Barely Above Average Wares - Ulgoth's Beard - Mara Stormwind

[Hidennka]

The back and forth between the bidder's drew the merchant's attention with each new amount that was voiced. Ledger had long since become a scribbled mess upon this particular page, but it would seem he hardly minded. Indeed, if business went well perhaps a few extra coins might come his way. The current bid reaching fifty-five bags, it too was scrawled upon smudged and stained parchment.

It was then attention turned to the newly arrived male, stumpy digits scratching at wiry beard. "Moment," he grunted, flipping back several pages to re-familiarize himself with owner's wishes. In a peery manner, he squinted; mouthing the barely legible scribe there upon. "Handsome... I ain't sayin' that." The book snapped snap with a mumble. "Boss says she's hopin' for forty bags, bu' whether or not biddin' gets that high is 'nother matter." he replied. "An' there ain't no official documentation of any prior owner."

[Vogar Eol]

With a little gleam in his eye, the human replied wryly, "What about that little inscription on the inside? Hmmm, 'To my Beloved Sir Wilhelm, on this our First Anniversary.' if I read it correctly?"

[SpoonDagger]

The Genasi turns his gaze from the sword to the man in the dirty clothes, his face expressionless.

"I am named Ardan Thusk. I ask, not as a stranger, what is your highest bid?"

[Vesgar]

*Gareth still sitting nearby glares at the genasi for some time, then takes out a ledger from his backback. While rubbing his chin he opens the book which seems to be full of notes and scribbles. After a few minutes of silence, he turns to face Ardan*

The name is Gareth . . . and sixty bags, that's the most I'm willing to pay.

[Hidennka]

"Current offer is fifty five bags." The merchant seemed content to allow the men to sort the highest bid on the blade between them, forgoing the time restriction on bids until one decidedly walked away. For a brief moment, he found himself entertained by the exchange before turning toward the newest of the three and the pressing questions from he.

"Uh..." spoke burly tender, shifting his weight in fidget of the ledger in tattooed arms. It was a question he was evidently unprepared for, deflection aiding little in the direct of attention elsewhere. "It..." He had no answer to give. "Boss...?" Turning from table, thick fist banged thrice upon the wooden pannels of the shack nearby; the abrupt gesture stirring a disrupted snort from within along with the clatter and crash of something, or someone, falling.

"Bleedin' hells..." came utterance of woman's voice from within, overlapped by several luskan curses concerning worms, pox and skirts. "Ye know the whole point of 'layin' low' is t'nae be seen, right?" clarified the half-elf as she stumbled from within, fixing the hat that teetered on crimson crown. Presence brought with it the easily identifiable scent of spiced liquor, and a brief stumble of steps that brought female frame to rest against shack's doorway. "Ye what now? Oh. A story?"

Squinting in the direction of the pale-skinned man and his keen-eyed inspection of the ring, the glass rim of the bottle in Mara's hand came to rub against the newest of forming scars over her left eye. "Wilhelm, Wilhelm..." she echoed, tasting the name on her lips as though it might stir some memory of past events. "Oh, righ'!" the seafarer exclaimed, brandishing the bottle toward potential buyer as she began to bluff her tale. "Well, see, what ya holdin' there is a ring what used t'belong tha' twice removed paladin nephew of Imphras the Great, an' is one of the most imp'rtant witnesses t'North Eastern culture an' art from the time of the Heltharn Dynasty."

Lifting a single digit, the head of a inked rodent poking from the hem of fingerless gloves, the half-elf paused for several seconds; swaying against door frame with subsequent shoo of some insect or another. Pulling a lengthy draught from her bottle, Mara continued to spin her exaggerated story with outlandish gesture. "It were pr'served along 'is remains in th Earthfas' Monastery. What's interesting about this 'ere ring, though, is that it were discovered by acc'dent in... 1303DR... right there in th'sarcophagus, alon' with claims that th'ring was a gift from 'is brother's wife wiv whom he were supposedly havin' an affair."

[SpoonDagger]

*Gareth still sitting nearby glares at the genasi for some time, then takes out a ledger from his backback. While rubbing his chin he opens the book which seems to be full of notes and scribbles. After a few minutes of silence, he turns to face Ardan*

The name is Gareth . . . and sixty bags, that's the most I'm willing to pay.

Nodding, Ardan turns to the vendor, rumbling in his deep voice, "I withdraw myself from the bidding, for I too see no reason to go beyond sixty bags."

With that, he turns and walks away.

[Hidennka]

With Mara engaged in deluded storytelling, the stand-in merchant turns to Gareth and slides the Longsword across the table: "Blade's yers. Fifty-Five."

/// Send me a /tell in game when you're ready to collect!

[7threalm]

A man in dark robe, leaves an an offer of 20 bags from the ring

[elsteveo]

Dark haired heavyset man smiles briefly and states.

"How goes 10 bags for that Grasscutter sound?"

[YourMoveHolyMan]

Michael Dunn chimes in, "If you accept his term large on the grasscutter, I'll offer fifteen large."

[Hidennka]

/// Sorry for the delay, RL caught up with me...

Pushing off from the door frame of the shack in which she had drunkenly dozed, the half-elf trotted toward the table; rolling her wrist in dismiss of burly companion from current post to that of active bodyguard. After wrestling with the folding chair alongside displayed goods, crimson-haired seafarer dropped her weight onto it's surface unceremoniously. "Hmmm..." Mara hummed thoughtfully, the dirty heels of leather boots thudding onto the table as she lent back amidst the rattle of iron and steel.

"You!" she pointed, thrusting a digit out toward the man in a dark robe as chair's hind legs sunk into the softer sand of shoreline. "Make et thirtee."

The arm swung from he to the two standing alongside acidic bastard sword, waving that same finger between them. "Fifteen?" she questioned, a smirk tugging at her countenance with a sense of familiarity. "Come on, darlin'. I got a mouth ta feed with more than pigeon pellets. Make it twenty, at least." Hand not grasping bottle lifted to clutch her chest in faux pain and embellished pout.

[YourMoveHolyMan]

He eyes the freckled pirate-dame, before a smile appears over half his mouth.

"Alright, twenty large for the blade."

[Hidennka]

"Right, twenty.... five." she nodded, scribbling down the amount on the ledger with a fiendish curl of full lips. Would she get away with it? Only time would tell. "Ye know the drill. Twenty four hours, if no one tops it - blade's yours."

[SolUlyus]

A dwarf walks over, His armor seeming to be ramshackle in appearance, yet you reckon highly effective.

"I want the axe. What is your price?"

[Hidennka]

"Make me an offer darlin'..." the half-elf smiled, rows of ivory stretching wide over freckled visage before making her own suggestion. "How about fifteen bags?"