Bordering On Brokering

[FennWenn]

Closed to Nevfriend and Sketchy!

Radasanth! The city of trade. The city of the Citadel.

The city of Fenn’s favorite black market.

As was typical of his voyages into the city, the little fae was here to sell. Wandering deep into the seedy underbelly of the sprawling city-state, Fenn skipped from street to darkened street with the sort of cheerfulness that typically came with gaining shiny coins in dirty ways; hooray for thieving fingers and unaware passerby! Already he had pawned off a few easier items -- some broken rings, some rusted necklaces. There was a suspect jewelry shop that took those sorts of things and melted them down for scrap metal. Now, all he had left to pawn off was… well. The one item he snagged from the funny shop that had gotten rid of Daugi’s fleas and almost hallucination-drug’d him to death. Fenn wasn’t really sure what this potion was.

Wouldn’t stop him from selling it though.

The folds of his cloak formed a nice barrier between his skin and the glass; it was best that he didn’t freeze the potion inside before he tried selling it, probably. It was this pretty indigo colored liquid, all shiny-clear and bright-like. Not warm magic-brightness though, just ordinary shininess. He guessed this was just some ordinary remedy Nevin hadn’t needed to put any magic into. Since he hadn’t understood the handwriting on the label, Fenn had just kind of… peeled it off. Who knew what it actually did now? As far as Fenn’s coin-hungry satchel was concerned, this was now some fantastic magical panacea he could sell to some unsuspecting non-magic-sensing sucker. Ordinary stuff didn’t sell half as well as the fantastic did on the black market.

Soon enough, Fenn came upon a squat paint-peeled building with a rough sign outside bearibg the word “SHOP” and nothibg else. The door groaned as Fenn pushed it open. Inside the dim space, lit by the unwashed windows and a weak candle lantern, were several splintery crates that formed a rough counter-ish surface. A scruffy dude with a long beard and stupidly mismatched clothes snored with his head on this makeshift counter. Scrounger Scourge was a guy who you could sell stuff to straight-up, and he would resell the items to shops he knew would accept them. He didn’t exactly pay top dollar. However, he was a safe place to pawn off the most suspicious of stolen stuff. That, and he wasn’t too bright. Fenn sighed and set his potion down on the crate-counter with a resounded clonk. The doozing man woke with a start.

“Wha- oh. ‘S you. Ey. Welcome back, ‘lil puck,” Scourge muttered, his voice groggy as he wiped the drool off his lips. “Whatcha got for me this time?”

Fenn tapped the counter, sending a quick spray of frost across the wood. UNICORN BLOOD, he scribbled in the ice crystals.

“Th’ fuck kid?”

IT LIKE YOUR LIFE-NESS. MAKE MORE ENERGETIC. Fenn’s grin widened in a way most unnatural. HOW YOU THINK I STAY YOUNG? MAGIC. EXTRA BOTTLE, YOU HAVE SELL FOR MUCH MONEY.

Scourge smacked his lips tiredly and picked up the potion for a closer look. “Really? How d’ya even get this stuff? Like, you kill a unicorn and bleed it out or something..?”

Fenn shook his head. SECRET. VERY RARE. HOW MUCH MONEY YOU PAY?

The merchant seemed… almost convinced! Again, Scourge was not the sharpest sword in the armory. His brows furrowed together thoughtfully. “Gee. Lemme think it over a squinch.”