Re: A Gnome's Intermission (Pisca)
“It is good to wonder about oneself. Self-knowledge is a marvelous thing.” The shop’s flamboyant proprietor paused, a shadow passing over his face. “Also often a painful thing.” The shadow passed, and the smile returned. “But marvelous!”
He spun around, causing the unidentified waterfowl to teeter precariously atop his head. He ended the twirl in a wide stance, arms outspread. “But I would be happy to show you around and assist in your attempt! Where should we start?” He looked around the shop, pondering. “Perhaps over here?” The question seemed rhetorical. He nodded, as if answering his own query. “Yes, definitely over here.”
“The Feathered Serpent,” Voon voice deepened, as if he were making a presentation, “is a repository of wonders! Discerning,” he glanced at Pisca, “customers come from across Varisia and beyond to find artifacts of great power or historical significance.” He began leading the gnome down one of the shop’s wide aisles. “And occasionally both at once!”
“Of course, such objects are not easy to obtain, which is why they are often, I must admit, outrageously priced.” He placed a finger next to his nose, grinning slyly at Pisca. “But then again, how outrageous can a price be if there are those willing to pay?”
He gestured at a small item that looked nothing so much like an ancient writing implement suspended within a glass box. “This, my gnomish friend, is one of the pens used by the philosopher Kalim Onaku to create the Laws of Man, which as you probably know was the beginning of the end of the Oath Wars.” He winked. “Don’t tell Father Zantus about this one.”
He continued through the shop, showing Pisca items of significance great and small. “You were right to be worried about the vargouille,” Vovashali Voon nodded in agreement as they walked. “Its presence here was unnatural, caused by people meddling in things better left alone.” He gave her a sidelong look. “Less discerning people than ourselves might be tempted to use such items in their attempts to,” he paused, “get ahead.”
He continued on as if he had not just committed a heinous crime against humor. “My garbage service, you say? I’m afraid I’ve never given it much thought.” He pointed at what looked like a silver rod with a red gem embedded two-thirds of the way up its length. “That was Aroden’s Scepter of Authority, carried by his high priests during the Age of Enthronement until he ceased to be.” He stood looking at the rod for a moment, hands clasped behind his back, seemingly lost in thought. “I think everyone was very surprised when that occurred. Aroden’s death, I mean, not that his high priests carried a scepter.”
The pair continued down the aisle. “Garbage service is one of those jobs that not many people want,” Vorvashali Voon said, as if he had never digressed into a discussion of divine mortality. “So long as whoever has the job does it passingly well, you do not find much call for a replacement.” He stepped back to evaluate Pisca. “Why? Has your venture into self-examination revealed a heretofore-undiscovered predilection for junk removal?”
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:40, Tue 09 June 2015.
