Furotazzis Open The Slups A Direction Worth Selling

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo’s breath hitched in giddy disbelief as the vixen’s cackling offer echoed through the cramped pawnshop.

“Twenty!? Vulpuz’ whiskers, bless yer spirit-whisperin’ soul!” he crowed, arms thrown wide as if he’d just won a prize fight against poverty itself. “Now that’s a beast what sees value when it’s dangled right in front o’ her peepers!”

He shot a triumphant look toward Grubbage, who responded only by grimacing harder and jabbing the broom handle at a stack of rusted tools like they were suddenly the true offenders.

“Too many beasts, too many voices,” Grubbage muttered, swiping his broom suddenly back toward Griblo’s ankles with increasing aggression. “Yer drawin’ flies, Jankweed. Take yer spinnin’ trinket and buzz off before the whole bloody shop smells of ye mange.”

But just as Griblo’s joy reached a rolling boil, the red-furred todd piped up again. It was the very same beast who’d opened with a generous twelve gilders.

“Oh, an’ now y’got questions?” Griblo barked, eyes narrowing to slits, footpaws dodging the prickling bristles of the broom. “You was bidin’ just a moment ago, actin’ all keen...an’ now yer the inquisitor?”

He scoffed, turning toward him with one paw spread dramatically over his heart.

“Lemme tell ya somethin’, foxface. I used that compass, I did. Followed it proper. Through rain, n' cold, and half the inland until it showed me where me heart truly pointed. I took note of it an' stashed the memory away. Then I turned right around and came back 'ere to sell the bloody thing. I don’t need it no more. Not when I already know where I’m headed.”

He stepped back, arms lifted in mock-holy exaltation, grin curling like a well-tied knot.

“Now then,” he purred, casting a sideways glance toward the rest of the crowd. “Shall we hear twenty-five?”

Grubbage growled, and whipped the broom to the floor with a crack.

“No more bids! I run a pawnbroker’s, not a sideshow. Out, Griblo! Take yer circus and scram! I ain't afraid to hire a runner to get Falun.”

But Griblo didn't budge. He was having way too much fun!

 

[Ivo Suresight]

Ivo watched the angered, then theatrical reaction of the ferret before him. A fine story he said, namely due to the impossibility to check it. This did however told Ivo two things. Each lie had a bit of truth hidden within. Best lies were the ones that were closest to the truth. So this beast could've potentially found their destination in the past. Also, they were way to defensive to speak about themselves, but that could be either paranoia or a result of lifetime in Slups. Very interesting but just not yet helpful.

"Relax ya fluffnoodle. I jus' wanted t' hear yer personal experience with t'compass. Stories are good for clients y'know?." He chuckled gently and then decided that the scene wasn't chaotic enough. He repositioned himself to leisurely lean on the counter, making sure one of his paws is obscured to all but the shopkeeper. He then used his claw to make a symbol of Tazzis on the wood, one only this Grubbage could see in order to let him know the support he seeks is already there... even if that wasn't really the case. "I'll get ya twenny five." Ivo said before turning to the rat slightly and giving him a sneaky wink.

 

[Grubbage Searoot]

Grubbage’s good eye drifted toward the countertop, just in time to catch the fox’s claw finish its little flourish.

His whiskers twitched.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen that mark carved somewhere it didn’t belong, and it never meant anything good for the surface it was carved into. But this time... it was his counter. His counter. Already chipped, stained, and warped by a thousand bad deals, but still his. And now it had the Furotazzi’s calling card scratched into it.

Still, he didn’t say a word. Any other beast would be out on their tails, possibly sans some teeth.

His eye rose to meet the fox’s, just for a second. Flat. Unimpressed. A long-suffering acknowledgment passed between them, equal parts understanding and unspoken curse. Then he let out a slow, gravelly exhale and rolled his eyes.

Without a word, the rat turned away and clomped toward the back shelf, muttering to himself and reorganizing a pile of dented padlocks that absolutely didn’t need reorganizing. Each one clinked with a little more force than necessary, a chorus of irritation barely kept in check.

“Course. Always ends up a freak show when Jankweed’s around.”

 

[Aramaeus Lemon]

Aramaeus frowned as his gambit failed entirely. For a moment he thought that the objection about selling an item that, by all accounts, any rational beast would want to keep for themself would yield some evidence of fraud at play, but the seller easily maneuvered through that little trap. It seemed like this little expedition might well be for naught.

His eyes went to the counter as the faint sound of a claw scratching at the surface sounded. He couldn't see what was being scratched, but, technically speaking, it counted as vandalism. "Sir," he called to the proprietor of the shop, straightening up and looking as official as he could manage. "This fox has damaged your property, it appears. Do you object to this action on his part? This matter can be taken to an officer of the law in order to redress any grievances, if you wish." If there were criminal charges pressed here, he could impound the compass as evidence incidental to the criminal infraction. Then he could test it, determine whether or not it was genuine, and pursue appropriate charges from there.

 

[Emilio]

Twenty-five?! Bah! Emilio cursed those rich city folk under his breath, grumbling as he backed off from the auction. If he were to drop twenty-five Gilders on a whim for a trinket half the room thought was sketchy there and then, it'd seriously cut into both his beer fund and his fund to get off the island and back south. Unless it did lead to his heart's desires, and his heart also happened to desire a full refund and more- but that was far-fetched. It'd probably just lead back home in some cruel and smug way of telling him he was homesick. Bastard compass.

He hadn't really noticed the one fox scratching anything at all; the sound of clawtip against wood hardly registered above the conversation with his senses as dulled as they were. He put the pieces together in his head once the yellow one called it out. Someone was... clawing something? And he was going to the law over it? "Bwah heh heh heh!" The badger gave a belly laugh loud enough for the next two buildings over to hear. "Whoa- ho ho ho, hee hee! Woah, lil' catchpole! Are y'gonna call the fogeys on me for hittin' my head on the door, too? Ha ha ha!" He stumbled towards the more lemony of the two foxes and began to, physically, lean his considerable weight onto his shoulder, continuing to laugh all the while. "Heeh, ha ha! Ooh hoo hoo...!"

 

[Aramaeus Lemon]

Aramaeus felt the massive weight of the badger on his shoulder pressing down upon him. He sternly refused to buckle, slouch, or lean in response, which, catching his body in the unenviable place of being between stubbornness and a crushing weight, left it with only one choice. His knees locked and there was a small crunch from his spine as it compressed, painfully reducing his height by about two inches. He let out a small, pained grunt not unlike the noises heard from the outhouse behind the Bilge after an all-you-can-eat non-fish fishstick special.

"I assure you, sir," he responded, his voice compressed as if he was being strangled at each bronchus, "I am only offering appropriate recompense for damages inflicted. Could you please remove yourself from my person?" His sudden reduction in height was putting strain on a number of organs he normally didn't pay attention to the existence of, and his newfound self-awareness was quite uncomfortable.

 

[Ivo Suresight]

Ivo chuckled at the yellow fox. Those darn officers were a pawful but... Ivo had the way to deal with them. After making sure the mark he did was damaged beyond recognition, he stepped forward and grinned. "Well, you do know yer laws. Don't ya know this whole quadrant's marked as fer future warehouses? I can assure ya it is." Ivo chuckled as he himself remembered putting that on the map later signed by the mayor... For very different purposes but still. "There ain't no harm in damagin' what's meant for removal, as per current, so called, regulations over buildin' and zonin' here in them Slups."

He was wary of the fox though. There was one hole in his words, one that would be problematic if brought up. But if it occured, he just had to sadly use his permits to do a trick he really didn't want to. It would strain his paws for a while but it was perfectly legal.

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo’s nose wrinkled as the tension drifted off the compass and toward the looming badger.

“Oh for...can ye' not 'arass the other bidders, badgerface?” he groaned, pointing at Emilio accusingly. “If the brute’s out, then roll 'im out t'the alley like the grog barrel 'e is! We’re tryin’ t’run an auction, not a bloody tavern brawl!”

He spun with dramatic flair toward the still-standing hopefuls, snarling as he raised his voice:

“Right then! Granny!”...a bark toward Madame Lorelei, “Gilded One!”...a theatrical flourish aimed at Ivo.

“Price is now thirty gilders. Or is Claws here gonna walk out with it fer twenty-five while you gawk at th' clown show?”

He slapped the compass again with open paw, sending it into another spin atop the counter.

“Last call, ye vermin’! Clock’s tickin’!”

 

[Grubbage Searoot]

Behind the counter, Grubbage paused, one paw resting atop a messy pile of pawn slips. He didn’t look up, didn’t say a word, just let the corner of his mouth twitch upward into a crooked smirk.

“Heh...Clown show, he says...”

He gave the faintest snort, then resumed his performance of trying to ignore the true to life clown show happening in his normally quiet shop.

 

[Emilio]

"Surry." Emilio began to slide off from the fox's shoulder. Slowly. When his weight was no longer supported by the fellow beneath him, he found himself immediately off-balance and fell forwards, this time catching himself on the shop's counter. "Sorry!" He continued to lean against the wood.

The conversation continued to wash over him like a bath in a gentle stream. Law-something, regulation mumbo jumbo... He yawned, as- wait, removal? Huh. He stood up straighter, as the ferret asked him in a few unkind words to leave. "H-hic! Hey, wait, this place's gettin' removed? He looked between the red fox and the owner of the shop. "...izz'ere a closin' sale?"

 

[Aramaeus Lemon]

Aramaeus let out a sound not unlike air rushing into an unsealed well, a deep, hollow grown as the weight was removed from him. He leaned on the countertop, surreptitiously attempting to push against it to help relax his compressed spine. To his dismay, it didn't quite seem to be working. He shuddered at the thought of having to go to a massage parlor to get the damage undone; such places had an unsavory reputation in the eyes of the law, and his superiors would no doubt draw the worst inferences about his intentions in such a scenario.

"Even if this place is scheduled for eventual demolition," he noted, grunting a bit as he tried to push himself up by his paws on the counter, hoping that gravity would do some work on his spine, "the damage was still done, and the option of seeking recompense remains with the owner." He was starting to suspect that this whole compass business was not going to get him his heart's desire, no matter how it turned out.

 

[Madame Lorelei]

Madame Lorelei frowned. This was getting too much out of control for her liking. She needed to leave before things got messy.

"Thirty gold coins?" She asked with an eyebrow raised. "Congratulations. It seems you outbid this old granny. Oh well... I really was hoping to get my paws on that mystical item."

She sighed heavily and she turned, starting to make her way out of the store.

 

[Grubbage Searoot]

Grubbage hadn’t moved from behind the counter, but his ears had been twitching the whole time, first at the threat of future demolition, then at the flippant way it was discussed. He set down the stack of slips he’d been fussing with and gave the trio of foxes and badger alike a flat look.

“Y’wanna flatten the place, that’s fine,” he said, voice dry as cellar dust. “Been meanin’ to get outta this damp hole anyhow.”

His eyes flicked to Ivo’s etched mark on the countertop, then to Aramaeus, then Emilio, each getting the same deadpan rat stare.

“But if this place goes, I expect a new one. Proper signage, four walls, and a livin' space inna back. If the Furotazzis handle that fer me, we’re square.”

He picked up a chipped mug from behind the counter and took a sip of something that probably started its life as tea. Then, with a final snort.

“Just make sure it ain’t some frilly glass-fronted boutique. I ain’t sellin’ scented soaps!”

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo’s head snapped toward the retreating vixen just as she reached the door.

“Ye’ll regret it, mystic one!” he shouted after her, waving a claw like she’d just cursed herself by leaving.

He grumbled something unintelligible and snatched a rolled-up newspaper from the corner of the counter, a relic from earlier in the day, left behind by Grubbage and now heavy with moisture from the damp air. With all the authority of a street mother chasing kittens, he stormed up to Emilio and gave him a solid whap across the shoulder!

“Oi! Stop squishin’ der foxes, y’great whiskey-fueled roadblock!”

He jabbed the newspaper at the badger once more for emphasis, then spun around and pointed the now-flattened paper at Ivo and Aramaeus.

“An’ YOU lot! If’n yer ain’t tearin’ the place down yet, then stop gabbin’ ’bout it an’ gimme my twenty-five gilders, mangecoat! ’Taint got all day, now!”

The compass wobbled on the counter gently.

 

[Emilio]

"G'd'eve and good health, marm..." Emilio lazily waved to the old vixen as she moved to depart, before another belch rose up in his throat. He pat his chest, listening on until a surprise attack from the ferret struck his shoulder. Bap!

Typically, a wet newspaper to the shoulder under padded cloth would hardly be noticed, especially to such a big guy, and with so much booze in his system. He'd taken glass bottles, paw strikes, even broken-off chair legs, and the fabric of his gambeson had always stood firm, absorbing the worst of the impact and letting him soldier on. But a wet newspaper? Memories flashed before his eyes, of how his mother would give him a smack with whatever was on hand when he'd been caught fighting in town, or out late, or swearing like a visiting sailor. Bap! A rolling pin, spoons, papa's left shoe- and at some point, he learned: always cry out after the first strike, so you don't get another.

"Yeeeeeeeow!" The badger howls, throwing up his arm over the counter. Briefly, he felt something metallic brush the back of his paw, and quickly the feeling is gone as it takes flight, landing somewhere or another within the shop with a faint crack. "Phewwww! I's under attack! Ha ha..." He relaxed as the realization comes to him that he didn't need to oversell the strike at all; oh well.

"Haaaaa. Anyway, if 'em Furrrotahzzys need a beast t'help with the construction, jus' call me. I ain't affrayed of a dae's work." He flashed his teeth in a bright smile before slowly looking back down to the counter. The compass was missing... "...Oh."

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

There was a sound, part crack, part shlunk, as the compass was sent skittering across the shop, bouncing once, twice, and disappearing beneath a squat, dust-caked credenza in a sad little plume of dust and its own debris.

Griblo let out a shriek that shook the room.

“MY GILDERMAKER!”

He scrambled toward the impact zone but stopped short of diving after it, torn between grief and fury. His eyes snapped to the red-furred fox, still the highest bidder, and narrowed to venomous slits.

“Oi! Yer still payin’ for that, ye mangy-furred tailmop!”

His claw jabbed violently in the direction of the slumping badger now responsible for the wreckage.

“Gut this mash tun fer it if’n ye have to! Shake the gilders out his insides! I don’t care! That compass was magic! Certified!”

He stomped in a frustrated circle, tail lashing like a cornered snake, then glared down at the dusty space beneath the credenza.

“Ugh! It better still spin…”

 

[Ivo Suresight]

After observing as the elderly vixen had left Ivo felt uneasy. He'd lost the game. Happens but it still stung a bit. Hearing the words of the rat, he knew he would have to explain later on that while the whole place was meant for demolition, city most likely would get to it in at least few generations. Ivo wasn't threatened much by the ferret when he started to wave the newspaper around, not only he knew he could decently protect himself, he also had a wildcard. One he wasn't yet ready to use.

And it didn't seemed like he had to, the badger finally came in and overreacted. Perfect. Chaos had begun. Ivo could only see as the compass was flying into the nearby wall and cracking. It was almost amusing at this point... Almost. The outburst from the ferret that followed instantly curbed his enthusiasm... But also gave him an idea how to potentially still win something out of this.

Thus Ivo leisurely pointed with his thumb claw at the local officer of law who has been naught but a little pain in the tail. "Ya know... t' auction didn't got to tha point where ya actually did sell me a thing. I was jus' a bidder." A slow grin appeared on his snout. "Maybe ya should put it with Mr.Justice here? They sure seem eager t' help with 'damaged property' charges."

 

[Aramaeus Lemon]

Aramaeus, initially, felt a surge of disappointment as the compass went flying. Well, there went his entire case. If the compass was broken, then there was no way to prove that it had been fraudulent; and, if it wasn't broken, the amateur auctioneer could still claim that its magic has been broken. What a waste.

His eyes lit up at the mention of seeking recompense. It wasn't much of a crime, barely misdemeanor property damage, but it would be enough for him to request a foreign-sick unit to come in and examine the place. If they could find even one piece on display of disputed provenance, that could be enough to get its license revoked, the building shut down, and Aramaeus's career out of the dead end in which he'd found himself.

"I would be happy to take your statement if you would like to press charges," he confirmed, taking a notepad from his inner jacket pocket and a charcoal pen in a wooden grip. "Now, based on the auction results, I suppose we can set the value of the compass at thirty gilders?" It was such a pittance that most prosecutors would likely offer a plea bargain of time served and appropriate compensation to the damaged party, but still, he had to begin somewhere.

 

[Griblo Jankweed]

Griblo stomped his footpaws against the warped floorboards like an enraged dibbun denied a second helping of pudding.

“Y’is! Y’is! Press all d’eh charges!” he howled, jabbing wildly in Emilio’s direction. “Press it out of ‘im wit’ stones ‘till ‘e squeals! Then press ‘im more!”

 

[Emilio]

Whoooooops. As cathartic as shattering the compass might have been, doing so was not Emilio's intention. He would never purposefully remove the magic from the mundane world around him... but, accidents happened.

He blinked, slowly, asynchronously, from eye to eye, as what had happened became clear. The terrible scream... the yelling... the pointing... "Uhhhhhh..."

The badger waggled a single claw. "Wait just a second! It weren't me who broke it, he hit me!" He pointed right back to Griblo. "I've- my shoulder, 's sensitive, y'see. I blew it out the other month, down in Drustan Wood, haulin' logs." He lied, his shoulder was fine, though he had done some work down there before. "Logs of solid oak, which I'm sure went t'making a mighty ship for Her Majesty's Imperial Navy." His cheeks puffed out with air as he suppressed another belch. "Now! Let's forget about this phony compass malarkey. And don't even think about touchin' my shoulder again, or this time, I might just fly into a terrible bloodwrath from the pain! And nobody here wants that, eh? Least of all myself!" He played up his voice like his papa had in describing the horrors of Giftsmas, then scowled with his mostly-full mouth of teeth on display, letting out a slurred growl. "Hic!"