10th of Fall, 518 AV
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Most people did not know that dhani were excellent at whistling. Their sibilant language actually suited them to it already, and when in Dhani form their forked tongue made self-harmonization even possible.
Thus, this morning, from behind the doors and shuttered windows of The Coil and Fang, a surprisingly complex set of strains drifted out to the street beyond. The front of his building faced the armory, while the door to the rear office was angled between The Pig’s Foot and the old Temple. The Commons was already more than alive this morning, as he slipped the heavy chains out of shutters’ loops on the small window by the door, swinging them wide open. As an armada of raindrops invaded his lab, he swore, grabbing at the chains and yanking the shutters closed once more.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he slithered back some, deciding how much water he needed to clean up. The floor...to heck with the floor. It would dry on its own, and people would be tracking more in right here near the door anyway. There was a pair of flasks on the front countertop he needed to dry off still, though. He grabbed a rag from the drawer on his central table, then slithered back around the countertop to the the flasks. Rubbing them first inside, and the out, he worked until they were at a nice polish, then set them on the table he used as his desk, closest to the fireplace on this side of the room.
A quick glance around the lab told him that everything was in good enough order to open. As he glided back out of his lab area and into the shop vicinity, he gave a quick check to his supplies. He had sold a few vials -- Engeron Bane went quickly when he was able to stock it, and his endless supply of his own poison was proving to be a big hit...quite powerful for the price. This brought a sigh and a bit of a grimace from him, since foraging for Engeron Bane was one of his least favorite activities. Oh well...it was also the most valuable one he had, so...at least he turned a tidy profit.
He started to move forward to the main window, then snapped his fingers as he remembered what else he needed. Snatching up a pair of tongs, he reached into the nearest hearth, grabbing one of the live coals from last night. Once that was extracted, he headed to the main window, using the coal to light each of the large candles he kept there. The assortment provided a good deal of light, particularly useful for illuminating the shop’s sign as well as the large “Open” sign he was now placing in the front window.
A quick detour saw the front door unlock and the wood paneling -- a cheap mixmatch merely designed to keep the glass safe from hooligans at night -- set carefully under the front table. The next step of his morning routine was to grab some fuel from the trunk beside the hearth in the shop area, toss it -- and the coal he still had -- into the fireplace. With the application of some bits of waste material such as torn paper, dried plant shavings, cedar bark, and so forth…ah, yes...the fire lept into life once more. First rule of building fires, he had learned, was to only build them once. The rest of the time, keep them alive just enough to always be able to restart them. He blew on it a bit to get the flame nice and lively before repeating the process in his lab’s hearth. The one in his bedroom was still burning from when he had built it up last night, but he would not add more fuel. With the doors shut his house -- built from old ship’s planks -- would keep the heat reasonably well. It wasn’t all that cold, after all, just wet as a swamp rat’s arse. The back room, for this reason, never had a fire built unless it was going to be used, in which case he already had a nice stack of fire material prepped in the hearth, only awaiting a couple live coals taken from any of his other fires. Costs did need to be conserved, after all.
Another quick survey of the place.
Yes, everything was in order.
Slithering back into his lab, he extracted the colorful Mucol fungus he had found several days ago, and rubbed the exterior. It had dried well -- seven to ten days seemed to do the trick, with the longer time needed in wetter weather. As he shook it, however, he could still feel the fluid inside. This would make a good deal of poison, which would possibly help him overstock that popular variety for a bit. Setting it down on the central table, he began scrounging through various cabinets to get all of the equipment he would need. At this point, the whistling took a rather comical turn, as it danced up and down in little jumps, almost as if he was talking to himself somewhat while still keeping up his bit of tune.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Most people did not know that dhani were excellent at whistling. Their sibilant language actually suited them to it already, and when in Dhani form their forked tongue made self-harmonization even possible.
Thus, this morning, from behind the doors and shuttered windows of The Coil and Fang, a surprisingly complex set of strains drifted out to the street beyond. The front of his building faced the armory, while the door to the rear office was angled between The Pig’s Foot and the old Temple. The Commons was already more than alive this morning, as he slipped the heavy chains out of shutters’ loops on the small window by the door, swinging them wide open. As an armada of raindrops invaded his lab, he swore, grabbing at the chains and yanking the shutters closed once more.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he slithered back some, deciding how much water he needed to clean up. The floor...to heck with the floor. It would dry on its own, and people would be tracking more in right here near the door anyway. There was a pair of flasks on the front countertop he needed to dry off still, though. He grabbed a rag from the drawer on his central table, then slithered back around the countertop to the the flasks. Rubbing them first inside, and the out, he worked until they were at a nice polish, then set them on the table he used as his desk, closest to the fireplace on this side of the room.
A quick glance around the lab told him that everything was in good enough order to open. As he glided back out of his lab area and into the shop vicinity, he gave a quick check to his supplies. He had sold a few vials -- Engeron Bane went quickly when he was able to stock it, and his endless supply of his own poison was proving to be a big hit...quite powerful for the price. This brought a sigh and a bit of a grimace from him, since foraging for Engeron Bane was one of his least favorite activities. Oh well...it was also the most valuable one he had, so...at least he turned a tidy profit.
He started to move forward to the main window, then snapped his fingers as he remembered what else he needed. Snatching up a pair of tongs, he reached into the nearest hearth, grabbing one of the live coals from last night. Once that was extracted, he headed to the main window, using the coal to light each of the large candles he kept there. The assortment provided a good deal of light, particularly useful for illuminating the shop’s sign as well as the large “Open” sign he was now placing in the front window.
A quick detour saw the front door unlock and the wood paneling -- a cheap mixmatch merely designed to keep the glass safe from hooligans at night -- set carefully under the front table. The next step of his morning routine was to grab some fuel from the trunk beside the hearth in the shop area, toss it -- and the coal he still had -- into the fireplace. With the application of some bits of waste material such as torn paper, dried plant shavings, cedar bark, and so forth…ah, yes...the fire lept into life once more. First rule of building fires, he had learned, was to only build them once. The rest of the time, keep them alive just enough to always be able to restart them. He blew on it a bit to get the flame nice and lively before repeating the process in his lab’s hearth. The one in his bedroom was still burning from when he had built it up last night, but he would not add more fuel. With the doors shut his house -- built from old ship’s planks -- would keep the heat reasonably well. It wasn’t all that cold, after all, just wet as a swamp rat’s arse. The back room, for this reason, never had a fire built unless it was going to be used, in which case he already had a nice stack of fire material prepped in the hearth, only awaiting a couple live coals taken from any of his other fires. Costs did need to be conserved, after all.
Another quick survey of the place.
Yes, everything was in order.
Slithering back into his lab, he extracted the colorful Mucol fungus he had found several days ago, and rubbed the exterior. It had dried well -- seven to ten days seemed to do the trick, with the longer time needed in wetter weather. As he shook it, however, he could still feel the fluid inside. This would make a good deal of poison, which would possibly help him overstock that popular variety for a bit. Setting it down on the central table, he began scrounging through various cabinets to get all of the equipment he would need. At this point, the whistling took a rather comical turn, as it danced up and down in little jumps, almost as if he was talking to himself somewhat while still keeping up his bit of tune.
