Furotazzis Open The Slups Completed A Direction Worth Selling

[Griblo Jankweed]

Rain had left the alley outside slick with a foul sheen somewhere between brine, tar, and clay-rich mud. Griblo Jankweed squelched through it like he owned the place, the hem of his trousers already damp as he nudged open the warped wooden door with a grunt. The bell above gave a feeble jingle, then settled into silence. The shop was dim, cluttered, and smelled like mildew and pickled onion. Shelves leaned under the weight of dented relics, cracked spectacles, brass doorknobs, a mounted eel’s head, and rows of battered paw-rings.

Behind the counter sat Grubbage, a grease-furred rat with gold hoops in both ears and an eye like a bruised marble. He scratched himself lazily with a ruler and didn't look up.

Griblo didn’t wait for pleasantries. He slapped a brass compass down on the counter with a dramatic flourish.

“Real special, this one,” he said, steel-blue eyes glinting. “Got it off a beast down in the kelp markets. Said it don’t point north. Naw, said it points t’ wot ye desire most.”

Grubbage snorted, whiskers twitching.
“Desire most? Yeh been drinkin’ seawater again, Jankweed?”

He plucked the compass from the counter and flipped it open. The needle spun lazily… then settled.

“Et looks like et points north ta me,” he said flatly, gesturing behind Griblo. “An’ I assure ye, wot I desire most ain't en that direct'chin.”

He snapped the compass shut and shoved it back with a scowl.
“Yeh tryin’ t’ fence junk in my shop again? Y’ain’t even polish it. Tch. Get gone, Griblo, ‘fore I call Falun.”

Griblo stiffened.

Falun. The Furotazzi’s dock enforcer. The one who once broke a stoat’s back over a barrel for skimming off the top.

Grubbage’s shop was under protection. Not official, but protection all the same. Forgies weren’t called here. Not unless they were part of the arrangement.

“…Fine,” Griblo muttered, tail flicking. “But y’re passin’ on somethin’ mighty special.”

He turned, but lingered at the front of the shop, eying around the small front room. Rain was still tapping the windows like fingers on a coffin lid. And maybe… maybe some other fool would come through that door.

 

[Emilio]

A mighty hiccup sounds from the gob of one modestly mighty badger as the wretched stench of the Slups and too many cups of local swill mix together somewhere in his body. A paw races to cover his mouth, his cheeks puff out! Poor Emilo could just about feel something rising in his throat. Eyugh! The big city hadn't quite been what he'd hoped for. It was easy to get lost, just about everybeast seemed busy with something or another, and the prices of anything interesting at the market were beyond his means- for as many interesting and exotic things as there seemed to be.

The Slups weren't quite so bad. Really! Importantly, everything was a little cheaper. Sure, he caught a lot of mean looks, but nothing more had come of them yet. It was a bit like Voil Village, but denser, smellier, and without the same sort of rogueish charm. That is to say, altogether worse, but- Emilio grinned, flashing his not-so-pearly teeth down the street. Something told him everything would be alright. One big win at dice, and he could pick up a souveneir and head back home, or find a steady job somewhere, or... he could worry about that later. There were still a few dozen Gilders in his purse, a sword at his side, booze in his belly, and the brim of his helmet did a good enough job keeping the rain off. All was well.

The half-hollow ringing of a bell prompted a delayed twitch of the ears beneath his helmet. This could be exactly what he needed, another pub! Perhaps a gambling hall? A shop would be alright, too. His work boots trudge on through the mud as he heads down the alley after it. He'd hardly make an attempt to squint through the windows and into the dim interior before barging through the door and- THUNK!

Emilio's helmeted skull knocked against the doorframe, leaving a chip in the wood. "Ooouh! Heh heh heh..." He stumbled and flashed a big, stupid grin as he took in everyone inside. The rat with golden earrings... the ferret with even more golden earrings! Pissin' Hellgates, these beasts must've been rich! "Surr- hic- sorry. Heh heh." A fool had arrived.

 

[Ivo Suresight]

Another day, another occasion for Ivo, albeit he was already done with his tasks for today. He did his shift at the town hall, at which among much boring paperwork, he'd examined his contingency scenario. Visited Marianna, as he did so daily, to share both secrets and bed alike. Then visited a new workshop that was making cloth. Formally to make safety review but more importantly to map it through.

Now he had a bit of time to spare to just walk around, always eager for new things to happen around him. He had his drawings done for today so for now he was just observing the surroundings, letting his paws take him wherever they've desired. That is how he ended up here. Grim alleyway deep into Slups. The rain made it looking more like a scene from nightmare but Ivo was rather used to this.

And then he heard a mention of Falun from a nearby pawnshop. One done with a thud and scowl. While Ivo wasn't exactly a member of the family, his... special position meant he could dabble in their matters as long as it wouldn't bring problems to any operations. And well, secrets were worth much more than anything he could potentially get from them anyways. Besides it was against his wisheds to harm Mari position or operations in any way.

A badger stepped into this pawnshop. Aside from taking a mental note that this was one of the facilities under their protection for the sake of putting it onto a map later, Ivo wished to see what the cause of calling enforcer's name. The scene between ferret and a rat explained it all to him. An argument while selling stuff, quite typical. Yet... usually after the mention of enforcers, client would step away and leave. This Ferret must have had some real guts, be stupid as a brick or... the thing they had brought was worth more than eye would show.

So Ivo stood there, in broad light. waiting for the situation to develop while himself looking around as if he came to just buy something. He could spare a moment or a dime if it meant learning about something great.

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

The bell gave a half-hearted clunk, then a dull thunk followed. A helmeted badger smacked into the door frame and stumbled in like he'd taken a wrong turn at a brewery. Griblo’s ears perked. Right on cue.

He turned back toward Grubbage with a smug flick of his whiskers and gave the counter a tap.
“See? Right there. That’s a buyer, that is. A beast o’ discerning taste, ripe for a bit o’ compass-guided wonder.”

Grubbage didn’t even look up from the drawer he was rummaging through.
“If yeh need coin so bad, Griblo, why don’t yeh part with one o’ them rings yeh flash about, eh? Gold I don’t need convincin’ to buy.”

Griblo clutched his paw dramatically to his chest, scandalized.
“An’ let go of my nest egg? Wot sort of heartless commerce is that, Grubbage?”

The badger, still blinking off the doorframe knock, looked around in a daze. Griblo was on him like rust on rivets.

“Oi, friend! Miserable out, in’t it? Damp all through. But what if yeh could be pointed somewhere better, where the sun’s warm, the breeze cool, an’ what yeh want most is just within reach?”

He gave the compass a little nudge across the counter as if it had done something clever.

Behind him, Grubbage snorted.
“Yeh won’t need no retirement fund if yeh keep pitchin’ lies like that, Jankweed. One of these days, yeh’ll get stuck with a blade for it.”

Griblo didn’t even flinch. He just smiled wider and turned the compass ever so slightly, letting it catch a flicker of light like it was newly polished and bright, and not highly tarnished and dull.

 

[Aramaeus Lemon]

Aramaeus Lemon watched the shop from the alley across the street, where he stood reading a copy of The Saturday Evening Smelt. Or, well, what was left of one. He'd found it abandoned on a café table on the walk here, having apparently been left out in the rain. His attempts to unfold it had resulted in a tangled, shredded mess, one which, by a coincidence of overlapping and ripped pages, had created an article opening with the eye-catching statement that "The Empress Amélie is rumored to be on expedition in the late Minister Mistofelees's bum". Aramaeus had spent several minutes trying to piece apart the pages enough to discern what article could possibly be responsible for this last segment, but eventually had given up and simply made a note to file a complaint with the Ministry of Niceties for including words in a single edition which, when rearranged in such a combination, could produce such treasonous slander.

Technically speaking, he had gotten permission to leave his desk and look into the matter of this pawn shop. After twenty minutes of listening to Aramaeus's very detailed explanation of why, under current jurisprudence, the improper accounting techniques employed in the filings by the owner of this particular shop could amount to 'a pattern of deceptive and corrupt activity', the ferret had eventually snapped at Aramaeus, "If you think there's anything there, then go check it yourself and stop wasting my time." And so, for the first time, Aramaeus was out in the field himself, incognito. He'd even put on a flat cap to obscure his identity, convinced that it would be sufficient to draw the eye away from his very distinctive golden fur, the neatly kept three piece suit, and the coat he'd paid good coin to have monogrammed with his name, followed by Ministry of Justice.

He watched as a drunken badger stumbled into the shop, leaving what would surely be a dent on the doorframe. That was three beasts he counted inside, which was a start - but three beasts gathering for an illicit purpose was a misdemeanor, while if they got up to four, then he could charge them with criminal combination, a felony. He just needed one more...

"Oi," a wizened old rat shopkeeper barked at the fox from just two feet away, a broom in paw. "You gonna move it? Gotta sweep in fronta my shop."

"Civilian, I'll have to ask you to move along," Aramaeus instructed, glancing over from his surveillance. "You are obstructing an official investigation."

"Official nothin'," the rat declared, pointing at the pawn shop. "You checkin' out Grubbage's place? He's under Tazzi protection. You mess wiv' 'im, they'll find ya floatin' in the harbor by morning. Go home," the rat ordered, waving his paw dismissively. "Ya don't wanna get yerself killed."

Aramaeus's mind was racing, however. If this shop had connections to organized crime, that was a gang activity sentencing modifier that would boost the charges from criminal combination to full racketeering. With that sort of case, he could make his name in the department. No more endless stacks of paperwork, no more filling out reports to confirm that the reports reporting on the last reports had been reported, no more getting locked in the filing room vault at the end of the day when everyone else forgot he was in there. All he needed was proof.

Aramaeus disregarded the rat as the latter grumbled his way back to his shop, instead choosing to fold his mangled paper, missing that the headline now read "MINISTER RAINBLADE CAUGHT BEATING ORPHAN BADGERS". He fixed his cap a little more snuggly on his head and purposefully crossed the street, slipping in shortly after a very red fox wearing a coat style distinctively in fashion at city hall these days - likely an inspector come to cite the business for all of its irregularities. This was good, Aramaeus wanted official eyes on his progess today.

As he stepped into the business, he froze, eyes upon him. 'Gates, what did civilians say to each other? There had to be some sort of code or progression to it. "Good evening, fellow civilians," he declared stiffly, aware of the awkwardness of his stance. "I have come to peruse and possibly purchase items of potentially dubious provenance, and for no other purpose, official or unofficial."

Absolutely flawless. They won't suspect a thing.

 

[Emilio]

His focus finally returning from the knock on his head, Emilio finds himself immediately beset upon by malicious advertising from the gold-adorned ferret. Rightly overwhelmed, he blinks and listens to the back and forth between them and the shopkeeper. "Well, I'm sure y'wouldn't lie to me. Eh? Buddy. Weh-heh." He tongued the patch of gum where his missing tooth would be, stepping over to the counter.

"What's the lie to be found in a compass, anyway? Does it point west? Haw haw." He looked the item over as Griblo turns it about to catch a glint of light. It was pretty, no lie there. Looked to be bronze or brass or some-such. He could use a compass. Sometimes it was hard to tell directions in the city, with how the streets seemed to go in circles and the buildings could cover up the sun. Maybe he'd have it if it wasn't too expensive. "Ah-heh-ha. Aha-"

Another fox entered, less red, more yellow. For some reason, he suspected that this one was remarkably scurvy-resistant. What a shame, then, that whatever language he began to speak didn't much resemble Vulpinsulan. "Ehhh...? Uh- Me too, pal." He caught the part about purchasing items, at least. Hopefully this weerdoe was agreeable.

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo grinned wide and toothy at the badger, doing his best to look hurt. Wounded, even.

“Lie t’ ye? Oh, heavens no. I’m tellin’ ye exactly wot I was told. Swore on his mam’s grave, he did. 'E said it points to yer truest desire. An inner-yearnin’ needle, if ye will,” He tapped the compass with a claw.

His pitch was cut short by a flicker of gold in the corner of his eye. The golden pelted fox, wearing a fine cut of cloth, was standing there like a kit who stumbled into the back room of the book store down the road.

Grubbage followed Griblo’s gaze, and groaned aloud. The rat wiped at his face with one paw, like he could erase the day if he scrubbed hard enough. With the other, he reached behind the counter and yanked out a crooked-handled broom.

“Three’s a crowd,” he growled, stepping around the counter. “And I’m already losin’ coin just breathin’ the same air as you, Jankweed.” He jabbed the broom's bristles straight at Griblo’s face. “Take yer scam outside! I don’t care if it points to buried treasure, eternal love, or the Empress’s bloomers. I want no part of it!”

Then, as if a lever had been thrown, the rat turned toward the golden-furred fox with a glint in his one good eye.

“But you, my fine and curious sir,” he said, slipping instantly into greased-up salesman mode, “might find yerself in need of a proper timepiece. This here’s a resilient little fella. Keeps decent time. Bit o’ wear on the crystal, but she ticks like a champion. Good heft, too. None of that flimsy junk from Hanshima.”

The watch clinked softly in his paw as he lifted it, turning it just so in the shop’s weak lamplight. The brass was dulled, the chain slightly tangled, but the tick was audible and strong.

Griblo scowled and crossed his arms, tail twitching behind him like an offended cat. “He offers ye a scratched watch, but scoffs at a miracle compass. Disgraceful.”

He turned to the golden fox with a sudden sparkle in his eye, the kind beasts usually see right before their purse goes missing.
“But maybe you’s got vision, eh? You don’t strike me as the tick-tock type. You strike me as a beast who’s after somethin’ wit' direc-shun.”

He reached down and slid the compass along the counter in the fox’s direction with a little nudge, like a dealer pushing cards across velvet.
“Go on. Just take a peek. Ain’t no harm in seein’ where it points...”

 

[Madame Lorelei]

As if the scene wasn’t chaotic enough, an elderly vixen was walking down the street, approaching the shop, and leaning heavily on a gnarled cane as she did so. She looked for all the world like an old soothsayer, with matted black fur and a shining amber right eye, and glass left eye. Her dress was simple, but adorned with stars and moons.

“Hello, dearies.” As she spoke, a golden canine flashed in her jaws. “I was just looking for the market. The black market. Where illegal things are sold. That black market. The one that’s hidden.”

She laughed a bit, rocking back and forth on the cane. “Though, my instincts guided me here, so perhaps I have already found something of interest. You see, have a special connection to the spirit realm. Those who have passed on… they speak to me, and whisper great and terrible secrets into my head. Why, it’s enough to drive a beast MAD!” Her laugh turned into a full on maniacal cackle, before she coughed and recovered.

“As I was saying… I believe there might be an item of great interest being sold here… and my instincts have not failed me before.”

 

[Ivo Suresight]

The sweet chaos of mother anarchy was well known to Ivo. Whatever the fox was happening in this store was already too much for him. He took his moment to at first identify all the matter that were ongoing or unfolding, all while managing to just stay in the corner, seemingly evaluating an old, crusty inkpot.

The rat salesman was about what he expected from a pawnshop owner. Greedy, lacklustre in taste for finer details and hating fair competition. Ultimately, those were decent traits in his line of work, even if Ivo himself wasn't fond of them.

The ferret with the compass was... intriguing. He wished to learn more about the compass, not because he really believed in its powers but... conviction and superstition were ways to rule over people. Definitely useful and the ferret himself seemed aware of it. At least in his salesman pitch.

A badger of less then stellar intelligence... or at least drunk enough to act so. He was an easy mark. Making sure he would buy the compass was the best way to learn most about it.

Then the problems came in.

A golden fox. One from MinoJus at that. Just great. At least he seemed to have more morals than brains. Acting like a beast in cover while being so exposed? Or maybe he was a genius who mastered Ivo's own act of hiding in broad light? A creature Ivo should be wary of for sure. Especially as he would be considered one of the city. Ivo had to upturn his previous plan and be more proactive to play into this new role.

And then, in the last, causing the tiny space to get crowded well beyond what it should ever be, came in black, elderly vixen. Speaking something of spirits leading her here while she was looking for The Grand Crime Market.

Getting what Ivo wanted from this would be a headache. But he was adamant now on not leaving.

So, feigning disinterest, he moved closet to the ferret. Looking at the compass with keen eye. All while gently moving his paw, making sure it wouldn't be seen by the golden justice himself, gesturing a simple sign, proving he was in fact, at least not your average city official. Letting know those professionally criminal that he was too on their side.

Then Ivo spoke, his healthy ear turned to the side. "How much ya wanna fo' this compass." He hoped for a bidding war to happen. Then he could use the situation to his advantage.

 

[Aramaeus Lemon]

Aramaeus felt elated as his presence was seemingly accepted without comment. He was immediately offered a secondhand watch and the compass for sale, which seemed to set off a renewed bout of interest from the other shoppers, even drawing in a new beast who was looking for the black market.

Still, he needed proof of illicit activity, and he couldn't engage in the purchase of stolen or fraudulent goods himself; only A3s and higher were allowed to engage in criminal activity on the job, and he was a lowly C3. Still, perhaps there was some way he could prove the compass was fraudulent without purchasing it himself...

Aramaeus felt the spark of an idea ignite in his mind. "If I may," he suggested, "perhaps there is a chance to verify the authenticity of the compass prior to purchase. This elderly vixen is looking for the black market, likely to engage in transactions of a nefarious and illicit nature. This compass purports to lead one to the desired destination. If then it can lead this vixen to the black market, it is authentic."

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

The bell gave another dull rattle as the shop door creaked open once more. Grubbage looked up and immediately regretted it. A black-furred vixen stepped in, her bearing unmistakable. Cloaked, and mysterious, and obviously one of those mystics that always smelled like burnt incense. Worse yet, she was nonchalantly asking questions about the black market like she was ordering tea. And now, the rat’s eye finally caught the orange-furred fox who’d slipped in quietly before. The one loitering near the door like a silent statue come to life.

That made five. Five beasts in his little mildew-soaked shop, and not one of them there to buy a proper set of lockpicks or pawn a dented kettle. He groaned aloud and rubbed his face, feeling the headache settle behind his brow like a coiled spring.

Meanwhile, Griblo looked like he’d just been crowned.
“See this, Grubbage? You got more beasts in ‘ere now than on market day! An’ none of ‘em lined up to buy one o’ yer battered ol' watches. No, they’re here fer this.” He tapped the compass with a grimy claw. “Real draw, this is. A treasure magnet. An artifact o’ longing!”

He turned to the quiet orange fox near the wall and flashed a sharp grin.
“Tell ye what... ten gilders starts the bidding, mate. Fair price for destiny, eh?”

Grubbage sighed, muttered something under his breath, and gently set the watch down. Then he moved. His heavy footfalls thudded across the plank floor as the rat swept across the room and planted himself between Griblo and the vixen.

“Right. Listen here.” His voice came low and steady, but laced with that ratty snap that made beasts go quiet.

“I don’t care what drew yeh in, I don’t sell on no black market. All trade done ‘ere is under Imperium sanction. Stolen goods ain't bought, and I sure as spit don’t deal in ghosts, contraband relics, or bloody talismans. We clear?”

His eye flicked to Griblo at that last part.

The ferret held up his paws in mock innocence.
“T’ain’t stolen, Grubbage. Traded it fair ‘n’ square.” He wagged a claw. “Cat gives me the compass, I give ‘im a sack of... let’s say disputed merchandise. Seemed a proper trade.”

He turned back to the room, spreading his arms like a street preacher.
“Besides, when’s business ever been this good for ye, old rat?”

He gestured broadly, first to the vixen, then to the badger.
“Well, ye old crone? You biddin’? What about ye, grog-guts? Feelin’ lucky today?”

It was then that the golden-furred fox suggested verification. Testing the authenticity of the compass. A little proof to match the pitch.

Grubbage laughed, rough and bitter.
“Aye, go on then. Let’s see the ol’ seer tell ye if yer dealin’ in magic, Jankweed. I’m sure this’ll end real well...”

Griblo’s grin widened as he picked up the compass and delicately turned toward the vixen.
“Would be honored, ma’am. Yer reputation precedes ye, I’m sure.” His tone shifted, oily and theatrical. “You tell us what it says, aye? What direction it points in. I’ll wager it’s leadin’ straight to the Black Market itself…”

He offered the compass with both paws, as if handing over a sacred relic, never mind the fact the needle hadn’t twitched from true north since it entered the shop.

 

[Emilio]

Weren't that interesting? An inner-yearnin' needle, immediately called out as nonsense by the shopkeeper. Even he wasn't so inclined to buy a word about it with the rat's smacking at the one peddling it with a broom. Compasses pointed north, after all! But the ferret kept trying to push a sale onto the yellow weerdoe.

"Ehh...?" Emilio's helmet left his head to let the other paw scratch it as somebeast's grandma walked in, raving about spirits and secrets and talking about some black market in terms just a bit more clear than those of the yellow fox. He stepped closer to a shelf-lined wall to make way, acutely aware of the crowding in a shop that'd only had one other customer around when he walked in. A low, rumbling "Humm..." escapes the badger's throat as he hears her mention some spectacular item... and then, the red fox asks about buying the compass! Maybe someone believed in it after all.

His goofy grin faded at the notion of bidding for it. His interest was tentative, restrained by skepticism, and financial power wasn't one of his strengths at that moment. He put a paw to his belly and pouted when he was referred to as grog-guts. It wasn't that obvious he'd been between a few dives earlier, was it?

He nodded along at the suggestion of a test and watched the ferret offer the artifact in question over to the old vixen. "Aye, gran. We're all right curious."

 

[Madame Lorelei]

Madame Lorelei grasped the compass in her weathered paws, a grin forming on her muzzle. "Yes, yes, I am certain this is no ordinary compass. The spirits of the great beyond have imbued it with a great gift. It shall lead the user to their heart's desire. Of this, I am very certain." She snapped the compass shut, and then held it close to her chest.

"Oh Compass, guide to what the heart desires.
For you, no sacrifice is required.
Oh noble instrument, on this day,
Please show us the correct way!"

She rattled the compass back and forth, and then she opened it again. The needle within spinned wildly about, as if searching for the direction of the illicit market... and then it settled.

"Aha, see! It's pointing in the direction I want to go!" Madame Lorelei exclaimed... though it just seemed to be pointing north.

 

[Ivo Suresight]

And as the 'test' concluded, it was indeed north. Ivo had no need for compass when he had entire map of the city in his mind. And based on it the wall compass pointed out was north... but also it was technically pointing to the dense and shady part of Slups between the local docks and Fishminster's Warf. One where, as expected, a lot of smuggling was happening due to its position.

That was an accident surely. Ivo wasn't really believer when it came to supernatural things. At least until it wasn't profitable. And in this situation he could flex his mind and use his knowledge to... stir the other folk. The more erratic the bidding would be, the more likely for him to learn or get something from it was.

"Seems to be pointin' at them smuggler's lands. If ya ma'am were lookin' for a black market, compass pointed ya rightly. Incredible. Twelve Gilders." Ivo placed the first bet with a cheeky grin. One that wouldn't bankrupt him at worst but also one that hopefully would snowball into much more. Now was the time to observe, stir the beasts and learn.

 

[Aramaeus Lemon]

Aramaeus frowned as the bizarre vixen proclaimed the compass to be authentic. Well, that was a problem. If the compass was the genuine article, then there was no crime in its sale or purchase. "Just one moment," he objected as a bidding war began over the trinket. "One test is insufficient. By coincidence, the vixen's desire lies to the north. But surely not everybeast here has their desire north of this location. We should test it in various paws first to determine any variance."

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo’s ears twitched with joy, his grin widening even moreso. The vixen was playing along! Vulpus be praised! His eyes flicked from her to the compass, then back to the growing crowd, feeding off the tension like it was fresh fish and chips from the Bilge in the Bucket. He clapped his paws together once, sharp and sudden.

“Aye! That’s the spirit, innit! Tain't wise ta doubt a sage, now!”

The red fox piped up with twelve gilders. Twelve! Griblo’s whiskers bristled with glee.

“Ho ho! An openin’ volley! Twelve it is, twelve gilders for a direct line t’ yer truest longing! D’you hear that, Grubbage? Two above me offer, an’ we’ve only just begun! Let’s not waste time, then! Do I hear thirteen?”

Grubbage groaned, and took a step forward, sweeping the broom aside and jabbing one claw at the vixen. “Oi! Ye can’t be serious! Don’t embolden his lies!”

But then the yellow fox spoke up again, positing additional tests. Grubbage’s eyes narrowed. “Aye,” he muttered, arms folding tight across his chest. “That’s sound. I agree with Goldie 'ere.”

Griblo’s tail thrashed, insulted and delighted all at once.

“Oh, for Vulpuz’s sake!” he huffed. “We ain’t doin’ best three outta five here! If the magic vixen says it’s magic, then it’s bloody magic! Yeh want it t’ sprout wings an’ do a jig ta' prove isself legit? Go on then...d’you want it or not? Thirteen gilders, any takers?”

 

[Emilio]

Emilio's eyes widened at the mysterious old fox's confirmation and ensuing poem. If there was anyone that could be trusted in matters of the supernatural, it was dark-pelted old crones who cackled without provocation. He wondered if he would have to remember the poem to make it work. Or, maybe the poem was a spell that contained all of the real magic, and the compass was nothing special? Maybe another test was a good idea. Not everyone was such an experienced hag, perhaps it didn't do a thing for normal beasts like him.

But the ferret didn't want another test, he wanted his gilders, and the price just kept going up! "Hold on, what's this auction biz- hic! -ness?" Emilio waggled a single claw, moving further inwards to the center of the group. "I was 'ere first! Or- second. Third, maybe- point is, y'asked me before anyone else." He balled up a paw and knocked it against his gamboised chest. "An' back then, it wasn't no more than ten. So y'should sell it to me for ten." He rolled his head about on his shoulders after concluding his argument, comfortable in the fact that he could, literally, look down upon everyone else in the auction. "It's only fair." He insists.

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo turned to the Badger with narrowed eye's.

"T'aint how an awk'shin works, groggy! Ye' want it? How's abouts fourteen gilders, d'en?"

 

[Madame Lorelei]

Madame Lorelei smirked. This wasn't what she intended to be doing at all today, but sure. Why not? A little bit of a scam would cheer her up. Whatever she ended up paying, she could resell the compass for triple that price.

"Twenty!" She called out. "I say twenty for the compass. This is truly a unique item. I simply must have it for my collection."

She looked around, trying to gauge the reactions of the other beasts in the shop. Would they catch on to her scheme?

 

[Ivo Suresight]

Ivo had to reconsider the vixen. That smirk... it could be a lot of things. She wasn't as reverent as before, now she seemed more buisness-oriented. So he also needed to adapt. It was clear base from this badger reaction that he won't be fighting for it forever. Vixen was most likely to buy it so far and thus he needed to milk the crowd for informations. That was the smartest thing to do now.

He leaned on the wooden pillar and directed his words at the ferret selling the compass. "Question. Since the compass points to yer desires. Why don't you want it fer yerself? Got already everythin' ya want in life or are ya jus' desperate fo' money?" The way Ivo asked was genuine, he wanted to know that as it would tell him a good bit about this ferret already.