karris to annul the decision and give him other orders without making the city guard seem whimsical. Karris could react as he liked. Quirke wasn’t going to sacrifice his own agenda.
Hesitating, Renée would linger a bit and see ...
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Ren smiled thinly, shrugging at Karris as the larger man loomed over her. He could grunt and glare, but she knew the game as well as he did, and the game was all about rolling with the punches. If you couldn't do that, then you had no future, not really. Not that it stopped some people from trying that was, which she had to admire in a watching idiots burn kind of way. Still, she couldn't linger for too long; people were watching and Karris had an image to uphold. Thankfully, Quirke chose that particular moment to announce to all and sundry that he was a colossal arse. Karris turned to look at his partner and Ren took advantage of the distraction to pass a few bishani to a nearby urchin and whispered an instruction.
"Quirke, put your Changers damned dick away," Karris growled, "and focus!"
Ren held her smile, quietly and expertly tucking her wares away with practised precision. The more self aware members of the crowd had already made themselves scarce at this point, but a few curious stragglers lingered, along with a few eager customers. Passing along her wares in between eyeing the Constables, she caught sight of Miss Raialagos' apprehensive expression and winked, waiting for her opening. Yes, the woman was well and truly hooked now, Changers bless her little cotton socks, she thought, running the address through her mind. Tasters to wet the tongue and just enough information to keep people guessing. Ren knew what she was after, though she'd yet to see the coup de gras, and Ren was content to let her think what she wanted. There was a movement further down the street and Ren placed a hand on her cart protectively.
"Stop! Thief!"
One of the other merchants was shouting and pointing after a young boy, who was fleeing quickly in the opposite direction. Ren wasn't sorry for the publicity, it was all to the good, but everyone knew that Guards hanging about was bad for business. If it got them off the streets and people buying again then they were all for it. Ah, she thought, as Karris turned and gestured for Quirke to follow, merchant's honour; We'll sell you out for half a coin but we'll unite against anyone threatening our sales, and then we'll knife you when we're done. It brought a tear to the eye, it truly did. So while every seller was suddenly very vocal in their desire to see justice done, the Constables had little choice but to give chase.
"Come on," Karris yelled to his.partner, "and I swear to the Settlers I'll bury my boot up your arse if you don't follow!"
Ren didn't need any further encouragement and as soon as the Constable was on the move she showed a clean pair of heels and sped away down the street.
"Quirke, put your Changers damned dick away," Karris growled, "and focus!"
Ren held her smile, quietly and expertly tucking her wares away with practised precision. The more self aware members of the crowd had already made themselves scarce at this point, but a few curious stragglers lingered, along with a few eager customers. Passing along her wares in between eyeing the Constables, she caught sight of Miss Raialagos' apprehensive expression and winked, waiting for her opening. Yes, the woman was well and truly hooked now, Changers bless her little cotton socks, she thought, running the address through her mind. Tasters to wet the tongue and just enough information to keep people guessing. Ren knew what she was after, though she'd yet to see the coup de gras, and Ren was content to let her think what she wanted. There was a movement further down the street and Ren placed a hand on her cart protectively.
"Stop! Thief!"
One of the other merchants was shouting and pointing after a young boy, who was fleeing quickly in the opposite direction. Ren wasn't sorry for the publicity, it was all to the good, but everyone knew that Guards hanging about was bad for business. If it got them off the streets and people buying again then they were all for it. Ah, she thought, as Karris turned and gestured for Quirke to follow, merchant's honour; We'll sell you out for half a coin but we'll unite against anyone threatening our sales, and then we'll knife you when we're done. It brought a tear to the eye, it truly did. So while every seller was suddenly very vocal in their desire to see justice done, the Constables had little choice but to give chase.
"Come on," Karris yelled to his.partner, "and I swear to the Settlers I'll bury my boot up your arse if you don't follow!"
Ren didn't need any further encouragement and as soon as the Constable was on the move she showed a clean pair of heels and sped away down the street.
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Manuel
- Citizen
- Posts: 58
- Joined: Thu Apr 02, 2015 1:39 pm
- Name: Manuel Aknin
- Race: Black Mamba Shifter
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Such an unladylike way to behave.
The thought turned over in Manuel's mind as he watched Renee dart down the street, his serpentine body coiling in on itself and his glassy eyes following her movements.
Someway in the other direction, the terrified urchin was running with all his might, his thin chest heaving under the rotten rags swaddling him. Behind him the bull Karris barreled after him, armor clanking with a din that could wake the dead.
Wonder what our dear saleswoman has to hide from the guards, more importantly I wonder what those tunics could go for.
His orbs flitted back to Karris, lingering on the money bag hanging from his belt.
Got careless with the clothes, maybe Karris should be handled.....may have to tell dad.
The Mamba sent one last lingering look at Renee's retreating figure, before slithering back through the crack, and into the alley.
The thought turned over in Manuel's mind as he watched Renee dart down the street, his serpentine body coiling in on itself and his glassy eyes following her movements.
Someway in the other direction, the terrified urchin was running with all his might, his thin chest heaving under the rotten rags swaddling him. Behind him the bull Karris barreled after him, armor clanking with a din that could wake the dead.
Wonder what our dear saleswoman has to hide from the guards, more importantly I wonder what those tunics could go for.
His orbs flitted back to Karris, lingering on the money bag hanging from his belt.
Got careless with the clothes, maybe Karris should be handled.....may have to tell dad.
The Mamba sent one last lingering look at Renee's retreating figure, before slithering back through the crack, and into the alley.
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Renee Raialagos
- Citizen
- Posts: 87
- Joined: Fri Feb 20, 2015 6:45 pm
- Name: Renee Raialagos
- Race: Human-Elf Halfbreed
Re: A Marnian Welcome
A bit later, in Renee’s shop at main street
Fiancée! The future mrs Quirke!
Renee was fuming.
She hadn’t dared to deny Quirke's announcement, under the circumstances. He hadn’t followed Karris at once. Instead, he had yelled back at Karris that it was just a boy and they didn’t need to be two, Karris ought to be man enough to handle the case himself.
Long story, but Karris had stopped in his tracks and turned around at this amazingly bold attempt to avoid obeying orders. He had been just in time to see Brokk leg it and disappear around a corner. Turning back again he had seen the young thief run along the street, but not a single person had been trying to give chase. Karris had put one and one together and found it was two. He’d been had.
Karris had an image to uphold, so instead of confessing to having been outsmarted, he had immediately looked for a scapegoat to blame for the turn of events. It was Quirke' s fault, but it had only taken Karris a fraction of a moment to automatically avoid blaming another guard. Instead he had turned on Renee and started to accuse her for being behind all the trouble. He had gone as far as to suggest that she had bespelled Quirke with foul magic, and tried to arrest her and take her in for interrogation.
Karris had figured that would be the way for Quirke to save his ass and avoid being reported. But unwittingly he had given Quirke a chance to progress his secret agenda. Being from Shim, Quirke was ready to take things in his own hands and defend his plans and his intended means to achieve his goals. Before Karris knew, Quirke had managed to announce that Renee was his fiancée. And by the way. The thief boy had looked just like Karris’s son Bruce doing mischief; but as boys are boys, let them both forget all this crap people were giving them and focus on more important things.
At the threat against his dear son Bruce, Karris had realized Quirke could be much more dangerous than he had known. Somehow Karris had managed to laugh like everything had been a good prank. He had told Quirke he had of course already known and had just been kidding. He had congratulated the happy couple, and announced that the boy hadn’t been Bruce. And, they had to investigate, Karris had said. Zero tolerance ! Surely Quirke could let his future wife wait a few minutes, if he wasn’t already being henpecked ?
After this brief intermezzo, Karris and Quirke had ran away at maximum speed, looking like they were hunting the boy, though both of them already had known they didn’t stand a chance to catch the “thief”. They had lost too much time.
Renee had taken the opportunity to follow Brokk's example and run. She had retreated to the shop instead of going home. She feared running into Quirke again if she walked towards her house. It was best to try to avoid the man and not give him a chance to say more, she thought. She needed time. Time for the city gossip to calm down. Time to think and come up with a way to wriggle out of this fix. Quirke had saved her when she was in distress; she strongly suspected that was how the constable saw it. Well, it was actually true, even if his methods had been unexpected and extreme.
But, she was sure constable Quirke would be as eager as she was to get out of the situation. She would likely be able to bribe him to just playact for a period of time and then they could have a public argument and pretend to break up. Money. A chance at really fat bribes. Business.That was most likely the reason he had intervened. This thought made her feel in control of the situation again.
She had bolted the door and didn't intend to open it again. But now somebody was knocking. It was the fast and desperate, yet discrete and tapping kind of knocking of somebody who really, really wanted to get in, but also wanted to avoid drawing too much attention.It was getting dark. Was the curfew already on ? Peering out through the window, Renee recognized the gangly woman with the pies and the tunics. Was she still on the run and looking for a hideout, or was she there for some other reason? With an odd feeling of loyalty, she opened the door and let Brokk in.
Fiancée! The future mrs Quirke!
Renee was fuming.
She hadn’t dared to deny Quirke's announcement, under the circumstances. He hadn’t followed Karris at once. Instead, he had yelled back at Karris that it was just a boy and they didn’t need to be two, Karris ought to be man enough to handle the case himself.
Long story, but Karris had stopped in his tracks and turned around at this amazingly bold attempt to avoid obeying orders. He had been just in time to see Brokk leg it and disappear around a corner. Turning back again he had seen the young thief run along the street, but not a single person had been trying to give chase. Karris had put one and one together and found it was two. He’d been had.
Karris had an image to uphold, so instead of confessing to having been outsmarted, he had immediately looked for a scapegoat to blame for the turn of events. It was Quirke' s fault, but it had only taken Karris a fraction of a moment to automatically avoid blaming another guard. Instead he had turned on Renee and started to accuse her for being behind all the trouble. He had gone as far as to suggest that she had bespelled Quirke with foul magic, and tried to arrest her and take her in for interrogation.
Karris had figured that would be the way for Quirke to save his ass and avoid being reported. But unwittingly he had given Quirke a chance to progress his secret agenda. Being from Shim, Quirke was ready to take things in his own hands and defend his plans and his intended means to achieve his goals. Before Karris knew, Quirke had managed to announce that Renee was his fiancée. And by the way. The thief boy had looked just like Karris’s son Bruce doing mischief; but as boys are boys, let them both forget all this crap people were giving them and focus on more important things.
At the threat against his dear son Bruce, Karris had realized Quirke could be much more dangerous than he had known. Somehow Karris had managed to laugh like everything had been a good prank. He had told Quirke he had of course already known and had just been kidding. He had congratulated the happy couple, and announced that the boy hadn’t been Bruce. And, they had to investigate, Karris had said. Zero tolerance ! Surely Quirke could let his future wife wait a few minutes, if he wasn’t already being henpecked ?
After this brief intermezzo, Karris and Quirke had ran away at maximum speed, looking like they were hunting the boy, though both of them already had known they didn’t stand a chance to catch the “thief”. They had lost too much time.
Renee had taken the opportunity to follow Brokk's example and run. She had retreated to the shop instead of going home. She feared running into Quirke again if she walked towards her house. It was best to try to avoid the man and not give him a chance to say more, she thought. She needed time. Time for the city gossip to calm down. Time to think and come up with a way to wriggle out of this fix. Quirke had saved her when she was in distress; she strongly suspected that was how the constable saw it. Well, it was actually true, even if his methods had been unexpected and extreme.
But, she was sure constable Quirke would be as eager as she was to get out of the situation. She would likely be able to bribe him to just playact for a period of time and then they could have a public argument and pretend to break up. Money. A chance at really fat bribes. Business.That was most likely the reason he had intervened. This thought made her feel in control of the situation again.
She had bolted the door and didn't intend to open it again. But now somebody was knocking. It was the fast and desperate, yet discrete and tapping kind of knocking of somebody who really, really wanted to get in, but also wanted to avoid drawing too much attention.It was getting dark. Was the curfew already on ? Peering out through the window, Renee recognized the gangly woman with the pies and the tunics. Was she still on the run and looking for a hideout, or was she there for some other reason? With an odd feeling of loyalty, she opened the door and let Brokk in.
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Guardsmen, Ren thought, as she flitted through the shadowed, lantern lit streets of the city; whatever was she to do about them? So armoured, so dashing and so very unappreciative of the thanks offered to them, and they stood proudly atop the social pyramid and proclaimed their endless mission to come between her and the prospect of making money. Poor dears; they must have had very little going on at home to have time to interfere with an honest sale. Resisting the urge to whistle as she walked, she moved from shadow to shadow in no particular rush, winding her way towards the address.
The curfew had not been a welcome addition for the merchants and the common folk of the city. Nobody liked being detained in their own homes, especially when those homes were outside in the streets they were forbidden to walk after dark. But the Guardsmen had insisted, she'd heard. A firm hand, grasp the nettle and pull it out root and stem and all that nonsense to keep the nobles happy. But still the city bled and to add insult to injury, she couldn't sell salves after dark to ease the way. The pain in her purse at the thought was nigh unbearable, but she held her head high, or as high as she could while sneaking around. Well, it was the thought that counted at any rate.
She heard movement and stepped into a handy shadow, staying perfectly still until the sounds had died away. That was the other glaring flaw with the curfew, she reflected, feeling the reassuring weight of her weapons at her side; criminals tended to disregard the law by nature. Plus, when they were going to throw you in a cell anyway just for being out, you tended not to worry about the extent of what you were doing. She was quite intent on remaining alive and unmolested for as long as possible, thank you very much, and if she had to put a blade in someone over that... Well, she'd just have to be long gone once it came to light. Long gone.
She shifted the pack on her back and slowed as she approached the address in question. It was a nice looking building, nice street, a bit plain but no accounting for taste, she supposed. Still, she approached warily, circling the building and checking the exits. It was easier to find them now before she needed them than it was to find them while running for her life. It wasn't that she distrusted Raialagos, Changers no, but she wouldn't put it past a walking stain like Quirke to camp outside the door and wait. Satisfied that they were alone for the minute, she sidled to the door and knocked as discreetly as possible whilst still audible.
When Raialagos opened the door, looking equal parts surprised and suspicious, Ren stepped through quickly and quietly, ignoring the way that the walls seemed to loom over her. Inside, the store was almost as plain as the outsid, albeit with an interesting collection of odds and ends to save it from complete unremarkability.
"Thought ye'd want to see more," she said by way of ggreeting.
The curfew had not been a welcome addition for the merchants and the common folk of the city. Nobody liked being detained in their own homes, especially when those homes were outside in the streets they were forbidden to walk after dark. But the Guardsmen had insisted, she'd heard. A firm hand, grasp the nettle and pull it out root and stem and all that nonsense to keep the nobles happy. But still the city bled and to add insult to injury, she couldn't sell salves after dark to ease the way. The pain in her purse at the thought was nigh unbearable, but she held her head high, or as high as she could while sneaking around. Well, it was the thought that counted at any rate.
She heard movement and stepped into a handy shadow, staying perfectly still until the sounds had died away. That was the other glaring flaw with the curfew, she reflected, feeling the reassuring weight of her weapons at her side; criminals tended to disregard the law by nature. Plus, when they were going to throw you in a cell anyway just for being out, you tended not to worry about the extent of what you were doing. She was quite intent on remaining alive and unmolested for as long as possible, thank you very much, and if she had to put a blade in someone over that... Well, she'd just have to be long gone once it came to light. Long gone.
She shifted the pack on her back and slowed as she approached the address in question. It was a nice looking building, nice street, a bit plain but no accounting for taste, she supposed. Still, she approached warily, circling the building and checking the exits. It was easier to find them now before she needed them than it was to find them while running for her life. It wasn't that she distrusted Raialagos, Changers no, but she wouldn't put it past a walking stain like Quirke to camp outside the door and wait. Satisfied that they were alone for the minute, she sidled to the door and knocked as discreetly as possible whilst still audible.
When Raialagos opened the door, looking equal parts surprised and suspicious, Ren stepped through quickly and quietly, ignoring the way that the walls seemed to loom over her. Inside, the store was almost as plain as the outsid, albeit with an interesting collection of odds and ends to save it from complete unremarkability.
"Thought ye'd want to see more," she said by way of ggreeting.
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Renee Raialagos
- Citizen
- Posts: 87
- Joined: Fri Feb 20, 2015 6:45 pm
- Name: Renee Raialagos
- Race: Human-Elf Halfbreed
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Renee had introduced herself when she dropped the address to the shop, earlier. Now she locked and bolted the door again and then she turned to look at her guest. “ I wouldn’t mind seeing more” she said. “Although I prefer to know who I’m doing business with. In case we’ll do business.”
She hoped this would be enough to make the other woman give her a name, but it also left room for pretending to not get the hint, if that would be what Brokk wanted. It was obvious that the woman wasn’t a titre from Marn. She was an outsider, seemingly not a wealthy outsider, and Karris had treated her accordingly. Being born and raised in Marn, it would be lie to say Renee was totally comfortable with her new company. The woman had been nice enough, but salespeople were always nice enough when they tried to sell things; Renee ought to know.
Renee was used to watch people and look for the small changes in their expressions that could mean they were getting interested in something, or that they tried to conceal it and pretend to not be so interested. There was nothing in her visitor’s expression that indicated an interest in the items Renee had for sale. At least not yet. Renee noticed it and tucked this knowledge away in the back of her mind. It might mean the other saleswoman wasn’t selling the same kind of rare items Renée liked to sell. This could be good or bad. Time would tell.
However, she wanted to move farther into the shop before they spoke more. With a sign to Brokk to follow, she started walking. The shop consisted of one rectangular room; one if the shorter sides faced the street and there was were the showcase window and the entrance was. There were shelves along the longer walls, and in the middle of the room was a and in the middle of the room there was a long and quite narrow counter no higher than a table and accessible from both sides. This divided the room up in a left and a right part, each with a “corridor” between the table in the middle and the shelves to the sides.
The layout gave Renee plenty of room to display her wares without the place looking crammed. She had decorations allsorts and of various materials , jewelery, illuminated books, candlesticks and a number of lanterns of various materials, sizes and shapes. She also had some perfumes, interesting ribbons, decks of cards other games and children’s toys. There were some small paintings, candy, and quite a lot of small things that might or might not look like small treasures depending on who looked at them.
The inner part of the room, behind the counter where customers paid, there was a drapery of dark green cloth, and behind it was small private area where Renee used to do her accounting, eat on some workdays, and sometimes keep pawned items while she waited for them to be maybe be claimed by the owners.
At the moment nobody had pawned anything. But she had a cabinet there, with a lock on, and that was where she would put potentially valuable things and also kept the daily cash. There was also a small back door here, facing a narrow, silent backstreet. People who wanted to pawn something used to take this route in order to not be observed. This door was locked too, but the key was in the lock and there was a tiny bell people could ring by pulling a string outdoors; it was important to open swiftly as that kind of customer could otherwise get nervous and disappear again.
Renee wasn’t aiming to bring Brock into that innermost area behind the drapery, though. She was only looking to relocate to the inner part of the shop where they wouldn’t be seen so easily if someone would walk past and peek in through the window.
“So ...” she said. “Let’s speak business. What did you have to show me?”
She hoped this would be enough to make the other woman give her a name, but it also left room for pretending to not get the hint, if that would be what Brokk wanted. It was obvious that the woman wasn’t a titre from Marn. She was an outsider, seemingly not a wealthy outsider, and Karris had treated her accordingly. Being born and raised in Marn, it would be lie to say Renee was totally comfortable with her new company. The woman had been nice enough, but salespeople were always nice enough when they tried to sell things; Renee ought to know.
Renee was used to watch people and look for the small changes in their expressions that could mean they were getting interested in something, or that they tried to conceal it and pretend to not be so interested. There was nothing in her visitor’s expression that indicated an interest in the items Renee had for sale. At least not yet. Renee noticed it and tucked this knowledge away in the back of her mind. It might mean the other saleswoman wasn’t selling the same kind of rare items Renée liked to sell. This could be good or bad. Time would tell.
However, she wanted to move farther into the shop before they spoke more. With a sign to Brokk to follow, she started walking. The shop consisted of one rectangular room; one if the shorter sides faced the street and there was were the showcase window and the entrance was. There were shelves along the longer walls, and in the middle of the room was a and in the middle of the room there was a long and quite narrow counter no higher than a table and accessible from both sides. This divided the room up in a left and a right part, each with a “corridor” between the table in the middle and the shelves to the sides.
The layout gave Renee plenty of room to display her wares without the place looking crammed. She had decorations allsorts and of various materials , jewelery, illuminated books, candlesticks and a number of lanterns of various materials, sizes and shapes. She also had some perfumes, interesting ribbons, decks of cards other games and children’s toys. There were some small paintings, candy, and quite a lot of small things that might or might not look like small treasures depending on who looked at them.
The inner part of the room, behind the counter where customers paid, there was a drapery of dark green cloth, and behind it was small private area where Renee used to do her accounting, eat on some workdays, and sometimes keep pawned items while she waited for them to be maybe be claimed by the owners.
At the moment nobody had pawned anything. But she had a cabinet there, with a lock on, and that was where she would put potentially valuable things and also kept the daily cash. There was also a small back door here, facing a narrow, silent backstreet. People who wanted to pawn something used to take this route in order to not be observed. This door was locked too, but the key was in the lock and there was a tiny bell people could ring by pulling a string outdoors; it was important to open swiftly as that kind of customer could otherwise get nervous and disappear again.
Renee wasn’t aiming to bring Brock into that innermost area behind the drapery, though. She was only looking to relocate to the inner part of the shop where they wouldn’t be seen so easily if someone would walk past and peek in through the window.
“So ...” she said. “Let’s speak business. What did you have to show me?”
Re: A Marnian Welcome
"Coupla things, Miss," Ren said, stepping inside reluctantly. "Coupla things. Not what a lass migh' show just anyone if'n ye get me."
She sincerely hoped that Renee was, in fact, interested and that she wasn't subjecting herself to this stifling, closeted hell for nothing. It wasn't that she disliked the indoors, of course, far from it; the idea of spending some time without the wind chilling her to the bone or the sun or rain bearing down on her was very much a welcome one. In fact, now that she stopped to look at it, this particular building was quite tastefully decorated; airy even in its design. Dear sweet Changers, how she wanted to get back outside where the roof was less likely to fall on her. No, she told herself, no; she came here for a reason and she was going to see the thing through. So, ignoring the itch between her shoulder blades, she followed Renee further into the awful, awful building.
The itch and sensation of her skin crawling only got worse as she glance about her politely, oohing and aahing about the decor and the products on display. She wasn't fond of displays herself, being of the mobile persuasion, but she could appreciate artful advertising when she saw it. These displays were designed to entice the customer and linger in their minds after a visit, the better to part them from their coin later. It depended upon many things, but the largest concern was that dear Renee wouldn't have to hop it at a moment's notice should anyone take a dislike to her. Ah, the lives of the landed gentry, she thought to herself, fondly remembering when she had been among them. She preferred to spin her enticements into her words and her stance; words didn't weigh you down in a chase, after all.
She didn't need to look far to smell the money. There was a draft from near the counter that spoke of more space and the way Renee studiously steered her away from that area, only confirmed her suspicions. Not that it mattered in the long term, but anything that she could glean about her potential customer was a bonus and was to be welcomed. She hadn't missed how eager her hostess was to hide her from prying eyes, nor how Renee's eyes lingered disapprovingly when she spoke. No, Renee was definitely a woman of appearances and status for whom the acquisition of more of the same was the goal. Good to know. She cleared her throat, dropping into a perfect curtsy once they were securely inside.
"Renora Brokk," she said, "at yer service. Finder and purveyor of only the oddest of ends, rest assured."
She smiled, straightening, and did her best to look awed and harmless. After all, here they both were on Renee's turf; why wouldn't Ren be intimidated by the business of a Marnian Titre and honoured that such a person would even allow her to set foot indoors? She had toyed briefly with the idea of giving a false name, but one look at Renee had dispelled the notion. She looked like someone who would dismiss everything she said as false right off until she saw different, so no sense giving her more work to do. Without further preamble, Ren unlimbered her pack, and propped it on the countertop, fishing out what she'd brought. They weren't extravagant, per se, nor were they particularly large, but she was confident that they fit into the 'quirky' category.
"Got that Mood cloth dress fer ya," she said, "coupla multi-coloured flame candles, everglow lantern, finder charms, quill what changes colour, a tome or two, illuminated, wood and brass bound with silk bookmark, multi purpose forks, reinforced pressure pots..."
She sincerely hoped that Renee was, in fact, interested and that she wasn't subjecting herself to this stifling, closeted hell for nothing. It wasn't that she disliked the indoors, of course, far from it; the idea of spending some time without the wind chilling her to the bone or the sun or rain bearing down on her was very much a welcome one. In fact, now that she stopped to look at it, this particular building was quite tastefully decorated; airy even in its design. Dear sweet Changers, how she wanted to get back outside where the roof was less likely to fall on her. No, she told herself, no; she came here for a reason and she was going to see the thing through. So, ignoring the itch between her shoulder blades, she followed Renee further into the awful, awful building.
The itch and sensation of her skin crawling only got worse as she glance about her politely, oohing and aahing about the decor and the products on display. She wasn't fond of displays herself, being of the mobile persuasion, but she could appreciate artful advertising when she saw it. These displays were designed to entice the customer and linger in their minds after a visit, the better to part them from their coin later. It depended upon many things, but the largest concern was that dear Renee wouldn't have to hop it at a moment's notice should anyone take a dislike to her. Ah, the lives of the landed gentry, she thought to herself, fondly remembering when she had been among them. She preferred to spin her enticements into her words and her stance; words didn't weigh you down in a chase, after all.
She didn't need to look far to smell the money. There was a draft from near the counter that spoke of more space and the way Renee studiously steered her away from that area, only confirmed her suspicions. Not that it mattered in the long term, but anything that she could glean about her potential customer was a bonus and was to be welcomed. She hadn't missed how eager her hostess was to hide her from prying eyes, nor how Renee's eyes lingered disapprovingly when she spoke. No, Renee was definitely a woman of appearances and status for whom the acquisition of more of the same was the goal. Good to know. She cleared her throat, dropping into a perfect curtsy once they were securely inside.
"Renora Brokk," she said, "at yer service. Finder and purveyor of only the oddest of ends, rest assured."
She smiled, straightening, and did her best to look awed and harmless. After all, here they both were on Renee's turf; why wouldn't Ren be intimidated by the business of a Marnian Titre and honoured that such a person would even allow her to set foot indoors? She had toyed briefly with the idea of giving a false name, but one look at Renee had dispelled the notion. She looked like someone who would dismiss everything she said as false right off until she saw different, so no sense giving her more work to do. Without further preamble, Ren unlimbered her pack, and propped it on the countertop, fishing out what she'd brought. They weren't extravagant, per se, nor were they particularly large, but she was confident that they fit into the 'quirky' category.
"Got that Mood cloth dress fer ya," she said, "coupla multi-coloured flame candles, everglow lantern, finder charms, quill what changes colour, a tome or two, illuminated, wood and brass bound with silk bookmark, multi purpose forks, reinforced pressure pots..."
-
Manuel
- Citizen
- Posts: 58
- Joined: Thu Apr 02, 2015 1:39 pm
- Name: Manuel Aknin
- Race: Black Mamba Shifter
Re: A Marnian Welcome
The Mamba slithered slowly but surly through the streets of Downtown Marn, his scales blending in the darkness as he moved. Lifting his head his forked tongue flickered out, as he tasted the air and searched for Brokk's scent. Invisible but for his eyes, he wove back and forth in place. Then he got it.
"Got you, it's weak but I've got you saleswoman'', the thought flickered as he wove on, chasing the unknown.
He passed by building and stalls, gliding over the road like a bird in flight, relentless in his pursue of the scent. It wasn't anything in particular that drove him, other than a mild curiosity in Brokk, in anyone who didn't appear to like the "fine" guards of the city. The young Aknin wove on, driven by the possibility of meeting a kindred spirit, one who saw the city as the crumbling ruin it was.
He moved closer to the source of the scent coming to a building, Brokks's scent disappeared inside and an older scent joined it, Renee's.
''Huh, that's unexpected...well saves me making two trips"
Concentrating he began to change, his scales regressing beneath skin even as limbs sprouted from his rapidly changing body. A few minutes later Manuel stepped out from the shadows, human but very naked. He walked, stalked round the house until he came to a window; low and unprotected, it was perfect.
"Time to make an entrance...gonna hurt like a bitch though"
Running and picking up speed he threw himself into the window, his skin being shredded by the glass even as he broke through to land on the floor within.
"Got you, it's weak but I've got you saleswoman'', the thought flickered as he wove on, chasing the unknown.
He passed by building and stalls, gliding over the road like a bird in flight, relentless in his pursue of the scent. It wasn't anything in particular that drove him, other than a mild curiosity in Brokk, in anyone who didn't appear to like the "fine" guards of the city. The young Aknin wove on, driven by the possibility of meeting a kindred spirit, one who saw the city as the crumbling ruin it was.
He moved closer to the source of the scent coming to a building, Brokks's scent disappeared inside and an older scent joined it, Renee's.
''Huh, that's unexpected...well saves me making two trips"
Concentrating he began to change, his scales regressing beneath skin even as limbs sprouted from his rapidly changing body. A few minutes later Manuel stepped out from the shadows, human but very naked. He walked, stalked round the house until he came to a window; low and unprotected, it was perfect.
"Time to make an entrance...gonna hurt like a bitch though"
Running and picking up speed he threw himself into the window, his skin being shredded by the glass even as he broke through to land on the floor within.
-
Renee Raialagos
- Citizen
- Posts: 87
- Joined: Fri Feb 20, 2015 6:45 pm
- Name: Renee Raialagos
- Race: Human-Elf Halfbreed
Re: A Marnian Welcome
The meeting had been getting friendly. Brokk has introduced herself, the wares had sounded more promising than expected, and Renee had started to feel they would get along really well if it continued like this. Perhaps she had even stumbled over a permanent supplier of new things. More conventional marnian's would maybe not have wanted to deal with Brokk, but the eccentric Renée wasn't going to let prejudice stand in the way for business. If Brokk was able to provide her with suitable new items to sell she was definitely interested. She was even playing with the thought of a long term cooperation. But, best to take one step at the time.
"I'm always very interested in business" she said. "If you are able to provide me with new good items I'm sure we could cooperate and bot us could make money. But first I'd like to have a closer look at ... "
The sound when the shop window suddenly broke interrupted the conversation abruptly.
The atmosphere in Marn had been tense and paranoid all the time after the recent bomb attacks. The martial laws and the curfew had amplified the fear most people felt of new bombings. The citizens were half-expecting the terror to be repeated any moment, and like all others Renee felt this constant anxiety too. This was at the top of her mind, and she reacted accordingly.
She didn’t think. Her brain automatically came to the conclusion that a bomb had been thrown into her shop and they were in for being torn to pieces. Flight reaction struck. Screaming like a banshee she grabbed Brokk and attempted to pulled the saleswoman with her towards the back of the shop, behind the drapery, trying to maximize the distance between them and the supposed bomb.
Her scream was as loud as a scream comes when people fear instant violent death. The shop that had seemed like such a safe refuge from all the troubles outside had turned into a death trap, as she percieved it. No doubt the scream would normally have alerted people out on the street and they would have come running to investigate what was happening. But due to the curfew there were no people out on the street this time of the evenings, except for the randomly patrolling guards.
Renée soon let go of Brokk again, not sure if the woman really would follow her, but set on at least saving herself and hopefully also give Brokk a chance to survive. To Renee it seemed like here was no time to speak and explain though; it was understand the situation and get out, or end up at the hospital, likely in the emergency unit, like Latifa Vuaduka and others who had been seriously wounded in the bombings.
Or in the graveyard.
In a mix of panic and extreme hurry she fumbled with the key of the back door. Fear made her clumsy and led to failing to unlock the door at once. Trying to force the lock open, she managed to somehow get the key stuck in the lock. Renee tore at frantically and it was an open question if she would succeed to open the door or if they were trapped in the shop and would have to face their fate.
"I'm always very interested in business" she said. "If you are able to provide me with new good items I'm sure we could cooperate and bot us could make money. But first I'd like to have a closer look at ... "
The sound when the shop window suddenly broke interrupted the conversation abruptly.
The atmosphere in Marn had been tense and paranoid all the time after the recent bomb attacks. The martial laws and the curfew had amplified the fear most people felt of new bombings. The citizens were half-expecting the terror to be repeated any moment, and like all others Renee felt this constant anxiety too. This was at the top of her mind, and she reacted accordingly.
She didn’t think. Her brain automatically came to the conclusion that a bomb had been thrown into her shop and they were in for being torn to pieces. Flight reaction struck. Screaming like a banshee she grabbed Brokk and attempted to pulled the saleswoman with her towards the back of the shop, behind the drapery, trying to maximize the distance between them and the supposed bomb.
Her scream was as loud as a scream comes when people fear instant violent death. The shop that had seemed like such a safe refuge from all the troubles outside had turned into a death trap, as she percieved it. No doubt the scream would normally have alerted people out on the street and they would have come running to investigate what was happening. But due to the curfew there were no people out on the street this time of the evenings, except for the randomly patrolling guards.
Renée soon let go of Brokk again, not sure if the woman really would follow her, but set on at least saving herself and hopefully also give Brokk a chance to survive. To Renee it seemed like here was no time to speak and explain though; it was understand the situation and get out, or end up at the hospital, likely in the emergency unit, like Latifa Vuaduka and others who had been seriously wounded in the bombings.
Or in the graveyard.
In a mix of panic and extreme hurry she fumbled with the key of the back door. Fear made her clumsy and led to failing to unlock the door at once. Trying to force the lock open, she managed to somehow get the key stuck in the lock. Renee tore at frantically and it was an open question if she would succeed to open the door or if they were trapped in the shop and would have to face their fate.
-
Manuel
- Citizen
- Posts: 58
- Joined: Thu Apr 02, 2015 1:39 pm
- Name: Manuel Aknin
- Race: Black Mamba Shifter
Re: A Marnian Welcome
"It hurts....."
Manuel lay on the floor, cut lining almost the entirety of his body and fragments of grass all around him, blood seeped from his wounds to land on the floor with a faint pattering sound.
"Dammit.....didn't exactly think this through...."
A scream came from the back room, loud and full of fear, soon followed by the sound of thumping feet. Someone was scared, very much so.
His body tensed at the sound, and slowly he turned his head towards the direction of the screaming, wincing at the intrusive sound.
"Can't have that...guards may come. Heh, guess I better sort that out"
Slowly, wincing at every movement he forced himself up, staggering to his feet as he headed towards the door, then he remembered something. He had no clothes on.
Chuckling in spite of his condition he searched the room for something to cover himself, and his eyes landed on a table cloth. Not even thinking twice he grabbed it, wrapping it securely around his waist, the end just below his knees.
Clothed now he gripped the handle of the door to the connecting room, praying even as he turned it that they would give him a chance to explain.
Manuel lay on the floor, cut lining almost the entirety of his body and fragments of grass all around him, blood seeped from his wounds to land on the floor with a faint pattering sound.
"Dammit.....didn't exactly think this through...."
A scream came from the back room, loud and full of fear, soon followed by the sound of thumping feet. Someone was scared, very much so.
His body tensed at the sound, and slowly he turned his head towards the direction of the screaming, wincing at the intrusive sound.
"Can't have that...guards may come. Heh, guess I better sort that out"
Slowly, wincing at every movement he forced himself up, staggering to his feet as he headed towards the door, then he remembered something. He had no clothes on.
Chuckling in spite of his condition he searched the room for something to cover himself, and his eyes landed on a table cloth. Not even thinking twice he grabbed it, wrapping it securely around his waist, the end just below his knees.
Clothed now he gripped the handle of the door to the connecting room, praying even as he turned it that they would give him a chance to explain.
Re: A Marnian Welcome
Things were starting to come together, finally, Ren thought, spreading the items out a little for further inspection. Interest wasn't a sale, she knew, but she'd come a long way in a few hours with barely any effort, really. Usually these things took a few days, but Renee looked like the kind of woman who knew a bargain when she saw one and was liable to get cold feet if you left her wringing her hands for too long. Titres, she thought; they were such a skittish bunch for all their talk, so she tucked the small victories into her belt and prepared a nervous smile to guide Renee into buying something. Of course, she reflected later, it had all come too easily to last; the Changers never were ones to give a girl a break.
Holding up the mood cloth dress for inspection, she took a moment to marvel at how the dusky grey silk of the garment warmed and changed to aquamarine around where her hand gripped the fabric. It was a simple design, really, tasteful and refined, but not opulent by any means. She'd only begun her hesitant spiel to wet Renee's appetite, fussing over the dress and cooing about how lovely it was, when someone decided that doors were far too out dated for them. There was a crash and a muffled curse from the other room, and Renee shrieked and fled, hiking her skirts up and clawing at Ren's arm in her desperate attempt to flee. Thankfully, she let go almost immediately before sprinting into the back room behind the curtain. Ren almost sighed.
Swearing internally at every thoughtless ne'er-do-well with no respect for the art of salesmanship, she crossed to the offending door, using Renee's flight to cover the noise of her steps. There were some interesting noises coming from the other side, suggesting that the occupant regretted the decision to not break the window before they jumped through. Between the pained laughing and the awkward shuffling noises, she heard feet padding slowly towards the door and stepped back, slipping her hands into her pockets.
Many of Marn's citizens took the, not unreasonable, view that if they were going to be out after dark, then they should be armed. After all; criminals could hardly be expected to obey the law, and they were fond of weapons, right? Those same citizens failed to realise that the average guardsman, when faced with the choice of subduing a hardened criminal who was violently opposed to the idea of going to prison, and arresting some entitled tit giving them lip, tended to avoid the people likely to knife them. Disrespecting a guard was an affront to the city and resisting arrest besides, and thus far more important than all the thefts going on, especially if the one doing the insulting looked like they made more money than said guardsman. So Ren didn't carry weapons after dark, as it simply wasn't worth the hassle if she got nabbed. She did, however, carry a number of innocuous items, which, by pure happenstance and when wielded with a malice an innocent trader like herself couldn't possibly possess, could do a weapon's job in a pinch. Quietly, she slipped the roll of bishani and the little jar of spices out of her pockets and into her hands and waited.
She didn't have to wait very long, as the door began to ease open slowly. Keeping still, she kept silent as the door swung out to hide her from view, arms up and ready.
Holding up the mood cloth dress for inspection, she took a moment to marvel at how the dusky grey silk of the garment warmed and changed to aquamarine around where her hand gripped the fabric. It was a simple design, really, tasteful and refined, but not opulent by any means. She'd only begun her hesitant spiel to wet Renee's appetite, fussing over the dress and cooing about how lovely it was, when someone decided that doors were far too out dated for them. There was a crash and a muffled curse from the other room, and Renee shrieked and fled, hiking her skirts up and clawing at Ren's arm in her desperate attempt to flee. Thankfully, she let go almost immediately before sprinting into the back room behind the curtain. Ren almost sighed.
Swearing internally at every thoughtless ne'er-do-well with no respect for the art of salesmanship, she crossed to the offending door, using Renee's flight to cover the noise of her steps. There were some interesting noises coming from the other side, suggesting that the occupant regretted the decision to not break the window before they jumped through. Between the pained laughing and the awkward shuffling noises, she heard feet padding slowly towards the door and stepped back, slipping her hands into her pockets.
Many of Marn's citizens took the, not unreasonable, view that if they were going to be out after dark, then they should be armed. After all; criminals could hardly be expected to obey the law, and they were fond of weapons, right? Those same citizens failed to realise that the average guardsman, when faced with the choice of subduing a hardened criminal who was violently opposed to the idea of going to prison, and arresting some entitled tit giving them lip, tended to avoid the people likely to knife them. Disrespecting a guard was an affront to the city and resisting arrest besides, and thus far more important than all the thefts going on, especially if the one doing the insulting looked like they made more money than said guardsman. So Ren didn't carry weapons after dark, as it simply wasn't worth the hassle if she got nabbed. She did, however, carry a number of innocuous items, which, by pure happenstance and when wielded with a malice an innocent trader like herself couldn't possibly possess, could do a weapon's job in a pinch. Quietly, she slipped the roll of bishani and the little jar of spices out of her pockets and into her hands and waited.
She didn't have to wait very long, as the door began to ease open slowly. Keeping still, she kept silent as the door swung out to hide her from view, arms up and ready.