If you can't blow them away with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit. -- Anon Guest
"Two thousand gold per square quarter-inch of ear... five hundred per digit of phalanges... three hundred for the tarsals and metatarsals..." The person running the tally was not a necromancer. They were not a crime lord. They were an "acquisitions agent" for the Dark Market. Not the Black Market, the Dark Market. It's much, much worse.
"Oh don't worry about me," Wraithvine muttered to hirself, "You go ahead and take a day. I won't get into any trouble on a nature walk to hear the bell-birds of Lalhelia..." Ze had lived, effectively, forever. This wasn't the first time that ze had been audience to hir price per piece. It was, however, one of the more insulting. "Two silver per karatweight of my liver? Two silver? Really? Last time it was fifteen!"
The Tallyman working on Wraithvine's price per piece looked up from his books. "There can't have been a last time, you're still alive." Okay. So not that easily gulled. Great. Time to spin a stronger yarn.
"Yeah, it's kind of a funny story involving a slink of Goblins and a stray Warg. You see, they were also looking for Elves to cut up for the highest bidder and--"
"I don't care! Shut up. Your tongue's worth fifty silver per quarter ounce. I could cut it out for shipping right now."
"Wow, that little, huh? It used to be fifty silver per sixteenth ounce."
"I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to cause some friction between me and my buyer."
"If our positions were reversed, wouldn't you?"
"Point," said the Tallyman. "You're still a fortune in Dark Magic ingredients and I aim to collect."
"Less than the market price," added Wraithvine. "I've been through a few Dark Markets - under heavy disguise of course."
"Of course," the Tallyman continued to flick abacus beads, seemingly disinterested.
"You know that you get paid in gold, and they buy in platinum, right?"
"I'm well aware of the markups in the industry. I get paid enough for the work I do."
"You forgot hair and blood," said Wraithvine. "Sixty gold for every fluid ounce of blood, and twelve silver per inch of hair... have you figured the cost benefit of intact head versus head parts?"
The Tallyman looked up from his book-keeping. "I'm starting to have questions?"
"Oh goody. I like answering questions. Try me!"
"How do you know this stuff?"
"Oh, I've got a vested interest in sabotaging the Dark Magic market. I'm sure you understand."
"Uhuh," said the Tallyman. "Why are you even bothering? I'm going to cut you up anyway."
"Oh, I just needed a short rest to get my spell slots back." Wraithvine grinned, and used Expeditious Exodus to escape both binding ropes and teleport to a different location. "You have made the mistake of crossing Wraithvine the Eternal, and brought a curse upon yourself."
Captured and flattened against some convenient landscape, Wraithvine plucked a single hair from hir head, and wound it in an elaborate knot around one of the Tallyman's fingers. "Henceforth all the pain, woe and injustice you cause, directly or indirectly to one link of happenstance, shall come to you. Before and after you kill them, by the way. If you tell any of your contacts about this curse, they shall get it too. I trust you'll have fun figuring out how much of this is horse crap." The hair melded into his flesh. "If you want to break the curse, beg forgiveness from all surviving victims of your trade."
Wraithvine used another spell to get back on the path to the forests of Lalhelia. If the Tallyman had any sense, he would not try to capture Wraithvine again. It would have gone worse for him if he'd had any parts in his inventory.
One down... so many more to go.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / radoslavst]
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