RP:Fear and Profiteering in Larket

Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc

Synopsis: In Larket, Lanlan and Ina pass off the latter's failed magical firestarters as tried and true protections against witches, capitalizing on the citizenry's fear of them. There is some destruction and also some money. The perfect ingredients to making a profitable friendship!

Somewhere in Larket

Arlyeon has seen better days. It's not that she's in any sort of trouble, really. Well, okay, that's not true- she's in all sorts of trouble. Not only has she finally run out of bars where she doesn't have an exorbitant tab, her most recent venture (which may or may not have involved taking a pickaxe to a few of the more occupied and 'home-y' graves in Vailkrins cemetary) is not working out so hot- despite the fact that she has entirely 'Authentic' Hallowed stones to sell. They're (indirectly) blessed by Vakmatharas (maybe) - they should be selling like hotcakes in Larket. At the very least, her (un)official witch-hunting charms should at least be getting a little traction, even if they do smell like roadkill that had been exported from the most feces ridden corner of Gamorg. It was part of the experience! "...It's the Kiosk, innit?" Ina steps back from the roughshod stand she'd managed to construct from scrap wood lying around, and the way it sadly sags off to one side. 'Wards against Witches! 1000% effective! 50% price' The blue paint, helpfully borrowed from a nearby store (before being stuffed in the Kiosk to hide the evidence, runs merrily- still fresh from kitsunes haphhazard application of the stuff. Not that she looks much better, really- because while she's all neatly dressed in her jacket, dress shirt and tie, she's not really able to adjust the fact that she looks completely frazzled, since her hands are still covered in paint. ...Which also might be tracking across all the goods. "...It's definitely the Kiosk."

Lanlan :: Larket has a particular attitude toward witches; one that Lanlan didn't share but for a few cases. It was those cases that compelled him to take advantage of their weird bigotry today. There seemed to be a worrisome trend growing, that witches should now find themselves aligned against him more and more. So Larket. The place should have some very effective and purchaseable methods to defend against witches, no? Yes, it should. Inexplicably, it doesn't. He was familiar enough with Larket to know which places he should check first, second, third, etc. He was disappointed. Even the place he checked last was empty, the bakery. Would a gingerbread man of witch-smiting exist? Of course not, but he thought he was more likely to find one of those than something valuable at that dilapidated kiosk managed by a weird feline-ish creature. He almost didn't look into it at all. In the end, he did, because he passed by it enough times and now he made eye-contact with the strange furry creature. He sighs, deciding that a person could be excellent at guarding against witches, and terrible at profiteering. "You're the only person selling defense against witches that I could find," Lanlan admits, casually picking up a bauble. He believed it had signs of good craftsmanship. "They have a surprising artisanal quality to them! Especially compared to the drift wood you have piled in the shape of a vendor-stand..." He plops it roughly back where it came from, half hoping the whole 'structure' would collapse, making his point. "Would you show me how they work?"

Ina . Has. A. Customer. Money may not have changed hands, (nor been slipped free of a pocket) yet, and sure, there seems to be an inordinate amount of disdain held for the loving craftmanship which she'd imbued into her stand- but there's a genuine interest carried in his gaze. That, and he seems to have exhausted just about every other option available, which means by this point- he's probably desperate. Frankly, it's all Ina can do to keep still, because she's practically vibrating with avarice and mischief fueled excitement. And given the table is rattling a tiny bit courtesy of one of her feet rapid fire tapping against the ground, she's not even doing a good job at not fidgeting. All the same, it doesn't prevent her from diving right into her spiel, her face practically gleaming with an absolute confidence, which is only magnified by the perverse conviction which takes root in her voice. "Ah. Ah. Be careful, with that." It's dangerous, obviously, and the almost covetous nature in which she picks it up to inspect the bauble- heedless of the manner in which he stand seems to creak angrily in the wake of the movement is lost on her. "I mean, these little trinkets are fire starters- for all your do-it-yourself witch burning needs. They're fully functional to help light bonfires, great for slipping into cakes, and even functional as suppositories." And then she promptly hurls it. Not at Lanlan, that'd be ridiculous. Paying customer. Really, she's not actually sure -where- she's tossing it, but the impulse consumes her, and the little round orb is sent hurtling through the second floor window of a nearby house, only to land in a laundry hamper. Normally, the little baubles don't actually have all that much kick to them, as they're mostly a half-baked alchemical mixture meant to start campfires for those disinclined to surviving in the woods- but this one was clearly overpacked- fortunately enough, which is probably why a burst of flame erupts out of the window of that house a few moments later. "...Uh." Ina glances to either side of the street, realizes she hasn't been spotted, and then decides the best tact is probably to bribe her possible client into silence, "Uh. Half off? So, 25%! Ch'yeah."

Lanlan is pretty sure at least one of them has no idea what a suppository is, nevertheless, he inquires further. "Ah! You have tested them that's good. On yourself?" When the demonstration commences, Lanlan folds his arms and stares lazily at the window he broke through. It must've been her house? Or his house. It's always hard to tell with feline creatures. Their house. Yes, and that's why this eyesore of a kiosk was allowed to be here, because Lanlan knows if that was his house, he wouldn't want this heap to be parked near it. "I must say, I'm disappointed in the description. Fire? It's poetic, sure. What I was really looking for is something like an al--oh!" The power packed in that little pile was impressive, surprising, and his eyes lit up excitedly. After a moment, he couldn't help but ask: "Shouldn't you be putting this fire out? Unless that isn't even your house of course then who cares?" That was a joke. He checked to make sure Arlyeon thought he was funny; as someone who was hoping to get something from Lanlan, they'd better laugh. "Half off...?" Lanlan wonders absently. Then he begins inspecting the other baubles' weight, signs of blemishes, and on like they were watermelons or something. "Half...off. Actually I'm not super interested in these. Not for myself, at least. Ahem. Nope. But I can see you're having trouble unloading them!" He pulled out a largeish pouch of gold and bounced it against his other hand. "Let's see, for an object of this quality," he began audibly calculating, "one time use, right? Yeah one time use, zero brand presence. Actually who are you? Oh! And volatility. Who's going to transport these in the back of a wooden cart am I right? Right." He silently moves some numbers around with a finger and eventually settles. "Right I can give you twenty gold for all of them."

Ina manages a remarkably good poker face during Lanlan's questions, at least until Lanlan inquires as to the wellbeing of 'her' house. That at least manages to crack a surprisingly sincere smile from her, in tandem with an offkilter chuckle, "I'll let the management know when they get their keister back from whatever it is they're doin'." Mid-speech, she begins to fumble beneath the counter of the Kiosk, heedless of the manner in which the rattling seems to increase. With little fanfare, she draws up a pair of stacks, and a bag of sugary marshmellow-y goodness. Really, the only pause comes when Lanlan tries his hand at haggling. The interest in his eyes when things caught fire hadn't been missed, and moreover, immediately agreeing to the price would likely come across as overeager, or desperate. And plus, "I gotcha' name recognition right 'ere, Pal." She puffs up her chest, an act that might reach just slightly unrealistic portions during the action due to some foxkin related shenanigans, before she promptly exhales, draws out another piece of wood, and hastily finger paints the word 'Trish' onto it. She sets it on top of the rest, gives it a cheeky little thumbs up, and redirects her attention towards her soon-to-be-paying customer, "45 Gold. And I'll throw in one of these sticks and mallows, and we can roast them over someones hopes, dreams, and sense of safety."

Lanlan begins to wonder if this is actually the stranger's house, because the fire was spreading and they still hadn't bothered to do anything about it. Arlyeon cared about as much about their house collapsing as Lanlan himself did! It was drawing some attention now. There were some frantic sounding imbeciles interrupting his business. They were loud enough that he could hear them without even trying. They'd say things like: 'Who's house is that?'// 'Is there anyone still inside?'// 'Quick! Tell the guards! We need water! Or magic!' //'Could this be another witch attack?' Lanlan was trying to tune them out, ignore them, even as the questions were aimed directly at the two businesspeople. "...Look at that," said Lanlan, deadpan. "Maybe one of them can summon the management! How lucky are you." "Hm?" To Lanlan, finding out a person's name was some kind of victory, and so he became instantly intrigued. Of course in this moment his interest was rewarded with a strange inflatable chest. He takes a step back, whatever this pufferfish/feline creature was about to yell, was going to offend his delicate senses. Then of course, she doesn't yell. She scribbles paint onto a board. Lanlan rolls his eyes as she does. Why did people love to annoy him? Get him worked up? Suddenly a smoke-shrouded human runs out of the burning house and screams at them. Something about a baby? "MADAME. Can you -not- see we're busy? Excuse yourself. Now. Excuse yourself. No I can't help you. Bye." She almost died. Luckily there were other bystanders to pester, and the interruption didn't last very long. Finally he can just read the name tag. He leans over the kiosk and tries. "I can't. What does it say? Trisk? Never heard of you! That's okay though, fame can be such a burden." Lanlan decided to change tactics. "Okay! Forty-five gold pieces." Truthfully, Lanlan still thought he was getting a crazy amazing deal. Forty-five gold for a bunch of fire-bombs? Every day, he'd take that. He started counting coins. "Actually! I have another offer." He stopped counting at about 5 pieces. There was still so much gold in the bag. "Forty-five gold for the stones. Another twenty gold to help me move them to another part of town."

Ina could have a calling in politics, considering just how quick she reads the crowd, and reacts to the influx of questions to dodge, deflect, or field. Even as a pause in Lanlan's questions occur, she's putting it to use to respond to those gathered, enthusistically gesturing with a paint brush laden hand (and swiping out both the mention of her name and the 50% off part of her sign). "ALAS! IT WAS WITCHES! A true calamity, of brooms, curses n' cats." She plants paint stained fingers over her chest with one hand, her other pressed to her forehead, "Lemme fetch da guards. Imma do my part 'n let 'em know what I saw- soon as I've offered you fine folks the best in protection from da supernatural. . . Less, ya wanna leave the safety of your families to chance. " Ina, you giant opportunistic ham. Really, her interest is just in offloading what things she can on the rubes who bite, with her only major responses being, 'Sales Final, No hagglin', other peeps need it, too.' Lanlan isn't forgotten, however- his blithe response causing her to puff her cheeks out at him. Though the mention of more gold manages to cause her grin to reassert itself, "Ja know. I think it is time I pack my things in- Sorry, folks. I really should accompany this gentlemen to the guards. Yes'm." With a sort of practiced flourish, she slides a pack out from the desk, sliding gold and wares into it, even as the booth seems to finally collapse beneath it's only weight. Though Lanlan's promised wares are in fact deposited elsewhere, as they're essentially crammed into the bag of sugared mallows, "Safe keeping, very cushy- n' edible." Also, she's walking now, like anywhere but here- but the promised bag of mallows and firebombs are gestured towards the illusionist.

Lanlan could appreciate the instinctual profiteering Trish displayed, it would come in handy. Much of her sales tactics would, once Lanlan appropriated them. As appreciative as he is of all her gifts, though, he elects not to grab a marshmallow, in case the intrusion would upset the mercurial bombs. "At least to the town square," he says. "And I'll pay you soon after that." Along the way, he enacts an illusion spell, and his appearance gradually changes. Every time he passes a person, a garment changes, or his skin tone, or a scar appears. By the time they come to the square, he's a tan skinned human, with scars striping his face. His clothes were a heavy brown leather trench coat over a blue tunic and black pants, with long brown leather boots. To top off his look he wore a tricorn hat. "Call me Teej. Teej Juckson, renowned Witch hunter." After reintroducing himself, he lead Trish to the gazebo. "Let me see if this is a good place. Hand me one of the firestarters?" Then he'd clear his throat, and started with a magical enhancement to his voice, it was loud and clear. "People of Larket! I need your attention! Urgently, I need everyone's attention!" He waited. "There has been...an attack! By witches! They set fire to an innocent's home! A true calamity of brooms, curses and cats." He waited for an amount of panic to ensue, but not long enough for people to to scatter. Though they did try, immediately, as if they've been waiting for this, knowing all along danger was imminent. "But fear NOT! I Teej Juckson, put an end to the terrorist," he regained their attention swiftly, "That's right! The perpetrator was apprehended, and swiftly executed...by burning!" Was there applause? There was! Lanlan ensured there was with his magic, until ordinary citizens joined in. "I used this simple to use device to accomplish the heroic act. Would you like to be the hero next time calamity strikes? What if you have no choice? What if there was a witch right in front of you! Do you know what to do?" He paused again dramatically. "THIS is what I used." He held up a firestarter stone. "I wish to disperse them among Larkets citizens. So YOU TOO can be a hero when you need to be. I don't have many, so please! First come first serve." He waited until a crowd gathered round before he added, "Unfortunately they are expensive to make. I'm giving them to you for the price of the materials though, because I couldn't live with myself if I made a profit off you poor people. Twenty gold."

Ina doubletakes when she becomes aware of her current travelling companions gradual metamorphisis, her tongue clicking against the side of her cheek in an expression that is at once impressed and intrigued. It suddenly begs the question as to whether or not his initial appearance was his actual one- as well as providing a stark reminder that she could still be traced to the scene. It's for that reason that she leans a bit on that fluidity of form that comes so readily to shapeshifters, the tinge of her hair gradually changing to something closer to a reddish brown as they advance, while the thing grows out to become far more ruly and obscure her features. She's not really able to do too much about her clothes- but a slight slendering of her overall form, and a distinct loss of a number of inches turns what was a well fitting costume into a far more frumpier fascimile of itself over time certainly does help to change things up. That said, the lack of elegance in her portrayal probably meshes fairly well with 'Teejs' presentation style- and she certainly takes to playing the stage hand readily enough. Sure, the bastards profiteering off her like nobodys business, but it's weirdly hilarious to see, if only because of how catastrophically worthless the the incendiaries are. "Gosh, you really are too kind ta be sharin' these for such a small sum, Sir Jockstr *'hem* -son." Her eyes seem to shine with a sincere and genuine reverence, as though Lanlan were some pious saint who had chosen to grace the town with his presence. And perhaps a tiny grain of that was genuine, if only because he represented -so- much opportunity, "But, as much as these will certianly help these honest n' hardworkin' folks ta do what needs doin'- maybe we ought to offer 'em a lil bit of security for home. I mean, I know we only have a limited few of these blessed stones left- but, s'wouldn't feel right not to be able to offer them a bit of peace of mind for those who have to leave their wife n' kids while they work, j'know?" Ina is, of course, referring to the last few chunks of gravestone she hadn't yet managed to sell. Ensuring that there was shapely bits without the sort of lettering that might give away their origin had been hard work- clearly she wants to see it find a loving home.

"Of course! It's my obligation to help these humble folk," Lanlan replied to Arlyeon still in character, as he traded an ordinary rock for a pile of gold. "It's not like they can make these for themselves after all. Right now is the only chance they'll have to get their hands on one. We can get them whenever we want, can't we?" Looking down at the diminutive creature, Lanlan thought he caught a glimpse of something...strange. It was in the weirdo's eyes. What was in them as much as what wasn't. It should've been disdain, resentment. He bamboozled her! Hijacked her words and style! It would've made him happy to see her powerlessly enraged. No, she seemed almost inspired by the skill in which he duped everyone. Imagine being praised for something he actually did, and not what he pretended to do? He couldn't. This was weird. When the last sparkler and the last piece of ordinary rubble was sold, Lanlan's plan was to disappear. "You played your part better than expected," he said instead. He hands her a large bag of gold. Real gold. 100 pieces! "This was lucrative for both of us. I think we should keep in touch." He knew her name, he'd find her again. He wasn't about to linger in this place, though. Any second now someone was going to blow themselves up with one of those rocks and he wanted to be someone else when it did.

Ina is pretty quick to add an amendment to Mr Jucksons statement, "At th' least, easier for us ta get aholda', then most - thanks to the, " Loving? Smiting? Murderous? " ..benevolent grace of Vakmatharas, 'n his willingness to purge the blight'a witches wherever they may crop up." The foxkin's a stickler about ensuring her products aren't de-valued, at least until she's long gone. She's also a bit fixed on the idea of getting what she's owed- which is probably why she's keeping an eye on the exchange of money. "Ah, I'm grateful ja think so, yer honorableness. I'll be sure to deposit this at the local shrine in your name." It's the sort of doublespeak reserved for those stragglers who are sticking around to get an awful of their newest local hero, and his earnest apprentice. "But, I'd certainly find it a priviledge to continue working with you on this, and seeing about acquisitioning more things ta be imparted upon a deservin' populace. And other odds and ends, ja know?" The bags given an appraising heft, even as she takes a cue from 'Mr Teej's decision to start moving, "I'll see you soon with another righteous cause to pursue, I hope. Lunch is on you, though." Probably because this bit of money is going towards settling her bar tabs. And maybe a few games of cards.