[Location, Self Mod] Amalthea's Apparel

[Kalinda]

Set along the road between the Vortex General Store and the old temple of Jalat stood a small shop that belonged to a young hobbit lass named Amalthea Arrowhead. All of Amalthea’s family were fletches, thus the last name, but the girl had neither shown interested in it nor was she particularly talented. All she had ever wanted to be was a tailor and make clothes. As a child she had sewn clothes for her dolls. Later, as a young woman, she had made clcothes for her friends and now she finally had a shop of her own. Her family had not talked to her since then, but that did not bother her. They would realize that a tailor was nobody to be ashamed of soon enough.

The house was a rather quaint one story affair made of simple grey stones, there was nothing whatsoever special about it. The four windows at the front were made of stained glass which suggested that the owner of the building was not as poor as it seemed at first glance. There was a small garden between the shop, a garden that looked like it had been neglected on purpose. Strands of grass were peeking out of the snow that covered the ground. Bushes were scattered all around. Dried leaves, leftovers from autumn lay under the trees. A simple wooden chair whose once smooth, light brown surface had been roughened due to the constant exposition to the elements leaned against the wall.

A twisted, bent, greenskinned creature sat on it, an elderly orc that was holding an axe in his hands and casting everybody that dared to come too close a warning glance. He had been employed by the young girl that owned the shop to keep troublemakers out. Vortex was a dangerous city, crime florished everywhere, thus it was not safe for a cute young female being, no matter what her race, to be out alone. Despite the fact that he was old – no, ancient – the orc still managed to look intimidating. His body was bent from patterns upon patterns of hard work, but his arms were still as muscular as ever. It would not even need the axe to tear somebody in half.

A simple sign made of dark brown wood hung over the door, bearing the words “Amalthea’s Apparel” on it. If that was not enough for somebody to draw the right conclusion about what was being sold inside the shop, the painting of a needle and a ball of yarn would certainly be sufficient. Whenever the door was opened, a bell rang, alerting the young halfling of the fact that a new customer had arrived. Shortly after the bell a louder and much more unpleasant sound could be heard. A small dog was standing next to thedoor and barking furiously.

The floor inside the house was made of simple wooden boards. Various racks with clothes and shelves that contained hats and shoes could be found in the front room. Each piece of clothing was labelled with a short descirption as well as a price. In front of the windows stood half a dozen mannequins that displayed the little hobbit’s better works as well as a ladder. Since Amalthea was so short she could not reach the heads of the mannequins or the upper part of the shelves without help.

There was a deep black dress on display, one of the dresses that one could imagine on a Matron of the underground city, another mannequin displayed a suit consisting of blue pants and a blue silk shirt that was adorned with buttons made of adamantite, a exceptionally rare metal. Yet another mannequin displayed an outfit that shimmered in all colours of a rainbow, something that might be worn by a bard.

The hobbit stood at the side of the wooden counter and gazed at everybody that entered curiously. Her hairy feet were bare and thus exposed to all the world. Her brown locks were neatly braided with two red ribbons. She wore a simple white blouse and a red skirt, plain clothes, but of fine quality. Her voice was light and soft. “Welcome to Amalthea’s Apparel”, she spoke. “What can I do for you this brightening?”

On the wall behind the young girl hung a large wooden sign that had been painted with bright red letters. It contained the price list:

Pants and skirts: 12 crowns
Robes, dresses and coats: 16 crowns
Cloaks with hood 15 crowns
Cloaks without hood: 12 crows
Hats: 10 crowns
Shirts, blouses: 11 crows
Boots: 10 crowns

All prices are based on average quality cotton and leather. Modifications or a better material cost extra. If you want your clothes decorated with feathers, gems, embroidery or lace, please ask.

Silk: x4, Wool (high quality): x3, Fur: x3 – x4, Linen: x2

OOC: Please self-mod, or find a peer mod, for this thread if you are buying something. Only if you want to get a job or buy this location, then PM one of the Vortex's GMs and we'll get to you.

[Eschaton Khazid'hea]

He strolled leisurely down one of the avenues of Vortex that bore many of the retailers that chose to run legitimate establishments above ground. Surveying the area, he was looking for a suitable plot of land or perhaps an empty building that he could purchase from Aedile. The weapons and armor trades had been his specialty when he lived in the more temperate south, and having lived now in Vortex for a few cycles the thought came to him that his previous interests could turn into profitability in this city that was sorely lacking any sort of economic activity.

On better days he was a businessman, although dressed like a pauper or outfitted with weapons and armor he did not look like one. The clothes he wore in fact had belonged to a pauper; Synrei his former-self who had lived the life of a vagrant, sleeping in trees and depending on the charity of others for sustenance. He had come so far since then, he had inherited a story that was still being told but also one that made him the successor of a life that was far more than a pauper. Perhaps, then, he should look the part, even though the clothes he work needed to be every bit as functional as they were elegant.

So then, perhaps by no chance of fate, he found himself walking past and soon enough doubling back to a tailor's shop. He took note of the unkept garden and proceeded to enter the establishment. The shrieking dog set him back a bit, his warrior sensibilities quick to react, but thankfully enough that was all. He liked animals actually, having been a Ranger in eras long past. Moving further inwards he took a few moments to peruse the selection of hats, and finding a black fedora that he liked, removed it from the rack. "Good brightening Mistress Hobbit," he offered her a smile that was genuine enough coming from a dark elf, "I'd like to purchase this hat along with some other things. For myself, two sets of breeches: one in a nice cream color made of silk to wear domestically and another in a off shade of black made of sturdier material to wear while travelling. Also a silken tunic in a nice crimson color and a black cassock made of a highly durable material but also fairly light. Those are my requests, but perhaps I should ask you? What do affluent merchants or young nobles wear these days? I'd like something a bit more elegant than the rags I'm in now, but something that won't constrict me."

[Kalinda]

The young hobbit’s eyes instantly lit up as Eschaton entered the shop. With a tiny hand she gestured for the dog that was lying on the floor and commanded, “Be quiet, this man is a customer!” The dog looked at her and rolled his eyes as if he did nto understand what she was saying, but in the end he obeyed and lay down, content with watching the dark elf closely.

“Serale”, she stated and smiled brightly, craning her neck so that she could look into Eschaton’s face. “The silken breeches will cost you 48 crowns. As to breeches that you can wear while travelling … hmmm …” She furrowed her brow and dipped her chin thoughtfully before she glanced at the various racks and shelves in the room as if she was looking for a particular piece of clothing. “I’d recommend leather, soft leather that is comfortable to wear but still offers some protection.” She walked over to a rack and pulled a pair of breeches in an off shade of black from it only to lay it down on the counter in front of the vysstichi. “I’d ask 36 crowns for them”, she said. “Please do have a look and tell me if that’s what you had in mind …”

“The tunic and the cassock are 48 crowns each, and the hat’s 10 crowns …” she continued. Again she browsed the racks until she had found the items that Eschaton desired. A light frown crossed her face at his last question. “Hmmm ….” She made. “What do young nobles were these days … “ She shrugged her shoulders lightly before her gaze shifted towards one of the mannequins that displayed an outfit consisting of deep blue pants and a blue silk shirt with adamantite buttons.

“Maybe an outfit such as this here, but black instead of blue as black will look better with your dark skin and your white hair …” she mused. “Of course I can give you pants made of leather instead of silk. The thing that makes the outfit so special are the buttons. I hope you are aware that adamantite is exceptionally rare. I’d also suggest a cloak, trimmed with silver fur, and matching gloves and boots to go with it …” She looked him over and grinned. “Yes, that would look good on you …”

[Eschaton Khazid'hea]

Eschaton grinned a boyish one and nodded with approval as he inspected the hobbit seamstress's work. Her work seemed suitable enough, her suggestions were in the general area of what he was looking for, and he certainly could not, would not, argue with her prices. It was good to see an honestly run business again, one that sharply contrasted with the shady merchants and scamartists that populated the underground city.

"That all sounds very good to me Mistress Hobbit, and I hope I would be correct in trusting your fashion sense. In any matter, I'll pay you in full once the order is complete, although if you would like a down-payment I would be happy to oblige." He paused, clearly thinking about something and it was clear when the affirmative case won over his choice. "And," he extended his arm in the direction of the black matronly dress that stood on display, "something like that as well, although if possible in a nice crimson color."

[Kalinda]

The young hobbit glanced at the dress that Eschaton had pointed at and smiled. “Ah ... that dress!” A wide smile spread across her face. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? One of the vysstichi of Har’oloth, a noblewoman judging by the way she acted, ordered one of the kind. Female vysstichi, as you may know, are choosy, but she loved it ...”

The little female immediately went over to the dress and let her hands run across it, pointed the long sleeves and the deep neckline out, turned Eschaton’s attention to the smooth, shimmering silk it was made of. “I have to ask 80 crowns for it”, she said. “It’s something special. The fact that you want it in crimson instead of black doesn’t change anything about the price.”

With that the girl returned to the counter and climbed on a chair that stood behind the counter so that she could look straight into his face. “I’ll leave it up to you whether you pay now or when you return to pick the clothes up”, she decided. “You look trustworthy enough, for a vysstichi ...” She smiled faintly, softening her statement somewhat. “The clothes will be ready in two brightenings ...”

And then she let out a small cry. Her face turned a bright red. “I had almost forgotten!” she exlaimed and pulled a measuring tape out of a drawer. “If you want the clothes to fit, I have to take your measurements. That doesn’t go for the dress of course, as I doubt you will want to wear it yourself.” She pointed at a place right next to her chair. “If you would please come over to me? I’m afraid you are to tall that I can take your measurements without that chair of mine ...”

[Eschaton Khazid'hea]

"Of course," agreed Eschaton as he turned from facing the elegant noblewoman's dress to walk towards the chair the youthful hobbit had indicated. Trustworthy enough, for a Vysstichi, that had been his greatest strength and weakness, burdened with and understanding that what his kind did was inherently wrong, if at least flawed, but the willingness to embrace those ways nonetheless.

Sitting down, to oblige the hobbit seamstress, he said "Now I believe the total for all of the items that were on display that I chose is two hundred and seventy crowns, and that sounds fair to me, but you will have to give me an estimate on how much the tailored items will be."

[Kalinda]

As Eschaton sat down, the hobbit immediately came with her measuring tape and touched his arms, measured their length before she lifted his legs and checked them, all the while quietly murmurring to herself.

“That will be a lot of cloth”, she remarked as she was finished and scribbled the measurements she had taken down in her notebook before she turned to him.

“The other items will come to a total of three hundred crowns due to the fur on the cloak and the rare metal for the buttons”, she told him.

[Ter'an Zar'rek]

It was just after sundown, the dimness of twilight all but taken by the darkness of the night sky. In Amalthea's Apparel, a little bell rang as the door opened, revealing a figure with the shape and stature of an elf. However, this elf was not born of the surface. His hair, short and white; his skin, ebony black; his eyes, blood red; his name, Ter'an Zar'rek.

Ter'an looked about the shop from his vantage point near the door, which he closed slowly. A tight smile crossed his face as the contents of the shop confirmed his suspicions. Only a shop like this, filled with clothing, hats and shoes would bother having such an insignia on its door. Ter'an had need of clothing: a cloak, to be specific. Up until now, he could not afford to move about in the daytime, lest his sensitive eyes be blinded to the sights of Telath for all time. It had ensured that he could only move about at night, late evening, or very early morning, visiting shops and libraries and all other establishments whose services he required.

All of that was going to change.

Ter'an walked directly toward the young hobbit girl, trying hard to fight the rising anger and hatred inside him. As a male slave in Hon'elgg, Ter'an had not received the best of treatment from the more dominant females of his kind. The very sight of a female in a position of power, even one as lowly as a store clerk, reminded him of terrible things he would never forget... Be patient, Ter'an... he reminded himself. You'll get your revenge... someday... Endure for now...

Soon, Ter'an Zar'rek stood before the little hobbit. "I need a cloak," he replied coldly to her courteous greeting. "Colored black, with a deep hood," he continued, his right eye twitching somewhat at the mention of the hood. Of all the parts of a cloak a daytime vysstichi needed, it was a deep hood to protect the eyes from the burning, blinding sunlight... "And made of a warm material..." Vysstichi like himself were sensitive to cold after all... "Nothing too expensive though, my funds are rather... limited," he finished, pausing just long enough before saying the last word to make his muttering voice sound like the ghost of a threat. To be simple: don't cheat this vysstichi or else...

[Kalinda]

The young hobbit tailor’s orcish bodyguard abruptly rose from his chair in front of the house and followed Ter’an inside, almost as if he could feel the vysstichi’s hatred for women, as if he could instinctively feel his bad mood. As soon as the dark elf had walked up to the counter, Arg’tor, as the greenskin was called, positioned himself at the side of the door, holding his weapon in his hands so that he could intervene should the vysstichi try to harm the girl that he had vowed to protect with his life.

Amalthea herself was not particularly intimidated or even shocked at the sight of yet another vysstichi in her shop. This was Vortex after all, a city that was considered a safe haven for most of the so called hated races. She had grown used to them. Besides most vysstichi turned out to be fairly civil when money was concerned. So it was that she flashed Ter’an a soft smile and listened to his words.

“Serale!” she began in a cheerful tone once he was finished. It did not surprise him that he wanted a black cloak. Most vysstichi favoured dark colours as they went best with their ebony skin. Hooded cloaks were especially popular. Dark elves had, as she had been able to find out through countless dealings with them, rather sensitive eyes and could not tolerate the sunlight without some form of protection, at least not when they came straight from one of their underground cities and had never been on the surface before. “A black cloak with a deep hood, made of a warm material and cheap ...” she repeated. “If you are looking for something that is warm and cheap, I would suggest wool. A black woolen cloak will come to exactly 42 crowns ...”

With that she walked over to one of the shelves and took a piece of clothing from it, placed it on the counter so that Ter’an could take a look. “Please do try it on”, she told him. “The wool is quite fine and soft. It will keep you warm even in winter. And even though it’s cheap it does not look too bad ...” She smiled again, then looked at him, waiting whether he would take the cloak or not.

[Ter'an Zar'rek]

Wool... not a bad idea... Ter'an Zar'rek thought to himself as the young hobbit girl went about procuring a cloak of such material. Still, the vysstichi elf found it rather amusing that most common people had little difficulties with wearing the wool of sheep, but were revolted at the idea of wearing the hide of a troll or goblins for some sort of armor. Skin, hide, fur, fleece... Ter'an did not differentiate among them; all were obstacles for a dagger to pierce through. But then, few people were vysstichi like himself.

As the hobbit girl placed the cloak on the counter, Ter'an slowly reached out and ran a hand over it. Grabbing the cloak with that hand, he brought it up and proceeded to put it on to test it. A little loose... but I'll probably need it that way... he thought. Warm, yes... Finally, he brought both hands up behind him to grasp the hood and bring it over his head, being sure to cover his eyes quite well. Yes, this will do nicely, Ter'an thought, smiling from the dark depths of the deep hood.

Pulling back the hood and eliminating his smile, Ter'an dug into his pockets, pulling out handfuls of crowns that he placed on the counter. From those crowns he made four piles of ten each, along with two loners. "Forty-two crowns for a cloak," he remarked, gesturing to the pile of crowns on the counter. The fact that he had not commented on the price nor the cloak itself meant he was satisfied with both. Without further ado, he turned around and left Amalthea's Apparel with only a passing smirk at the orcish bodyguard. His level of freedom in the city had just doubled...

[Eschaton Khazid'hea]

His head throbbed with red pain, as the blood that normally coursed through it hammered painfully at his senses when he moved. That should have been expected though given excess of brandy and ale he had helped himself to the night before. He had ordered some liquors so that he would have a meager stock in the cellar of his estate for later use. He could not remember why he'd let himself slip like that, letting his guard down for so long, but he let it be deciding he had probably relapsed into a fit of depression. He thought he'd been rid of it but in recent cycles tragic thoughts and regrets of things long past had crept back into his mind, wearing away at it.

He was sober now though, but certainly not at his best. With his vision blurring at intervals he was actually a very good target for any brigand or pickpocket who would choose him for their day's mark. They would not make off with much anyway. Sluggishly, for he found it hard to conjure the strength in his arm, he opened the door to the establishment. He did not notice the orc guard, but he took care to avoid the god whom he disturbed on his previous visit. He looked about for the hobbit seamstress whom he transacted with several brightenings earlier in the cycle, and when he did see her nodded in greeting and said, "Serale Mistress Hobbit. I trust my order has been completed?"

[Striker]

"Ah, Master elf!" the hobbit blinked excitedly and trotted towards the doorway, a mediocre sized box in front of him, "Hurry! Hurry!" the lad squeeked in somewhat of a jovial manner as he waved the Vysstichi towards the counter where many needles and various tools lay scattered about. Raising a finger to gesture for a minute to retrieve the dark elf's items, he escaped into the back and emerged quickly with several pieces of material that had been requested only a shortwhile before.

"Here you are sir." the hobbit smiled and began stacking the items into the empty box that he'd retrieved earlier. With ease and grace tributed to the deftness necessary to drive a needle through thread, the hobbit soon pushed the box over towards the dark elf and allowed him to scan and overlook his wares, hoping that the Vysstichi would be pleased with what he saw. All of the items within the box had been well-sewn or threaded together with the desired material and expertise that had been requested.

[Eschaton Khazid'hea]

Eschaton managed a smile, not forced as it was genuine, but hard feeling as sluggish as he did. He did not closely expect the merchandise, as he figured this merchant was good enough to be trustworthy, but instead merely browsed to admire the quality of the handiwork.

Flipping the fedora onto his head he further darkened his features before producing several notes and a small pouch. He paid the hobbit in five one hundred crown banknotes, one fifty, and the rest in hard currency. "Thank you for the help and tailoring. I will recommend your establishment and be sure shop here in the future. I've an estate in the eastern quarter of the city--should you need any help with business later on feel free to ask." And with that he tipped his hat, took the box in his arms and turned to leave as silently as he had come. The brandy was calling him.

[Striker]

The hobbit wore a proud smile as Eshcaton rummaged through the box of his sought out materials, all of which he found accordingly and hoepfully to his pleasure. The small clothes weaver grinned even further as he was paid, tucking the various forms of payment into the caverns of his pockets as he listened intently to the dark elf speak, "The eastern estate you say? My! That be yours!" the hobbit laughed and clapped his hands gingerly, almost immediately helping the Vysstichi to refold everything within the box.

"Thank you for your business, Sir! Please, do come again!" the hobbit's candid smile remained upon his lips as he watched the Vysstichi soon depart. He couldn't be sure if the dark elf had been sincere though about helping him in his business, as many of the darkfooted folk tended to be full of hot air and altruistic only when it meant furthering their own lives or bettering their conditions. Regardless though, the hobbit seemed to have accepted the Vysstichi's words with little doubt, regardless of racial speculations. Eschaton seemed pleasant enough, and it never hurt to be polite to one so rich.

[Rahkay Zandos]

Rahkay Zandos and Draekial Kadrakai, now perhaps the most prominent representatives of the law in Vortex, being both Deputy Legionnaires and Assistant Prefects, strided down from the Prefect's office, after stopping at the Dorin's house to get a loincloth, to Amalthea's Apparel, the tailor the Prefect had reccomended for their uniforms. Before walking in, Zandos noted the location of the general store right next door, idly wondering if it had been planned that way, as the two were to continue there after ordering their uniforms. Now casually dressed in loincloth and cloak, but holding his green suit over one arm, Zandos addressed his partner.

"I'll let you do the talking in here, Draekial," the Dorin said, "since the uniform design was your idea you must know it best, and of course I will be useless if we need to pick a color shade." He laughed lightly. When the two entered the shop, Zandos noticed the tailor was a hobbit, much like the clerk who had serviced him at Elegant Blades. What, were all the merchants of Vortex hobbits? At least this one hadn't built her shop too low for normal races to enter comfortably. Zandos stood tall but remained quiet as he let Draekial place the orders, though he would hand over his suit for measurements when necessary.