The Merchant

Standing outside the inn stood a man in a blue jacket made of some light material and dark pants bearing small strips of gold cloth. He did not appear to be a local and he stood rather tall. He was reading a notice posted on a wall regarding The Highland Confederacy.

"I sense a bit of resentment," chuckles the man.

The man turns from the sign and goes through the door to the inn. He approaches the bar and orders a drink. He takes his drink to a table near the bar and sits, apearing to be deep in thought. The man takes out a loosly wraped cigar and puffs without really paying attention to his smoke or drink. The bar keep walks past and the man beckons him over.

"What can ye tell me about that notice outside your inn? The one about the Irish and their lot."

The barkeep replies, "I'm fraid I don't know much more than whats posted there."

The man says, "Anyone about that may seem to have been discussing it?"

The barkeep shrugs, "Don't guess I'd paid much attention to whats being said. I just run me bar"

With a dismissive wave the man gruffs, "What kind of barkeep are you? Half the patrons of a bar come in here for information."

The man goes back to his cigar.

After overhearing the newcomer's conversation, one of the nearby patrons finishes off his drink and heads towards the exit. Keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him to avoid any eye contact he heads out into the street and closes the door behind him.

As the barkeep walked off, the man in the blue jacket scanned the room. A gent not far off got up and began to walk out.
"Now why would he be looking at his feet?" the man whispered to himself.
The man was fairly certian the gent was trying to get out without notice.
"Well it can't hurt," he mumbled as he took a final gulp and got up, cigar still in hand. He too walked out the front door into the night.

After exiting the Albatross the sailor noticed it was getting dark now. He was tall and gaunt with shaggy black hair and two or three days worth of scruff on his face. He did however appear to be capable and didn't show any signs of outright drunkenness.

He looked around briefly and then started walking east towards the docks. He didn't get far before he heard the Albatross door upon behind him and after he heard it close again he stopped in turned his head sideways to get a look. It was the one who was asking questions about the Confederacy. The sailor made sure to make eye contact with the newcomer before starting off down the street again. But this time he walked slower and moved over slightly to make room on the near side of the path.

The man in the blue jacket must have caught on because he picked up his pace slightly until he came up even with the sailor.

Looking over his opposite shoulder to make sure no one was following the sailor began to speak under his breath. "Monsieur, please don't look at me or talk, just listen."

He stepped slightly away from the newcomer giving the impression of letting him pass. "I heard you inquire about the Highland Confederacy, if you truly wish to speak with them then make your way back to the Albatross and I will make sure your description and interests find the right ears. Au revoir."
And with that said he moved over to the other side of the street and continued towards the docks.

The man in the blue jacket walked on a little ways to the docks. He was fairly confident no one was paying him any attention so he turned about and made his way back to the bar by another route.
Upon ariving back at the bar he found a table in a dimly lit corner and took a seat so that he could view the room. As he took slow, long drags from his cigar he pulled a few folded papers from his jacket and began to look them over, occasionally glancing just over the top to survey the room.

From his perch behind the bar, Willem points Dermid to the man who had asked of the Confederacy. He sits alone in the corner of the Albatross.

"Did he mention anyone by name?"

"No. Nothing of the sort. Just 'bout the posting.", Willem replies.

"Good. My nerves are still a bit on end good friend." With that Dermid grabs a fresh ale within his tin and grabs a full round for the man in the corner and makes his way to the corner of the bar.

Reaching the man in the corner, Dermid takes a seat and makes a quick, to the point statement. "The barkeep says you've asked about the Confederacy. As fair warning, these are dangerous times. So what do you need." With that, Dermid offers the fresh ale on the table.

Dermid is still quite ill appearing. His ship had sunk just a few weeks prior and he had only been on firm ground for now a week. He was regaining some strength but certainly not a physical threat on any level. The bar was relatively full this evening and Dermid felt confident that should this be anything more than an inquiry, assistance would soon be at hand.

The man takes the offered drink with a nod, half smile, and a motion for the new comer to sit. The man holds his cigar out in front of him as if examining it.

"What do I need," he repeats. That is a question that could have many answerts. For now, lets start with something simple. Ya see this, it's a smoke made from much less than gifted craftsmen. Not too long ago the Spanish began making these wonderful creations. The trade was an immediate success, so of course other followed suit."

With that he took a long pull and continued, "Just not the same. I was able to aquire a few of these upon arriving to this side of the ocean, after my cross. I depleateed my supply shortly before arriving. I know i may seem to be rambling on, but I do have a purpose. I hear some of the colonies have been trying to produce cigars, but the trade has not yet advanced as in Spain. I feel there should be a heafty profit to those who are able to meet the demand of a fine cigar."

The man leans forward a bit, "Allow me to introduce myself. I go by the name Xarkun, or Xark for short. Tis not my Christian name, but it is best that I left that name well before I crossed. These are dangerous waters, and I can tell my the hardness in your eyes your full aware of this. I am a merchant of sorts and I know there is strength in numbers. This is why I have been asking the questions about your lot. I am a business man and I seek certian...arrangements for...mutual benefit. I know some simple laws of economics and efficiency can come from well planned production lines. Transportation costs can be driven down by a single ship carrying multiple merchants cargo. And again, of course there is a certian safety in numbers. Not to mention a sort of sharing of information among a select few can allow that group to take advantage of many opportunities."

Xark leans back in his chair and takes a sip of his drink.

Dermid takes a large drink from his tin and wipes a bit of overflow from his chin.

"A merchant... I see... And from the postings, I would gather you are well aware of our position within these waters." Dermid pauses briefly and watches Xark intently as he once again reaches for his trusty tin and takes a good swig of the fine ale.

"As a merchant myself, I do think the Confederacy can bring protection and service to your trade. The Confederacy flies under the French flag and will not advance dealings with the English. That should be clear. If you come for simple riches though, I think the Confederacy would look upon you with an open eye."

Throughout the conversation Dermid is purposeful in not readily announcing his name, position, or relation to the confederacy. Over the next half hour, the conversation slowly turns to the broader trading scope of the confederacy and groups rather close association to several privateers and even naval officers that occasionally can provide "safe" trading lanes into ports with greater profits.

Turning back to the talk of cigars, one is shared with Dermid.

"Tis a fine cigar." Slowly exhaling and watching the fine smoke funnel up into the darkness of the tavern corner. "Best I have had in many a year within these waters. Maybe some years back near Port Royal there was one or two... but fine indeed... So are these your work or your trade or from... other methods?"

"I cannot say this is of my making, no. I have not yet established any operations. I think it prudent to gather information and plan out my operations, else I could end up wasting time and resources. I might, however, acquired a recipie for a good smoke before I made my cross."

"I understand your dislike for the English, but in your words, I come for simple riches. I am a free-trader. Loyalties are all but lost to me. My loyalties lie with the largest purse. Don't take me wrong, I am a man of honor, but a nations flag may come and go. Providences are won then retaken, rebellion rises from within, and we are a long way from any crown. As I see it, the West Indies might as well be a nation of its own."

After a short pause and another sip he continues, "As far as business relations are concerned you could say I am loyal to my commitments. If my business dealings require I neglect one group or the other, it makes little difference to me. However, if some English git offered a king's ransom for a sack of nails, I would hope that exploiting his stupidity would not be offensive. Other than the English, I would understand your other 'positions' to revolve around turning a profit...yes?"

After the long conversation, a smile slowly comes across Dermid's emaciated face. Accented by the prominent cheekbones, it is more profound than in weeks past.

"It seems we have quite a bit in common then good Xark. I understand well your stance. My name is Dermid Gavin and myself and Hamish MacBane founded the confederacy upon just such ideals. I'd hardly think that anyone among us would turn aside a king's ransom. Just so look as it hurts the crown and aids our sails. We are men here to forge our own path to our own successes and we welcome those who share our goals."

With that, Dermid raises a glass to the merchant and gives a quick toast to the confederacy.

OOC: With respect to the app, I think you've answered a large segment, but if there is any RL info (name on official boards, gaming background, prior RP stuff) - basically anything to get to know the man behind the merchant, please post it here.

Xark too raises his glass an joins in a drink, "To your confederacy."

Once he has finished drinking the toast, Xark comments, "I'm glad to find my assumptions about your society were correct, Mr. Gavin. It has been a pleasure making your aquantance. Before I take my leave for the evening I would like to know where and when we could meet again to further discuss business arrangements, this Confederacy of yours, and possibly meet some of your comrads"

OOC: I know this is the recruitment thread, but thought it would be the best place to introduce my character. This isnt an app...yet We will have to see what Xark decides to do.

"Indeed. It is later than I realized. Tommorrow the Albatross will be closing early, before sunset. Stop by later and give a few firm knocks upon the front door."


OOC: Just continue within the Albatross - I'll make a topic. I think more people will be comfortable posting IC stuff there than in this recruitment thread.