therookery | [OTA] Profit Mire

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And I refuse to answer unless you tell me what you called me meant!

In the name of what do you demand this of me? In the name of education?

In the name of what are you asking your questions of me?

In the name of the sacred rule of dibs. Because you will still find that I asked you first.

Well, I don't respect dibs. So it seems we're at an impasse.

[ hooray ]

An im... passe?

Yeah. You know. Something you can't pass? An impassible point.

Ah. And yet, all things are passable.

Not all things. A broken bridge.

But a man can swim.

A man can drown.

Then a man should have learned to swim when he was young. Regrettable. If he does drown, then he crosses to la riva lontana, the distant shore.

It is not the way he meant to be going, maybe. But you see, he is not truly im-passed.

Okay, so if I shove you off the tallest tower in Skyhold for refusing to answer my question, you'll be satisfied 'cause we've made progress. Is that right?