RP:Djarun Buys the Bracer

From HollowWiki

Part of the Merfolk Tale Arc


Summary: The dragon Djarun makes the third confirmed purchase of an artifact of Mercea, the bracelet/bracer of Gula now in his possession for the price of 18,000 gold..

Characters: Finn, Djarun

Location: Port Rynvale; Finn’s Mercantile Exchange.



Finn: Despite the fact that the shop was the legal face of his considerably illegal business, Finn was not often found within the confines of its pleasantly cluttered space. The runner, rather, was often merely a shadow that passed through, prowling to the heart of his operation below, or to his temporary retreat above to crash for often needed catnaps-unless, of course, he was given reason to pause in transit. Tonight, he was on his way out, booted feet falling lightly on the stairs as he descended from his quarters working leather over his fingers in preparation for the hard ride it would take to get himself and his mount back to Vailkrin again. The day had passed quickly, the male having made the journey back to Rynvale to deal with some business that could not wait, not even for the apparent mystery that yet remained to be unraveled on the mainland. Whatever Mahri had gotten herself into ran deep, and the wolf had asked that he return that she might show him some as yet unrevealed thing-perhaps the item that lay at the heart of the mystery of her arrest. The business man in him was curious. Perhaps whatever it was might serve both their causes-it well might, if it was worth killing for. Whether or not the runner would make it to that shadowy corner to begin his secondary descent, would depend on what, if any noteworthy activity was taking place within the shop.

Djarun makes his way slowly through the busy walkways of Rynvale, stopping to glance in store windows and appraise their various niche goods before moving on. He'd left Rynvale clinic only earlier this morning, under heavy protest from Nurse Sally and several other members of her staff who all seemed to be in agreement that his injuries were not yet fully healed. But Djarun could not stand it anymore, being stuck in that place with nothing to do, nothing to think about, save for horrible things. It felt great to be back up on one's feet and prowling the streets again, even if it was with a bit of pain from cracking scabs and sore muscles. He breathed in the sea air, absorbed the sights of a halfway familiar city, and for the time being decided that setting himself to one task at a time was best, even if that thing inside him wanted anything and everything in his means to procure. First order of business; weaponry, a sword to be specific, a temporary replacement to his own which was lost. Yet progress toward this end was slow and unyielding. The weapon he'd lost in that pit, while not the most valuable or well crafted of weapons, had traveled with him for longer than most could believe he'd lived , and it was.... familiar. He knew every inch of that blade, every nick and gouge and dent and there were even little rough spots on the hilt from where his hand placed pressure. The other weapons he'd seen so far were... not so thought provoking. Several stores selling weapons were passed without even a second glance, and at one he'd demanded to hold and fiddle with each and every sword, only to leave without purchase. Yet after some time, just as he was about to give up and go for a drink, he overheard some men in the street conversing about another shop where one could get anything they wanted and where the purveyor of such goods new what he was talking about. It was in more, and more impolite words than that, I assure you, but nonetheless Djarun's intrigue had been piqued. It was was those words which brought him up to the doors of Finn's Mercantile Exchange, a little shop set back from the main shopping district. With and air of curiosity Djarun broaches the boundaries, moving into the shop and glancing around from the patrons to the goods. He receives something of a wide berth from the other clientele, but who could blame them, it was not every day that someone in his.... state would be seen idly perusing wares in a local establishment. Most notable was his right eye, or rather his lack thereof, for where an eye would normally be there was a desiccated pit of scabbed and unattractive flesh that just begged a second look. Really it should have been bandaged, yet upon leaving the clinic that wad of gauze pressed into his socket had been the first thing to go, for it was uncomfortable, and it put pressure on the interior, a constant reminder of the thing he'd lost. An assortment of other injuries cover him, bandages half visible from beneath a set of simple white garments, but they are mostly out of sight, and thus out of mind. He moves around the store slowly, examining each weapon to be seen there carefully with the look of an expert in the field, but doesn't seem to find anything that he likes immediately.

Finn: It was the soft gasps of dismay, and the restless movement of clientele away from Djarun, some going so far as to hastily depart the store in disgust, that brought the runner to a standstill at the foot of those shadowed stairs. Nothing mattered so much to the thief as profit, and right now, profit was walking out the door because of a man who gave every indication of not particularly fancying anything he set his eyes upon. A frown knit the forehead of his rugged face and the smuggler took a step out into the open space of the shop floor before making some attempt to smooth his features into bland but assuring greeting. His guise as a legal merchant was fully in place. “ Evenin’ to you sir…” he ventured idly, “I’d say good, but I reckon it wouldn’t much fall on appreciative ears..” he added with a winsome flash of teeth. “Lookin’ for anythin’ in particular?” His tone was deceptively open and earnest, none of the wickedly dry humor that was normally present in lazy drawl. An observant person however, would note the sharpness of observation that lucked deep in the hazel gaze of the runner. Eyes that seemed to record and tuck away everything worth knowing about the obviously battered and recovering man..including those items that were most clearly -not- on him. Like an eyepatch, for example..or a sword. Both of which he was sure he had tucked away in the shop somewhere.

Djarun seems to regard Finn much the same as he regards those other patrons milling about; with little interest. He barely pulls his gaze away from the sword he was currently inspecting long enough to offer a little nod, but it is polite, and not rude when he does. "I think that maybe I've wandered into the wrong shop." he muses, almost more to himself than to the store clerk, who's attempt at humor seems to fall on deaf ears. "The sign matches though.... maybe I was just expecting something different." It is now that he turns to face Finn rightly, the little straight bladed weapon he had been touching falling almost instantly into disregard. "I heard some sailors talking you see, in the street a couple blocks up. They were saying (and here his voice changes into a mocking copy of one sailor) 'Finn's got anything a man could ever need.' or something like that... maybe I just mistook them." either he was playing dumb, or he really was just disappointed with the level of selection for what he wanted, but which would be hard to tell from the lack luster tone to his voice. It wasn't that Djarun even had a vast sum of gold at his disposal for spending, most likely he would settle on a cheaper, temporary replacement to his own weapon for now. Yet he always liked to find specialty items, items of greater value, and maybe when he had a real desire for them he would come back. "The sign does say 'Finn's Mercantile Exchange' out front, yes? I'm sorry, but my eyesight isn't what it once was." he says this with a wry grin, and a small gesture to his empty eye socket. Ahh, humor for the first time since he'd entered, but it might be so dry or dark that another could miss the joke.

Finn’s eyes narrowed slightly, becoming more carefully assessing. Could a man so bedraggled have the gold on hand to make it worth breaking out the kind of wares that he would never put on display? “Aye..” he drawled quietly, the shift in his demeanor evident. Little enough changed about the man or his appearance, but now, where earnest attentiveness had clung to him like his fashionable but functional overcoat, the force of his more predatorial personality was allowed to surface. “You’re in the right place..I reckon you just have to ask the right questions to find what you might be lookin’ for..” he said idly, moving around the man. A dry look was darted Djarun’s way in appreciation for the male’s ability to laugh in the face of fate. “You should cover that up..scarin the ladies..” he murmured, reaching into one nearby case to toss the man a small leather object. “On the house.” he drawled. “Now I’ll ask you again mate..Anythin’ in particular you’re lookin’ for? The lads had it right. If you’ve got the gold, reckon I can get you most anything you want. Not everythin’ I’m sellin is on the shop floor..if you catch my meanin’” It was always a risk suggesting at his other trade to one who was new..the law was everywhere. But something about the man’s demeanor bespoke a man willing to pay for the right product. It remained only to determine what that product was.

Djarun snatches the little leather eye patch from the air, and gives it a once over glance before deciding best to just pocket it for now. "It'll need cleaning." he mentions calmly, obviously a man unashamed of his disfigurement, or perhaps he just enjoyed the mild shock value it provided. As for ladies... right now at least he could care less about the whores of Rynvale, for there were more pressing matters which needed attention. "I'll be needing a sword, first and foremost, though I won't be needing anything too fancy. Just one of high enough quality that it won't go breaking on me the first time I put it to use. This (here he gestures to the little straight bladed sword he'd been examining) wall ornament will not suffice, nor will the other bits of souvenir trash I've seen in similar shops. These sea folk and their impractical weaponry, cutlasses and the like, it's no wonder this island has changed hands so often." Djarun's tone grows serious and business like as he discusses his requirements in a weapon, a subject matter in which he was rather well versed, and it showed. "See here" he says, holding the little blade up running a finger down the flat edge. "This blade has been improperly folded, moisture and salt got in the metal from the sea air and some lazy smith's inattentiveness. If I took this against a proper blade, I'd be in worse shape than I am now." Djarun casts the weapon back down in something like disgust before continuing. "You won't take me on price where blades are concerned though, I've already got one that would hold a price tag higher than even you could afford sir, I just need a standing replacement, preferably from a mainland smith." and right here is where Finn might lose interest in the battered man, at the affirmation of his desire to spend little, and yield little profit in the area of weapons, that is until. "Yet that's not to say I would not feel interested in some more... specialty items. I must admit my intrigue towards rarities, and I am not exactly a poor man, not quite."

Finn took no offence in the man being put off by the simpler fare that was on display on the shop floor. His legal tender, though practical and priced just right to appeal housewives and their mistresses and Lords alike, was not the merchandise for which he had earned his stellar reputation. He had no difficulty in thinking of a sword that he could unload on the man-he had not expected that the item retrieved a single night ago would already find a new home. It was a quality weapon, that much was undeniable..though functional rather than flashy. It was designed to shred flesh from bone, ironically, just what it seemed had happened to its potential purchaser. A thoughtful nod moved his head, and the hazel gaze remained fixed unwaveringly on the single good eye of his potential client. “Very well..” he said idly, “Reckon we can find you somethin’ more to your likin’.. down below..” he said huskily, stepping aside to allow the man vantage of the almost hidden doorway in a shadowed corner of the store. “Might be able to show you some of our..rarities as well. Happened to pop around at the right time I figure..” Pausing only long enough to be sure that the man was directly behind him, the runner would lead the way to his cellar, where his rarer and less legal contraband was stored. Once there, he would move to one corner to draw out what seemed to be a long sword of some sort, seated in a custom sheath that itself seemed to grin with jagged barbaric fangs. Setting it upon a rough hewn table in the center of the room, under the yellow glow of lantern light, the red head would offer, “This..might be more to your liking. Crafted by a master smith in the Dark Lands..” A second item would appear next to the first, though it would not be immediately certain from whence it had appeared. Velvet pouch would be pried open and the contents gently spilled onto the table. Two rings, an anklet and a bracelet-the last looking more like the bracer of a warrior, than any delicate thing that might sit upon the wrist of a woman. “You asked for rare..” the runner murmured softly. “You won’t get any rarer than this. Each peace is enchanted..capable of corrupting the soul of another its said..at the will of the wearer.” The whisky gaze lifted to meet the single eye again. “And they’re priced to reflect that..”

Djarun doesn't miss a beat or indeed even seem surprised as Finn moves toward a secret door and leads him down a set of winding stairs. It's a bit harder to see in the low light now that he had but one eye, but even still Djarun has little difficulty traversing the room after Finn and assessing it's true purpose. He waits around the table as Finn moves off and procures a rather large weapon in an ornate scabbard. It is an instantaneous reactionary expression of dissatisfaction which flits across Djarun's face, being able to tell from the scabbard and hilt alone what kind of weapon this would be, yet he gives it a chance. Ignoring the little pouch Finn was fiddling with, Djarun picks up the weapon and slides it slowly out of the sheath, examining the blade meticulously with thought for little else in the process. It wasn't balanced perfectly, and it failed to hold that certain.... elegance in weaponry which he preferred, yet it was indeed a well crafted sword. Quality steel, razor edge, inspiring attention to detail, it was clear that someone had put a good amount of work into the sword, even if it was not the man's true masterpiece. He pulls the weapon free of it's scabbard and moves through three opening steps to his practice form, testing how it moves through the air before returning it to rest inside the sheath and placing both upon the table. It is during this time that Finn has finally extracted his 'rare' items, placed them on the table, and explained them, yet it isn't until returning to the table that Djarun truly takes note of them. The sword is momentarily forgotten while Djarun peruses the bits of jewelery, examining them carefully. The anklet is instantly discarded, not the type to wear what a woman's jewelery, but the rings get a touch more contemplation on his part, especially one which seems to call his name. Yet those too are discarded with the anklet as he moves to inspect what appears to be a bracer of some sort. "What of this, what does it do?" he asks, indicating toward the bracer in particular and if he would be allowed, picking it up from the table to get a closer look. Before receiving an answer Djarun returns it to the table and turns to Finn with a stone cold expression. "I'll give you ten thousand for the whole lot, sword and all."

Finn laughed outright, a flash of white accompanying the action. “ Did you hear what I said they could do mate? You don’t pay ten thousand for the power to taint a man’s soul..At least, not to me you don’t. They’ve been goin’ for at least twice that, easily..for the trinkets alone. The sword is worth six, seven hundred,..but I’ll let you have it for five fifty,” he drawled idly. At that price he’d turn a hundred gold profit on the thing. “That one..” he nodded towards the bracket of engraved metal, “.. it’s said can make a man so greedy for whatever the wearer wills, that he’ll all but kill himself wanting more of it.. That, my friend..is worth more than ten thousand.” His eyes narrowed assessingly on the male. “I’ll take twenty thousand for the lot. An’ that’s a bargain ..”

Djarun might have scoffed were he not so intrigued, were the beast inside him not uncurling from it's slumber and taking an interest in daily affairs which had now become not so mundane. Yet still... he wasn't about to accept the first offer made without assessing the possibility for a better price. The sword he had no qualms over, knowing that Finn was likely making some profit, but that's how things worked in the business. "I'll give you fifteen, and maybe if the effects are what you say i'll be coming back with more gold for the others. But twenty I can't do, not for an untested trinket and a mediocre sword."

Finn grunted softly. He had been doing this, for a long..long time. It made it easy to read a buyer when haggling. His instincts cried out that the man would balk at twenty, but that fifteen was offered too easily. “Eighteen for the lot..and that’s my final offer. I reckon with time and word of mouth I could hold out for double that..” he drawled, moving to begin replacing the pieces into their velvet casing. He had his reasons for wanting to move the rest of the pieces, and quickly. He couldn’t be here in Rynvale where folks looking to buy would be expecting to find him, and on the mainland helping his lover to keep her head at the same time. But none of this urgency would be revealed on his face. “Take it or leave it mate. I’ve got other business this even..”

Djarun should have known better than to hope that his offer of fifteen would be accepted without qualms, as despite his assertion of the bracer's untested nature, he had a gut feeling that Finn was telling the truth about it's power. "Alright, eighteen I can do." he says finally with a bit of a sigh, realizing that money would be tight for a while as he moves away from the table. "Have them wrapped and readied, a man will be by in a while to provide payment and pick up the goods. He won't -have- more than eighteen thousand on him, so don't try and confuse the poor boy." then Djarun moves closer to the smuggler, extending a hand for the purpose of shaking and adding a finality to the deal. "It's been a pleasure, I'm sure."

Finn allowed a grin of satisfaction to tug at his lips. Not as much as he’d have liked for the item, but better than nothing, and one less piece to worry about as matters got more complicated elsewhere. “I’ll be on the lookout for him then..” he said idly, beginning to work an ornate opal ring off his finger. “Have him wear this..to be sure we’re not passin’ off the goods to the wrong man aye?.” Handing the ring to the man, the runner would reinforce their agreement with a firm hand shake. “Been a pleaure..After you mate..” he said huskily. A calloused hand would indicate an invitation to ascend once more to the main level, and brief moments later with a final nod in parting, the runner would close and lock the door behind his unexpected customer. If he hurried, he could still make Vailkrin by sundown.

Finn gave 1 Bracelet of Gula to Djarun. Djarun picked up 1 jagged-long sword. Djarun gave 18000 gold to you.