Log:Color at the Market of Port Anarch

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Color at the Market of Port Anarch

The Bank and the Underkeel


Logan, Shelley as ST

July 05 2018

Logan goes to explore Port Anarch


Port Anarch

Port Anarch. It floats in the skies above the Hedge, visible for miles before one gets to its anchor point. The anchor is huge - the size of a small house. It is attached to a chain, each link the size of an ogre, rising up into the sky and the clouds. Barely visible is the underside of the floating island, high above. There, at the ground, are a bevy of hobs, each holding a collection of weapons and strange hedgespun items and tokens. There is a strange rickshaw like contraption attatched to a flying hedgebeast, a long serpentine dragon like creature. One hob, larger than the others and meaner and more vicious looking as well, stands in the center of the group, a knife cleaning his long nails. He seems to be in charge of the situation, and maybe the one who can get someone up to the Island itself.

Logan often has someone else in tow -- usually Dross -- but today, he's alone. He's wearing some of his Hedgespun finery, all white and gold and uniform-like, with a rapier strapped to his side, though he carries a very modern denim backpack on his back. Somehow, he makes this work.

Smiling, the Golden Boy approaches the larger, meaner hob, apparently not overly concerned if this knife will end up in his juggular. "You look like someone who knows what's up," he says, blue eyes bright. "How can I get to the market above?"

The grey skinned hob chews for a bit,then spits to the side an ugly black wad of chew to the side. He studies Logan for a moment, then snorts. "You're too fuckin pretty, pretty boy. Gonna get your ass roughed up and cut up there." He grins slighty, brown teeth crooked and jagged. "But hell, I ain't yer damn momma,so if you wanna get your pretty clothes all bloody and roughed up and ter prety bag emptied." He spits again. "Gotta pay the toll. Whatcha offerin?

Logan should probably be more alarmed. He certainly doesn't /look/ alarmed. If anything, he looks a little...excited. Some of the darkness that always chases his light steals a little more into his bright aura. "I've got all sorts of things. Tell me what you /like/, and I'll see if I have it." His eyes seem to glitter, his own light helping the effect along.

The hob chews some more, making another back wad of spit a second later. "Typical payment is in crystalized dreams, Toenails, or Gewgaws or Triffles. If you want a guide that will cost you extra, if you want directions thats a bit less." her strange accent is gone, replaced by simple easy to understand words and a calm demeanor. All around her the other hobs have relaxed, putting away their weapons and for the most part pushing their attention back out into the Hedge itself. The flying serpent beast looks far more interested, now that it might get to spread its wings. "You offer something up, if its acceptable we'll take it. If its not, then we wont." All business now.

GAME: Logan spends 2 Glamour

This doesn't seem to surprise Logan at all, who has been to various Markets quite a number of times, and given up quite a bit to get things he wanted. The first thing he comes up with, taken out of one of the small pockets of the backpack, is a glass vial holding some sort of greasy, oblong fruit. He extends it to the hob with one of those big grins of his. "Bilefruit. Changelings prize this one, to be sure."

The Hob takes a moment to watch the Changeling, then shrugs. "Its a Trifle and is acceptable. Its enough to get you up to the Port. A Guide or directions will be extra still." The Hob glances at Logan for a moment, then shakes his head again. "There is time to change on the way up if you want," Another hob, this one tall and skinny, with limbs that are long and thin, is already climbing up tot he back of the flying beast. The door to the rickshaw is open. "When you want to get back down, come to the same dock this one drops you off at. There will be someone waiting."

Logan pulls out, of all things, a Ziploc bag next, that appears to hold some sort of cottony substance. He hands it over. "For the Guide. I hope this will do it." He adds, "It's Hoarcotton." He nods vaguely to the comment about changing, like it's no big deal, though no doubt he will take him up on his offer. "Let's get that settled before I get on board, okay?" He smiles at the tall and skinny hob, though it's more conspiratorial and less, well. Shiny.

The hob considers the hoarcotton, the nods. "K. Merkle!" he calls out suddenly, and a tiny little goblin no higher than your knee dashes out from between the others. "Take this Changeling up give him a few hours of guidance. get him back to the dock before nightfall. Don't need the Sherrif givin no trouble about his pretty ass. If he wants to go to Underkeel, you make stick with him, hear? No letting this one get lost like the last one." The hob grunts again as the little goblin makes a sloppy half assed salute. "Merkle will take care of you," the Hob captain says. "Get changed here or on the way up, your call. You have what ammounts to hospitality in Port Anarch, but know that aint the same as elsewhere. Just means that no one is going to throw you over the edge."

"Your generosity is appreciated," Logan says, showing his teeth. Sarcasm? Maybe. "I'll change on the way up. Ready?" That's to Merkle, as Logan's already striding towards the rickshaw, whistling to himself a little.

Port Anarch opens up from the dock, a cluster of buildings that lean over each other and create labyrnth like alley ways and passages. One main road travels up the hill to the tower in the center, almost Trod like. 'bank is up there," The goblin says gesturing to the tower."Underkneel is ... well under there. Ill show you through. This is a Hollow but... well its all gone to shit. Its more Hedge then it is hollow now a days." There are dozens of hobs all around, moving in and out of alleyways and the main road. You're quire certain you'd get lost if you went anywhere other than the Central Tower, up that trod like road. Already the builldings seem to be shifting slightly, looming more, looking like they are ready to fall over on your head if you get lost in one of the myriad of alleyways

Logan will probably change right in front of Merkle with no concerns of privacy. The clothing he fishes out of his backpack looks to be like something one might wear on a night hike, as it's all either black or dark camo, complete with black baseball cap that hides his sunny hair from view. The final touch is the light around him, which he eclipses to almost nothing -- leaving only a sliver of light tracign through the shadow that now consumes him.

"I'd like to see the bank, too," he asks casually. "If there's time. This place really is /something/, huh?" He leans over the gondola to get a better look at the place.

"Bank first them, bossman," The goblin says without watching or caring. "Maybe I wont have to take you to Underknell." He mutters under his breath,before getting onto the main road and gesturing. "Keep Up ol man." The goblin starts to scamper up the main road toward the center tower.

The roads are packed with hobs, moving this way and that. Taverns line the streets, boarding houses and brothels to boot. All variety of hobs can be seen in the throngs, most getting drunk and most getting tossed into the street. There is even a Yellow Nurse to be seen at the end of an alleyway.

The Bank itself is part of the main center tower. Merkle leads the way inside dirty gold encrusted entryway, where hobs that seem slightly more respectable sit behind desks. The not so nice variety guard the doors, and a very very large and thick metal vault door, the big circle kind with giant gears that can lock it into place. "Eh? Can I Help ya?" One of the nicer looking hobs asks

"I'd like to learn more about your policies," Logan asks. His voice is perpetually sunny, whether he wants it to be or not, but right now it's smoother. More adult and composed. "Particularly in regards to loans. I'm very interested to know what they require, and I'd also like to know more about how one can go about getting a vault." He smiles, but he doesn't show his teeth. It's simply polite.

The polite looking hob, with big ears and a long nose, nods his head. "Of course sir. Come sit," he leads you to a desk in a small privacy alcove, settling in behind it and taking out a quill and several forms of paper. "A personal vault is available for the cost of one dream a month. You can either provide the dream to us each month, or you can have us come take it at our chosing. The requirements for such include nothing that can explode, nothing tht is alive or sentient, and the acceptance that the Port can move at any time. If it does, your items are safe and you can retrieve them whenever you catch up with us, but we are not beholden to you to remain in a place."

The hob continues after a moment, shuffling more papers. "Items - Tokens and the like - can be loaned out on request. The price is negotiable, and interest is accrued weekly. You need to provide us with a detailed explination of its intended use and where you will take it - we do not let such items go out with understanding the risk in how we will be able to recover them. Dangerous situations raise the rates."

Logan slides his backpack off and puts it on the floor, though he is sure to put his booted foot on the strap. No reason to trust anyone anywhere in this place. As he listens to the explanation about the vault, his smile slowly increases. "Both of those policies seem very reasonable," he says. "In that case, I'd like to open a vault today. I don't have any dreams on me, but if you wish to take one, I'm amenable to that."

The Hob begins to shuffle some more papers, then starts to write a few things down. Occasionaly he adjusts a monocle on his face, staring at Logan, and nodding his head a few more times. "We will send our miners out to you next week. The" he turns, glancing at a rustc calender on the edge of his desk. "The 9th? Is that acceptable? Is there anything you would like to store here today to start your vault? Or will you be returning later?"

"Perfectly acceptable," Logan says with a grin. "After the first deposit, I'll make my payments to you personally. No need to keep coming." More likely that he doesn't /want/ them to come. "I admittedly didn't bring any valuables today, but I should have some...soon." He's already beginning to stand. "If that's all, I'll be on my way. Unless there's something I need to sign."

The Hob grins widely, with crooked and dirty teeth. It turns the orm around and offers it forward

The Hob grins widely, with crooked and dirty teeth. It turns the orm around and offers it forward . "Of course there is a signature sure. Sign here." he says before he nods his head. He also produces a small square card with the symbol of port anarch on it, an airship with wings spread wise - "This chit will give you free passage up and down the ferry, if you don't have your own flying mount. If you do have your own way to fly, the it will cover your docking fees." Once the form is signed it burns slightly, smoking, before the hob puts it away. Contract signed.

A quick reed will not show any quirks in the language beyond what the Hob already spoke of.

Logan removes a simple blue pen from his pocket, though it lingers over any contract. He will read it in full before signing to make sure he hasn't been hoodwinked, to be sure. Since all seems well, he signs and it's a done deal, and he takes the small card with a smile. "Thank you very much. I look forward to doing business with you." He will offer a hand for a shake, just like this is any other business deal and not the opening of a mysterious bank vault in a floating market.

Merke is waiting outside after the Hob shakes hands with you. The little goblin glances up hopefully expecting that this will be enouh to take you back to the docks. He'll get the hint quick enough otherwise however.

Through twisted back alleys and lost in a maze of buildings built on top and too close to each other, Merkle finally leads to an entrance that heads to steps that go down - the first seen in all of Port Anarch ground level. Down into the dark, dim torches far apart and leaving black spots between them in cramped hallways with barely enough room to walk stooped over.

After another twisted msess of mazes like tunnels, it opens up. The larger tunnel is crossed by small alcove tunnels, each one with a marketeer within them. their stalls have different things in them, from dreams to triffles to emotions to tokens. One thing that will not be found here, ever, is slaves or hedgebeats of any kind.

Logan's white grin beams out through the darkness -- his own darkness, and the darkness of Underkeel. This is fun. This is exciting! there's a lot to explore. And though he isn't /looking/, of course, Logan can't help but inquire of his guide: "Why are there no slaves or hedgebeasts for sale? Even our local Market here has both of those for purchase, as far as I know." The light around him zips and moves, illuminating his eyes. "Some hidden principle here I'm not aware of?"

Merkle is sticking close, one small hand on Logans leg as he gives directions. "It is the law of Port Anarch. Freehob and Free 'ling for all. No one here owned or imprisoned. There is ony one law. "Do only what you are willing to have done to you," ... so you know how that probably goes. The sherriff is a right bitch tho. She just breaks up fights unless you try and capture or enslave someone. Then she throws you off the edge. And the beasts that the reavers mount? Theyre paid for their work to, and can leave at a ny time if they want. So what you here looking for?"

"That's right," Logan says with a grin. "I remember the law. It's a bit like the Golden Rule." He taps his chin as he takes a good look around. "I don't know what I want, just yet, but I'll know it when I see it." A moment later he adds, "Maybe a weapon. I could use one!"

Merkle shrugs, then pulls the way toward a stall where a wizened little hob with twigs in her hair sits. She is on top of a stool that is so high she must be no more than 2 or so feet tall herself. "Eh. Whatcha want?" She asks in a very rough voice, as she considers Logan. "Merkle." she says before a bright shiny object spins through the air that Merkle catches and makes dissapear beore it can be seen to clearly. Her attention switches back to Logan. "Weapons? I got weapons. you want hedgespun? Something exotic?

Logan's eyes follow the arc of that shiny object as it spins before he turns all his focus to the little hob. And his focus is considerable, to be sure. "Hedgespun, yes. A rapier and a ranged weapon of some sort, preferably, either a gun or a crossbow." His grin widens. "Been meaning to get both for a long time, and I'm sure you all down here will give me the best bang for my buck." Right? 'Course they will.

The wizened old hob shrugs her shoulders from inside mounds of cloak. "Good enough for me. What coin you got to pay with, Changeling? I can get you a rapier and a pistol, if thats what you want. My pistols are all flintlocks though, so if you want a hand crossbow, Thats cool. Or if you want something with more punch, I have a rifle or two in the storeroom, and a full sized crossbow. You got the coin, then Ill deal. I trade in Colors. You give me your color for a time and I'll give you what you want. The longer and more vibrant the color you give me,p the better you can get."

"I prefer rifles," Logan says brightly. "One of those would be better, though a hand crossbow is a neat idea. Maybe both, if I can afford it." He laughs again, leaning forward a little, like the Colors idea really intrigues me. "Sounds interesting. How can I give you these Colors? Let me know and I'll do it." He doesn't have the Contract, after all. To him, it's anyone's guess.

The hob shrugs. "You agree to the contract, you get the items, I get the color. The Wyrd has a way. What colors you got, changeling? The more rare the color, the more value. I'll take them in bits of a month at a time - a color of yours, gone from your eyes and from anyone who looks at you for a month will get you a pretty weak weapon. Five months will get you the best you can get. I'll be willing to go lower if you have some unique colors you want to sell. Give me a shade or Ultraviolet Garnash that I haven't seen before, and I'd give you a month or two discount for instance, depending on its beauty. Show me whatcha got."

"I have a particularly deep shade of black," Lgoan says confidently. "It's not quite a vantablack -- in fact, it's better. You /think/ you can see something in it, but by the time you get close enough, it's too late." Too late for what? He doesn't say. "Is that something you've encountered before? I'll give it to you for four months, for the best." Yes, he's haggling a little.

"Hmm." the hob makes a few considerations. "Allright. That will get you one of your two weapons. Blacker than Vantablack eh? Interesting. No one who looks at whatever you own or hold for four months will see that black. Theyll see just white instead, a flat white that looks odd. SHow me your color for that one so I can judge it for myself, and if its good, you can have your choice of the Rapier or the Rifle for it. What else you got for me, changeling?"

Logan indicates the darkness around him. "It's not all of it, but it's much of it. It's the part that makes it /truly/ dark." He grins a little. "If you took it away, it would mostly be gray, I think. You won't find better than the black of a Shadowsoul's mien." He sounds pretty darn confident about this.

The hob nods her head. "Aye. I like that. They usually have a couple other colors in there. Some variety of Ultraviolet wavelengths. Tell ya what, big guy. GIve me that color for ... we'll call it six months, and a touch of the ultraviolet in there and I'll throw in both weapons at the best quality I got." she peers at the Mien for a bit more, then nods. "Ill leave you with a dull, dark grey of your Shadowsouled side. I get ... four or five colors I can make out in that for six months, you get two high quality weapons. Deal?"

"Let's make that four months, and you throw in some bullets." Logan grins at her. "Since you're getting so many colors in there, and they're so nice and juicy, I think that's more than fair. Whaddya say?" He can be persuasive when he wants to, like any good Fairest.

The hob considers for a moment, then nods her head. "Aye. Allright. I get a gather of what quality you want - it will work, and it will hold together in thick and thin. It won't be the most powerful of weapon, but I think you want quality over strength, aye?" She nods her head, then ... its like a pop. Color starts to drain from your mein, leaving behind a dull, featureless grey in its place. The color flies through the air, rotates around the hob for a bit and she sighs with appreciation. "Good." She pushes two bundles over that have magically appeared on the table. "Merkle. Get this guy out of here before someone thinks to rob him of these and sell em back to me." She chuckles to herself as she fades into the shadow.