Ink Wars - Navahla [ Open: Attn Finn/Maka ]

[Logen Wolfsbane]

    The city was still foreign to him due to his two years abroad in the Knockskulls. Before that, it would have been home for the stray. The Canterly Lows would have tugged at his heart strings for all the memories therein. And likewise with the Heart. At least there were people there that would at the very least offer a smile and share a meal. Everywhere else had nothing to offer him. Memories could motivate, but not sustain.

    It was that angst of depression that pushed him to relearn the city. It had been a few months since his return and it was high time he got back to the living. Socializing only on the jobs he went on for Maria would not make for good friends and new faces. So he got out of his reclusive room and went for the marketed trades. It would be the best way to find new things and new people.

    Descending the staircase of the Heart, Logen was dressed in only simple attire. Tarnished, brown leather bucket boots weathered from travel though solid in the soles covered his feet and most of his calves below the knees. Blue twill breeches that laced up the front and sides covered the rest of his legs and original sin. A dark green linen chemise with the sleeves torn off, flowing and unlaced covered his chest and was secured by a heavy leather belt with dual straps through buckles. His war gear was left in his room, locked away. The only weapon on him was the saex knife, sheathed and strapped to his quad and hooked to his belt.

    Hana'lee had watched the Northman appear at the staircase and then head on out of the door. She really couldn't recall seeing Logen without his sword. Ever. The sight and thought had her dwelling there for a moment, seemingly perplexed by it. Reality would return to her and she'd get back to her duties at the Heart.

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    Logen started off heading to the northeast, passing north of Wendhammer Weapons along one of the main roads. He knew this path would take him in to the market district and knew it to be the most direct. Along the way he would hear the criers of business, advertising for a few shops. Two wanting to lead him away from the market to Greenlord Run for novelty drinks, wine, spirits and tobacco. The Tilted Saucer and Rosewater Inn didn't have what he was looking for at this time and so he carried on in to the markets. Once arrived he came to a quick conclusion of self being. He no longer stuck out like a sore thumb as the citizens of Navahla had become more and more differentiated. He was larger than most as a human but now there were orcs and elves in higher concentration to not even mention the other races.

    Further on, he'd bare witness to different shops and kiosks, all offering different selections. He wanted a new tattoo. Something to reflect on who he had become and something he has always been. So even though his mind had been made up as to who he was going to go see, he was still curious to see what other shops might have offered. It was because of this that he chanced upon a door to a shop. One that wasn't screaming advertisements, one that kept things simple and humble. Fine Shalottan Craftsmanship.

    With nothing to describe what lie within the walls, Logen decided to see for himself. His hand reached for the door handle, gave a twist and pressed it open. The large man stepped inside, ducking down just out of habit. Once inside, he'd look about at curiosities and also look for the person or people in charge.

[Dorian Thales]

Logen may or may not feel the tug of magic as he stepped through the door into that shop. Of course it was warded! Any shop worth its weight in dirt had some wards on it, but if he got through the door at all, well..that just meant the wards weren't meant to keep him out! There was no door chime or anything to indicate that it'd opened to people who might be in back, which was of course where they must be, considering the place was open and not a person was visible.

There was, however, an inhabitant near the entryway...a very large wolfhound! It was lying on the floor, head resting on its forepaws, and it lifted that head just a bit when the fellow walked in. As for the important parts of the shop..there were plenty of display cases and weapon racks, and dummies with various bits of armor to display his wares. Pistols, knives, swords, light armors, a suit of a heavier metal armor..not quite plate, but it was the only suit of non-light armor visible! There was also a jewelry case, and a book (and pictures on the wall) with samples of the sort of artwork one should expect, were they going to get a tattoo done.

Nothing was priced, of course, because Finn didn't tend to sell his displays..they were there to show off what he could do, he preferred to custom-make things that people actually purchased! And of course, everything on display had a very Shalottan (or Irish if you prefer) feel to it, whether it was the artwork, engravings on the weapons or armor, or just the style they were done in.

The wolfhound, assuming Logen didn't simply walk out shortly after coming in, eventually rose to its feet and padded over to the counter, barking one loud bark towards the door that led to the back. A voice came shortly after the bark, rambling in Castillon. Translation, in case Logen spoke it: "I heard the feckin door ya ingrate, I'm comin. Y'can't just put all this shite down y'know!"

The dog turned in a circle, eyed Logen and moved over to sniff at him. He was up, may as well have a smell of things.