Quote Originally Posted by Deathkeeper View Post
[A Rambling Cart, Since Rolled Into Town]

A young man, attracted by the call, arrives on the scene. He's thin, lightly muscled, and fairly handsome despite his unflattering coat and ill-fitted jeans, and his wide glasses. Sparkling at his neck is a large golden necklace. Grant Masters has been good for days. He's been nice and boring; he's sure by now the fae contamination is dying out. He can do something interesting and go shopping, just for a bit.
"Good day, Mister." he says politely to the man, looking over the store and its wares.
A Rambling Store

"Good day young Master! And what catches your eye today? Every trinket has its tale, and looking and hearing is free." The wares are fairly standard flea market, yard sale, and estate sale fare. It's all used, but has all been very well maintained and cared for by the shop's owner. Old pocket and wrist watches sit side by side with hand tools, curios, small statuettes and collectibles. Most of it is old fashioned, though there's a short wave of nostalgic memorabilia from the last few decades up closer to the cash box where Fezziro stands, gangly and looming.

"If there's anything you're looking for and can't find, don't hesitate to ask. I also do commissions, helping bring out that special something in your most well loved possessions. And before I forget." The shopkeep reaches forward and flips down another sign to let it dangle and sway from the counter. Reaching to one side to pat the flank of his ethereal horse, he lets the caution speak for itself.

NO WEAPONS BOUGHT, SOLD, OR WORKED ON.