15th of Summer, 515 AV. Afternoon.
Baroque Bay is where the Kelvic thief fished that afternoon. His bait, avarice. His ploy, prey on human stupidity. Fortunately for him that was something readily abundant in the shyke hole of a city that was Sunberth. But while education was not a top priority, a healthy supply of skepticism was. It wasn't easy finding a sucker. The previously duped undoubtedly wise up to the various scams and con jobs lurking about eventually. Thus the docks and seaside bazaar of Baroque Bay were prime turf for these sorts of operations. Foreigners from ports far and wide came to the City of Anarchy to sell their wares and many (unfortunately) to take on the always popular commerce of the flesh. Outsiders weren't as savvy to the tricks of his trade and provided refreshingly oblivious targets for the eager rogue.
Andar peddled a sack of inauthentic items around the market and the docks, in hopes of hooking a fish. Each item in the bag had an outlandish tale to go with it to jack up the item's value. Each item, of course, was as run of the mill as it got. His story embellishments and the occasional creative alteration were all that stood between average junk and preciously rare artifacts. That fact always made Andar chuckle.
Like the wares he fobbed, his identity was a complete fabrication. This afternoon he was Endrani, a half-Svefran sailor-merchant who by his own account, sailed to every corner of the world and as a result had been to many great and unusual places. He, as luck would have it, carried some of the most wondrous treasures collected over the course of his travels. Many of which by sheer chance fell into his possession by some of the most inexplicable of circumstances.
Wearing the Endrani guise consisted of make-up to darken his naturally olive skin tone to a swarthy hue, rendering subtle age lines around the eyes and mouth, wearing his tawny hair out loosely with a few braids decorated with festively-colored beads and of course, garish clothing (inexpensively tailored) to go with a scarf wrapped about his head to complete the fictitious ensemble.
Andar had to change his speech tendencies to incorporate what he perceived to be a slight Svefran accent to the common tongue. Most of the change had more to do with applying gesticulations and facial expressions than any twist in utterance. He also intermixed Fratva occasionally for authenticity's sake. Andar rather enjoyed the disguise since the Svefrans he had met were lively folk, and not so very different from his natural persona, though likely a bit more exaggerated in expression and definitely owning a bit more bravado than was necessary.
The warm Summer day had not been encouraging so far. His legs burned with fatigue from having walked up and down the streets, hawking his wares. His face and arms felt as if they had been equally abused, what with all the arm-waving and myriad expressions involved with being cursed Endrani. Lugging about a sack, didn't help either. The physical toll, however, was the least of his bothers. He had expected to sell more of his ridiculously inflated items.
All he had managed to do was rid himself of one petching knife! A knife he claimed to have been forged in Sultros, thrice blessed by Izurdin and of course, made of isurian steel. Endrani promised on his life that the knives would never break. In truth, they were common eating utensils he had bought from a particularly crafty merchant. It was actually from the man's own lying lips that he had gotten the idea in the first place. The knives were complete fakes of course, engraved with rune like symbols so as to make them appear valuable. They weren't worth more than five silver mizas a piece on a good day. Andar had sold that single knife for nearly three gold mizas.
That was partly why it was so confounding. The day had started off so promising when he had sold that knife to a portly woman in the market who claimed her husband had a cousin from Sultros and how wonderfully pleased he would be upon finding such a surprising gift had been bought in his own backyard. There would be a surprise alright, he had thought. And counted his blessings that when a certain enraged husband found out what she had paid for the inauthentic knife and came bristling over, clever Endrani would be long gone. He'd keep the bastard tucked away cozy for at least a few months before playing him again. As his wise mother so often told him, "It's far better to be cautious than dead."
Hadn't sold a bloody damned thing the rest of the day. He got a few laughs, made a few acquaintances at the docks, got threatened, twice, for being a cheat, had someone complain that his Fratava needed work and had even heard an enchanting tale from a Vantha woman in the Drunken Fish when he had thirsted for respite from Syna's stare and his phony hawking. Now he was back at it again, the shadows ever longer as afternoon's light began to fade toward fast approaching evening.
His light footsteps carried him past the hustle and bustle (even now) that transpired along Cherry Bay. Cherry Bay was one of the foremost piers for trade in Baroque Bay. Sailors busied themselves with rigging and unloading cargo on either side of him. The occasional call or curse mingled with a pleasant sounding shanty a bit more distant. All along the wharf, activity never ceased. He noticed a few inspection buildings close by and it was from these that Sunberthian-born individuals sporting rather official looking coats monitored and what he perceived as a fancy bit of extortion taking place. He needed to get in on that action! But that would be near impossible. For it no doubt was sanctioned by one of the gang bosses. So, without a sigh of regret he swaggered on.
"A strapping mate such as yerself no doubt would require a rare knife from far flung Sultros! Not so much? Then perhaps a bottle o' wine from Mura! From whence the very tears of the Konti can give a man visions to foresee his most profitable future," he said with a wink and closed the gap between he and sailor with a lively skip. He then said all conspiratorially like whilst offering the tired-looking sailor a good view of the exceptional-looking wine bottle, "Some say it's vision water. Others, breast milk from a goddess. Whale-shyke! It's the bloody tears, don't ya forget it!"
The sailor mopped at his sweat-beaded face and licked his lips. Andar could tell the man was so thirsty he'd probably of paid for his own piss, let a lone the fancy bottle he proffered. This one was ripe for the plucking. He just needed a few nudges in the right direction. The sailor reached for the bottle then, with Endrani placing it just out of the man's reach.
"Give it over. I need a taste of it afore I can judge its worth," said the sailor.
"This nectar from the gods ain't free, sailor boy. But I can see you would like to be the only man in this city to have ever tasted the Konti vintage. For anyone else I would say twenty gold mizas without blinking. But I like ya. For you...I cannot bloody believe I am doing this....... Fer you, the low price of fourteen gold mizas! Ye'll find no better offer!" declared Endrani theatrically, presenting the bottle once more for his thirsty inspection.
"Fourteen?! You're crazy fella,"said the sailor, though his expression belied his words.
Any tick now he would cave. Endrani gave a long sigh and stroked his beard thoughtfully for far too long. "It really is a sin for me ta do this. But since I like you lad, I'll tell you what. A cup of this glorious stuff for four gold mizas. Take it before I change me mind! Like I said, this is a sin fer me to part even a drop o' this wine from the rest."
Out came a shot glass he had brought along just for this possibility and before the man decided to disagree, he uncorked the bottle and filled the glass to the brim.
Chimes later Endrani sauntered and whistled along, four gold mizas the richer and only at the cost of a very small glass of fine wine. Perhaps the day could be salvaged still! He had only to find a few more fools to con before the veil of night.
Baroque Bay is where the Kelvic thief fished that afternoon. His bait, avarice. His ploy, prey on human stupidity. Fortunately for him that was something readily abundant in the shyke hole of a city that was Sunberth. But while education was not a top priority, a healthy supply of skepticism was. It wasn't easy finding a sucker. The previously duped undoubtedly wise up to the various scams and con jobs lurking about eventually. Thus the docks and seaside bazaar of Baroque Bay were prime turf for these sorts of operations. Foreigners from ports far and wide came to the City of Anarchy to sell their wares and many (unfortunately) to take on the always popular commerce of the flesh. Outsiders weren't as savvy to the tricks of his trade and provided refreshingly oblivious targets for the eager rogue.
Andar peddled a sack of inauthentic items around the market and the docks, in hopes of hooking a fish. Each item in the bag had an outlandish tale to go with it to jack up the item's value. Each item, of course, was as run of the mill as it got. His story embellishments and the occasional creative alteration were all that stood between average junk and preciously rare artifacts. That fact always made Andar chuckle.
Like the wares he fobbed, his identity was a complete fabrication. This afternoon he was Endrani, a half-Svefran sailor-merchant who by his own account, sailed to every corner of the world and as a result had been to many great and unusual places. He, as luck would have it, carried some of the most wondrous treasures collected over the course of his travels. Many of which by sheer chance fell into his possession by some of the most inexplicable of circumstances.
Wearing the Endrani guise consisted of make-up to darken his naturally olive skin tone to a swarthy hue, rendering subtle age lines around the eyes and mouth, wearing his tawny hair out loosely with a few braids decorated with festively-colored beads and of course, garish clothing (inexpensively tailored) to go with a scarf wrapped about his head to complete the fictitious ensemble.
Andar had to change his speech tendencies to incorporate what he perceived to be a slight Svefran accent to the common tongue. Most of the change had more to do with applying gesticulations and facial expressions than any twist in utterance. He also intermixed Fratva occasionally for authenticity's sake. Andar rather enjoyed the disguise since the Svefrans he had met were lively folk, and not so very different from his natural persona, though likely a bit more exaggerated in expression and definitely owning a bit more bravado than was necessary.
The warm Summer day had not been encouraging so far. His legs burned with fatigue from having walked up and down the streets, hawking his wares. His face and arms felt as if they had been equally abused, what with all the arm-waving and myriad expressions involved with being cursed Endrani. Lugging about a sack, didn't help either. The physical toll, however, was the least of his bothers. He had expected to sell more of his ridiculously inflated items.
All he had managed to do was rid himself of one petching knife! A knife he claimed to have been forged in Sultros, thrice blessed by Izurdin and of course, made of isurian steel. Endrani promised on his life that the knives would never break. In truth, they were common eating utensils he had bought from a particularly crafty merchant. It was actually from the man's own lying lips that he had gotten the idea in the first place. The knives were complete fakes of course, engraved with rune like symbols so as to make them appear valuable. They weren't worth more than five silver mizas a piece on a good day. Andar had sold that single knife for nearly three gold mizas.
That was partly why it was so confounding. The day had started off so promising when he had sold that knife to a portly woman in the market who claimed her husband had a cousin from Sultros and how wonderfully pleased he would be upon finding such a surprising gift had been bought in his own backyard. There would be a surprise alright, he had thought. And counted his blessings that when a certain enraged husband found out what she had paid for the inauthentic knife and came bristling over, clever Endrani would be long gone. He'd keep the bastard tucked away cozy for at least a few months before playing him again. As his wise mother so often told him, "It's far better to be cautious than dead."
Hadn't sold a bloody damned thing the rest of the day. He got a few laughs, made a few acquaintances at the docks, got threatened, twice, for being a cheat, had someone complain that his Fratava needed work and had even heard an enchanting tale from a Vantha woman in the Drunken Fish when he had thirsted for respite from Syna's stare and his phony hawking. Now he was back at it again, the shadows ever longer as afternoon's light began to fade toward fast approaching evening.
His light footsteps carried him past the hustle and bustle (even now) that transpired along Cherry Bay. Cherry Bay was one of the foremost piers for trade in Baroque Bay. Sailors busied themselves with rigging and unloading cargo on either side of him. The occasional call or curse mingled with a pleasant sounding shanty a bit more distant. All along the wharf, activity never ceased. He noticed a few inspection buildings close by and it was from these that Sunberthian-born individuals sporting rather official looking coats monitored and what he perceived as a fancy bit of extortion taking place. He needed to get in on that action! But that would be near impossible. For it no doubt was sanctioned by one of the gang bosses. So, without a sigh of regret he swaggered on.
"A strapping mate such as yerself no doubt would require a rare knife from far flung Sultros! Not so much? Then perhaps a bottle o' wine from Mura! From whence the very tears of the Konti can give a man visions to foresee his most profitable future," he said with a wink and closed the gap between he and sailor with a lively skip. He then said all conspiratorially like whilst offering the tired-looking sailor a good view of the exceptional-looking wine bottle, "Some say it's vision water. Others, breast milk from a goddess. Whale-shyke! It's the bloody tears, don't ya forget it!"
The sailor mopped at his sweat-beaded face and licked his lips. Andar could tell the man was so thirsty he'd probably of paid for his own piss, let a lone the fancy bottle he proffered. This one was ripe for the plucking. He just needed a few nudges in the right direction. The sailor reached for the bottle then, with Endrani placing it just out of the man's reach.
"Give it over. I need a taste of it afore I can judge its worth," said the sailor.
"This nectar from the gods ain't free, sailor boy. But I can see you would like to be the only man in this city to have ever tasted the Konti vintage. For anyone else I would say twenty gold mizas without blinking. But I like ya. For you...I cannot bloody believe I am doing this....... Fer you, the low price of fourteen gold mizas! Ye'll find no better offer!" declared Endrani theatrically, presenting the bottle once more for his thirsty inspection.
"Fourteen?! You're crazy fella,"said the sailor, though his expression belied his words.
Any tick now he would cave. Endrani gave a long sigh and stroked his beard thoughtfully for far too long. "It really is a sin for me ta do this. But since I like you lad, I'll tell you what. A cup of this glorious stuff for four gold mizas. Take it before I change me mind! Like I said, this is a sin fer me to part even a drop o' this wine from the rest."
Out came a shot glass he had brought along just for this possibility and before the man decided to disagree, he uncorked the bottle and filled the glass to the brim.
Chimes later Endrani sauntered and whistled along, four gold mizas the richer and only at the cost of a very small glass of fine wine. Perhaps the day could be salvaged still! He had only to find a few more fools to con before the veil of night.
Ledger :
