by Ze Blitzkrieg » Sat Dec 10, 2022 4:18 am
It is exciting, to find yourself sat where Yahzin had once. Even though you had arrived somewhat late in the day, the festivities would undoubtedly bring many people flocking to the city. All you needed to do was ply your charm and see coin switching hands.
True to Ranabi's words, many of those who made their way up the roads seemed to be laborers. They were not the most profitable sort, given their occupation, but it was rare for people to go about anywhere without at least some spending money on hand. You were careful not to call out to them, lest the guards ire and attention be brought back to you, but after a while, a handful do approach. They are mostly young men, weary from their day of work, but intrigued enough by your camp to come see you. Remembering how things had gone with the guard, you make sure to give each of them an ample view of your chest, and more than a couple find themselves drawn to the deep, soft valley of your bosom. It must be something of an awakening for a few of them; while Nords held certain ill beliefs of the Khajiit, seeing such a desirable one in person, plying such sweet words, must have certainly shaken some of those beliefs.
You manage to sell a handful of smaller items from your eclectic cache of starting goods, a few knives, some colorful beads to braid through their beards, and at least one new pair of boots. Though you make no great deal of cold off it, you manage to bring in your first few fistfuls of septims, and the promise of return customers, though you get the idea they're more interested in you than they are on purchasing more knick knacks.
Perhaps word spreads from these few customers. Not too long after waving off a couple loggers does a duo from inside the walls come out to greet you. They're both women, one quite a bit younger than the other, dressed in the classic Nord way. The older, shorter woman, a blue eyed brunette, gestures to your camp as she approaches, her head turned towards her companion. The other is much more in line with the tales you had heard of Skyrim's people; she is tall, with pale blonde hair and seem to brighten her blue eyes. But though she stands tall, she seems to shrink within herself as she stands, her arms crossed, a discomfort that betrays someone of such a strong build. It's in stark contrast to the confident, almost authoritative ease that the darker haired woman carries herself with.
"Come, now, Hretha. If Eorda's stock does not please you, then we will surely find something here," The elder says, before turning to address you, "Are you the head of this little affair? We've come looking for fabric. The finer the better, and in quantity enough to make a rather... generous gown. Do you have anything of that nature?"
You recall that Yahzin had been kind enough to gift you with several long bolts of silk. You had heard the Nords preferred hardier fabrics, but he assured you that when it came to small caravans, a limited stock of finer goods was the way. Trading in bulk textiles was for larger, more established groups. Kharjan looks on with interest at the duo, but says nothing. If you were uncertain of how best to pitch them, his advice would almost certainly be on hand, but perhaps you wished to try your own hand at up-selling them on the things. They did look to be rather well-off.