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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Scotley" data-source="post: 2385499" data-attributes="member: 11520">To the Dye MerchantMichael leaves a little early for his appointment to see the dye merchant. He walks along the shoreline and can see a dugout area that was likely once a drydock, but the timbers here have rotted or been scavenged for other uses. A fairly large adjacent building has become tenement housing, but might once have been the hub of a modest ship yard. A couple of piers remain where shipwrights repair boats and ships, but they look like they see relatively little activity working only on small fishing boats. He soon makes his way to the largest building in the small community. The building looks to be a fairly old and was finely built of stone and marble, but the shifting mud that makes up this little island has causes some settling of the foundation and several cracks have been patched in the stone work. The entry way is carpeted with thick reed mats to clear the worst of the island's muck as you enter. A bank, several lawyers, and various merchants have offices here. The dye merchant is on the second floor. His offices are tastefully furnished in substantial looking pieces in a dark cherry stain with vividly colored fabrics that you suspect are of local dyes--tregeren blue is used extensively along with a russet, a saffron yellow orange and a deep black. A pleasant attractive human woman in a flattering dress sits at the reception desk. Behind her sepearated by wicker screens are half a dozen cubicals where 3 clerks or secretaries toil away at paperwork. The receptionist greets you and when you give your name she says, "Ah yes, Mr. Storm, you are expected. Please take a seat and I'll try to work you in. Would you like some tea while you wait?"</blockquote>

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