Where's Edgart? (Solo)
Posted: Wed Aug 18, 2021 10:28 am
Thread Title 
Searing 1, 121
It was early morning, as Franky walked down Willowby Street. It was a holiday today, the first day of summer, though the festivities wouldn't begin until later. As such, Franky had a special treat for patrons later today. The tavern didn't open until later, but he wasn't done working. He rarely ever was. No, on this day, Franky was on his way to see one of the most reputable and well liked people in all of East End.
Edgart, the man that ran the only clinic of any prestige. Franky hoped to discuss some propositions with the man, perhaps discuss a few of a his business contacts. Franky suspected the man might be more amenable to doing business with a Hobgoblin such as himself. Most doctors, in Franky's experience, were open the notion that all people were equal. It seemed as good a place as any to start.
As Franky approached the center of Willowby, he saw the closed sign on the clinic door from here. That was strange. He'd always heard that the clinic never closed. Maybe he'd heard wrong. Franky deepened his hands into his pockets, ducking his hat covered head, enjoying the slow stroll up to the door. The sign didn't give any reason or indication of when it might reopen.
Franky harrumphed, turning on heel to begin the walk back to his own neighborhood, when he saw a young, human boy coming out of an alley carrying a box and a tied stack of newspapers. Franky strolled over, giving a gruff, "Mornin'. How much?" The boy looked up at him, and Franky saw no sign of disgust or fear that many residents of Zaichaer bore when they saw him. "T'ree coppas." Franky fished the coins out of his pouch, handing them to the boy, who gave him the first paper.
Franky picked a wall nearby, reading the front page under the lamplight nearby. He kept close enough to the boy who proceeded to stand upon his box, holding a newspaper before him. Franky's eyes scanned the road, seeing that people were just now waking up, getting ready to go to work. Interesting.
Without looking up from the paper, "Work this corner every day?"
The boy, also not breaking his pose, "Yup. All mine."
Franky smirked, ignoring the useless gossip in the paper, but continued to keep up the appearance. "Ever seen Edgart's close before?"
"Nope."
A silent chuckle from Franky. Tight lipped. He plucked a silver from his pouch, offering it to the boy. The boy took it, bit it, then pocketed it. "Nope, he neva closes. Too busy helpin' people." Franky could see this boy was protective of the man. "Maybe he needed a day off, all that work will crush your body."
The boy broke his pose to look at Franky, a serious look on his face. "Man, you Knobbas really don't no shite. He ain't come back from the Hall for weeks. Jackboots prolly think he caused that blight goin' 'round." Franky nodded slightly, indicating he understood. "They idiots for t'inkin' that. Edgart never hurt nobody."
The boy returned to his working pose. And Franky turned back to his paper, "How much you make selling papers here on this corner? It's a pretty good spot."
The boy smiled in pride, "One coppa to me, one to the printa, and one to Larry."
"Who's Larry?"
"A jackboot that walks this beat. He keeps the other boys from takin' my spot."
Franky nodded, "Smart."
The boy beamed as Franky stroked his ego. "An orphan's gotta be smart."
Franky laughed into his paper. "That's a good joke, boy."
The boy's face grew red, "Ain't a joke, you frogfucker."
Franky snorted again, "Your hair is clean, you're getting bathed at least twice a week. Your shoes are scuffed but your clothes are clean. Your face says you don't miss a meal. You know how to read, and you're smarter than a street urchin would be. You ain't no orphan, though I suspect saying so helps to sell papers. Did your dead parents die in the military too?"
The boy glared at Franky, "Fine. They ain't dead. They're just boring. They make charcoal."
Franky snorted again, "I'll have to remember the military bit though."
Now the boy had a sly grin on his face, and Franky pressed onward, "Would you like to earn some extra coins? You seem like the type to try and get out from home."
The boy waited, selling a paper to a human woman that hurried past Franky, trying to look in any direction but his. "What ya offerin?"
"Bring me one of those bundles of papers every morning, except on the Dragon King's day. I'll match your three coppers rate."
He could see the boy doing calculations, "Why would you pay that extra coin? I ain't gonna need Larry just to sell to you."
Franky grinned, "Well, consider those extra coins as your fee for telling me anything that us Knobbas might not hear. I think we both know that real news ain't printed on this shitpaper."
The boy continued to think and calculate, "Why?"
Franky looked over at the boy now, "You should know. Paying attention is survival, real knowledge is how you've done so well for yourself. I'm just doin' it too." Franky turned back to not reading his paper. "I'll even toss an extra silver in if you tell me when Edgart gets back."
"Fine, but you pay the day before. Where am I taking them to?"
"The Hobbled Gobbler, tavern up in the Bulge. Know the area?"
"Yeah, I know it. If no one's there to receive the papers, that's not my problem. I'll leave them on your door, rain or shine. If you don't pay me the day before, you don't get the bundle, and you'll have to come to me to renew our deal. Got it?"
"Sounds good to me, boy." Franky got the coins out for tomorrow's bundle. "I'll see you bright and early."
The boy nodded, pocketing the coins, just as a city guard walked up, in his cleanly pressed uniform, cudgel hanging on his hip. "Good morning, Derdan." He then looked over at Franky, a plainly wore sneer on his face, "This thing bothering you?"
"'eya Larry. Nah, he's good. He got lost but gave me some coin for directions."
Larry took a paper without paying, glaring at Franky as he turned to leave. "Good. Wouldn't want it to linger for too long here. Could be bad for business."
And with that, Larry was off, continuing his route.
"Think Larry has any friends that might enjoy coin more than they hate goblins?"
The boy laughed, "Doubt it, but I'll see what I can dig up."
Franky chuckled, folding the paper and returning it to the boy when no one was looking. "Get you a few more coins for that one, eh?"
Franky slipped his hands back into his pockets, and started down the cobblestone road, making his way back to the Knob. He figured he could probably sell papers at the tavern for four coppers a pop easy enough. It would be a small profit, but really, having a set of eyes and ears was much more valuable anyways.
Franky started whistling a tune from his time in the service, plucking his smoke box from his pouch. He pulled out a cigarette, hand rolled himself last night, and struck a match on the box. He lit it up, taking a long drag of the pungent Goblin Tobacco. He continued to whistle, leaving purple puffs in his wake that smelled of licorice and mold. Today was a holiday, it was time to enjoy himself. See what else he could get into until it was time for Wartfrog to make their Zaichaerian debut.
As Franky left Willowby Road, entering the Knob, he tipped his hat at each of the vendors that were setting up for a day of selling. He stayed out of the way of the wagons splashing in the mud, skirted around the builders, and all the while his eyes scanned the road the entire way back to his tavern. And the whole way he hadn't seen a single paper seller. Not one. He counted five on Willowby Road alone.
He could sell the papers for five coppers then. That sounded good.
Time Stamp
Searing 1, 121
It was early morning, as Franky walked down Willowby Street. It was a holiday today, the first day of summer, though the festivities wouldn't begin until later. As such, Franky had a special treat for patrons later today. The tavern didn't open until later, but he wasn't done working. He rarely ever was. No, on this day, Franky was on his way to see one of the most reputable and well liked people in all of East End.
Edgart, the man that ran the only clinic of any prestige. Franky hoped to discuss some propositions with the man, perhaps discuss a few of a his business contacts. Franky suspected the man might be more amenable to doing business with a Hobgoblin such as himself. Most doctors, in Franky's experience, were open the notion that all people were equal. It seemed as good a place as any to start.
As Franky approached the center of Willowby, he saw the closed sign on the clinic door from here. That was strange. He'd always heard that the clinic never closed. Maybe he'd heard wrong. Franky deepened his hands into his pockets, ducking his hat covered head, enjoying the slow stroll up to the door. The sign didn't give any reason or indication of when it might reopen.
Franky harrumphed, turning on heel to begin the walk back to his own neighborhood, when he saw a young, human boy coming out of an alley carrying a box and a tied stack of newspapers. Franky strolled over, giving a gruff, "Mornin'. How much?" The boy looked up at him, and Franky saw no sign of disgust or fear that many residents of Zaichaer bore when they saw him. "T'ree coppas." Franky fished the coins out of his pouch, handing them to the boy, who gave him the first paper.
Franky picked a wall nearby, reading the front page under the lamplight nearby. He kept close enough to the boy who proceeded to stand upon his box, holding a newspaper before him. Franky's eyes scanned the road, seeing that people were just now waking up, getting ready to go to work. Interesting.
Without looking up from the paper, "Work this corner every day?"
The boy, also not breaking his pose, "Yup. All mine."
Franky smirked, ignoring the useless gossip in the paper, but continued to keep up the appearance. "Ever seen Edgart's close before?"
"Nope."
A silent chuckle from Franky. Tight lipped. He plucked a silver from his pouch, offering it to the boy. The boy took it, bit it, then pocketed it. "Nope, he neva closes. Too busy helpin' people." Franky could see this boy was protective of the man. "Maybe he needed a day off, all that work will crush your body."
The boy broke his pose to look at Franky, a serious look on his face. "Man, you Knobbas really don't no shite. He ain't come back from the Hall for weeks. Jackboots prolly think he caused that blight goin' 'round." Franky nodded slightly, indicating he understood. "They idiots for t'inkin' that. Edgart never hurt nobody."
The boy returned to his working pose. And Franky turned back to his paper, "How much you make selling papers here on this corner? It's a pretty good spot."
The boy smiled in pride, "One coppa to me, one to the printa, and one to Larry."
"Who's Larry?"
"A jackboot that walks this beat. He keeps the other boys from takin' my spot."
Franky nodded, "Smart."
The boy beamed as Franky stroked his ego. "An orphan's gotta be smart."
Franky laughed into his paper. "That's a good joke, boy."
The boy's face grew red, "Ain't a joke, you frogfucker."
Franky snorted again, "Your hair is clean, you're getting bathed at least twice a week. Your shoes are scuffed but your clothes are clean. Your face says you don't miss a meal. You know how to read, and you're smarter than a street urchin would be. You ain't no orphan, though I suspect saying so helps to sell papers. Did your dead parents die in the military too?"
The boy glared at Franky, "Fine. They ain't dead. They're just boring. They make charcoal."
Franky snorted again, "I'll have to remember the military bit though."
Now the boy had a sly grin on his face, and Franky pressed onward, "Would you like to earn some extra coins? You seem like the type to try and get out from home."
The boy waited, selling a paper to a human woman that hurried past Franky, trying to look in any direction but his. "What ya offerin?"
"Bring me one of those bundles of papers every morning, except on the Dragon King's day. I'll match your three coppers rate."
He could see the boy doing calculations, "Why would you pay that extra coin? I ain't gonna need Larry just to sell to you."
Franky grinned, "Well, consider those extra coins as your fee for telling me anything that us Knobbas might not hear. I think we both know that real news ain't printed on this shitpaper."
The boy continued to think and calculate, "Why?"
Franky looked over at the boy now, "You should know. Paying attention is survival, real knowledge is how you've done so well for yourself. I'm just doin' it too." Franky turned back to not reading his paper. "I'll even toss an extra silver in if you tell me when Edgart gets back."
"Fine, but you pay the day before. Where am I taking them to?"
"The Hobbled Gobbler, tavern up in the Bulge. Know the area?"
"Yeah, I know it. If no one's there to receive the papers, that's not my problem. I'll leave them on your door, rain or shine. If you don't pay me the day before, you don't get the bundle, and you'll have to come to me to renew our deal. Got it?"
"Sounds good to me, boy." Franky got the coins out for tomorrow's bundle. "I'll see you bright and early."
The boy nodded, pocketing the coins, just as a city guard walked up, in his cleanly pressed uniform, cudgel hanging on his hip. "Good morning, Derdan." He then looked over at Franky, a plainly wore sneer on his face, "This thing bothering you?"
"'eya Larry. Nah, he's good. He got lost but gave me some coin for directions."
Larry took a paper without paying, glaring at Franky as he turned to leave. "Good. Wouldn't want it to linger for too long here. Could be bad for business."
And with that, Larry was off, continuing his route.
"Think Larry has any friends that might enjoy coin more than they hate goblins?"
The boy laughed, "Doubt it, but I'll see what I can dig up."
Franky chuckled, folding the paper and returning it to the boy when no one was looking. "Get you a few more coins for that one, eh?"
Franky slipped his hands back into his pockets, and started down the cobblestone road, making his way back to the Knob. He figured he could probably sell papers at the tavern for four coppers a pop easy enough. It would be a small profit, but really, having a set of eyes and ears was much more valuable anyways.
Franky started whistling a tune from his time in the service, plucking his smoke box from his pouch. He pulled out a cigarette, hand rolled himself last night, and struck a match on the box. He lit it up, taking a long drag of the pungent Goblin Tobacco. He continued to whistle, leaving purple puffs in his wake that smelled of licorice and mold. Today was a holiday, it was time to enjoy himself. See what else he could get into until it was time for Wartfrog to make their Zaichaerian debut.
As Franky left Willowby Road, entering the Knob, he tipped his hat at each of the vendors that were setting up for a day of selling. He stayed out of the way of the wagons splashing in the mud, skirted around the builders, and all the while his eyes scanned the road the entire way back to his tavern. And the whole way he hadn't seen a single paper seller. Not one. He counted five on Willowby Road alone.
He could sell the papers for five coppers then. That sounded good.
