Social Engineering

[James]

This was to be a cautious experiment.

He still didn't know how to talk too well, but wanted to give it a try. It was made further difficult by the necessity to concentrate upon retaining himself in the shape of a human. It was so much easier to simply look like a dog.

Moving towards the man behind the counter, the boy's baggy clothes hanging just barely onto his form, the skinny boy tapped on the stand of the merchant, who was currently moving an urn to the side.

The man put down the urn in a random position and piped up. "Yes, what do you need?"

The boy waved at him, and looked around to find something he wanted. Most of the items the man had were pieces of pottery all stacked upon each other in various positions and shapes. Some of them were skinny and tall, others fat and short, or any combination in between. One of them looked rather nice- it was short, only a little fat. It had a pleasant little lid, and was only partially baked such that it retained its form very well and yet was very soft to the touch- completely smooth all over. It was beautiful, came with a similar lid and was likely the merchant's most prized work.

The merchant swatted at the boy's hand and missed as the boy picked it up to look at it.

"You can't afford that! Put it down." The merchant was fuming slightly now, his impatience with the boy already hitting near the top.

The silver-haired teen ignored the man and looked at the urn. It would work wonderfully.

"What can I give to get?" asked the boy.

The merchant balked. "You can't even speak right," he said to insult the boy. "That urn is worth far more than you'll know your whole life, probably."

James shrugged and deposited the pile of gleaming, golden coins upon the table, then turned and promptly left with the urn. The merchant's anger melted and gave way to the delight of greed. He could buy a horse with this much money, let alone dozens of copies of that urn.

He made a mental note to try to make more of those urns again in the future.

The boy, on the other hand, made a mental note to never shop with such judgmental people again. He didn't like being treated like the wet scrapings off a boot.

[James]

The doors of the Golden Griffin burst open.

"Where's a wizard?!" Almost everyone looked at him, and after someone snortled the entire tavern broke into laughter. The boy blushed, but was nonplussed and moved inside. The closest person to him was at a table to the left of the door.

"Do you know where a wizard is?" The man sitting there stopped laughing after realizing he was serious.

"I'm sorry, I don't," he said.

The patrons of the tavern moved about their own business again, still chuckling to themselves about a teen they've already forgotten.

James looked up around the tavern. Everyone seemed to be ignoring him. He frowned for a bit, his baggy clothes making him look like some kind of clown. He hoped somebody would pipe up to let him know.

[Curulan]

By chance, Curulan happened to be in the Tavern reviewing official documents for the clan. The clan leader hated the solitude of his office and really only spent time there when he needed access the various potions and items he kept stored there. He heard the boy with his strange patterns of speech and looked up. Curulan hadn't had any dealings with him personally, but this youth matched the description of a relatively new citizen to Titan. Something about his clothing sparked Curu's mind, as if it seemed familar. He folded up his papers and walked over to the boy and smiled.

"I don't know if I'd call myself a "wizard", but I'm quite familiar with magic. What did you need help with?"

[James]

There was no smell.

Or at least, not immediately. The boy turned to look at the man who had walked up to him, an imposing yet gentle figure. James' eyes lit up, and his arms drooped to his side as he looked upon what seemed to be a human before him. This... man was much more than he seemed, James knew, but had no idea what to place upon it. His fierce, green-lit determination flew up, and the boy's mouth slid childishly into a happy smile.

"Hello," he said after he had been smiling for a few seconds. Pausing for a bit, the drudge of uncertainty floated into the air for but a moment, and then James held up his hand to reveal the special urn he had bought.

"I have... a nice friend who likes dirt," he said, unsure if he was even saying it right. "She can use magic, too, but it's a surprise."

It was apparent he was still off-kilter from what he felt of the "man" before him.

Then, the smell connected in his mind.

When Joe had cured the demon inside him, the holy water smelled divine. The idea of it vividly flew about Curulan, yellow and white streaks that rotated into a slow blur around the leader of Titan.

James didn't know what to make of it, so he continued to speak.

"I want the kind of dirt that someone can use over and over again," he said plainly. "I grew up with the earth and I know that dirt can die but," he paused for a moment, catching his breath. Talking was so much harder than hunting or fighting. "I think a wizard can fix that. That's why I need you!"

The boy ended this with a fully fledged smile, and his arms dropped again. He was excited to have found someone to help him.

His exhilaration flowed then, and the tavern suddenly seemed a merrier place than it had been only moments before.