Meseli Hastur looked about the alley he had recently called home. his cart was just outside and Yorrik with it's scowly glare looked at him displeased.

"I ain't done nothing wrong!" He yelled a the whice with a shaking fist. Bells tied to his arm jingled and for a moment he thought he had a hangover as they made him wince in pain. He quickly dismissed the matter as something unimportant and trivial as he stumbled to the cart and flung open the door.

With a thud he landed on the pile of clothes that served as his wardrobe. Pulling off a wet blue tunic he rummaged till he found a proper right one that was a vibrant teal. Smiling he pulled it over his head and tried to find a bottle of his 'special tonics' smiling he gulped down the noxious fluid and savored the taste as it burned every hair in his nostrils.

With a smack of the lips he stumbled out of the cart smiling as a if he had won the lottery.

"Looook out Old Rose! Meseli Hastur is alive!" he yelled with a flourish.

Vik pushed his wheelbarrow down the street, grumbling every time he had to avoid a pothole or drunken pirate. He really needed a nice wagon and something to pull it to deliver his goods, it was a rather taxing chore after long nights at the forge. The wagon full of shovels was headed down to the general store by the docks, not a long trip by any means, but the rickety old wheelbarrow made any trip seem exponentially longer.

His cursing was interrupted by a peculiar looking Wick yelling in an alley. The distraction caused Vik to overlook a rather sizable pothole that the wheelbarrow instinctively gravitated towards. The surly blacksmith noticed too late and the wagon went down, spilling shovels and blacksmith alike. Vik sat in the dusty street scowling down the alley at the crazy who'd caused his current state.

"You moony spoke, what the clock are you at, yelling at folk?!" He yelled. Several of the shovel handles had snapped in the fall, adding to his wanton grumpiness.

Meseli looked down at the blacksmith smiling a yellow toothed grin.

"Loony my good sir? I'm not the one on the ground with a handful of broken shovels!" He taunted. "Perhaps you need a trinket for good luck? I have a hatchers foot that you would love to be the proud owner of right now!"

He waltzed over his smile growing wider at the possibility of a sale.

"Oh clock, he's still coming." Vik muttered under his breath. Moony folk always put him off balance, he never knew what to expect. The huge crooked smile was getting bigger, the smell of potions was overpowering. Vik was getting very nervous. "Listen wick, I have no need for a hatcher anything. I'll just take my shovels and be on my way."

Viktor never knew how to deal with folk like this, if a sane man had caused him this problem a fist fight would usually solve it. That made sense to him, but he wasn't so quick to hit a junkie. The guy seemed to have enough problems.

Meseli frowned for a second then smiled as a new idea hit him.
"Then maybe you would like a messenger or perhaps a fine potion. I do these both quite well my wheelbarrowed friend." Meseli asked kneeling down and taken a broken handle in his thin hands.
"Or perhaps a man to carry back all these broken things of yours. ou really should be more careful next time."

The dusty blacksmith choked back a laugh at "wheelbarrowed friend". As off putting as Meseli was, there was an underlying charm to the wick.

Vik glanced down at the barrow, the axle had been snapped by the pothole. It would be quite the chore to haul all these shovels the rest of the way. He thought once again about the necessity of getting some kind of cart to haul his goods.

"Alright sir, I'll gladly accept your help. I'll even throw in a bit of the profit for your assistance. I've no need for your potions however, you do a good bit of negative advertising in that respect." Viktor said as he rose, dusting himself off.

"I don't have far to go, just up the street here." Vik began picking up the unbroken shovels, only a few were unrecoverable. The wheelbarrow had taken the brunt of the fall.

Happily Meseli scooped several shovels into his lanky arms and tossed tehm into the back of his cart resulting in a loud series of crashes. Yorick flapped it's wings in disapproval.

"Just toss the lot of them in here my good sir!" Meseli said with a sweeping gesture at the cart. "It may not be the prettiest of them by by the gods does she take a load with a smile!"

With that he lept upon the the side of the cart and shimmied himself into the drivers position taking the reins of a bored looking Kenser in hand.

Vik followed suit, heaving the shovels into the back and climbed up next to the strange fellow. "Alright my good sir, whenever you're ready. Awful decent of you." Vik half muttered, he didn't like feeling helpless and this situation was now officially out of his control.

With a click and a snap of the reins the kenser slowly pulled the cart onto the street.

"It won't cost you to much my good man! A mere bit of food is fine." Meseli said smiling. The cart rocked slightly as it slowly moved down the street.

"By the way." He whispered. "There ain't no such thing as bad advertising!"

Viktor smiled, there was an odd charm to the man. "That I can do sir, I completely missed breakfast myself. A good hot meal would do us both some good.



"Something to debate at a later time my friend, perhaps when we know each other a bit better."

Meseli smiled.

"Thank you sir! I am much obliged!" He said with a crooked smile. "I hope you don't mind if I ask you not to get in my cart? I really do not like strangers in my house."

He snapped the reins of his Kenser trying to convince the stubborn beast to move faster.
This was met with little success.