- Pronoun
- They/Them
There was no place simultaneously so organized and so chaotic as the Nocwell's General Goods & Wonders Mercantile Emporium. 'Course, most folk just shortened it to "Nocwell's". Every counter brimmed with trinkets and doodads neatly sectioned by color and type. The wooden tops and shelves had a glistening polish despite how overfilled they were, and there was even some classy decor stuffed in whatever space was available.
The scent of alcohol, oil, fabric, wood, grain, ceramic and even soap concocted a dissonant olfactory chord that wafted throughout the store. A circle of differently sized chairs and cushions sat dead center in front a coffee table baring the markings of its previous patrons: scratches, playing cards, used ash trays, candy wrappers, and a few whiskey stains. Light dimly poured through the small windows just shy above the towering shelves of goods. Colorful signs, labels, and tonics made a wonderland out an otherwise dreary place.
Newcomers would be greeted by an eager Minccino dusting the shelves and serving up smiles. She'd gleefully advertise the bounty of imported dungeon goods from wonder orbs to staves to tools imported from all across the lands — and the price to match such a bounty of treasures.
A regular, however, might spot the various ceramic jars dotted throughout the store that changed positions daily. From time to time, Mr. Polteageist Nocwell himself would emerge from one of them to grease up vendors and strike some longer-term agreements from the locals. Otherwise, he stayed nice and hidden and jumped from jar to jar to keep surveillance.
The locals knew that was just how the Polteageist operated. He only trusted the most loyal or heroic of 'mon, enjoyed counting bills after hours, and drowned himself in alcohol after late night "outings". He was kind enough to let Minccino Minako work the register, but not enough to give her anything but a morale raise despite her tenure. A businessman through and through.
The scent of alcohol, oil, fabric, wood, grain, ceramic and even soap concocted a dissonant olfactory chord that wafted throughout the store. A circle of differently sized chairs and cushions sat dead center in front a coffee table baring the markings of its previous patrons: scratches, playing cards, used ash trays, candy wrappers, and a few whiskey stains. Light dimly poured through the small windows just shy above the towering shelves of goods. Colorful signs, labels, and tonics made a wonderland out an otherwise dreary place.
Newcomers would be greeted by an eager Minccino dusting the shelves and serving up smiles. She'd gleefully advertise the bounty of imported dungeon goods from wonder orbs to staves to tools imported from all across the lands — and the price to match such a bounty of treasures.
A regular, however, might spot the various ceramic jars dotted throughout the store that changed positions daily. From time to time, Mr. Polteageist Nocwell himself would emerge from one of them to grease up vendors and strike some longer-term agreements from the locals. Otherwise, he stayed nice and hidden and jumped from jar to jar to keep surveillance.
The locals knew that was just how the Polteageist operated. He only trusted the most loyal or heroic of 'mon, enjoyed counting bills after hours, and drowned himself in alcohol after late night "outings". He was kind enough to let Minccino Minako work the register, but not enough to give her anything but a morale raise despite her tenure. A businessman through and through.
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