So I put a rank into profession(merchant)...


The Exchange

The Exchange

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And I finally set up shop.

Now all thems bozos, goons, mooks, jamokes, and jabronis can shut their yappers. I run a clean operation! So come on down to "Legitimate Business" and get your hands on some slightly used goods.

Dark Archive

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Would you happen to know where I can get a proper outfit for my monkey, Nisaru?

The Exchange

A clearly drunken balding man stumbles into the shop, smelling strongly of not just of cheap booze, but the cheapest of booze.

"Hey, fellow Legi- . . . Ligi- . . . Leji- . . . Honest business guy. I runses an import-export biz outsa tha' river kingdoms. Wanna do business? Hic!"

The Exchange

"Hey! We're all legitimate businessmen. That is why that guy from Qadira brought us into his organization. We just happen... To understand the darker side of business as well." A Varisian half-elf said. "Me, I help out making potions in my off time. The Society buys them in bulk, which helps me a lot. I just happen to know... How to pick locks." He shrugs.

The Exchange

See we're all legitimate here. Psst. I have a few extra spots open on the next burial run if you need anythimg moved out of town.

The Exchange

The Undertaker wrote:
See we're all legitimate here. Psst. I have a few extra spots open on the next burial run if you need anythimg moved out of town.

Keep it down, the narcs are everywhere. Besides, I gots myself an...arrangement.

The Exchange

"Those that wish the wealth of the Master and Guardian of the First Vault, should take heed to follow the law and righteous path of honest trade and shun short cuts, ill manners and underhanded trade"says a quiet voice from the shadows[b]" Your Ilk are entirely the reason Abadar has called me to service with in the Society. Repent and seek fair trade and that Can Help Us All instead of your lawless and base greed"

The Exchange

Khôn Ngoan wrote:

"Those that wish the wealth of the Master and Guardian of the First Vault, should take heed to follow the law and righteous path of honest trade and shun short cuts, ill manners and underhanded trade"says a quiet voice from the shadows" Your Ilk are entirely the reason Abadar has called me to service with in the Society. Repent and seek fair trade and that Can Help Us All instead of your lawless and base greed"

"Here here." a blue-skined female aasimar pipes up in agreement. "Well, I don't actually follow Abdar, but I am on board with actual legitimate trade. Every time I try to do buisiness, everyone assumes my goods are fakes or defective. After one encounter where I said I was with the exchange, one client even tried to hire me as an assassin! It's like no one knows what buisiness ethics are anymore!

"Let's face it, the exchange has a reputation as cheats, thieves, and ner-do-wells, and us actual buisiness people suffer for it!"

The Exchange

Janica Doe wrote:
Khôn Ngoan wrote:

"Those that wish the wealth of the Master and Guardian of the First Vault, should take heed to follow the law and righteous path of honest trade and shun short cuts, ill manners and underhanded trade"says a quiet voice from the shadows" Your Ilk are entirely the reason Abadar has called me to service with in the Society. Repent and seek fair trade and that Can Help Us All instead of your lawless and base greed"

"Here here." a blue-skined female aasimar pipes up in agreement. "Well, I don't actually follow Abdar, but I am on board with actual legitimate trade. Every time I try to do buisiness, everyone assumes my goods are fakes or defective. After one encounter where I said I was with the exchange, one client even tried to hire me as an assassin! It's like no one knows what buisiness ethics are anymore!

"Let's face it, the exchange has a reputation as cheats, thieves, and ner-do-wells, and us actual buisiness people suffer for it!"

"You cronies sure can talk, but can't you read? The sign out front CLEARLY says 'Legitimate Business'. You think those chuckleheads down at the church of Abadoo would approve my business license if they so much as thought I was doin' somethin' shady? Please."

Harv shakes his head while trying not to laugh "For some 'actual business persons,' you two goons don't seem to have much common sense. Let me assures you--I run a clean operation here. Just ask my 'janitor', Lightfoot Raven."

Grand Lodge

Raven pops up from behind the counter, pupils dilated, an empty vial of Numerian origin tucked into his hand.

"Huh? What? Need something cleaned?" he sniffles and rubs his nose. "And that's Lord Raven..."

The Exchange

Janica points to the man behind the counter.

"Legitimate my half-celestial butt! That man is clearly hopped up on something, presumably shiver or pesh, and THAT MAN" she says, pointing to the undertaker"Was openly talking about open slots for burials! And I doubt he's a licenced mortician.

"Oh, and to clinch it, I found the 'I' and 'L' that you through away outside from your original sign. Pro tip, don't hide incriminating evidence poking out of the trash can next to the sign you just tore them down from."

The Exchange

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Harv gives a look of surprise before throwing his hands in the air. "We've been had, fellas--deputy half-celestial, 100% loudmouth is gonna take this straight to the top with circumstantial evidence!" He has a good belly laugh at Janica's expense, gesturing to a nearby bin brimming with every letter of the Taldan alphabet. Above the bin a sign reads 'SIGN LETTORS: 5cp/10'. At some point during Harv's laugh, those present are able to make out the words "wind", "stupid", and "this guy".

Wiping away tears of laughter, Harv leans one elbow on the counter, flashing a gold-toothed smile once he's stopped. "So tells me--out of all the pawn shops in Absalom, you had the bright idea to try to con mine? Reaaaaaal smaht, bub. Real smaht."

The Exchange

Exasperated, Janica just holds her face in her hands.

"He genius, a con involves me trying to somehow take money or goods or property from you or whatever. I'm doing none of that. Note how I'm not calling the cops, I'm not asking for money, and I'm not stealing anything; unlike that Negaji's monkey that's inching towards me with his paw reaching for my pocket. I'm just here to say that your terrible business practices reflect poorly on the rest of us. And Trade-Prince Aaqir agrees."

She hands him a letter with the faction leader's signent on it.

"Now if you excuse me, with my duties done, I'm going to get out of here before someone assumes I'm trying to buy pesh from you or something."

The Letter:
The letter, written politely, implies that a name change might be in order if Burgleton wants to maintain the facade of an actual legitimate business. Signed by one of Aaquir's assistants.

The Exchange

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Harv rips the letter apart the moment it leaves Janica's hands.

"I know a con when I see one. If you think you can pull a fast one on a Varisian you're dumber than I thought. If the trade prince has a problem with my business maybe he shouldn't have given Guaril authority to give me the title. So let me give you three pieces of advice, pal: 1) not every varisian is a criminal, you racist; 2)....."

Harv spits in Janica's face

"3)....I forgot the third one, now get the f+@! out of my shop."

I'm sorry, Janica, but your character's high horse ends where my character begins.

The Exchange

Harv Burgleton wrote:

Harv rips the letter apart the moment it leaves Janica's hands.

"I know a con when I see one. If you think you can pull a fast one on a Varisian you're dumber than I thought. If the trade prince has a problem with my business maybe he shouldn't have given Guaril authority to give me the title. So let me give you three pieces of advice, pal: 1) not every varisian is a criminal, you racist; 2)....."

Harv spits in Janica's face

"3)....I forgot the third one, now get the f#&* out of my shop."

I'm sorry, Janica, but your character's high horse ends where my character begins.

A brief flash of rage in the aasimar turns to a smirk as she whips the spit from her face. It dawns on her that she has 'won' the argument, in her own mind, by managing to crack the calm demeanor of the shopkeep.

"Heh, whose the one basing accusations on circumstantial evidence now? I don't think all Varisians are criminals, just ones who hire druggies, serve suspect clientele, and have extraordinarily transparent and cavalier attitudes about breaking the law. You sir, are the one doing your ethnicity a disservice, not me. Now if you excuse me, I have a luncheon appointment with a young sorceress named Seoni. She and I are going to discuss the finer points of magic item use."

The blue-skined angel-kin turns and heads out of the shop. As she exits the door, she calls out without turning around. "Oh, and if you do think I'm trying to con you, please do feel free to inform the guards. I would LOVE to know what wrong-doing I am up to!"

It's okay, we just have very different characters. It's fun to play off of each other. Janica is just tired of all the thieves and sketchiness in the exchange, as she is a 100% honest business woman.

Dark Archive

Janica Doe wrote:
"... that Negaji's monkey that's inching towards me with his paw reaching for my pocket. "

Ryuko had been sifting through the clothing available when something about the argument caught her attention.

"Huh?" Ryuko looks over at the two.

Puzzled, she points out "Nisaru isn't anywhere near your pockets." She looks around, then adds "...and I don't see any other monkeys here at the moment.

Seems to me you owe my monkey an apology!"

You blamed the wrong monkey. Might want to concentrate on people with squirrels or raccoons as familiars, rather than the monkey familiar of a huge lizard carrying heavy weapons.

The Exchange

Ryuko Tokage wrote:
Janica Doe wrote:
"... that Negaji's monkey that's inching towards me with his paw reaching for my pocket. "

Ryuko had been sifting through the clothing available when something about the argument caught her attention.

"Huh?" Ryuko looks over at the two.

Puzzled, she points out "Nisaru isn't anywhere near your pockets." She looks around, then adds "...and I don't see any other monkeys here at the moment.

Seems to me you owe my monkey an apology!"

You blamed the wrong monkey. Might want to concentrate on people with squirrels or raccoons as familiars, rather than the monkey familiar of a huge lizard carrying heavy weapons.

Ryuko Tokage wrote:
now where I can get a proper outfit for my monkey, Nisaru?

with a link to a pickpocket's outfit. You see where I'm coming from. Also my character's left the shop already.

The Exchange

Harv Burgleton wrote:
The Undertaker wrote:
See we're all legitimate here. Psst. I have a few extra spots open on the next burial run if you need anythimg moved out of town.
Keep it down, the narcs are everywhere. Besides, I gots myself an...arrangement.

Discounts for anything that can survive cremation. Extra charges for removing magical auras, exchanges post burial, and adding on specialized mourners.

Dark Archive

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Jasmine comes into the shop, monkey on her shoulder. "Oh, Ryuko, there you are! And Harv! Is this the Le-git-i-mate Business? Are you still interested in the consignment of Wu Chai..."

She pauses, and looks at the shelves. "Wait. Are those the samples I gave you? Why they say, 'Harv Tea' now?"

The Exchange

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Harv looks around his shop, noticing several like-minded individuals looking to buy and sell obviously stolen legitimate goods and services.

"Livin' the dream!" Exlaims Harv as he sells a bat with several nails through it. A soft tap alerts him--there's an envelope on the counter.

Perturbed by the envelope's sudden appearance, Harv shouts "WHICH ONE OF YOU JABRONIS PUT SOMETHING IN WRITING? WHAT DID I SAY ABOUTS LEAVIN A PAPER TRAIL?"[/b]

After nobody fesses up to placing the envelope, Harv sneers before opening the envelope and removing a note. Harv reads the note, his eyes wincing whenever encountering a word with more than 2 syllables. After finishing the document, he looks up at his patrons and says "I need alla you bozos outta here right now. We're closed! Beat it! Get lost! Scram! I'll see you all tomorrow!"

Customers begin filing out of the shop, but Harv stops one of them in particular.

"Babyshanks--I gots a two-man job. You want in on the caper to outcaper all other capers that ever dids cape?"

The Exchange

Baby Shanks jolts awake. He manages to spill what's left of the grog in his mug as he does so and nearly falls out of his chair.

Hrm?! Huh?! Whysevrybdy yellin...

A short young man clad in heavy spiked armor stumbles to his feet and knocks over his chair. Turning around to see what the loud noise behind him was, he bumps the table and sends his street meat mug crashing to the floor.

Th'fcks wr'ng withis place?!

He attempts to bend down and scoop up the wreckage but misjudges the distance to the table. He smashes his face into the edge of the table covered in grog and foodstuff. The shock causes him to stand back up abruptly.

Wh'tth'hll'sg'ng'n...

He brings his arm up to his face and attempts to wipe the alcohol out of his eyes. However, he brought up the hand still wearing a gauntlet... The acute pain of dragging spikes across his face causes him to let out a shrill cry of pain and quickly sobers him up; however, not before stumbling backwards over his upturned chair and crashing to the ground. The over-sized spiked shield on his back causes his body to arch as it lands and snaps his head down with a quickness. Baby Shanks blacks out as his head finds the shop's foundation swiftly.

A sign hung on a nearby post is jarred loose and falls on top of him; it reads "No food or drink permitted on premises"

The Exchange

Harv facepalms.

"Babyshanks! Stop messin with that sign! It's stolen from the Bank of Abadar valuable merchandise!"

Harv internally reminds himself that he has done equally foolish things and smooths his outward demeanor before making sure that all others have left the establishment. He turns the sign from 'I assure you, we're open' to 'closed' and draws curtains over the windows.

It's me and you, Babyshanks.

Harv leans in, flashing a gold-toothed smile at his partner in crime.

"Are you familiar with the Boar n Oysters?"

The Exchange

Baby Shanks comes to as Harv closes down the shop.

"Yeah, I's heard of it; so what? Youse guys'll neva catch me there what with all th' Barneys 'n Dicks makin' eyes at each otha 'n suckin' down rotten fish. I swear, th' place probably smells 'o burnt oinka's swimmin' around 'n vats o' tuna or sumthin'..."

He attempts to piece together the shattered chair but quickly gives up. After finishing what remains of his street meat, he adjusts himself and turns to Harv as he makes his way to the door.

Anyways; I's gots ta do this gig for the Boss Man... More babysittin' for th' Pathsissies prolly. I swear, if it's not bumpin' off mooks dat pissed off someone's ma by not eatin' her cannolis, it's diggin' a new bedroom for some zips that don't know how t' be standup guys...

A flash of anger crosses his face.

One o' these days I'ma do somthin' big enough for the Boss man to see I'm ready to be made.

The Exchange

Harv holds out a finger, gesturing for Babyshanks to stay put.

"What if I tolds youse that the job I got planned would make you a made man for all times? What if I told you I knew of a time when the pigs that run that stinky fish stand...would be.....busy. Think of the score, Babyshanks! It'd be like taking..."

Harv struggles, trying to find the right idiom.

"...unguarded stuff!"

Nailed it--I talks common good, thinks Harv.

"This is the score that'd put us on the map, Babyshanks! Stealinz loot from right unda the nose of the law. And the fuzz? THEY'D NEVA LIVE IT DOWN! WE'D BE LEGENDS! BURGLETON AND BABYSHANKS--KINGS OF DA UNDA'WORLD!"

Harv takes a step back and shrugs.

"Buuut it's a two man job...and I know youze and I's is the only ones that could pull it off. It's a shame--we'd split it right down the middle," he pauses and furrows his brow with intense mathematical calculations, "fifty....fifty? Buuut why go on? You didn't seem interested," he smirks tilts his head forward,

"unless you are interested?

The Exchange

"It's one thing ta knock ova some two-bit mark, but tha five-0? Man, ya got some eggs on ya Harv..."

Baby Shanks finds an operable chair to sit down in and crunch the numbers. He remembers to remove both gauntlets this time.

"I s'pose ya cased the joint already? Maybe ya got y'self a coppa-top on the payroll? I tell ya, I can't r'memba tha last time we had ahselves a good fix..."

Harv's excitement has fully sunk in and now Baby Shanks' imagination is beginning to run wild. New ideas flit in and out of his brain while he becomes more and more animated mulling over different aspects of the job.

"Harv! Ya got y'self tha muscle ya freakin' goomba you! If we get outta this without gettin' pinched, we'll be wiseguys fa sure!"

The Exchange

"Just what I was hopin' ta hear!"

Harv makes his way behind the counter and over to the register. He places a hand under the counter but quickly becomes frustrated at something.

"I don't wanna hit the wrong button."

He fiddles around a little longer before a mechanical 'click' can be heard from the wall. A panel moves revealing a separate room. A workbench rests against the far side while shelves laden with various alchemical goods, potions, weapons, tools, wondrous items, and sundries occupy the side walls. The workbench is cluttered with papers while the wall is covered with various blueprints, maps, and photographs. A small frame rests in the corner of the desk holding a paper colored with prestidigitation. Strings tacked onto the walls created a web, networking the who, what, when, where, and why of the upcoming heist.

Harv gestures for Babyshanks to follow him to the workbench.

Here's the plan, Babyshanks.:

"You know how those pigs stink up that neighborhood? A few a thems is always drinkin that cheap beer and fartin louder than none other. Point is, ya can smell the place from miles around. That means there's a spot where gas leaks outta the place."

He places a finger on the blueprint, tapping it on a section marked "Chiminy".

"We's drink a couple a potions of gassy-us form and get in through there. Once we're in we drink these spider climbs and walk on the cielings. But wait, it gets better!"

Harv produces a set of flimsy looking keys.

"When I was in there I helped myselfs to getting some molds of one of ems keys. They aren't perfect copies but with my skill at jimmyin locks they'll be as good as the real deal. I should be able to open anything. Anything I can't jimmy you force open with this," he says before handing over a crowbar that reads "Trusty Buddy".

He points to the picture, "My old partner and I ran into every trap in the book, and I'ms expectin that gettin in is the easy part. Luckily, I gots the know how to counter any sorta trap we bumps into."

"I got goz masks for the smell and in case they got any smokey trap thingies goin. I got all sorts a healin potions in case anything goes wrong."

He moves to a small set of vials.

"And this sovereign glue? I'm gonna seal all their drawers shut with this stuff! They'll have to buy a whole new set of desks hahaha!"

"While's I'm doing this, I need you to go to the holding cells and take care of any possible witnesses. Once they're good and knocked out we can sovereign glue their hands to the floor."

"Oh. They're probably gonna have some dogs too. My boy Mantis--he fixed us up with the glue and the potions--is workin on some potions of pup shape for us to put in their water bowls. They coppas will come back and find out all their dogs is untrained pups!"

"Now we wanna grab anything and everything out of the evidence locker. Small ticket items go into pathfinda pouches and big ticket items go into handy haversacks."

"We also want the rap sheets. We take ours so we's can find out what they know about us and burn the rest with alchemist fires."

"So here's the steps: 1) we get in; 2) we deal with the cells and deal with the dags; 3) we nab the loot; and 4) escape!"

The Exchange

"Harv! This... this is amazin'! I've seen some straight buttons case a joint, but nevah like this!"

Baby Shanks moves in and absorbs the wealth of knowledge inundating this dank corner of the shop... and quickly gets a brain-freeze...

"Man, ya gots ev'rything; tha five "E's" of hittin' a place:

- Entrance
- Exit
- Equipment
- and... entr... entrap... entripoh-neweral...

and the goods"

Baby Shanks lets the headache subside before continuing.

"I gots ta hand it to ya Harv, this is professional. Tha Capo di capi has ta notice us afta this."

And then it hits him; an idea that's been forcing its way to the surface ever since Harv piqued his interest at the mere thought of knocking over Absalom's Finest's place of rest and relaxation.

Baby Shanks bursts from his thought and practically lunges at Harv, "What'll they call us Harv?! Think about it, we gots ourselves an opportunity here! We'll take tha world by storm and those mooks'll want to call us sumthin'..."

Thoughts and possibilities rage through Baby Shanks' mind like a bull in a china shop. After several minutes he makes it through two potential callings:

"We gots ta go wit' bandits Harv. It's just too good ta pass up; the fuzz hit by a bunch a' pros callin' themselves bandits? Classic. But we're more than tha jimmies runnin' around in tha grass stealin'... well... stealin' unguarded stuff. We gots ambishun. We needs ourselves a callin' card."

He looks over at all the Sovereign Glue Harv's got stocked back here and it hits him like that street meat will in another hour or so, "Harv! We're tha Sticky Bandits !"

The Exchange

Harv pats Babyshanks on the shoulder.

"and in twent two hours--THE STICKY BANDITS MAKE THEIR MARK. Now let's get preppin, 'Shanks, we have important work ta dooze."

Synchronize watches.

The Exchange

"We did it, Babyshanks! I'll bets they got back from that GemCrom or whatever and didn't nose what hittem!" He plops a pair of sacks on the counter, each brimming with gold, "not tah's mention the proceeds is well worths it. Now--let's get thems hands unstucks."

Harv applies universal solvent to Babyshanks stuck hands.

"Oh, I hopes youze don't mind--the cost of tha solvent is comin' outta your share."

The Exchange

The adrenaline rush from escaping The Boar 'n Oysters is allowing his body to fight the allergic reaction to the shellfish water. That, combined with the removal of his hands from his throat is allowing sufficient airflow into his body and, therefore, sufficient oxygen to his brain. Baby Shanks' thoughts become more coherent; however, not all of his body tissue is recovering as quickly. He still finds it difficult to articulate words...

"Harb; dat plathe ith a death trap! Why would anyone want to thubject themthelbeth to dat thit?! I coulda died! Da rethurecthun cothth prolly woulda offthet the haul!"

He stops cleaning himself off and turns to Harv, "Ya woulda rethurected me, right Harb? I mean, we'th partnerth and all..."

The Exchange

"It most certainly was beyond what I'd considda krool and unusual punishment. Maybe if's they got insurance they can build a place that isn't such a piecea crud."

Harv pauses a moment before answering his question, eyes shifting back and forth.

"Oh...for sure....I'd get you resurrected, 'onnah amongst thieves n all," he says. They coulda used his body as evidence.

He pushes one of the gold-laden sacks towards Babyshanks, "This is your share of tha loot."

"It's good we got Mantis to fence it so fast. For all we know the goods is halfway to Diobel by nows!"

Dark Archive

A red-headed elf comes skipping into the shop. "Is this place still open?!?"

Looking around, she says "Janira says I need more equipment, and this place was on the way. Do you happen to have flint and steel, maybe even a few torches?"

The Exchange

"WHAAHHWHWAAMOPAMWEDEOAWIN" yells the squat, balding man behind the counter, clearly woken from his nap.

Sleep with both eyeseses opens and nobodies can tell if you'ze a snoozaroozin.

He gives a wry smile, showing off more gold teeth than real ones.

"I might have a fews in stock...I sell a lotta things..." he says, eyes moving sideways in an overtly disreputable manner, "but I wouldn't be me if I didn't set you up with some proper gear. Yeah, proper gear hehehe!"

Rubbing his hands together, Harv asks "What kinda Pathfinda is yous?"

Dark Archive

"We're the best kind!" Another red-headed elf comes into the shop, dragging what looks to be a terrified male elf with long white hair with her. "We're elves!"

Dark Archive

Nodding, the first elf says "Yes! Elves on our very first Pathfinder mission! I'm Iovo by the way, and this is my twin sister Damiar."

Looking around, she spots the case of alchemical supplies. "We need a light source! Would you have any sunrods! I would like mine to glow with a nice cheery rose color!"

Even better, we are CORE elves!

Grand Lodge

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Rees (the aforementioned, clearly morale-bereft male elf), blinks at the room as if he really isn't sure how he ended up here or where "here" even is. "What," he asks, tentatively, "is a 'sun rod'?"

The Exchange

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Gullible. Poifect.

"A sun rod is a kajigger that glowses like the sun. I happen to have a few slightly used ones for sale. Nobody in coins would gives you sucha good deal as me's can. I'd sell a sun rod for abouts 1gp, which is halfs what those jabronis would upcharge you."

Harv's gaze lingers over his ramshackle supply of ill-gotten merchandise, pretty confident that he's going to get rid of those useless spent sunrods Babyshanks left behind.

How else do I fleece these morons? Thinks...thinks....thinks...

"If you'ze is getting sunrods, I should also warn youze that they can damage yer eye-holes. That's why you should wear smoked googles! They's can help block out some of the sunrods harmful rays. Personally, I like to wear my smoked googles when I'm talkin to ugly people because then theys can't sees you lookin away. Just as would have it, I have a few pairs of Brokely's brand smoked googles, so you'ze can be stylish while wearin em."

You're on a roll, Harv. Don't stop don't stopping now!

"But I bet you'd be worried about everyone tellin ya how goods yer shades looks. Might wanna pick up some earplogs to avoid distractions. I washed off a dozen pairs last week if youze also inclined to get some o' dem, toos," he says, sliding a bucket of fetid, yellow, chunky water close up against the counter so as to completely hide its presence.

"They'll also helps with Janira. You'll understand once ya meet her."

Dark Archive

As Harv describes the sun rods, the elf with the smaller bow smiles at the mention of slightly used and the reduced price. I hope by slightly used he means they were part of an 'acquisition'. Provided no one got hurt, I have no problems with saving some money.

When he makes his disparaging remarks about Janira though, she glares at Harv and says "We have met Janira. In fact, she should be catching up to us soon." At least, I think she should. She moves pretty quick considering her size!

Besides, Earplugs and smoked goggles aren't core!

Looking over the products again, she says "I could have sworn during the training on dungeons they said something about the rods being good because they don't give off smoke, but they only last a few hours."

Looking him in the eye, she asks "Do you have any that may have been acquired at a steep discount but are still workable?"

As she talks, she fiddles with a gold coin. She nimbly flips it between her fingers a few times and then quickly palms it. Opening the hand to show that the coin has disappeared, she starts flipping the coin between the fingers of the other hand while any rube would still be focused on the first hand.

Not the most impressive work, but still it shows some training and talent.

The Exchange

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Core...why should your shackles bind my inventory? I'm unchained!

Harv snickers.

Aww a little baby pickpocket. I remember when Pa Burgleton taught me that one when I was four. We always had the bests of times whens he was outta jail.

"I get everything at a steep discounts. My prices are so good, it's practicallys stealin!"

He scratches his chin as if to feign interest before holding up a finger as if to signal he has an idea.

"If you'ze is lookins for smokeless light, there's always everburning torches. But I ain't seen one o' thems in a while..expensive toos...What I do gots is a neverburning torch. They's is nice because they won't burn you like a normal torch. And as a favor to some rookies, I'd be willin to give it to ya for free. I lost the instructions for it, so you'll have to get them from Janira."

Harv hands over what was an everburning torch to the elf for inspection. However, it has been dispelled and no longer radiates continual flame. While doing so, he slips the coin from Iovo with the grace of a master thief.

Ahh the 4661 mint--put out to make ups for loot stolen by none other than Sevenfingas hisself.

With almost no movement at all, Harv places the coin on the counter. He gives the fledgling thief a knowing wink.

Iovo only:
You'll find a note on your person later. It reads: Nice crawling, bubs. Come back when you can sprint. -HB.

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