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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 3153194" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>The Senator's Seal - Part 5: The Gold Merchant</strong></p><p></p><p>Gold merchants were much less common than pawnshops. Iphicles the Fats’ establishment was more akin to a fortress than a workshop. Its high stone walls had nothing but the smallest of windows, more than fifteen feet high in the air. Impressive metal doors stood open and a pair of guards of intimidating stature blocked the doorway. </p><p></p><p>One of the guards eyed Vlad warily. “Only two at a time,” he said. “The rest of you will have to wait.”</p><p></p><p>Ilmarė nodded. “Vlad, stay here.”</p><p></p><p>Her directive was met with a shrug. “I’m sick of talking to merchants anyway.”</p><p></p><p>Within were two more stout and formidable guards. Such precautions were understandable, as there was a prince’s ransom in jewelry on display. Fastidiously arranging an array of fine gold chains was a thin, middle-aged man with short graying hair and a delicate, almost effeminate touch. Despite his name, he wasn’t fat at all.</p><p></p><p>“Welcome!” said Iphicles. “Such worthies as yourselves are certain to find items to your liking in my humble shop.”</p><p></p><p>Even to the untrained eye, the level of craftsmanship was quite extraordinary. The light filtering in from the small windows reflected off of the mirrors of polished gold to bathe the room in a warm, argent light.</p><p></p><p>“Look, merchant,” said Dril. “It’s been a long day. Did Aljandros come—“</p><p></p><p>“You have a lovely neck,” said Iphicles, sidling up to Ilmarė. “Long, pale. It looks naked without these amethyst earrings. They would go perfect with your hair.”</p><p></p><p>Ilmarė watched the merchant through half-closed lids. “Fine. I’ll take them.” She counted out Imperials from a pouch at her belt.</p><p></p><p>“Ah yes,” said Iphicles. He pulled up a stool and led Ilmarė to it. “I remember Aljandros coming in earlier in the day. He wanted something melted down into ingots.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, we know that already,” snapped Dril. “Did you melt the item?”</p><p></p><p>“No,” said Iphicles. He deftly pulled Ilmarė’s silver and purple hair into a bun. “We are too busy on other projects for the Cathedral to take on such work.”</p><p></p><p>“Why didn’t you just give him ingots you already had?”</p><p></p><p>Iphicles placed the two earrings on Ilmarė’s ears. “Magnificent!” he said. Then he turned to Dril. “We don’t have the time to refine the gold from the item, and the ingots we have are earmarked for other projects.”</p><p></p><p>Ilmarė stood up and admired herself in the mirror. “Not bad,” she said.</p><p></p><p>“I did recommend another goldsmith farther into town, Fabiro the Slim.” Iphicles smiled congenially and gave them the directions. “By the way, why do you ask?”</p><p></p><p>“I’m sure a busy merchant like yourself has no time for a long explanation,” said Dril. And with that, he abruptly stalked out of the shop.</p><p></p><p>Vlad was chatting with the guards outside. He joined them in the street.</p><p></p><p>“So?”</p><p></p><p>“Another dead end,” said Dril. “We’re being led in circles.”</p><p></p><p>“Now what?” asked Vlad.</p><p></p><p>“Now we find Fabiro the Slim,” said Dril.</p><p></p><p>“Why do I get the feeling,” said Ilmarė. “That Fabiro’s not very slim either?”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 3153194, member: 3285"] [b]The Senator's Seal - Part 5: The Gold Merchant[/b] Gold merchants were much less common than pawnshops. Iphicles the Fats’ establishment was more akin to a fortress than a workshop. Its high stone walls had nothing but the smallest of windows, more than fifteen feet high in the air. Impressive metal doors stood open and a pair of guards of intimidating stature blocked the doorway. One of the guards eyed Vlad warily. “Only two at a time,” he said. “The rest of you will have to wait.” Ilmarė nodded. “Vlad, stay here.” Her directive was met with a shrug. “I’m sick of talking to merchants anyway.” Within were two more stout and formidable guards. Such precautions were understandable, as there was a prince’s ransom in jewelry on display. Fastidiously arranging an array of fine gold chains was a thin, middle-aged man with short graying hair and a delicate, almost effeminate touch. Despite his name, he wasn’t fat at all. “Welcome!” said Iphicles. “Such worthies as yourselves are certain to find items to your liking in my humble shop.” Even to the untrained eye, the level of craftsmanship was quite extraordinary. The light filtering in from the small windows reflected off of the mirrors of polished gold to bathe the room in a warm, argent light. “Look, merchant,” said Dril. “It’s been a long day. Did Aljandros come—“ “You have a lovely neck,” said Iphicles, sidling up to Ilmarė. “Long, pale. It looks naked without these amethyst earrings. They would go perfect with your hair.” Ilmarė watched the merchant through half-closed lids. “Fine. I’ll take them.” She counted out Imperials from a pouch at her belt. “Ah yes,” said Iphicles. He pulled up a stool and led Ilmarė to it. “I remember Aljandros coming in earlier in the day. He wanted something melted down into ingots.” “Yes, we know that already,” snapped Dril. “Did you melt the item?” “No,” said Iphicles. He deftly pulled Ilmarė’s silver and purple hair into a bun. “We are too busy on other projects for the Cathedral to take on such work.” “Why didn’t you just give him ingots you already had?” Iphicles placed the two earrings on Ilmarė’s ears. “Magnificent!” he said. Then he turned to Dril. “We don’t have the time to refine the gold from the item, and the ingots we have are earmarked for other projects.” Ilmarė stood up and admired herself in the mirror. “Not bad,” she said. “I did recommend another goldsmith farther into town, Fabiro the Slim.” Iphicles smiled congenially and gave them the directions. “By the way, why do you ask?” “I’m sure a busy merchant like yourself has no time for a long explanation,” said Dril. And with that, he abruptly stalked out of the shop. Vlad was chatting with the guards outside. He joined them in the street. “So?” “Another dead end,” said Dril. “We’re being led in circles.” “Now what?” asked Vlad. “Now we find Fabiro the Slim,” said Dril. “Why do I get the feeling,” said Ilmarė. “That Fabiro’s not very slim either?” [/QUOTE]
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