A person who knew a person... Osric frowned. He knew how grapevines worked well enough from personal experience; you passed word that you were interested to an associate, and they passed that on for you, on their own time and at their own convenience, and so on and so forth until the message reached the right ear. That could take a sevenday, mayhap even a moon or more... but then, he could afford to wait for something of this quality.
He couldn't help but bark a laugh, though, as Tarot pitched yet another sale. The man was relentless, and for good reason: the sergeant had deep pockets, courtesy of his... organization... and he was free to draw on those funds, to a point, so long as the coin was spent in pursuit of their goals.
"Special, eh? Complimentary? Aight, I'll take the usual, then." The usual was an order for an assortment of well-forged blades of various shapes and sizes: throwing knife, stiletto, dirk, rondel, push-dagger, main-gauche, khukuri, and pesh-kabz. Not a one enchanted or enchanced, though: he could not afford to invest in such expensive steel when his purposes required the dispensable and disposable.
"That's eight. For the ninth, I'd like somethin' somewhat more... exotic."
He leaned forward against the counter again, and started describing the product. A perfume, a fragrance more suited to Lominsan fashion, regal and oppressive. He did his best to describe the smell that had haunted him for more than a decade: orchid petals in a high wind, fresh citrus, a touch of honey, and the ever-present rum that graced the pubs and taverns of that tiered city.
"If you've anythin' like that in stock, I'll gladly go in for a bottle. And as for the tenth... the backroom open for viewin' today, or no?"
He couldn't help but bark a laugh, though, as Tarot pitched yet another sale. The man was relentless, and for good reason: the sergeant had deep pockets, courtesy of his... organization... and he was free to draw on those funds, to a point, so long as the coin was spent in pursuit of their goals.
"Special, eh? Complimentary? Aight, I'll take the usual, then." The usual was an order for an assortment of well-forged blades of various shapes and sizes: throwing knife, stiletto, dirk, rondel, push-dagger, main-gauche, khukuri, and pesh-kabz. Not a one enchanted or enchanced, though: he could not afford to invest in such expensive steel when his purposes required the dispensable and disposable.
"That's eight. For the ninth, I'd like somethin' somewhat more... exotic."
He leaned forward against the counter again, and started describing the product. A perfume, a fragrance more suited to Lominsan fashion, regal and oppressive. He did his best to describe the smell that had haunted him for more than a decade: orchid petals in a high wind, fresh citrus, a touch of honey, and the ever-present rum that graced the pubs and taverns of that tiered city.
"If you've anythin' like that in stock, I'll gladly go in for a bottle. And as for the tenth... the backroom open for viewin' today, or no?"
![[Image: 1qVSsTp.png]](http://i.imgur.com/1qVSsTp.png)
