Log:Market Meeting

Market Meeting
Participants Cassian, Ryan Dunnage, Eckhart as ST	22 October, 2017 Cassian meets another merchant at the market, and makes a deal.
Location Wild Roses
The hour is early into the evening, although its difficult to tell with the longer nights of winter approaching. Many of the sellers here are preparing to end their work for tonight, although a few still offer their wares for the right price. One such merchant is an older Spring known for his love of things beautiful and dead. Ryan Dunnage usually draws little attention or suspicion, and does just enough business not to draw any unwanted stares. Throughout the Freehold he's simply known as the creepy old guy that's willing to trade the literal and figurative fruits of his labor for those willing to agree to his payments. However, nary a soul has spoken of what such payments are beyond the words exacting and specific. "Come one, come all!" he shouts with a scratchy, high voice. "Surely, one should want the most delicate of daisies and sweetest roses! Something to show your love as the nights grow longer and you hold a lover tight." He clears his throat for a moment, and calls, "Even such things to make the most wicked of your enemies shiver in terror or to soothe your mind away from the troubles of your life!" How many times had Cassian walked by this very stall, content to go about his day-to-day activities without so much as another concern? It was always the same: finishing up, Cassian would stroll the long walk through the Market on the same road that would lead him home. Silver keys jingle, being made to jingle as he whips them about his finger as he walked. It was a ritual habit, and therefore an absolute necessity. This night, however, Cassian is brought to a pause just after he passed the man and his stall. It was hard to say why, but, something surfaced in his mind. That was the nature of the Wyrd, wasn't it? Slowly, Cassian turns, and he reaches up to his neck to lower the windshield of the highwaymen jacket. He turns and approaches good Ryan Dunnage. As Cassian approaches Dunnage sets his hands on the stall. "Good day to you," the Darkling says with a happy, fanged smile. "Is there anything I can get you, sir? Might you be interested in a wee bit of work for one of my more indelible pieces in my inventory, hmm?" He looks Cassian up and down briefly, his gaze curious while he sizes up the Dusk. "That depends," Cassian says, quietly considering the man for a quick moment. "That's pretty vague," Cassian says, "But I run a stall of my own--Just down the way. And it just so happens that there is something that I need." He lets that sink for a long moment, before raising a hand to scratch at his chin a moment in thought. "Something not entirely rare, but not exactly Clover," he says. "That truly depends, doesn't it?" Dunnage responds with a warm smile. He moves to grab a stool off to the side, and cops a squat. "Give me a moment. These old bones aren't what they used to be." He clears his throat, glassy eyes still stuck on Cassian as he gets comfortable. "Now then, what might you be looking for? Is it something that requires a bit more work, or something simply to heal away a few wounds?" Cassian smirks a bit at the man. "I'm a Leech, ol' timer. If I wanted to heal some wounds, I think our conversation would be going a bit differently--But, I see what you're getting at. What I need is a little more rare than what we get growing around here. It's called Cousin's Trumpet," Cassian says, nodding once. "Is that something you can acquire?" He asks, directly. "Acquire?" he echoes with a quirk of his flowery brow. He taps at his chin, gaze briefly leaving Cassian for the first time. "Yes. Yes, I do. However, it's not something that I can easily give away. What kinda work can you offer an old man that has a few issues that needs taking care of, but he can't quite do himself?" Beat. "My gardens could always use more fertilizer, as of late." "I'm sure we could come to an arrangement," Cassian says thoughtfully, "So long as you've enough of it. Blackgators are common enough I could easily make up the difference in bodies and blood. I suppose it depends on what you're using to fertilize your gardens. And just who got on your bad side," he says, offering a slight snicker. "And so long as your request doesn't violate any of my pledges," Cassian adds. "Oh no, my young friend. I need something exceptionally specific." He shakes his head, and then motions for Cassian to come closer. "I need two specific types of fertilizer, my friend. One bad, one not as much. However, they're the only things I'm specifically looking for. That's /if/ you don't mind getting your hands dirty to help with a wee bit of playing." "Well," Cassian says, straightening slightly. "I haven't gotten to steal anything lately. That would be a very fine adventure." He thinks on it for a long moment before he returns to the conversation. "What is it you need?" He asks, before he takes a moment to pull out a small leather-bound notebook and a pencil. He laughs for a moment, and shakes his head. "Oh no, I've nothing that needs to be stolen. I have the majority of the materials and things I need in life. There aer a few things I've missed, but those are at the bottom of the Atlantic, and have been for about two-hundred years." He chuckles, and then begins reaching for something under the stall. "I can give you more information on it, but I'd need your word that this stays between us and only us, forever more." "Well," Cassian says, considering. It was a bit weak to throw a pledge out for only that. Cassian thinks on it for a moment. "I've no interest in speaking on things that are the business of no others. What are you thinking? Bit flimsy to build a pledge on. Collateral?" He asks, musing. Dunnage lets out a contented sigh, and nods. "It's pleasing to hear something of honor from the younger generations of our kind." He comes up then with a gilded, black box, and sets it on the counter of the stall. "I have three things in here, precious to me still. My wife's ring, my father's medallion, and my last flower. The first my happiness, the second my memory, and the last my love." Cassian eyes the belongings for a moment in thought. He considers his options for a moment. "As someone bound to the rules of the Market, I can't lie in a transaction," Cassian offers to him, to sweeten the pot some. "Hard to imagine how things might connect to this," he says. He opens the box then, and lifts the ring out first. "There's a man in town, a foolish one. He tried to steal thse from me when he broke into my home. He stole a few other things, nothing of importance. This, however, is a transgression I can't just ignore." Dunnage then pulls out the medal, and on each side of it he can see three lines that taper into a point that point into a ball for each line. The last is the flower, and its the one he pays the most amount of attention to. "There is a younger woman, not too much older than you actually. Her dog regularly shits in the garden of my home. She refuses to clean up after his mess, fix her mess of a fence, and has regularly cut the tires of my car warning me about my yelling at her and cursing her dog." "Sounds like some brave individuals," Cassian says disdainfully. He considers the three objects thoughtfully. He'd taken jobs on less annoying individuals in his day, so it didn't rightly concern him that these individuals may not deserve torment. "How far is your Wrath interested in going?" He asks, raising his eyes to consider the merchant carefully. "Even at my old age I'm still a slave to my desires," Dunnage notes with a brief flaring of his mantle. He shakes his head, likely to clear away those thoughts, and then begins scrutinizing Cassian once more. "Whatever fate befalls them is what my come. My only want is for them to be plucked from this earthly coil, and face whatever they're due in the everafter." "Simple enough a job," Cassian says, as he considers the objects again. "I don't suppose you happen to have some photos of these individuals? One of them shouldn't be hard to find if they're you're neighbor," he adds, as already he begins to consider what his thoughts might include relating to their hunting. "I've a picture drawn by the most delightful fellow, and I'm thankful for his work." He reaches under the counter once more, and holds out his hand for a rolled up piece of paper with the thief's appearance drawn on it. If taken and examined, it's a man just barely over the hump of middle age. His head's shaved with the only hair to be found being his bushy eyebrows and thick beard. While the image ends at the man's shoulders there are a few tattoos to be seen with SUSY across the side of his neck. "His name is Jason Smith. Her name is Gwendolyn Mathers." Cassian begins committing the information to memory, and his spindled, stiletto fingers reach out to grasp at the picture. It's examined for only a second before being tucked away. "'Shuffled off the mortal coil'," Cassian says thoughtfully. "Alright. Let's say," Cassian pauses for a moment in thought, "Five healthy specimen for each. That's ten Cousin's Trumpet, and you get the upper hand over some folks that wronged you," Cassian offers quietly. After all, he was going to be 'shuffling them off the mortal coil'. "Five for each, hmm?" Dunnage strokes his chin for a moment, and then nods. He remains silent for a few moments longer before extending his calloused, emerald hand. The darkling smiles up at Cassian, and nods. "Cpnsider it a deal, my young friend." "Deal," Cassian says. His hands reach out and shake the emerald hand gently. It wasn't like two Darklings were going to get into an arm wrestling match then-and-there, after all. A firm, single shake is given, to bind the agreement in the magic of the market, and that was that.