Hirsu smiled, and turned his attention away from the piece of stone and focused on the pleasant merchant. "Thank you for the warning. Out of curiosity, would it be in the price range of a High Lord, or are we talking Councilman budget?"

Pitcarn arrived here, looking for a selection of gems, a fine pearls, cut opal, masterwork sapphire, jagged ruby and masterwork Topaz.

He keeps one eye on his surroundings, making sure he is not about to receive a knife in his back in the busy market.

Hirsu

"Probably Councilman," he smiled. "I'm asking four-thirty for this beauty. Had it taken straight from the inner jungles of Apath. It was a miracle we could even get it out of that realm unmolested by bandits or, well, worse. It's a very magical piece of stone, that. Highly rare. You know the function of witchstone, of course?"

Pitcarn

Pitcarn found a merchant willing to sell him everything he needed for five thousand Conclave Stones.

"Very cheap," said the merchant. "Very good price."

Hirsu smiled, impressed by the accomplishment and letting it show. "Now that's a story I'd love to hear more about.  I know of one use, but I get the sense it's not what it's widely used for. What do you normally expect your customers use it for? Besides a status symbol."

Pitcarn looked at the selection available.

"So for that I will receive 8 fine pearls, 4 cut opals, 4 masterwork sapphires, 4 jagged Rubys, 4 jagged emeralds, 4 masterwork Topaz and 3 masterwork Diamonds? I find that acceptable."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:04, Wed 08 Sept 2010.

Desafon makes another appearance. (For once, I will describe his arrival).

The sound of twin swords ring in one spot, clanked together as though in combat, the sparks that emanate from the sound itself show the first glimpse of Desafon. Continuing sparks begin to open a space large enough for the man to break through and finally the sound and the sparks disappear into nothingness, where they came from.

He begins to head towards the Apotheosis Circle's headquarters, intent on finding out if there is anything else of importance going on while he has been gone.

Hirsu

The shopkeep's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't been expecting Hirsu's ignorance, but wasn't about to show scorn or arrogance. He was better than that.

"Witchstone is most commonly used to instigate the naturally - and yet oh-so-rarely occurring - magical process," he began. "Withstone can heal almost any magical malady, boost one's sorcery to a large extent - at least two sideways jumps! - but, most importantly, it can gift an individual with a unique," he smiled, "And, naturally, powerful magical tradition that is entirely theirs - unless they choose to share it. This tradition must be explored, perfected, expanded.. but it is given, the spark - the seed! - is given to the sorcerer. It is the miracle of inspiration, and it is a thing many would gladly pay death for."

Pitcarn

"Very good price," said the merchant. "Excellent price. All of that, if you desire. Five thousand Conclave Stones. What do you say?"

Desafon

(Very nice! :D)

The Apotheosis Circle's headquarters were clean, sparse, uncluttered. The receptionist looked at Desafon, and smiled. She was very attractive, with shining green eyes and dark brown hair. She looked all the image of a princess or lawyer.

"Good morning," she said, smiling. "How might I help you?"

Desafon, after gaining entry into the Circle's main entry, appears very much pleased to see the receptionist. If anything, she is perhaps much more interesting than the thoughts of business that he had. "Ah, my business. I was mainly going to take a look around or rather, see what I was able to check up on as I am a new member of the Apotheosis Circle." He says this before he bows to the lady, "I am Desafon the First, Vicious God of Piracy and Duels." He gives her a wink too, "And nigh-unbeatable with a blade... or two."

"Make it four and a half thousand, and give me the name of an honest soul dealer and you have a deal."

Hirsu bowed slightly. "I was aware of the curative properties, but wasn't aware of the others. Thank you for sharing the knowledge with me. I'm afraid I should be on my way. Thank you for your time, good sir. Next time I'm looking for something rare and interesting I'll be sure to come your way."

Hirsu hurried out of the market, aware of what was coming. He spoke quietly on the way. "Suit, is there anything you can do to help me handle the pain that'll soon be transferred to me here through paradox?"

Hirsu

Manipulating neuro-chemicals and synthesizing anesthetic. Localized (leg). Paradoxical, nonlethal pain that will pass in time..</yy>

Hirsu felt a sudden, but not unpleasant, numbness in his leg.

<tt>Estimated that at time of chemical breakdown the paradoxical pain will have abated.

Pitcarn

"Soul dealer?" The merchan't eyes widened, and Pitcarn felt that perhaps that he wasn't entirely honest. "No soul dealers here. Conclave territory. No soul.."

The merchant smiled, and his eyes turned black. Suddenly, he fell, shattering as he hit the ground. The merchant had been made of clay.

Desafon

"Ahah," said the receptionist, smiling politely. "And I am Lady Adara of the Apotheosis Circle. Unbeatable with a blade, you say? I would like to test that claim one day.. I am known as Adara the Unassailable for a reason. Perfect with a sword, they say."

"Four thousand is a deal then."

Pitcarn jumped over the desk and drew his diamond-rifle in one move. If the seller had been attacked, he wanted cover before he had to fight, especially at range. He dropped the Conclave stones onto the broken clay, and collected his gems, all the while looking for a possible attacker.

If none was forthcoming, he stood up and calmly walked away from the stall, still wary, his rifle still at the ready, and began looking for a soul dealer.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:20, Wed 15 Sept 2010.

Desafon can't help but grin, "Oh, another day no doubt as I am currently about to have a duel with some horribly-tattoo'd cultist of some Osiris-thingy God. That obese Pitcarn God seems to act like he's a Lieutenant of some sort, so extra money is always a good thing." He grins. "But... someday, we'll have to test our skills. What kind of blades do you use?" He asks, curious at this more than anything else.

Hirsu slowed his pace immediately, taking care to walk more carefully. He had avoided falling over in pain, now he needed to avoid falling over because he couldn't feel his leg.

"Thank you, Midet. Much appreciated."

He began to make his way towards the Chapel of Methodes.

Pitcarn

There didn't seem to be any precious gems or jewels behind the counter. There didn't seem to be very much of anything at all except for cobwebs and dust.

Pitcarn was not caught under attack. The market continued as normal. The smell of fresh clay wafted through Pitcarn's mind.

Desafon

"I either spar with the simple rapier," said Lady Adara. "Or with twin falchions of my own design and forging. Good luck in your duel, friend. I hope you are victorious in your fight." She stopped, smiled. "What do you use?"

Desafon swiftly pulls out both of his blades, his hands quickly seeking to grab the blunt end of the blades for her to see, but not to grab. Last thing he needs is his blades to disappear before the combat.

Pitcarn

(Repeat)

There didn't seem to be any precious gems or jewels behind the counter. There didn't seem to be very much of anything all except for cobwebs and dust.

Pitcarn was not caught under attack. The market continued as normal. The smell of fresh clay wafted through Pitcarn's mind.

Desafon

"Ah," said Lady Adara, obviously impressed. "Ooh! Are they Domonoi's 'Blades of Efficiency'? I have wished for a pair of dueling blades just like those for as long as I can remember.."

The Blades of Efficiency twitched ever so slightly at the remark, and Desafon noticed just how truly beautiful Adara was.

Pitcarn performs a thorough search of the stall, to try and find what may have happened to the storekeeper, and what, if any, merchandise is actuallt present. He especially looks for names and order forms, something that might link to elsewhere, another vendor, another person.

Desafon, here, gasped in pain. "My blade..." he no doubt saw that one of them was damaged and his wounds would no doubt be fast behind. "I'm sorry, but I believe I might be about to die in a moment." He says, moving away to a quiet spot by which he would be able to have his first death in peace.

Pitcarn

There were warrants of trade hidden within one of the drawers beneath the stall - licenses to barter within the markets. They were signed by an official, one H. L. Bursus. Beyond that - blank documentation and recent forms, and a solid, locked chest covered in padlocks and chains, wrought of dark wood.

Desafon

Lady Adara nodded slowly. "Good luck, friend," she said, and let him be at it.

Looking aroung him again for watchers and attackers, and noting any that seem to have an undue interest, Pitcarn pulls out one of his vibroblades and begins breaking the chains and the locks with the weapon.

There were no watchers - no obvious ones, anyway.

The chains fall off easily, and only a simple catch mechanism stops Pitcarn from taking whatever is inside.

Does he dare open it?

Thinking about why he is here, the chest, the store, the golem and complete lack of gems, Pitcarn decides he needs whatever information he can find.

He opens the chest.

Crailek reappears here, and looks around calmly at his surroundings. He also checks himself to see whether the sword was with him here as well.

Crailek

The sword (what sword?) is with him, of course. The market is as it always even, even in the worst of times : bustling, filled with thousands of individual souls, each with their own interpretations of capitalism, their own goals, dreams and fears. Nicodemus's Market, the greatest of its kind in the entire universe.

Pitcarn

Inside is a single, perfect watermelon. Its flesh is of the green hue you only find in the kindest and most peaceful of beaches, untouched by any soul save those who are one with nature. As the box is opened, Pitcarn's nostrils are filled with the smell of ripened fruit, enchanting, empowering, all-consuming. It was a perfect sphere: uncommon for watermelons, yes, but not for this watermelon. Not for the King of Melons.

Dare he steal it... ?

Dare he take a bite ... ?