The Merchants of the Seaside (open)

[Fabien Kaan]

Fabien didn't care for Etheria Port very much, but business was so very good.

Peering from between strands of filthy, blonde hair, the boy watched guards moving about the bustling market. They were genial and calm until someone took too many liberties, and then a transformation would happen. Nothing of the sort had occurred thus far this afternoon, but Fabien knew he was being watched as closely as every other merchant. Those disrupting the guild's delicate balance would be removed.

He sat beneath a canopy very close to the docks themselves, a prime location that he'd simply been fortunate enough to get. He could even read the name plastered on the nearest ship: Minnowfish. Stupid, he thought.

The boy was filthy. Ragged, ripped grey pants and a tattered old straw-colored tunic hung off of his body, too big for him. He was barefoot and his feet, hands and face were caked with mud and grime. He had a patchy, inconsistent beard and deep bags hung below his eyes.

Next to him, though, outside of the canopy and well within the view of anyone stepping into the road from the docks, were the most beautiful of pots and urns. Some big enough to hold a gallon of water, some small enough for a beloved plant. They shone with a luster that could not possibly be natural, and in fact was not, and commanded attention from any who turned their way.

Indeed, he had made some sales already, but the afternoon was still young. Hours and hours of sculpting mud and clay - not as a craftsman would, of course, but with the aid of magic and attunement to the earth, would make him a rich man by sundown. He hoped.

In the distance, a large ship was slowly pulling into port. From the size of it, and the colors of the flag flapping above, he thought it might be from Corone.

Fabien smacked his chops. He would prepare to get attention driven his way, and allow the luster of his wares to do the rest - he'd have to compete with the dozen or so other merchants nearby, who would all be screaming for the attention of these new arrivals, but Fabien had the location advantage.

[Fabien Kaan]

((Guess it's a solo now - but anyone can join anytime))

Not one passenger of the ship made it through the port area without someone getting in their face.

For those new to Etheria Port it was a chaotic sea of limbs and wares, as shopkeepers stepped into the road and stuck their grubby items toward anyone who dared not look straight ahead. The screaming was intense. It was as if the peddlers of Alerar had not eaten in months and steaks were being thrown into the street.

Fabien remained near his stall and watched the faces of the travelers, some of them shocked and confused, their eyes wide and darting about; some of them navigating the madness with practiced ease. Fellow peddlers or natives to Alerar, no doubt.

All I need is their attention, he thought. He'd never quite gotten the hang of this practiced dance the other merchants were going into - and it was practiced, despite its appearance - but an idea had brewed that we would now put into action.

Seconds later, Fabien placed an object by the side of his setup and walked away. Within a moment, it exploded with a loud pop and all eyes nearby turned toward him. He silently thanked to child from Ettermire who'd provided him with the makeshift firework.

"Come one and all! Beautiful and elegant designs! See how they shimmer, and think of how they would look in your parlor!"

He grinned, his yellowed teeth matching his tattered shirt. He pointed at the items by him, stacked and layered, utterly beautiful.

And those who looked saw that beauty keenly, even more than he.

[Fabien Kaan]

The grin on the young half-elf's face remained for the next several minutes as men and women approached his stall, stared at his wares, and were altogether too friendly to him. Considering his unfit appearance and garb, one would expect Fabien to be unpopular, but as others approached him they fell into his aura. They began to feel drawn to him, interested in him, they felt desire to be in his vicinity for long periods of time; fortunately for him, the elegant decorations he created had a similar draw.

He began to make sales. He did not gouge the people, for he knew that even his most beautiful piece could lose its effect if his price was too high, however the temptation was indeed there.

Fabien didn't have time to worry about what the other merchants might think, but certainly to them the popularity of the youth's shop was odd. Pots and urns were never popular enough to gather a crowd regardless of their beauty. Besides the popularity, however, there did not appear to be any foul play involved, and the customers looked pleased.

The flurry was over in no more than fifteen minutes, and the port area returned to calm. Fabien's plot was noticeably lighter after unloading half of his wares, and his pockets were heavy with coin. Indeed, he had to fashion a belt out of the rope holding up his canopy, so that his pants would not fall down.

And now it's time to leave, he thought, for not one of the other merchants was unaware of how good his take was. They wouldn't approach him, wouldn't ask how he'd managed to do so well. That's not how these conversations went.

Swiftly, he took down the tarp above his stall and laid it on the dusty ground. He piled his remaining wares on it and wrapped it up, using the last of his rope to tie it up. Now, fortunately, he could sling the sack over his shoulder and carry it - on his way over in the morning, he'd dragged everything, miserably.

He looked up to take a final appraisal of everything, to make sure every item was gathered. And when he did, he noticed that every one of the men in the port's market area were looking at him. From behind their stalls or next to their inventory, they stared hateful daggers at the young entrepreneur.

All the more reason to leave under the light of day, he knew. It was not unusual for a dagger to find itself in one's back, when the rules were not followed.