Indignation is a Fire Emblem Roleplay. It takes place within the Outrealms as worlds collide and kingdoms wage an endless war. However, amongst the quarrels of men do the horrors of the Outrealm reach in to kill and destroy. Fight alone or join forces with other warriors as we create dramatic tales or wage war!
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Oliver deadpanned at the elf, this guy seemed like an idiot. First he was yelling like Oliver demanded the world of him and acted as if Oliver had insulted his entire heritage and race.
Northella tried to put out something for the elf to understand, and Oliver took a deep breath after what West said. "I'm sorry West. I never said I was looking for pay." Oliver looked down at the cane he had placed on the counter again. "I am looking for someone I can confide in and not work for." he explained himself succinctly. "I want to find my home. I can earn plenty of money myself on the side." Oliver reached into his bag, pulling out a spare bag of gold pieces, letting it thud against the counter top.
As the bag opened up West could see what Oliver had in the bag, it wasn't anything like in his wallet, just something he carried from town to town in order to afford a room and a meal.
"Hmph," West crossed his arms, a long frown reached across his face, "So, that's all you want out of this? That's no fun, Oxford. I figured you a man who had more dreams to speak of." He lifted his head let out a sigh, "Fine. Have it your way, you namby-pamby businessman. You want to freelance work? You want us to scratch your back while you go off on your own? Well, whoopie for you!" He gave him a glowering look, "I'm not willing to partner with anyone independent of my organization. That's just how it works with people like me--you can't jeopardize the 'family' because an outsider wanted to chase after his floating house. Northella! Explain it to him."
Northella sighed deeply and addressed the man, "If you want his help... well, you'd have to be included in our group." She shrugged her shoulders, "... Information is only shared between members and those who pay for the information. He keeps reiterating his point about money because... on one hand, he's a greedy merchant, and on the other, he acts as the father of the group regardless of his age to everyone else. All he wants to do is protect his and his family's interests." She dipped her head, "I hope you understand." oliver
Oliver couldn't help but chuckle under his breath, clearing his throat while listening to the speech from West. So it wasn't about the money as much it was about something like a family that shared information. "You're a real nice guy despite how intimidating you try to make yourself Sir West." Oliver leaned back forward, holding out his hand.
"If that's all you wanted that's all you had to say. As for my dreams, I want to find my home, return the book my grandfather gave to me, and then write a book that is better than any Afgustan Oxford ever wrote. One that breaks the mold and is written from the adventures of those I find myself traveling with. Is that dream good enough for you Boss?"
The caravan was silent a few moments after the man spoke. Northella looked between the two of them, but mostly at West.
The elf's finger tapped on his arm, his thin brows furrowed and slit eyes still and unmoving. The comment of his passive tenderness this fellow had spoken was not unheard, it just wouldn't be his focus.
"... So your dream is not only to surpass your grandfather..." West finally said with one hand on the side of his face, "but to write an autobiographical life story of your experiences with other adventurers in this tumultuous age?" He tilted his head and rested it into his hand, "... Living to see how your life ends, Oxford... a legend is only as good as the person who tells it. If you choose to join hands with me, then your dream becomes mine. All one in the same." He leaned back against the shelf behind him, "It is not troublesome for me to help you, you know. I've heard many of my wonderful little brood's dreams of the future, and even so I try my best to let them have their way so long as they don't endanger our cozy little family." There was an uncanny softness to his voice that was not present before. "What say you, Oxford? Will you continue to pursue the path of the lonely wanderer, or will you join hands with a surrogate family that will embrace your dreams and do their best to meet them?" oliver
"No not an autobiographical. I want to write a genre that the world hasn't seen before. Something that people will call me crazy for writing. I want them to think I'm a loon. But when other authors start writing the same genre I have set up. It would be my book that they look back to. I am merely taking events that happen and applying them to the book but twisting them to the new world I intend to write."
Oliver stated to West, extending out his hand, willing to take what was being offered. "I'd be happy for the camaraderie. So please look after me while I look for my new home will you?" He smiled and with his eyes closed, gave a big toothy grin.
West's mouth stretched and nodded his head, "OK, uh, that's fine, too. If that's what you want to do." Maybe it was best not to guess with this guy. At least there was a clear goal, no matter how whimsical it was at this point.
Regardless, they finally came to an accord, and the elf took his hand and shook it with a long sweeping motion of his arm, "Wonderful! Excellent! Glad to have you on board, Oxford! I'm sure you'd fit in quite nicely in our cozy little family!" When he finally ceased, he placed his hands on his hips, "If you're ever in Windmire, go underground and find a fancy door with two blocked windows on either side. Knock on it, and someone will ask you, 'What do you put in a really big jar?' To which you must answer the safe code, 'a dragon's heart.' The door will open, and you will be let in."
He raised his finger in the air, "One last thing, please make sure no one else is following you! It would be irritating if the authority catches wind of our dealings... hehe, 'cause, you know..." The elf began to rub his hands together, "We are the Black Market." oliver
Oliver looked back at Northella, making a motion with his eyes toward the elf that West wouldn't be seeing, as if to non-verbally ask if this guy was for real.
"Yeah, good to bed on board." He nodded and interjected when he could with what the elf said, "Windmire. Dragon's Heart. Yeah, I got it." The last thing that stood out to Oliver made him pay close attention. "Black Market? I mean, I wouldn't be asking for help from the authorities. They don't normally have much helpful information anyways."
"Back to the whole 'Black Market' thing. These are still good people aye?" He asked with genuine concern or if he would be dealing with people that have a much darker soul than they should to be a part of some sort of 'family'.
Northella tried not to meet his gaze. She knew what he meant, though.
"Of course!" West exclaimed with thumbs up, "Let me clarify what I mean. I am a seller of both legal and... well, less welcomed goods, but don't let that discourage you! There's a lot worse people in the market than me. Big plus with working with me particularly is that I don't sell my own people out! Anyone who comes under my wing is treated with as much respect as I would want for myself. A family of sorts, right Northella?"
"Uh-huh," the woman nodded, "Nice and cozy."
"See?" the elf motioned his hand to her and smiled, "We watch out for our own!"
"Right. Right>" Oliver trailed off while listening to West. "So I guess that means we can just look to move on from here? I was looking to find a place to stay for the night." He pointed at the exit of the shop, indicating that he would need to leave to go looking for an inn.
"Unless 'we watch out for our own' also pertains to safe shelter?" He asked with his voice inflecting upwards, leaning forward on the counter, resting on his elbows.
"Of course that means we provide shelter!" West proclaimed cheerfully, "We've got our own inn not so far from here that caters to Black Market's needs. It's tucked inside of a long alleyway directly in front of my carriage." He pulled a small paper from his counter and lay it in front of oliver, "Here... these are the directions. I'd memorize these if I were you."
Northella unlocked the door and peered around briefly. When all was clear, the woman exited.
"So, Oxford," said West, "I'm sure you would prefer to be spoken of by your first name, but I'm not against calling you that. Why, I can even call you Ox, or Ford if you were so inclined to!" oliver
Taking the paper from the elf shop-keep, Oliver gave a nod, bringing the paper up to his head like a salute. "Thank you. And please, call me Oliver." He turned around, paper in hand, weapon over his shoulder. Slipping right past Northella. "It was good to see you again lass! We need to catch up sometime."
"But I should be going. I need to find a bed to sleep on for a bit. Been traveling quite a bit you know." He walked out of the shop, giving a wave from behind to the both of them, looking around for a direction to go down. Opening up the map and examining it, he tried turning it around and over, as if trying to decipher the directions.
"Good luck, then oliver !" West called from the door of the carriage. He put his hands on his hips and let out an exasperated sigh, "Haaaaaahhh... Northella, Northella, Northella..."
The woman turned and gave him a shrug of her shoulders, "I can't help it if I want to know, too."
"Yes, but..." his fingertips pressed together, "Subtlety! That is all I ask. I didn't hire you so that you can do such things, you know."
With a grunt, the woman turned toward him, put her hands on the side of her face, and gave him a cutesy pout, "I'm sowwy, boss."
The elf sighed once more, "... Yes, yes... he might be useful. The initiation was very unorthodox, so caution must be exercised! Oh, tell little Fifi to do that. She loves stalking."
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