"Here we are, Komiteia!" The wagon stopped with a bump, and she was the first to jump off. No news of anything unusual from the reports, so she safely assumed things were alright for now. She navigated the streets and busy alleys until she arrived at the market street. Here the sidewalks were lined with quaint little shops and cafes where the locals leisurely spent their afternoons. On the corner of the crossroads was an antiques' boutique called Tilburn's. Ducking as she came in, the bells hung on the door jingled as she entered. "Welcome, welcome! What can I do for you?" A halfling man with spectacles and a greying crop of hair emerged from the back room and walked to the counter. Taking out a small, carefully wrapped parcel, she unfolded a bundle wrapped in silk cloth onto the worn oak surface. "I'd like you to find me a buyer for these. This is a set of hairpins and combs made from various materials. I don't mind if you sell them individually, but if you could keep the pins together I'd appreciate it."

Mr. Tilburn leaned over the counter edge as he took a look. "My word, these are extraordinary! The craftsmanship is superb, and the quality is excellent! I haven't seen ornaments made with tortoise shell in years. The pearl strands are perfectly round, and the jade is a rare color. Not to mention, the combs are made of solid mother-of-pearl. Heirlooms any family would be proud of, no doubt! Are you sure you don't want to reconsider? They would be a wonderful dowry gift." She nodded. "Yes, I intend to sell. I'm glad for your approval of their quality. Is there a fee for an appraisal?" 

"For you? No, of course not! You've never brought me anything less than a genuine article. Quality like that can't be falsified. I'll keep these safe, and fetch as high as a price as I can for you." The old man pulled out a velvet-lined box and gently transferred the ornaments to it before carrying it to the back room. While he was gone, she walked about the room and glossed over what he had on display. Nothing different than usual, mostly old books and silverware. Once she found an old music box made with beautiful colored glass, and purchased it as a present for a friend. Occasionally you'd find something interesting, but stock rotated slowly in shops like these. Most of what Mr. Tilburn had came from estates that had no will, or purchased off relic hunters. This was just a side business for him since he retired. Before starting up the boutique, he and his wife used to run an upscale inn in the newer districts. After she passed away, he sold the building and opened a new place here. 

It had been quite the ordeal for Drake managing to get back to Parvpora since his little magic incident.  What should have been a simple spell ended up flinging him to the other side of the world, leaving him stranded in a land he had no knowledge of.  By pure chance, and a few near death experiences, he came into enough coin to travel back through Canelux, and finally, across the Nyella back to Parvpora.  Unfortunately, that had wiped most of his funds, leaving him, once more, coin-less.

Now, let's see…  Drake thought to himself as his silver green eyes scanned his map.  I just need passage North.  I could probably manage on foot, worst case.  Maybe look for a few odd jobs here and there to hitch a ride if I come across a traveling merchant.  He sighed, pulling his now barely fitting cloak tighter around him.  Ever since his magical mishap and a near death experience, Drake had half transformed into a black dragon.  While he had managed to force the majority of his body into human form, his wings refused to cooperate.  

Drake checked his coin pouch, and sighed.  I guess I should pawn something off.  I do have a few precious stones I found.  Maybe they're worth something.  He made his way through the cobble streets, and upon finding a local, asked for directions.  Following them, he found himself standing in front of a small shop; Tilburn's.  I just hope they're worth something.  He ducked into the store.  The owner was apparently already busy with another customer, so Drake took this time to glance around the store.  These are all so interesting.  If I had the coin to spare, I might even have gotten something.  I do owe Magnus and Lord Drae…though, what could you even get for a God?

The customer and owner seemed to talk a moment more, and then the owner left to go to the back room.  This is taking a bit longer than I thought.  No problem though.  But I am getting hungry.  He glanced over to the customer, and nodded. 

"Find anything interesting?" Drake asked.  "I don't normally find myself in shops like this too often, so I don't entirely know what I'm looking at personally.  These things though, they seem intriguing enough."

While she waited she tapped her foot while crossing her arms. It wasn't because she was impatient; it was a way for her to let go of that excess energy and fill the silence. Somebody else came in behind her, and she gave a quick glance before continuing to wait for Mr. Tilburn. Nobody knew her real identity here, since she never publicly showed her face as a deity. Personally it was better this way. She'd be able to see people as they were without that pesky title distorting their behavior. So far she must be doing something right, as her place wasn't flooded with visitors. Only people who really wanted to come or needed her had entered Antikythera. 

"Find anything interesting?" The man asked. He wasn't a frequent visitor of antique shops, and it was noticeable. Most people wouldn't give it a second thought unless they had a reason to come in. "Not yet." She gave her response, using as little words as needed. "Sometimes he has some real treasures in stock, not just old dishes or forks." The halfling man returned and saw the newcomer, and gave him a warm smile. "Ah welcome! A new face I see." He then gave a quick aside to her, before going to help the customer. "After this one, could I ask a favor from you? It's about the new stock I just received last week." Mr. Tilburn then went to the counter with his eyes on the tall man. "How can I help you?" 

Shiloh stepped aside and went to browse the shelves again, leaving the owner with the customer. She was waiting to hear the door's tell-tale bells again, signalling his exit. Mr. Tilburn didn't usually ask her for anything, so she wasn't sure what it was. Staring at an old silver serving tray, she could see the other side of the shop reflected in its engraved surface. The wear on it and the tarnishing meant it was at least a decade old, or used often. The design wasn't from Baltil, probably from a local smithy here. The folk of Komiteia liked their pastoral scenes and leisurely lives. They were pretty friendly, compared to everywhere else. Baltil wasn't so bad once the dwarves got to know you, and if you had common interests they'd take you in. Humans and elves were the hardest to sit with, but that was more of a personal thing. 

Finally.  I'm starting to feel dizzy…  He hushed his stomach as he started discussing the potential worth of the stones he had found on his journeys with the store owner, Mr. Tllburn,  Despite the negotiations going fairly well, Drake was disheartened to find that his small collection wasn't worth anything, at least in this shop.  Well, it was worth a shot.  Drake thought to himself as he thanked Mr. Tilburn with a quick bow, and started to leave.  

The owner was more than nice enough to direct Drake to a different shop down the road, which specialized in more common materials, so Drake had his mind set to head there next.  However, something caught Drake's eye before he could leave, and he turned to look.  Huh.  An old sword.  He glanced to the owner, "Is it fine if I browse for a moment longer?  I won't be long.  Unless…"  He looked to the first customer, and then back to the owner.  "Oh.  If I'm interrupting something, I don't mind coming back."  He smiled, "Sorry.  I'll just take my leave."

I still don't really know how to pick up on social cues here. I didn't realize traveling around like this would present so many problems.  Maybe I should invest in some books or classes.  …though that would require coin.  Why does everything have to cost so much….

Mr. Tilburn was quick to clear up the misunderstanding. "Oh of course! Take your time, there's no need to rush. I'm not exactly busy this time of day anyway." He then motioned for Shiloh to follow, and unlatched the built-in wooden gate on the counter separating the front and back ends of the shop. Once she was behind the counter the halfing latched it and led her to a storage room. Inside were crates and boxes of various curios and antiques. There were things like scroll paintings from Karith and Ataiyo, fans made from exotic birds' feathers, and carved figurines that resembled animals. It was like someone threw the most odd and unusual trinkets in a basket, making this room. "So what do you need help with again?" She asked. 

"I don't want to impose, but you see a learned man with a sizable amount of wealth passed away recently. He didn't leave a will and had no living relatives, so I had one of my nephews run over and buy a few choice items at the auction." He explained. "And what does that have to do with me?" Shiloh continued, crossing her arms. "Well, I was hoping if you could check them, see if they're cursed or anything." The boutique owner fiddled with his thumbs as he stated his request. "I wouldn't consider myself qualified for that." The rogue bluntly replied. "But you've got a good eye for things! And you've worked several jobs all over Revaliir, haven't you? Even if you're not a master of magic, you have experience. And sometimes experience is a better teacher than an entire set of encyclopedias. Has your intuition ever proved itself wrong?" The halfling responded, with a quick retort.

With a sigh, she thought about it for a few moments. "Fine, I'll take a look. I can't guarantee the accuracy of my results, but I'll at least tell you which stuff isn't magical. So what am I looking at here?" Mr. Tilburn brought her to a large bin with various items. Beside it was a large frame covered by a cloth, and some statues cast in bronze. Taking each item out by itself, she would hold it away from the others to see if she could sense a magical signature coming off of them. Most of them had nothing, which was expected. The items which she determined were 'normal' were taken by Mr. Tilburn to the appropriate shelves. All that was left were a handful of objects: a ring, pair of brass-rimmed spectacles, and the large frame that was covered by a cloth. "I feel something coming off of these. The glasses aren't giving off much, so I think it should be fine. The ring isn't making me feel sick either, but I wouldn't risk selling it without having a priest or appraiser look at it."

But there was a very powerful signature emanating off of that wrapped frame. "…Is this a painting or a mirror? The frame is pretty big." The halfling pushed his spectacles up his nose. "Ah yes, it's a painting I believe. I think the man who owned it purchased it quite recently before his passing. The people who went to auction off his belongings said they found it in his personal collection. It's had many owners in its time, or so I've heard. The previous owner wasn't the first one to have this painting." That set of some warning bells in her mind, and she was starting to feel an uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. "Do you know if anything unusual happened to the previous owners when they had it?" Mr. Tilburn shook his head. "Not particularly. It's changed hands quite a bit. But out of all the owners, it would seem that a strange sickness would befall the mistress of the house shortly after." 

That was not a comforting sign. "I know this is off topic, but do you know what the name of the last owner was?" She interrupted. "I believe it was Milton Harrington Jr." The boutique owner recalled, stroking his chin. "Thanks, you've been a big help. Oh by the way…I wouldn't suggest selling this thing yet. Could you keep it on reserve and not mention it to any of your customers for a while?" She knew Mr. Tilburn wasn't superstitious, but selling this to an unsuspecting client would guarantee a repeat of what might have happened to the late Mr. Harrington.

Komiteia.  Damon enjoyed making visits to the city known for being a majority population of halflings.  The ranger stood off to the side of one of the busier streets.  Blue orbs slowly gazed over the on goings of the merchants and patrons.  He enjoyed listening to snip-its of different conversations as he stood silently.  Being alone on the road had its perks, but it also had many pitfalls.  The body guard currently had no employer to spend his time with to keep his mind busy.  Even worse yet, there was no one for his to hold conversations with to keep him amused.  Damon often came off as a stand off individual, but truthfully he did enjoy the company of others.  It was his occupation that made it difficult for him to become close with other people.  

He could not help but smile as he watched a father buy a small treat for his daughter and continue on their way through the market.  Heartwarming interactions filled the market.  Damon needed an uplifting mood considering recent events.  He still was confused on certain things, and denial was a good place to stay for the time being.  The archer moved away from his small hiding spot to mingle in the growing crowd.  Green cloak was kept close to its master's body in an effort to not get tangled up in the legs of other shoppers.  A small hunger pang twisted in his stomach, but it was not intense enough to motivate him to do anything about it.  What did motivate him to change his course was the sight of a small shop that he had not truly noticed before on past visits to the city.

Lifting a brow in curiosity, Damon changed his course to enter the shop. He made a quiet entrance as there were already other customers inside.  There was no purchase he had distinctly in mind, but with spare silver to his name…well there was nothing wrong with a frivolous purchase here and there. He glanced at the young woman who was speaking with the merchant.  Without realizing it, his gaze drifted to a large item that was wrapped up from sight.  All of his instincts began to poke at him to not trust the item and to keep a healthy distance away from the item.   It was rude to listen in on the conversation that the two were having, but Damon was thinking the same thing that the woman was.  The painting was not of the safe variety.  "The painting should be destroyed if possible," he mused allowed quietly.  

With the approval of the store owner, Drake had decided to take a second stroll through the shop, his curiosity leading him back to the sword he saw earlier.  As Mr. Tilburn and the woman had their discussions, Drake examined the antique weapon with a careful eye.  The craftsmanship is amazing, but…  He let out a weighted sigh.  It was ceremonial.  No use in combat.  With a huff, he crossed his arms.  Interesting items, all right.  Just nothing that I'm interested in.  But that doesn't mean that I won't find something else here. 

The young man barely noticed the archer slip into the store.  His focus was on the next curiosity down the line.  But something was nagging him, in the back of his head.  There it is again.  That ominous feeling of fate pulling me.  He frowned, and turned his attention to the current occupants of the store.  Although he had only recently unlocked his potential to use magic, he had at least mastered the basic concepts of blocking out magical signals as not to overload his senses.  Release.  He consciously made an effort, and let his sixth sense prowl through the store.  Nope.  Too much…  He swooned slightly, and shut his eyes.  There was too much magic in the area, and he had little control of the overload to his senses.  

Still, something was bothering him.  It was about then he overheard the conversation about the painting.  Drake moved a little closer, catching the tale end of the meeting.  So it's the painting.  He narrowed his eyes at the covered piece in the back.  You know…I should do something about it, but…  He turned away, and started for the exit.  I'd rather not deal with it right now.  I've already been through enough at this point.  I really just need a break….

Then, a thought crossed her mind. If she left it here, what if the bewitched painting went after the retired innkeeper? Shiloh felt uneasy leaving a likely cursed item unsupervised, and decided to risk her neck. After all, death wasn't permanent for her–for the time being. Better her than somebody less equipped to handle something like this, right? "Actually…on second thought." Forcing aside her hesitation, she pushed herself to go against common sense. "I'd like to purchase the painting–for somebody I know." She was trying very hard to make it look a little less obvious. After specifically warning Mr. Tilburn against selling it, now she had to pretend that there was a client who held a great interest in such things. The halfling rubbed his nose and scratched his head at the sudden change in tune. "Ah, you don't say? So you know a client of yours who might have a passing fancy in this old hand-me-down of a piece?" "Yes." She felt the little fragments of willingness still residing within her slowly die on the inside. It was a good thing she had a poker face most of the time.

It was for a good cause, she tried to convince herself. Unfortunately the last time she tried to do something out of goodwill it almost got her caught in a swarming hotbed of pirates. She still hated that dumb bird and could remember its despicable cry to this very day. She'd better find an exorcist afterwards. Mr. Tilburn wasn't entirely sold on the idea, so she had to use that card. "I'll pay you…" Leaning in she whispered into his ear a sum that made the halfling's heart nearly leap out of his chest. "…My word!" At this point she was surprised she still had dignity to lose, but one never knew until the situation called for it. She was basically paying him to get her almost killed…this was a new low. Being a good Samaritan was hard sometimes.

"I'll write up an official IOU note until I can send in the payment. I can give you a fraction of the sum today, and the rest will come in shortly." Within minutes she had drawn up an official document from scratch and both parties had signed, along with receiving their own respective copies. This was literally worse than throwing money into the abyss. With a pained, wry smile she was now the begrudging owner of an infernal canvas. "Alright, it's all settled. I wish the best of luck to your patron you have in mind!" The boutique owner said, pushing his spectacles up his nose. "Yes, soon it will be where it so rightfully belongs…" Like a raging fire, or the smoldering lava-filled caldera of Apoy's volcano. Maybe it was the gut-wrenching despair over consciously making such an absolutely terrible decision, but she was feeling sick already. She tucked the awful thing under her arm and prepared to exit the establishment as soon as possible. The sand in the proverbial hourglass was starting to run, and she needed to find as much as she could on the details of late Mr. Harrington Jr.'s demise.

The unsettled feeling could not be shaken or swayed from the depth of his chest. He moved over to one of the merchant’s shelves to check the merchandise stored upon it. There were some very interesting items that were on sale. Damon was surprised at the level of stock the merchant had, but he could not focus his attention on the possible purchases he could make. Eyes continued to move back to the woman and the painting. He did not want to have the item any closer to him than necessary, but also it felt dangerous. If the woman continued to inquire the way she was…it was possible that she could get tangled in with it pointlessly. The other customer seemed to have a similar concern for the item in question as his attention was upon it as well.

Damon moved over to the other side of the shop in order to watch the transaction take place from a better vantage point. The frown appeared on his face without him even realizing it. She managed to purchase the painting, and it felt as if there was a flare of malice. By trade Damon was a personal body guard. To have someone put themselves in danger at the drop of a hat in front of him was disheartening. A short glance was shot at the other man in the shop, but the ranger moved quickly to stand a short distance from the new owner of the painting.

“I know that I am probably out of line, but I feel reluctant to allow you to deal with that on your own,” he said with a smile and head tilt. “I don’t know what is up with that thing. I am certain there is something malicious with it. Would you permit me to help for the time being?” Damon took one step back and held out his hand in invitation. As he took a closer notice to the new owner, he couldn’t help but feel a power radiating off of her. The phoenix was not sure what it was. He shook it off instead of trying to look too deeply into that portion. For now, he needed to make sure that the woman survived whatever was radiating out of that painting.

Things had started to happen right as Drake had made for the door.  Unavoidable fate.  He cursed silently as the events were set in motion.  I'm starting to think that I'm cursed.  He glanced back to see the woman finally convince Tilburn to hand over the painting.  The other patron moved in, whether it be pride or what not, and stated his intentions to offer aid.  Drake yet again cursed under his breath.  This wasn't just a normal purchase.  This wasn't just chance.  It was all falling in to place, as if some unseen hand had guided him.

"Fine, fine…" He sighed, and started towards the back.  "I can't in good conscious let this go either," he muttered to himself.  Even if it does keep me from getting back to Lord Drae and Magnus.  The reality was, though, that Drake felt himself to be in no position to help.  The woman clearly knew what she was doing, and the other shop goer seemed confident in his stride.  Still, there was something happening, and despite his earlier apprehension, there was definitely no avoiding it.  Not anymore.

"Excuse me," Drake said, looking at the other two.  "But, I…well, it might not be needed, but I can help to, if need be."  Experience seemed to radiate from both of them, which made his statement feel completely foolish.  It almost felt like he was sticking his nose where it didn't belong, but at this point, Drake didn't really care.  Question is…what exactly can be done about it at this point?