[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

[ombranera]

What manner of Antivan rogue balks at the idea of being stabbed? One cannot always sweet talk their way out of a situation. It would've been a flesh wound, I assure you.

[ Tch, amateurs. What is a little stabbing between friends? Or. Soon to be friends. For anyone that has such refined taste in leather and false bosoms could only be someone Zev would call friend. ]

Why thank you. Spend a year walking behind him and you pick up all sorts of things.

[bunko]

The kind of Antivan rogue who only has one shirt to his name?

[But in thinking back, without the immediate threat of the shouting Noodle Stranger chasing him across tables and bartops, it is easier to feel less a sense of danger and urgency and the whisper of near-death. It was not so bad, was it? Small daggers, lively chase. A flesh wound? They have had worse!

(Although the Noodle Stranger is wrong about one point, and that is: one can always sweet talk one's way out of a situation, if one is Skip and/or Rafa. Or, run. Scipio is not an Antivan who likes duels so well he would actually die or be terribly wounded in one. He likes the flourish and showmanship of duels, and then he likes to fight his way offstage and go to the tavern and have a drink. You know: staged duels.)

(Anyways.)]

And it is a fine shirt. But now, I am told that all that I own is not truly mine, so perhaps you should have cut the shirt to ribbons. The Order cannot appreciation such a garment. I will freeze into my grave, where I will freeze more.

[ombranera]

Just the one? For shame. Perhaps in exchange for seeing the boots I might find you something suitable, yes? For you I am thinking crimson.

[bunko]

Really?

[ombranera]

You both grabbed the cauldron, I grabbed the ladle, we were both paid. Seeing as you are wardens now I cannot truly hold an old grudge against you. It is not entirely fair. So. Crimson brocade with...Mmm. Golden stitching. Tell me are you more fond of geometric patterns along your cuffs or the more traditional Antivan scrollwork?

[bunko]

[This could be a trick, or a trap.... but Maker, does that shirt sounds great.]

I agree. We must let the bygones be the bygones only, yes? United in cause. [Or something. Not a rhetoric he's familiar but he can make the right sounds.] And I have preferred the geometric for some time now. It is always good to cut a figure that is distinct, in small ways. Then when you are looked at, you are remembered, but no one can say why. The eye is drawn to the distinct.

[ombranera]

In the spirit of burying the hatchet, and do be honest- would you like pockets sewn to the inside of the cuffs for lockpicks and other such fine tools, or do you have our own means of carrying them?

[bunko]

We have always preferred to make our own modifications, of course. If we were still in the business.

[ombranera]

Grey Wardens do whatever it takes to protect the people from Darkspawn. A little con artistry is not below them should they have good cause.

[bunko]

Ah, but then it is honest, you see. A man could carry lockpicks honestly. We intend to carry lockpicks honestly, among other things. But we are honest now.

Honestly.

[ombranera]

You cannot see my face, unfortunately, but imagine it is one of an elf that believes you whole heartedly.

[ It isn't. It really, really isn't. ]

[bunko]

I can imagine it easily. And I must say that your support, and your belief, Noodle Stranger: they are appreciated.

As is the shirt.

[ombranera]

Zevran Arainai, as we are doing business of a sort. And you, Pasta Brigand?

[bunko]

I have many names. Pasta Brigand, I am happy to add to their number. But since we are doing business, of a sort, I will tell you: I was born Scipio Maravello.

[ombranera]

A pleasure to meet you properly, Scipio. I look forward to meeting you in person- with less chasing and shouting.