Dec 16 04:57:24 108 PA - Looking for Trade

From Chronicles

Dec 16 04:57:24 108 PA.

TRADEWINDS COFFEE SHOP

Fizzlesnoot sits warming from the winter weather, the storm chilling even the toughest of Kingsdale citizens to find shelter indoors in the warmth. A heavy winter blanket, still damp from the weather, hangs drying on the back of the bench he sits at. A cup of coffee, held with both hands, is sipped on the warm his chilled insides. Locals gather before the morning work shifts begin, or are finally finishing up a graveyard shift and heading home. Either way, most are just looking for their own little oasis of warmth and dryness before making that last march through the cold damp weather to their final destinations.

Pavel enters, clad in his leathers and furs with a beard already starting to grow back in. He has clearly not bothered to suit up for the weather beyond anything normal, as his wavy hair is dripping with moisture from melted snow. Despite this, he has a happy look on his face, humming along in Russian as he moves up to the counter. Fizzlesnoot of course, is rather difficult to miss, even when you aren't looking to find anyone, and thus the blacksmith offers a friendly wave.

Fizzlesnoot sends back a friendly wave of his own and another to offer the man a seat once he has made his purchase. One local nearby, not so used to the like of Fizz, cringes a bit when he smiles to Pavel, moving to another seat so as to not have to look at the strange little guy directly. It's not difficult to get a gist of the chatter among the locals, most are talking about rumors of troop movements to the north.

It takes a while for Pavel to receive his drink, but more due to his penchant for friendly conversation than to Tiffany's usual ineptitude. He comes away with a simple mug of coffee to which is added sugar and cream. At this hour it isn't too difficult to make his way across to the odd D-Bee. However, as is often the case, seating his frame is the difficult part, and he finds it necessary to grab one of the few loose chairs and drag it over toward Fizzlesnoot. "Allo! Feezelsnoot ees vell? Pavel seh good see."

Fizzlesnoot watches the large man take care of his seating arrangements with a smile, sipping on his warm mug of coffee. "Hello, Pavel. Hows life treating you? I hope well." his greeting just as cheerful as always, despite the dreary weather outside.

"Ah, laheef vyery good. Fohrge beesy, Pavel has mahny veemon so fohr keep vahrm - good smaheel, da?" He chuckles at the idea, one that he takes to heart. "Feezelsnoot's beesehnoos vorkeen vell? Mahny coostahmeyhrs?" A taste of the coffee gets a small frown, but his face rapidly recovers into its own jovial self. "Good fohr taheem fohr coffee. Pavel has alvehs vahnt fohr ahsk, szo... vhaht Feezehlsnoot keep een beeg bahg? Alvehs veet Feezehlsnoot ees beeg bahg."

Fizzlesnoot smiles glancing over to the bag sitting next to him on the bench, "Oh I keep everything in there. Whatever fits that is, but it is a very roomy bag, Like right now, I have a bunch of stuff in there, feel it, nobody is going to run off with that." If his offer to check is taken, it does weight a lot, not something easily snatched and ran with. "Matter o' fact, I got some raw iron in that bag ya might be interested in. Only fifty pounds though, had to keep some room for other things. Got another fifty pounds at my shop."

Pavel does take the invitation to molest an item of interest. "Oh. Vyery eentehrehsteeng! Ve bosz hav our ovn tools, da?" He sips and frowns at his coffee again before asking, "Rahv eerohrn? Strehnge! Vyeyr ees geht fohr rahv eerohrn? Noht eh nohrmal szeeng fohr peepohl fohr hav. Oh - Feezehlsnoot beeng mehrchahnt. Trehde een mahny szeengs? Szees hov geht?" Obviously, a blacksmith is going to be interested in metal, and its history is only more interesting.

Fizzlesnoot smiles, giving a few nods to things that Pavel says, "Remember that story about that small sample I showed you? Same place. Though the hundred pounds isn't that ore, just the normal variety. I could arrange more, but have no way of safely transporting it from there to here on any regular basis. I wish though. I had tried to set something up, but," he sighs, "That fell through due to other troubles they were facing. Still not out of the woods yet with governmental troubles."

"Oh. Yes. Vahrlord Rohmanov vood nehvehr leet szaht happen, veet Coaleetion, veet Keengsdehle, veet ehvehrybohdy. Ees... ess joost doom." Pavel gives a heavy, emphatic nod to make his point. "Boot, ees good stohry. Vhaht fohr breeng myetal to Pavel? Cahnnot syel eet? No booyers?"

Fizzlesnoot rocks his head a bit back and forth, and sips from his coffee, and shrugs, "Well, there's not many smithys in the city, and most buy their ore already in usable form. I thought you might be interested. Doesn't have to be for credits per se. I am open to other trade as well. Not like I can really use a hundred pounds of iron. Wouldn't have the first clue what to do with it." Giving another shrug, "Maybe make it into throwing knives or something. But what am I going to do with throwing knives? I try and avoid all that getting in fights stuff, if I can help it. What would you pay for a hundred pounds of raw ore if you were shopping around for it?"

Pavel makes cringing face at the question of value. "Fohr rav ohre? Vahn-hoondrehd pounds?" His lips swish back and forth as he thinks. "To booy frohm rehgoolahr deelehr? Vahn-hoondrehd feefey. Prohbahble less, fohr ohnly ore. Een szees fohrm, noht hav mahny vahloo to mohst."

Fizzlesnoot nods in agreement, "As I am finding out it seems. Was wondering though, would you be interested in a trade? A trade for knowledge. I would like to learn your native language. I have a bit of an interest in foreign dialects, knowing quite a few already. Would that be a fair trade to you?"

Pavel looks on, interested himself, but suggests perhaps a different alternative. "Yes, Pavel coold teech, boot voold be lohng szeeng. Feezehlsnoot, mehrchahnt, da? Boot scrahp ess noht szyelleeng? Pavel mehbe soogest szaht coold toorn ohre to good, hyevy plehte? Good enough fohr ahrmor? Szees mahny mohr vahlooahbohl. *Mahny mohr.*" The blacksmith gives a good solid nod, and one would think that he knows what he's talking about. "Pavel cahn mehk eet szees. Fohr, Pavel keep frohm..." a pause while he thinks "... feefteen pehrcent of mahteeriahl?" Huh. A dull blacksmith who knows his numbers? Interesting.

Fizzlesnoot thinks about it a bit, sipping on his cooling coffee, "That is fine too if you don't have the time for the language studies. I would still like to learn your language some time though."

"Pavel vood szeenk need taheek mahny lohng fohr teech hees lehnguage. Ees hahppy so teech, boot fohr nohv, fohr booy ohre, mohr seemple to mehk trehd, da?" The blacksmith looks on, and suggests, "I cahn cohm to Feezehlsnoot veet ovn bahg, geht all vahn-hoondrehd pounvds of ohre. Mehk to bettehr, keep feefeen perhcent. Good mohney fohr bosz peepohl. *Mahny* mohney fohr smahl foony lookeeng mahn veet beeg bahg." After another cringing sip of coffee, it's quite clear by looking at Pavel's face - or it should be - that his words were meant in nothing more than absolute good jest between two grown men. No matter how different they may be.

Fizzlesnoot chuckles getting the jest, taking it all in good fun. "That will work, I know it will take some time to learn your language. Your a busy man running a business. Might I make another proposition for the language, that may just keep you free for your own work, along with making the teaching seem more natural. I could be your little helper, if you don't mind a roommate so to speak. You have that big farm out there and I'm just a little guy and wouldn't take up much room. I can do all sorts of things to help out, just until I catch on of course. Whatever you want, I can do, I'm not above any hard work."

The big blacksmith grimaces again and shrugs sheepishly. "I hahf vhat I need. Fohrge ees good, szeengs vyer need be. Ahlso haf fryend alrhedy fohr mahny szeengs. Pavel noht knov Feezelshoot leeft vhaht need be leefted, moved. Boot if Feezelsnoot ees need fohr plaheece sleep? Cahn shehr veet Pavel. Noh necessehry fohr peh. Steh veet Pavel ooteel hav mohney fohr ovn plahece?" He sips and asks, "Vhy so eentehrested een Russky? Noht mahny peepohl cah speek. Fevehr peepohl cah rhead."

Fizzlesnoot grins happily, "Exactly friend. Not many speak it. My people tend to have an affinity for learning languages and I'm no different from the rest. It's always nice when you can sit back and have a conversation in a persons native tongue. And thank you for the offer. It's not like I don't have a place to stay, languages are just easier to learn when you do it while just doing what you do, know what I mean? An don't let my size fool ya, I'm a pretty strong little guy. Might not be as strong as you, but humans can't out lift me, not without some kind of help."

Pavel nods. He's seen people do strange things, and while there will inevitably be some hesitation, he takes Fizzlesnoot at his word. "Ohkeh. Vahn-hoondrehd povnds of ohre, Pavel mehk mahny strohng, keep feefteen pehrcent. Feezelsnoot ees cohm leeve veet Pavel, lehrn Russky, hyelp veet fohrge, vhen cahn. Szees ees sound ohkeh?"

Fizzlesnoot nods like that happy kid excited to go to the amusement park or something. "That sounds wonderful. You won't be disappointed. So when do you want to go pick up the ore? We can meet up in the morning and start fresh then, with everything. Or, we can grab another cup to go, and we can head out now. Up to you. My schedule is clear from now, till, whenever."

The blacksmith finishes off his flavored drink, nodding. "Szeenk goh, gyet ohre todeh. Go hohme, mehk naheece room fohr Feezeelsnoot. Ees mohr fohr Pavel beeing bahchehlohr nov. Feezelsnoot noht hav prohblehm veet Pavel breeng veemon hohm, no? Because Pavel laheek to breeng veemon hohm. Mehbe tvo, sohmtaheemes."

Fizzlesnoot smiles, "I got no problem with women, bring all ya like home. More the better eh?" with a chuckle of innuendo. "Alright, lemme grab another cup and we'll head on over to my van and pick up everything. Don't know if I have room enough for you to ride inside. But I'm sure I can make a spot for ya before we head out that way."

As he moves to stand, Pavel yanks a big thumb toward the door. "Zoyenka ees vehteeng. Fahst hohrse fohr raheedeeng, good fohr vohrkeeng. Prohbahbly noh so fahst ahs vahn, boot eef Feezelsnoot noht draheev too fahst, noht prohblehm go home. East, neer veelahge."

Fizzlesnoot nods and then makes his way over for another cup, slinging his heavy carpetbag over his shoulder. "It's too icy out there to be driving fast. Going to have to take it easy so I don't wipe out, the roads are slick once you leave the city."

"Da. Vyery bahd veszer. Noht so naheece evehn as Russian veentehr, fohr Pavel oosed to eet." He walks over to the door and opens it, allowing in a blast of cold air and snowflakes. He doesn't seem bothered by the cold, but it does make his wavy hair blow like he's posing for a movie poster. An ordinary-looking guy posing for a movie poster. With the door open, he just looks to the small D-Bee.

Fizzlesnoot waddles out the door held open for him and doesn't seem to mind the cold so much either, but then again, he's thrown on a winter coat over the tweed suit he wears to help. "Tolkeen has some nasty winters, this isn't really all that bad. Just much wetter than up north there. I think I prefer the colder dryer weather than this wet and cold here. Can't keep your clothes clean to save your life right now."

The door having been closed, Pavel walks over to where Zoyenka had been left. She might not be a warhorse, but she's been well-trained, and fairly smart to begin with. Rather than mounting up, he simply takes the giant mare's reigns in his hands and walks beside Fizzlesnoot. Indeed, nineteen hands at the withers makes for a huge animal. "Oh, Feezelsnoot frohm norsz? Da, dryehr and cohldehr bettehr. Baht steel, rhehn ees rhehn. Noht so bahd." He fact that he hasn't bothered to put up any kind of head covering may well indicate that he doesn't mind - even though his clothes themselves are weather-hardy. Not proof, but strong enough that most rain doesn't soak them; even now, rain and snow beads up and falls off. Zoyenka's tack appears to be of gold, and jangles along as they move.

Fizzlesnoot trudges along, the big man and horse having much greater strides than the little D-bee, "Oh yes, I'm from Tolkeen originally. My family sent me away just before the main siege set in. I've been to some interesting places since then, even spent some time up in Chi-town. It was just the burbs, but spent a few years up there before I got tired of the Coalition sweeps interrupting business all the time."

"Oh? Nehveyr seen Chi-Town. Seh no vant to see. Bahd plaheece for bahd mahn." Pavel keeps his own places slow, so as not to hurry the far shorter man and his tiny strides from tiny legs. "Fahmeylee, ees laheek Feezelsnoot? Look laheek Feezelsnoot? Boot... noht lyeave lahekee Feezelsnoot. Strehnge, no?"

Fizzlesnoot nods to the first two of his questions, but shakes his head slightly with the last, "No, not strange. That’s where they settled, but didn't want to take the chance of me getting caught up in all that war up there. My father was too old to travel anymore, and my mother wasn't much better. They knew some people leaving and arranged my passage with them. It was kind of a mishap that ended up me in the Burbs. Neither my family or I knew that was the merchant's destination. Eh? What are ya going to do? Not like I had any other transportation, and I'm not one to travel alone in the wilderness. I'd be lost till something ate me, or the elements got me and then something ate me. I have no wilderness skills, I'm the domestic type."

"Oh. Pavel need fohr leeve een veeldehrness. Move frohm tovn to tovn, plaheece to plaheece, alvehs going. Svarog seh noht syettle, so Pavel's fohrge noht heer forevehr. Do not knov hov lohng, hov shohrt." His big shoulders roll. "Veel knov vhen taheem ees good. Szen move ohn. So da, need to leeve outsaheed. Cahnnot evehn knov hov to mehk vahn, cahr, trook move."

Fizzlesnoot smiles with a nod of understanding to the big man, "That's how I have been since leaving Tolkeen. One place to another, never staying anyone place too long. Only maybe a few years. Is this the first place since home you've traveled to or have you been around?"

"Ah, cohm from Russia, da. Szen end oop eend Fehdehretion to eahst. Pavel move ahround een Fehdehretion, boot Keengsdehle ees ohnly plaheece outseyd of szaht." He looks around at the city which they're exiting. "Noht laheek. Steh outsaheede valls, mahny bettehr."

Fizzlesnoot has to stop just outside of the city gates to pick up his van which is pretty close to where main foot travel in and out of the city takes place. A rusty bucket of tin and bolts, but it serves it's purpose. A dual purpose of transportation, living accommodations and shop front. "So what was it like living in the Federation territories? I was never able to get further east than Merctown. I have to say it was one of the more pleasant places I lived, despite their being Coalition still there. I guess they are not so tough when not in charge of the place. I am liking Kingsdale though, its a much more accepting atmosphere, know what I mean? Well at least from the places I've been."

"Fehdehretion? Noht so good. Noht tehrreeble. Pavel mehk szeengs fohr nohrmahl peepohl." He finally climbs up onto his mount. "Oszers, szey noht leesten to Pavel vhen seh 'no.' Vahnt vehpohns from Pavel, boot Pavel noht mehk fohr bahd peepohl. Szees mehk peepohl ehngry veet Pavel, ahnd Pavel has to faheet to keep sehf. Vas noht good laheef. Mahny bahd. Boot steh becahse nohrmahl peephohl need szeengs Pavel mehk for szem."

Fizzlesnoot nods climbing up into his van and rolling down the side window so they can still talk, if they go slow enough that is. Pulling out into the road, he keeps to the side and goes however fast Pavel decides or is safe for his vehicle to travel. And its not a very strong vehicle, it smokes, makes noises, rattles and vibrates. But it will get him where he is going, always has.

The blacksmith jumps off of Zoyenka's back, and blushes slightly, having forgotten to take the ore. As a good draught horse, Zoyenka has no trouble with a measly one-hundred pounds, and there are plenty of saddlebags to carry it. Eventually, Pavel settles himself comfortably on the large leather saddle. It's an unusual style. Not western, and definitely not English. Typically Russian. Cossack, in particular. He gives Fizzlesnoot and his van a wave, calling out as loudly as he can, "Pavel need fohr go, gyet hohme naheecehr befohr shov fohr Feezelsnoot. Yoo veht heer fohr... szertee meenootes? Szen Pavel have plaheece naheece." Then he gives Zoyenka a gentle kick with his heels, and the two of them are off.