Ask a Merchant Lord! (Samheen 28th, GT, Open)

[Niccolo]

(OOC: timestamped for the night from Samheen 27th to Samheen 28th. All are welcome: casual interaction/advice scene!)


Dead animal. To the casual glance, the office appeared to be some kind of grim graveyard for any number of forest wildlife, including a bear, several buck, ram, a rather unusual great cat from the desert, no less than three wolves, a few wild raptors, and a duck. Like all taxidermy, the grisly remnants instantly captured and held the attention of any onlookers, awakening some primal sense of opportunity in the huntsman within, or perhaps compassion in the less savage of people.

The floor was decorated with the pelt of a great brown bear, killed in the Howling Ice Mountains. It stretched over the warm, polished floor to form a soft, comforting rug, while the bear's head had been severed, stuffed, and mounted over the study's mantle to the right, it's snarling countenance and bared teeth a grim mockery of it's true demeanor when it was killed (the bear was in fact killed in winter, during a long stretch of hibernation). Sitting upon the mantle just near the bear's head was the stuffed form of a desert hawk, it's wings spread to a respectable three feet and it's raptor bill snarling out an unheard challenge. A modest fire flickered in the hearth beneath both, giving the room a warm and smokey feel and coupling with the light from a dazzling chandelier made of deer antler up above.

Centering the far wall was the ram. While a ram seemed hardly the ideal decoration for a contemporary office, this one held a certain power that couldn't be denied, it's curled, winding horns stretching out nearly four feet in width, and it's proud, stern face glaring down upon all within the room with haughty contempt. To either side of the ram were a few buck heads, few with any points worthy of great recognition but still quite impressive in their collective display. Just under these mounted trophies were several leather-upholstered chairs that were yet another macabre example of a huntsman's taste: arms, backs, legs, and seats, they were constructed entirely of bone antler with leather cushioning stretched and placed to make them comfortable. Each chair seemed to claw at the ground with four finite points, and each one formed it's backing as additional antlers clawed upwards to "knit" together in a breath-taking display of gruesome beauty. Nestled between most chairs were small service tables, each holding a porcelain tray for guests to use as they wished.

And then there was the head of the chamber. A large desk of polished walnut centered the far room...a massive expanse that held upon it the frozen form of an eagle that, like so many other dead animals in the chamber, glared out at the guests like some kind of unheard sentinel. Sitting opposite the eagle was a curious addition to the room...a mallard duck that merely stood upon it's base with the kind of regal disdain so commonly seen in that meek and strangely misplaced creature. Nestled to one side of the desk was an elaborate, brass washstand complete with a sweating pitcher and several clean towels, and joining the duck and the raptor on the desk's surface were the usual implements commonly associated with writing: quill, knife, ink, sand, blotter, paper, well, wax, and candle, though the candle was cool and unused.

But it was over the desk that the room's real treasure could be found...for it was here the severed head of a young dragon could be seen, one that might resemble any number of dragon trophies taken by the Dragon Knights of Dragon's Keep and sold to the finer collectors throughout the kingdom (no doubt to fund future dragon-slaying expeditions). It gazed down into the room, dominating all other predators with it's cat-like, vertical pupils and it's long, snarling row of razor-sharp teeth. It was a very large trophy, and as such, great care had been taken to mount it securely to stone...but even still, few would dare to sit back far enough such that they were actually under the dragon's severed head, such was it's ponderous presence.

And the study's current occupant was indeed known for a more cautious nature. Seated in one of the bone-antler chairs behind the desk, Signor Niccolo Amadicci Alvero, Merchant Lord of World's Mouth, reclined and sipped at a brandy sniffer he held in one hand. In the other, a smoking pipe that reached a full foot in length left a thin trail of dancing smoke in the air, smoke from an herb that could rob the unprepared of their senses and their inhibitions. Oh, Nico was well known for being cautious...and indeed, none of the trophies in the room were actually killed or prepared by his hand. In fact, he really didn't know why he was in such a room as this...but he was hardly the kind of man that would question or refuse such a blessing. After all, the room was comfortable as well as impressive, and it had a stocked wet bar against the wall behind the desk along with a large casement for books, both nestled under the dragon's angry, snarling jawline. A large crossbow was placed upon the top of the wet bar as a decoration, though it was a perfectly functional crossbow should someone choose to charge and fire it.

"Someone has a rather sick sense of decoration," he murmured casually, "but I confess, it is...impressive. At least i know I'm impressed," he admitted, glancing around at the trophies once more before he turned to watch the public door to the room. There were, in fact, three doors into the room, but two were secret (one hidden behind the book casement behind him, and one hidden under the bear rug)...and most likely locked. There was also a hidden compartment in the desk, but it was empty (Nico had naturally searched it instantly). "Well....it will do," he decided, turning to address the massive, walnut desk once more.

"Please come in! I've plenty of time," he invited, beckoning whoever chose to arrive at the door of the gruesome study first. Indeed, one of the things Nico could do far better than most was talk...and one of things he could do far better than virtually anyone was plan. So here he was, prepared to do either or both.

[Turi]

It was, perhaps, a most unexpected character who first accepted Niccolo's invitation to enter. She padded in neatly in a sleek black coat and white socks, sniffed curiously at the smoke in the air, looked around, laid her ears back and hissed.

She was, in fact, a very small housecat, and a very alarmed one at that.

The creature was obviously none too bright either, for instead of heading out the way it had come in, it shot across the floor and cowered underneath the walnut desk.

[Niccolo]

One...two...perchance I might make three?

Leaning back in his chair, Nico drew in a prodigious sum of acrid smoke before he tilted his head back and aimed his mouth straight up.

Pah! Pah! Pah!

One after another, three rings of smoke drifted up from his mouth, rolling upward gracefully and in a concentric formation until they shattered into the ceiling with quiet, dignified hopelessness.

"Lovely!" murmured the young man, turning his chair more to observe the dragon head. "Was that not lovely, Signor dragon?" he added, letting his chair swing round all the way such that he came back to his desk...and his brandy, which he took up and sipped patiently. Oh, he had indeed noticed the kitty enter...here comes the eveningtide's pussy, haha!...but he had given it no regard. In his childhood, the never ending struggle between cat and river rat was a shocking one indeed...and while the cat most often won in a duel, it was commonly known that the river rats of World's Mouth seldom fought so fairly. Indeed, rat and cat corpses were a routine sight in the Seams...and they were often kicked into the nearest canal to float right out of sight and mind.

Not that the living kitty present occupied too much of Nico's mind. In all fairness, the Merchant Lord...certain that he was alone...climbed up upon the broad, sturdy, walnut desk such that his rather respectable six feet three inch height could now gaze at the mounted dragon's head eye-to-eye.

"Don't give me that look, Signor Dragon!" barked Nico to the inanimate object, waving his brandy sniffer dangerously close to the nearby ceiling. "It was not my fault you lost your head...and got it mounted on a wall! At least you are a most lovely wall decoration. Perhaps I should purchase you? After all, I...always wanted to get...a-head..."

"..."

"HAhahahahAHAHAHAHAHAhaha! A Head! Hehehe!"

[Turi]

Snrkt.

The sound, somewhere between a sneeze and a giggle, came from behind Niccolo. At some point during the ranting, the little cat had found the courage to crawl out from its hiding-place. She now sat on the bearskin rug, tail tucked tidily around her feet, regarding the him with unusual grey eyes which somehow contrived to look both scandalised and amused.

Rats, mice and other rodentia held no particular interest for this cat. She did have a vested curiosity in Merchant Lords - she was sure, however, that this man-boy was no Merchant Lord. Such sharpness and cunning and soundness of judgement as would be required could not possibly be reconciled with such appalling taste. Not to mention the fact that he was about five burns older than she was, and clearly out of his mind.

She wasn't about to leave, though. He was far too entertaning.

A cough hurriedly followed the cat's first utterance. "Oh, don't mind me," she said blithely, and and proceeded to lick apaw and wash behind her ears. "Carry on."

[Niccolo]

"Bless," murmured Nico at the catty sneeze (a custom that seemed somewhat out of place in the young gangster), though he didn't look away from the dragon's head. It took a full twelve flickers...one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve...for Nico to realize that cats actually should not speak the King's common tongue, though for reasons entirely beyond himself, he didn't really consider it too unreal. After all, this very chamber was unreal...no fit person would surround themselves with so many corpses...so anything is possible, non?

"As you wish, pussy," agreed Nico to the cat's request. Curious how many animals I have come to know recently, thought Niccolo, finally turning to consider the little creature. I have met a Snake named Severo, a Hart named Hieronymous, and an Ox named Mario. And a pigeon named Tanaquil...a stool pigeon...who met with an unfortunate accident. But a request was a request, and so he would obey and not meet a talking cat. It mattered very little, really. Niccolo was, by nature, a very shrewd man...and he knew beyond a doubt that, as creatures went, felines were unusually curious and inquisitive...so it was no doubt only a matter of time before this little kitty would absolutely demand his undivided attention. All it would take was patience...one of Nico's greatest weapons.

From his elevated position, Niccolo lifted his gaze and surveyed the trophies with rapt attention, somewhat speechless amid the solemn silence of so many fallen creatures. There was a sense of pained loss at the sight of so many slain creatures, but Nico was hardly the compassionate sort. After all, most of these creatures could have as easily slain the hunter...such was the world in which he lived...and so it seemed rather appropriate that the owner might display his victims with some pride. Still, it did stink a bit of pride...and pride was a thing that most often brought people down.

Patience and pride. Where would I be without these things? he smiled, glancing over the pack of wolf heads. Pride to lure my enemies into my trap...and the patience to spring it at just the right moment.

[Turi]

The cat stared at Nico until it became obvious that he was not going to do anything more interesting than stand there and gawk at the mounted heads. He wasn’t much of a clown after all. Her ears dropped in disappointment. But Nico was right – she was a curious and inquisitive creature – and before long they had perked up again and she was dashing around the room, clawing at the furniture and worming her way under the rug. She found the first trapdoor relatively quickly.

What a puzzle this place was! An aesthetically insulting one (the cat shuddered delicately), but fascinating nevertheless. The only problem now… lack of opposable thumbs. She finally turned back towards the Merchant Lord.

He was just… standing there. Her tail twitched thoughtfully as she tried to work out where this reaction was coming from. Unshakeable composure? Self-absorbed egomania? A deep and abiding appreciation of taxidermy? All of the above?

Then it occurred to her. It was a game! Normally she would have found it annoying, but in her current mood this possibility pleased the cat greatly, and she immediately discarded all the other options.

“Do you always do as you’re told, then? Feed me! Play with me! Want pettin’s!” The frivolous feline giggled and mrowled happily, obviously none too serious in her demands, then leapt nimbly unto the table to join the big man’s survey of the room.

She had not yet caught on to the nature of his games and she was not wary of him, this little one. Why would she need to be? She was not a predator, she was not prey, as all the trophies on these walls seemed to be. She was not even the kind of animal who might be used, like a dog or a horse. The only thing that a human might expect from her was the elimination of vermin – otherwise, a cat’s business was its own.

That did not stop her from presuming upon other people’s. She rubbed her head against Niccolo’s leg purred.

“You’re funny. Is this what you dream of? Conquest?”

[Turi]

OOC: Hi Nico, could you please clarify whether this thread is timestamped for the 27th or the 28th GT? It says 28th on the link but you've said 27th in your first post... Ta...

[Niccolo]

(OOC: Timestamps for a day go Gravetide, Morningtide, Tradetide, then Eveningtide. This thread is anytime in the night starting Eveningtide, Sam 27 and contuing through to Gravetide, Sam 28. Either stamp would be appropriate, I think...whatever works best for you and doesn't conflict with your other threads)

Sipping at his brandy once more, Nico found the cup convenient to hide his smile. Patience. And Pride. From what I know of any cat, they will have limitless quantities of pride, and yet no patience at all. It would be convenient were people more like the hapless cat. "Oh, such cruelty from you. On one paw, you ask whether I am too complaisant by far...and perhaps I am, too, willing to do that which others beg of me? And yet, on the other paw you would ask if I am a conqueror. Such duality...such conflict."

Turning, Niccolo took a step and fell forward off the desk to land upon the floor below, moving with something not unlike grace and agility. What is this? he thought to himself, turning and shifting his seat to reclaim it once more. No pain in my movements. It would seem I have left my wounds behind, with my sleeping form. Oh, is there no greater reason than this to dream? he thought, placing the brandy on the desk with the stuffed duck and the talking cat.

"No, no conqueror am I...at least not in the more...classical sense. Rather, I am...complaisant. Always complaisant." until the time comes to stop being complaisant. Then I am decisive. "I have come to provide advise for those uncertain of their next actions or movements...those that might wish to discuss their strategies before they commit themselves fully. Sadly, my advise is rather useless to a kitty, but...you are, of course, welcome to ask whatever you wish."

[Turi]

The cat settled down on the desk and flicked her ears lazily. “I did not ask if that was what you were, I asked if that was what you dreamed. Completely different things,” she sniffed. “And do not accuse me of cruelty.” She waved her tail at the room. “You did not do this. But you admire the ones that did. You would be like them, I think.”

Apparently, she said whatever she liked, without fear or favour. But the accusation held surprisingly little disapproval. As far as the cat was concerned, that was just the way things were here – she was more interested in understanding why than engaging in moral debates where no-one would ever agree with each other. As for duality, she had yet to meet an interesting man in which one quality was not warring with another. For all their intensity, single-minded people could be dreadfully dull.

In any case, the Turi-cat was not quite prepared to believe the big man’s disavowal of his ambitions. But it did not matter. His next words completely distracted her attention and she sat bolt upright, whiskers quivering with breathless excitement.

“Really?! Anything?” If there was anything this kitty liked, it was asking questions, lots and lots of questions. And getting answers. Such an opportunity might not arrive again, so she intended to make the most of it. What is your name? Do you like fish? What makes you think you’re so smart? Are you so smart? What’s underneath that door? Will you open it for me? Do you want to go exploring?

But something else occurred to the cat, something more troublesome and complicated, that most little kitties had to deal with at some point in their nine lives.

“Dogs,” she spat suddenly. “They bark and they chase and they will not leave one alone. This one is sick of running. But fighting is hardly an option.”

She rolled onto her back and swatted discontentedly at imaginary dust motes in the air. “Maybe you should not write yourself off so quickly.” She winked at Nico, doubting that he would do any such thing, so confidently had he spoken. “I could do with some advice, if you are so generous as to provide it. But where are my manners?”

“Otholio,” she introduced herself, rising to her feet with far more dignity than previously on display. “And what might your name, be, sirrah?”

[Niccolo]

So much for allusion, smiled Nico. Oh, he had a similar conversation before, but it was with a child of six. I should avoid using idiom, personification, and allegory as well. Oh, the creature might speak in the common tongue...but it has no mastery of the language. "Indeed?" offered the man, his only response...for he had (exactly two and one half flickers ago) elected that a philosophical debate with this cat would be not unlike untangling a knot the size of a house. Never argue with an imbecile. They will reduce you to their level and then beat you with experience. Of course, a cat could hardly be held at fault for acting the imbecile, really. After all...it was just a cat.

Nico peered down into his pipe. "It is a pleasure, Otholio. As for your question, it is...an unusual conundrum. You are hunted by creatures pre-disposed to hate you, and you cannot reason with them. The most obvious solution would be to become that which they will not hunt. I advise you to paint upon your back a stripe of white, such that you will resemble the skunk...for no dog is pre-disposed to chase a skunk, and you will be free to move with confidence. It may be wise were you to smell of the skunk as well...but only very faintly." Of course, Niccolo's answer was only perhaps half-formed, but the process of disguise was one rather familiar to the Merchant Lord.

"Now, there's your advise. As for my name, I believe you already know it, of course. Is there anything else with which I might help you?" offered the man, as he tamped and reloaded his pipe from a small pouch he kept in his waist coat. Kemp was a rather notorious narcotic, but regardless of its reputation, it was the only relief Nico could find from his unusual condition.

[Turi]

"Oh! A trick! And a very fine trick indeed!" Otholio giggled madly for a while, then settled down once more and sighed. "A pity it is, that a dog is not a fool, and your disguise will last only until the rains come."

"I think... if one is to look like a skunk, and one is to smell like a skunk, one might as well become a skunk. And that is not such an easy trick to master..."

The cat's form blurred and a rather dejected looking girl sat cross-legged on the table in front of Niccolo. "I think there's rather a lot you can help me with," she muttered. "The question is, do you want to?"

[Niccolo]

"...well..."

"Perhaps you could just...remain a person and you will be better?" smiled Nico, returning the pipe to the desk where he could more or less ignore it. The cat was gone, to be replaced by a rather upset young lady (not that Nico had often seen ladies in any other condition), one with eyes the color of storms and an expression that spoke of...impatience? Anxiety? Ah, I see it is now my turn to leap to conclusions. I must show more care.

Once again, it never seemed for a moment to be entirely unacceptably that a cat could turn into a lovely young lady...at least not to Niccolo. Added to the truth that this particular cat had been talking recently, it seemed only likely that it...she...should reveal other unusual skills as well. Such as becoming human, thought Nico, inspecting her person with a casual glance. She was about Nico's age, if her appearance could be trusted, and certainly no warrior, farmer, laborer, or serf. She was not aristocratic (not in his dream, she wouldn't be!), and it seemed unlikely (based on their earlier conversation) that she was, in her own right, wealthy. This left the time-honored roles of either merchant or craftsman, though neither seemed to fit her. Ah, perhaps a magus? That might explain much...such as the kitty.

"I should be pleased to help in whatever way I can. I am, after all, complaisant, am I not?" offered Niccolo, a warm smile upon his face. Magus. Oh, she might be a Priestess of the One, too, but more likely she is a magus. "I suspect that dogs are not your true concern, given what I see now. Tell me of your situation, and I assure you, I will offer you the extent of my imagination to help you find a most...amicable solution."

[Turi]

Even in dreams I can’t escape my troubles.

Turi stared down at the hands which had been paws only moments before. It did not seem strange to her either, that she should be a cat one moment and a human the next – the change had not been an entirely conscious process. What did require adjustment was the sudden and uncomfortable shift in perspective it had brought.

There were things that mattered to the human, which would never have occurred to the cat. Propriety, for one (she recalled, with faint horror, rubbing her head familiarly against Nico’s leg). Suddenly it seemed quite inappropriate to be seated on the big man's desk. His... rather businesslike... and important-looking... desk.

The girl's eyes flicked upwards and reappraised Niccolo from this revised viewpoint. He’s handsome, she thought. He’s being suave and patient and utterly charming despite everything I said to him right now. Add to that ambitious. Calculating. Confident. It was more or less a recipe for total intimidation.

"Alright, uh... well, for a start I seem to be sitting on a desk with no dignified way to get off it." She flashed Nico a rueful grin and began to climb off it backwards. "Sorry, I'll do it the undignified WAAAA-"

Somehow, she managed to slip and land in a crumpled heap on the floor. Any remaining composure the book-keeper had instantly disappeared.

'Look, um, sir, I don't know what I was thinking, I'm sure you have other people to attend to." Her face was burning and her arms folded a little defensively in front of her as she backed towards the door. "Maybe I'll, um, pull myself together and come back later?"

"Thank you for your time. It was - more helpful than you'd think," she whispered then slipped outside without waiting for a reply.

[Niccolo]

"Oh, not at all, Madam...ah...I'll...be..." stammered Nico as he leaned forward to watch her rather clumsy (And very NOT cat-like) movements, though he could not get a word in...and before he knew it, she was gone. "...right here," he finished, more to himself than to any guest...for the room was now empty save for him. Falling back into his chair once more, Nico watched the doorway for a time, his feet shifting the chair back and forth, back and forth a bit.

There simply MUST be a lesson in this. Maybe a parable...or some kind of prophesy? he thought, trying to imagine just what he should have learned from the brief and very strange encounter. Oh, he knew quite a few people in World's Mouth that held an almost totemic reputation as one form of animal or another...but none of them were cats. And few of them were young ladies.

Pushing gently with his feet to one side, Nico spun his office chair around gracefully to rest it backwards such that he could lean back and confer with the dragon head above him. "Now what was that all about, Signor Dragon? Perhaps I am to meet a cat burglar, non?" he surmised, already imagining a thousand ways he could actually use a cat burglar to further his prosperity in the big city. Oh, a cat burglar might be handy to know...but then, his strange visitor had also been a lady...and that held another, more personal significance to Niccolo.

Not that Nico had ever found any fortune with ladies. He either used them or betrayed them in the past...but hope springs eternal with every new encounter, does it not? he smiled, imagining eyes the color of storms.