Immersive Ink

eris wrote:

waysoftheearth wrote:Olaf & Dieter; The Crumenal

eris wrote:"Hum...I was hoping to get 2 for 13....hum..." Olaf considers then turns to Dieter, "What do you think, Dieter?"

"If you bring a greater bulk of metal, you will get a better rate," explains the Snork patiently. "I can exchange your 667 copper for 100 silver, or 6,333 copper for 1,000 silver."

"Ah!" a light dawns in Olaf's eyes, "Then we should combine all of our party's coppers together before visiting you, shouldn't we?"

"Thank you for this insight into how you do your business." Olaf says respectfully with a slight bow, "I think we should take your leave for now and gather together all of our party's coins before returning."

OOC: I'm not sure how many coppers we have, but as an entire group it is in the thousands isn't it?

waysoftheearth wrote:
Gustave, Desmond, Wibert, Dorgan & Pelenwin; The Temple Grounds

Pelenwin turns to lead the other into the temple, from whence the chorus of voices still comes...

When the troop climb the few steps and pass into the great arched temple, the resonance and volume of the eerie singing increases four-fold.

They see that at least a dozen brown-robed monks are standing in two curved rows in the heart of the temple. Those behind are slightly raised above those in front. All are singing sonorously in great baritone and tenor voices which ring throughout the entirety of the temple. It is all rather impressive.

The do not pause when the company arrives.

Pelenwin notes that neither the Deacon nor the Arch Deacon are present, but this must be almost everyone else from the temple.

doctorx wrote:

waysoftheearth wrote:Josiane, Ulric and Highbough; The Concourse Library

Josiane estimates that it is still mid-morning, several hours before noon.

The concierge is young indeed compared to Highbough, but he is elderly by the standards of Men. Although his prickly attitude is uncalled for, he does have a useful point to convey; the library is a precious resource which isn't generally for the use of the public. It belongs to and is maintained by the Traders' Concourse, and is at the disposal of their membership.

"Our apologies, good sir," says Josiane with all humility.

She sighs; "I have heard so much of the wonders and learning of the library of Ket, but I quite understand the need to preserve the treasures contained within from those who may not understand their full worth."

She bows her head meekly and drops a graceful curtsey. The words of Sir Jehan, when faced with a ticklish situation with authority in which he had no desire to draw sword, echo in her mind; "Bat the eyelashes, girl! Bat the eyelashes!"

mushgnome wrote:

waysoftheearth wrote:The concierge is young indeed compared to Highbough, but he is elderly by the standards of Men. Although his prickly attitude is uncalled for, he does have a useful point to convey; the library is a precious resource which isn't generally for the use of the public. It belongs to and is maintained by the Traders' Concourse, and is at the disposal of their membership.

Highbough had silver in his hair when the concierge's great-great-great-great grandfather crawled out of the muck and learned to stand on his hind legs. Nevertheless he swallows his pride and in his most charming whisper (Cha 14):

Good Sir, I am out of sorts for want of congress with my own Kind; is there an establishment where Those Such as Myself are known to congregate?

He draws back his hood enough to reveal his Elfishness to the concierge without drawing attention to himself.

(edit to say cross-posted with doctorx)

tombowings wrote:
Pelenwin nods to his companions and will lead them up to see the Deacon. Hopefully he will prove more helpful with identification than with securing his temple.

danhem wrote:

waysoftheearth wrote:"If you simply must have use it so frequently," he pushes the little stack of silver back toward Ulric "Then might I suggest you become a Patron of the Traders' concourse... for a mere sixty silver shillings." he concludes smugly.

"Yes of course," Ulric says after the other two have spoken. "I am in agreement with my charming colleague. Perhaps you could point the way to whom we must speak to become Patrons and learn of the advantages to obtaining such status?"

coffee wrote:
"I doubt if we'll get a better rate anywhere else," Dieter says. "Besides, I'm tired of lugging it around."

sulldawga wrote:
Dorgan will wait patiently until the monks finish singing.

eris wrote:

coffee wrote:"I doubt if we'll get a better rate anywhere else," Dieter says. "Besides, I'm tired of lugging it around."

"Ah, hell, you're right!", Olaf says, "We will take you're offer."

waysoftheearth wrote:
Olaf & Dieter; The Crumenal

eris wrote: OOC: I'm not sure how many coppers we have, but as an entire group it is in the thousands isn't it?

(OOC; seeing as some PCs have already spent some of their copper, the company has approximately 1,500 cp between them.)

Dieter and Olaf hand over their sacks containing 233 and 341 copper pennies, respectively.

The Snork sorts the coin into neat piles with amazing efficiency, his fat little hands almost a blur.

"Five hundreds and seventy and four weight of copper," he declares archly when the counting is done, and adjusts several rows of polished wood beads upon an antique abacus to reflect this figure. With a few swift movement he calculates the exchange, and looking down his long nose surmises, "Will buy eighty two weight of silver, exactly,".

As neither Dieter nor Olaf interject, he pulls several levers positioned under his bench which causes slots to open revealing a brass receptacle, into which the entire cache of copper coins tumble in a surprisingly orderly fashion. This done, the Snork operates several more concealed levers, and a bizarre contraption of metal tubes and pipes swing out over the bench, and a flurry of silver coins are dispensed through its arteries and finish up upon the bench in four orderly piles of twenty coins, with two additional coins in a fifth pile.

The contraption swings back into the shadows.

"Your silver, gentlemen."