Still keepin' yer marbles, are you?

*The merchant took a moment to think on what this customer proposed.*

“Sounds like a decent offer… Sure, why the ‘ell not? Doubt I’ll get a better one later. Oh, and it’ll be 500 souls per repair powder.”

Five-hundred? Somehow, even though the hunter did not know much about the worth of a soul in Lordran, he felt as though he was being swindled. But he did not argue, he simply handed over the mass of half-crystallized luminous light. Frankly, it felt good to be rid of the thing, it gave him an unpleasant feeling. Repair powder was something much more to his liking; physical, real, useful.

“Very fine, then. It’s a deal. You like to shake on those here?”

*The merchant listened intently, an eyebrow raised at the question about his wares.*

“Eh? My wares? Of course they’re stolen! What did you think? Ain’t many people around who need it. And when you die… I’ll sell it all again! Nehehehehehe!“

He nodded in appreciation of the brutal simplicity. This was a bloke of clear mental decay, but a well-managed economy was a beautiful thing.

“You are a wily codger, but I can’t fault a smooth, if grim, operation. Fair then, just get a pretty penny for my cloak and pin, you hear? I didn’t come all this way to be pawned off for mere peanuts.”

He was about to point again to the bundle of repair powder, keen to finish the trade, before getting an idea.

“You know, I travel all around this country on quests of my own. If I find any items of particular value, can I count on you to make me some offers? Either in trade or souls, both are hard to come by for a human like me, in Lordran.”

Like the merchant, the hunter had no qualms about ‘liberating’ items whose owners had lost their need of them. 

huntersblackbow:

The hunter furrowed his brow, ruminating. 

“Alright, that’s fair,” he conceded. The items for sale were evident, however foreign they seemed to the man long displaced from proper civilization. He’d gotten the silly questions out of the way early.

He clapped his hands together, savoring the opportunity for proper business.

“Well, what has the market have, then? My weapons are wearing thin, have you some tools I can fix them with? Or even replacements?”

*The merchant cracked a small grin on his face as the new customer was finally asking the right questions.*

“Yeah, I’ve got some decent steel in stock. A bit of Repair Powder too. Don’t want to go about the place with broken weapons if ya value your life.”

“I’m impressed, and most grateful you have quite the collection, mister,” the man says, eyeing the trinkets in question. While he browsed, he fished through the pouch at his lower back, making sure he had some funds to squander first.

“I hate to pry–,”

He loved to pry, especially on matters of coin. The man knelt down low to get a better look at the wears, and kept his voice low.

“–but might I ask how you acquired such a robust collection as this? I’m not picky, but I am curious.”

It was the truth, the answer did not effect his purchase. He just wanted to know if there was some suspiciously light corpses of wayward adventures somewhere, relieved of their corporeal belongings. 

The hunter pointed at the pouch of repair powder and pulled out a small, partially crystallized bundle of what the Undead called “souls”, though he doubted the validity. Either way, he couldn’t argue their buying power in this land where his silver coins seemed akin to sand.

Books, weapons, scraps of armor, and miscellaneous weapons salvaged from the Burg, and sitting among it all was a man who appeared hollow, but Jarrod knew better. Were this what seemed to be a couple years ago, now, he would have drawn his sword on the man.

“Well now, y’still got yer wits ‘bout’cha?” he asked, recalling their first meeting. “S’been awhile. Business still good?” He slowly approached, as to not startle the merchant and sat down across from him. 

huntersblackbow:

“Aye, good then,” he said with a long sigh of relief. 

The face disappeared from the window, then reappeared as the figure emerged from the open doorway onto the terrace proper. At least, the stranger had chose someplace that got a nice bit of sunlight. 

He stood plainly in cream colors and a short cloak, and surveyed the numerous pots, baskets, boxes, and wears scattered about the stranger.

“Greetings,” he said as his eyes wondered. He had registered the ‘hello’, but it was still thrown off so by the seemingly mundane shop and the man who owned it that it took him a moment to respond proper.

“…Are you a merchant? In this place?” he asked.

Lordran still had its traces of glory, true. But as of late, it seemed like a rather dried up place in terms of commerce. What little the hunter owned came from scrounging, scavenging, and thievery. None of which he was rather proud of.

“Of course I’m a bloody merchant, ya half-wit!  Didn’t the set-up give it all away?”

*The merchant then let out a frustrated sigh.  First customer in a while, and already he’s getting a stupid question off the bat.*

“Sorry bout that.  Don’t like stupid questions.  Anyways, if you ain’t a Hollow, then you’re a welcome customer.”

The hunter furrowed his brow, ruminating. 

“Alright, that’s fair,” he conceded. The items for sale were evident, however foreign they seemed to the man long displaced from proper civilization. He’d gotten the silly questions out of the way early.

He clapped his hands together, savoring the opportunity for proper business.

huntersblackbow:

He simply stared, watching from the window adjacent. The hunter was having trouble deducing whether the stranger around the bend was a man or a hollowed shell. The stranger’s exterior–damnable was the hunter for judging so–offered no reassurance on the matter.

“You there,–” he cooed through the old iron bars of the abandoned home. 

“Have you your wits still, friend?”

He kept his form hidden, save for the face that peeked through the former window-frame, waiting for some kind of response besides disappointing moaning of a hollow.

*The merchant was pleased to hear another person’s voice. It meant that he’d have both company and a potential customer.  He turned to face the window that the voice came from, and waved to the face that was visible through it.*

“Oh. Hello there. Don’t worry, I ain’t gone Hollow yet. Seems you’ve got your wits about you as well.”

“Aye, good then,” he said with a long sigh of relief. 

The face disappeared from the window, then reappeared as the figure emerged from the open doorway onto the terrace proper. At least, the stranger had chose someplace that got a nice bit of sunlight. 

He stood plainly in cream colors and a short cloak, and surveyed the numerous pots, baskets, boxes, and wears scattered about the stranger.

“Greetings,” he said as his eyes wondered. He had registered the ‘hello’, but it was still thrown off so by the seemingly mundane shop and the man who owned it that it took him a moment to respond proper.

“…Are you a merchant? In this place?” he asked.

“Of course I’m a bloody merchant, ya half-wit!  Didn’t the set-up give it all away?”

*The merchant then let out a frustrated sigh.  First customer in a while, and already he’s getting a stupid question off the bat.*

@huntersblackbow liked for a starter!

*The merchant was getting rather bored at the moment.  Not many customers coming through today, so he was just sitting down thinking about what to do.  Perhaps a bit of scavenging for more goods was in order?  Nah, there was still some decent amount of stock.  Maybe practicing with his sword on some Hollows would do him good…*

He simply stared, watching from the window adjacent. The hunter was having trouble deducing whether the stranger around the bend was a man or a hollowed shell. The stranger’s exterior–damnable was the hunter for judging so–offered no reassurance on the matter.

“You there,–” he cooed through the old iron bars of the abandoned home. 

“Have you your wits still, friend?”

*The merchant was pleased to hear another person's voice. It meant that he'd have both company and a potential customer.  He turned to face the window that the voice came from, and waved to the face that was visible through it.*