[OTA] Profit Mire

[offortune]

FORM: Sending Crystal
SENDER: Scipio & Rafael
RECIPIENT: All
WHAT: Two late departures for the Fallow Mire have an offer that surely no one can refuse.
WHEN: Firstfall 17
WHERE: Skyhold, the (not-so-)Fallow(-if-they-can-help-it) Mire
NOTES: Red text (the bulk of the message) is Scipio, the blue interjections are Rafael. Replies will come from both.

[ A helpful and compelling offer from two young entrepreneurs and general do-gooders with Antivan and Rivaini accents respectively. ]

As a service to the brave intrepid souls traversing the Mire and doing the good deeds of the Inquisition, we, your humble friends, would like to offer our services of providing goods for you good deed doers. Your tasks are varied, your work, it is so hard, and your resources few. But never fear! We are brave and stalwart, and will bring to you whatever you so desire or require. A new pair of socks, a flagon of your favorite ale from the Herald's Rest, the dagger you accidentally left behind-- whatever you need that can be gotten we will get.

For a price. A fair price, of course. A very fair price considering that we will be acquiring your desirables out of our own pockets and bringing them to you at great personal hardship, since otherwise we could stay here in Skyhold, warm and dry, but no! No, we will trek through rain and muck to bring you what you need, if only we can agree on really, a very nominal price for the service we will provide.

Each price will be negotiated based on the service provided. And we are, it should be noted, gentlemen of business, so goods of a tangible nature are preferable to services for services -- but all offers and arrangements will be duly considered. With the sole exception of poetry, which will never be considered, as it is no form of currency. Do not offer us poetry. Not under any circumstances, no matter what type of poetry. We reserve the right to decline any offer even if it does not involve poetry, and do not try to fleece us because we are-- unfleeceable.

Also try not to offer us fleece. It smells. And yet, because it is also warm, it is worth noting that, while we would prefer fur before fleece, fleece would be an acceptable form of currency in this trade that we offer. And fleece before feathers. No feathers at all, really. Unless they are on hats. Then, the larger, the better. But only one per hat. Or maybe two. But no more than two! Any more is ridiculous.

And while all offers would be considered, we here now humbly offer examples of other more than acceptable currencies that would guarantee most any trade: socks, cloaks, especially fur-trimmed, and scarves, but only whole scarves. Casks of wine. Olive oil. Dates, preferably the sort that are born of a tree, but the sort that are a social engagement would be considered. No social engagement dates that are born of a tree.[ Sotto voce but just audible through the crystal: ] The south is very strange, who knows! Figs. Meat, as long as it's unspoiled and nicely seasoned. Laundry services. Bracelets, gems, of course, and rings, potions... no torn trousers. We have been told this is a common barter item in some parts of the Marches but we do not believe it and in any case we do not want them. We have, in our past, been forced to duel a man over his insistence on selling us torn trousers and we will not hesitate to do so again.

And no poetry. Absolutely none.

Comments

[rathercommon]

[ She tries to sound severe - but she is clearly grinning. ]

What about songs?

[offortune]

[ Rafael is just as clearly skeptical. ]

Songs?

[rathercommon]

Well, you say no poetry. But a song doesn't have to be a poem.

[foxsays]

And after I shared that brandy, for shame. [At least she hasn't been sheepish about her former profession or about prodding around in whatever pockets remain to corpses. Oh and that pouring noise is her emptying a boot, don't mind that too much.] How much will hair oil cost, if it can be found?

[bunko]

Stranded in service without hair oil, ah. Your suffering is heard, mi dama, and yet, the price would depend on the quality. Cheap hair oil would come cheap, medium price for medium quality, high quality for...

Well. Brandy, likely. Was the brandy very good?

[offortune]

It was not bad. Medium brandy, I would say. But that was shared amongst friends! A separate debt entirely, lady, I am sure you will agree.

[paperwing]

[She can't believe she is hearing this. Is this the kind of thing she has to wake up to. Does she trust this? Maybe. Is she suspicious? Very.

The silence lasts a while until you might recognise that overly familiar sigh.]

[offortune]

Scipio, did you recognize that sigh? I think I recognized that sigh. Could it be?

[bunko]

I would know it anywhere.

[Mostly because he heard it, on the road, rather often, but. Details. With relish, he names her:]

Sabriel. Our good friend, Sabriel. How do you fare, Sabriel? Have you thought up any needs, in the muck?

[perseverances]

[Sigh. Double sigh.]

Why not do it for the good of the Inquisition?

[offortune]

What?

[bunko]

What?

[ombranera]

How about knowing you can sleep without having to wait for my knife to find you in the night?

[offortune]

It has been many years and your knife has not found us yet. Perhaps you need a new one? We can do that, for a reasonable fee.

[byblow]

I can punish you, you know. Theoretically.

[ If they are good at hearing expressions, they might be able to hear that he is trying not to smile. ]

[rathercommon]

Oh, don't! They're just being enterprising.

[ombranera]

These are yours?





You do not get to judge me on the company I keep ever again, Alistair.

[bunko]

Theoretically.

[Almost trilled he's so happy.]

I love that word.

[paperwing]

Alistair, I thought you were to keep on eye on them.

[el_tybs]

[There's a groan as Sam pulls the damn stone out and stares at it]

How about silence? How much is that? Some of us are trying to sleep.

[Sleep was hard enough to come by. Thanks!]

[byblow]

I don't think they're going to sympathize with anyone else over a lack of sleep right now.

[nadasharillen]

As per a conversation I had earlier...

[a small pause, and then she continued, rather embarassedly]

Boots? Leather. On the small side? I mean... I have regular sized feet. For an elf. I've never actually had shoes before. Never needed them. But this mire is... I don't really feel like getting the plague. Nothing quality, please, I'll definitely be burning them afterwards.

As far as payment? If you're willing to wait, I can get meat or furs to you back at Skyhold. [a pause, then a wry laugh] You don't want anything I could hunt up down here, I promise. I also do carving and engraving work, if that's of any value.

[bunko]

You are in luck, bella. Cheap boots, they are easy to come by. I do not promise comfort, and I can guarantee that they will be of no quality. We are well supplied with cheap boots.

But if you have not worn shoes, then you also should think to get socks. Not a requirement, only a humble suggestion. Do you know of blisters, on the feet?

[salvatore_underfoot]

So ... say I left a book behind. Are you saying you could retrieve it for me?

[bunko]

We are more than saying. We can, and we will.

[For a price. Did they mention the price?]

Books, they are easy. One book? Even easier.