Mistral inclined her head toward the welcoming trio of Noahs, and to the compliment of her universal language she replied simply, "Merci."  As the triplets bemoaned their absentee proprietor she looked at Noah, who was ignoring his employees in favor of philosophizing with Talion.  She shrugged, and left it to him to ignore or attend his underlings as it suits him.


Mistral sighed at the familiarly-awkward flirting, but put on a faint smile.  She decided to answer the replicant straightforwardly even if he'd asked facetiously, "<I do prefer the cold and my manner has been called so, but I am not of the winter in that sense.>"  Her curiously 'wintry' hair coloration was another matter entirely.  Her companions may have noticed that the blue color of her hair-tips had never faded, grown out, nor required re-dying.  The white and blue seemed to be her natural hair coloration, somehow.  Mistral turned to dragon-Noah in disguise and remarked, drily, "Déjà vu, threefold."

Mistral listened in on the discussion of the morality of excising and selling traumatic synth-memories to mnemonic vampires like the Collector.  Such a thing could be viewed as noble, terrible and everything in between, depending on one's perspective.  Mistral wasn't interested in debate in this place, and so she elected to remain quiet.  Soon enough Noah and Talion came to an understanding, and the question arose from both Talion and the triplets of why they were here.  Mistral wasn't sure what Noah had in mind, but she didn't mind plainly stating her intent, "<I am no one, and we've a business matter to be resolved with the Collector.>"

Noah smiled so whide the armor shifted as Mistral spoke to the task at hand. "Dont let her fool you." He reached back and pulled out a number of large boxes. "She is all that and a bag of bret's." Noah had apparently been looking up french foods in all his scheming.

He looked at the trio of Me's evenly. "It is the silver spoon that rings for dinner, the March Hair and Hatter will be along soon." He opened the boxes, one a box of disks the other a hoard of synth food and battery backups.

"Sorry to have kept quiet. Dieing did not sit well with me." He reached behind the counter with his tail and pulled free two boxes. One with a few coins and the other something that a Russian king would adore.

"Every lock has a key. But here sometimes you need a lock to open a key. You want to get to his place you need an invite or a lock to his door."

"Last stop before we go into the lions gut. I've got a few coins to spare if you need shopping done. Though dont break the group. This is one place above all you dont split the party."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:46, Wed 22 July 2020.

The counter Noah took the box and fished out a number of the ration bars and tossed them to the other Noahs in the stall. "Tech one and Noah prime's personal E.D. unit. Things must have really gone to hell in a handbasket." The counter Noah squinted at the E.D. Unit. "You cant broadcast even into the market. Nice armor prime." The Noah in the back chuckled, "That or he has gone full cromo-sapien on us."

Counter Noah clapped and smiled, "What are you looking to buy, I am sure we can direct you to a friend for some extra kick back."

Sal's pride demanded the scales not tip any farther. He declined the coin, "My debt to you is large enough, Noah. Besides, I'm afraid I've never been very imaginative. Get something nice for Grey. There must be something dreamed up by a mind like Wonka, around here."

Noah inclined his head to Sal and then looked at Talion. "How much for a power source big enough to make Grey a happy kid?" Grey was hyper complex and near infinite in power but her limitation was that she was operating on less than one percent power.

 Talion blinked at Noah in surprise and then passively looked first at Sal then at Mistral before looking back at Noah. "A lot... the question is not how much would make her happy but instead how much is safe to give her... safe for the planet, not for her. Five coins and I will give you a small marble of phlogiston."

Noah smiled wide enough to cause his mask to shift as he fished around in the box he just picked up and counted out the coins, handing them to Talion. "That is a jawbreaker that will keep her content for a good long time. I'll make sure that she saves at least half for a very bad day."

He nodded at Sal. "Talion is the one who made Grey's power system. She is always hungry due to the fact she runs with us on one percent of her total power. A drop of the good stuff for you for a year so to speak. Ill turn it into a confection for her." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I know calling any debt off would wound a mans honor. But if you run across anything in relation to dragons, I would count that as a even scale. I can only dig up so much but there are memories far longer than mine and you have access to them."

When asked whether they were interested in any shopping, Mistral said, "On the journey here I spied a boutique with products that emitted an intriguing and possibly useful resonance admixture.  I am curious to have a closer look."  She could find the way back simply enough, but nonetheless described the establishment to one of the Noah triplets in case it was familiar to them.

The Noah's did indeed know the shop and provided entirely different directions than the way they came. As was par for the course in a crossroad market. One thing Mistral could note is that everyone else; shoppers, vendors, even the odder things all seemed terrified of the conversation that was had.

It was a short walk until the synthetic brought her, and the group, to a small but deep stall with a rather brilliant sign that had a number of illusions that showed a pair of elves dancing in ballroom attire. "Hat man Jacks Millinery and haberdashery". The space within was clearly larger than the space without as there was a hall of a number of spaces where elves, humans, and other beings of similar build stood. Sitting at a round desk that separated him from the room was a tall man of lethal beauty. In the way that only the fair folk can pull off, it was clear he was a literal lady killer.

Never mind the horns and oddly bent legs, he was a Jumping Jack. The same fea that was blamed for the Ripper murders. And his suit matched that dark lethal grace. He only looked up with one eye as the other eye kept reading the book he held in his hands.

He waved a hand as if to say to feel free to look around as one eye tracked the group. Of the presented clothing, some fantastic and others absolutely alien and hurt the mind to look at. Of the whole store only a few could even fit Mistral unless she had an extra set of arms and a tail.

The beings wearing the clothing, to any mage, clearly had no aura beyond an illusion but they still held the beauty of stories. Sal got no sense of life, his beast looking at them as it would a bottle of glue.

The first was a dress spun litteraly of moon beams. The white dress went from shoulder to floor and had a near divine grace to it. Infront of the dress was a old style card. "Luna's gown. Bane to werewolves. Twelve killed by its touch alone."

A pair of gloves that looked as if they had been created by growing them from a rose bush. Absolutely delicate and brillantly crafted. The small note read "Gloves of madam butterfly. Awareness of foe and wax"

A white silk shirt that looked fitted. The most normal looking thing in the whole place. The card read "Nurse spider silk shirt. Devours injuries."

A cloak of litteral freaking shadows. It looked fuzzy and not a physical way. The card read, "Cloak of shadows. Suffer the day to vanish fully at night."

Lastly there was a vest of a reflective leather. The logo of Talion himself stamped on the inside. The card read, "Talion craft^TM - Deflect or reflect the spells of nasty mages"
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:12, Thu 23 July 2020.

 Talion noted the leather vest with a wry smile. "I always wondered what they were doing with all that exotic beast leather."

Mistral strolled into the bizarre establishment and did her best to keep herself from gawking at the bizarre sights that greeted her at every turn.  She had witnessed a number of inexplicable things since her introduction to the supernatural, particularly in the last few months, but she'd never seen the like of the products displayed in Hat man Jacks Millinery and Haberdashery.  The proprietor himself could be nothing other than a True Fae, whose otherworldly beauty had an undeniably malign character to it.  He did not see fit to offer welcome nor assistance, and that suited Mistral well enough.

She silently browsed the singularly strange garments on display without touching, passing over many that were designed for alien body structures.  There were a few intriguing selections that might be worn by a human woman, and she paused to study these and admire their mystical craftsmanship.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:38, Fri 24 July 2020.

Knowledge:
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:13, Fri 24 July 2020.

Bigger note: Luna's Gown was a dress Mistral remembered from a story. There was a creature called the Leanhaum-Shee. It was a faerie that was arcadian version of a vampire. It's notable as she walked into a werewolf moot and nearly killed every wolf save the pups. The pack had apparently killed a mortal man she loved bringing her to vengeance. Each wolf had been turned to ash in her embrace.
This message was last updated by the GM at 02:34, Fri 24 July 2020.

These items held remarkable power, if Mistral's observations and memory of their legends told true.  She had to wonder what their price would be, and what sort of devious drawback each might possess.  She decided she may as well ask.

Mistral addressed the Fey in French, but via an enchantment that would make her understood to any listener, and for her to understand them in turn.  "Hat Man Jack, one presumes?"  Unsure of the rules of decorum, she decided to perform a small bow, which she thought a safe bet.  "Bonjour.  I wonder what you might tell me about a certain pair of interesting items on display... Madame Butterfly's gloves, and the shirt woven of nurse spider's silk."  She didn't ask the price, but guessed that the discussion would lead there soon enough.

The JumpingJack devil sighed and closed his book. The sense of him before was that he would likely have enjoyed skinning Mistral to make a coat of her. Now it was mild annoyance at a 'local' in his presence. "If there is another hatman Jack let me know so I may work murder on him."

He leaned forward looking her eye to eye. His gaze was like the physical feeling a razor blade pressed to skin. "The gloves detect the presence of hostile creatures whom are shapeshifter or shifters. And detrcts the presence of life magic. I'm no mage so I cant vouch for accuracy."

"The shirt was crafted from the egg sack silk to be precise. The little darlings live on the hedge side of the world and suckle your wounds away. It wont heal a gunshot or if you set yourself on fire but you'll heal like magic when it comes to being hit by a car."

It took a force of will for Mistral to maintain her composure when the fae leaned closer and turned his serrated gaze upon her.  Yet, she held his eye as he explained the workings of these hedge-spun artifacts.  He did not give the full picture, she knew, but that was the way of things in this place.  Mistral nodded once in acknowledgement, then said carefully, "I am prepared to propose a bargain.  Madame Butterfly's gloves will become mine to keep and to own, and in exchange I offer a memory of value to me."  She paused and then asked evenly, "Would such a proposal be of interest to the Lord of Hats?"

The pretty predator leaned forward, a line of tasty salivation drawing a line to his chin as he was ready to eat her whole body and soul.  He then offered his hand. "Deal, and we will roll the dice."
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:59, Sat 25 July 2020.

Noah rumbled his discontent hard enough to vibrate the ground under him. Mistral was a woman who could make her own deals and she would ask if she needed his help. But he also was plotting to murder the hell out of the fea if he took more than he was allowed. You always grew concerned for the people you cared about.

Mistral narrowed her eyes at the sinister fae’s salivation, wondering if she’d already overlooked some terrible pitfall in this negotiation.  She answered, “An addendum.  The singular memory I offer will be one of my choosing, but you may be informed of its contents ahead of time.”  She did not extend her hand, and instead sought clarification, “What dice are these, and in what way will they bear upon this transaction?”

Talion tapped lightly on Mistral's shoulder. "'Rolling the dice' is a turn of phrase. If he took your memory of signing the Tower of the Iron Gauntlet, then your entire life would have been rearranged... and he would have access to all of your magical understanding.

 It is supremely dangerous to trade in memories or time. Tread carefully... and know that there are far safer deals you could be making."

Noah sat down and thought for a long moment. "You have seeds from an apple of the tree of life from Baulder. You have two minor artifacts released to you freely. You have things worthy of trade that do not lessen yourself."

"One only manages a long life as a market merchant by only selling things they can afford. And the most valuable thing you own is yourself. Every part of you."

Talion's warning was well-taken, for it was true that a memory is more than a single drop in the pond of one's mind, but also the ripples that spread out from it.  Noah also chimed in to provide reminders of sensible alternative offers she might make, too.  Mistral tried not to be too annoyed, because she knew that they meant well.  She looked to Talion and Noah over her shoulder and inclined her head their way, then said, "Merci beaucoup for your advice, gentlemen.  Now, if you will excuse me a moment, I have a trade to conduct."

Mistral turned back to Hat-Man Jack and repeated, "A singular memory of value and of my choosing, in exchange for Madame Butterfly's gloves.  What say you?"  She crossed her arms and awaited the fae's answer.

Jack rolled his eyes but in opposite directions hard enough to make a wet and tiny meat on meat sound. "No, it is worth at least the memory of a parent, lover, or mentor. You could get by with three lesser memories. Or we can start taking concepts like the color red until we hit an equal value. Unless you have a memory I find openly juicy."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:04, Sun 26 July 2020.

Noah nodded once and sat down effectively loitering a network call with Talion.

Mistral's brow furrowed slightly in distaste over the fae's unsightly eye-rolling shenanigans, and she looked away.  She was quiet for a long span of moments, eyes unfocused in recollection.  She then turned back toward Hat Man Jack and gave a single nod and said quietly, "I offer the memory of a person I once knew, in exchange for Madame Butterfly's gloves.  If you deem this memory to be of insufficient value then I will bid adieu to both this transaction and to you, Monsieur."  She felt inclined to always mention the full trade terms, lest the fae treat a sentence of colloquial discussion as the trade agreement itself.