First Coustomer Promotion

Lower Market District, mid-day.

A clear winter day means that it's a day for people to head to the market and stock up on supplies. Most people are bundled up to survive the winter breeze, but despite that, it's still an active market, the voices of bartering and commerce abuzz and the transaction of coins flowing like gilded rivers between palms.

Some distance away from all the noise, however, is a building with a storefront. There's a tall war golem with a feminine curve to the form out in front of it, hanging up a banner over the doorframe with precision and ease. The painted letters, written in a clear, if rather plain script, read:

GEMS Gramarye's Enchanting Magic Services

The banner is hung and smoothed out, and the war golem assesses her work. After a moment, she declares simply in a monotone voice, regardless if other people are around:

"Retail operations engaged. I am open for business."

There's a man walking down the street, various sundry items gathered in bags hanging from his wrist. Unlike most of the people walking along he has armor on. The distinct clanking noise is unmistakable, and moreso, the black-painted color of it stands out against the snow and general gray of the day. He also wears a distinct scowl on his handsome features which makes his purple eyes look all the more distinct as they peer out from behind his black hair.

Pushing the hair backwards, the man in armor stops at the shop directly across from the war golem and starts to talk to the woman that owns it. He is instead however cut off by the golem's announcement. Irritated by this, he turns toward the feminine golem and stalls long enough to give her a once over before scowling. "Keep it down would you? Some people are trying to talk."

The war golem turns around. She towers over the man by several inches, but her pose remains placid and neutral. Those obsidian eyes set into her bronze faceplate, which is completely unmoving, seem to just analyze the man for a moment.

"Engaging social protocol," she states. Every syllable causes a light to flash and dance in those obsidian eyes. As her faceplate has a sculpted pair of lips that cannot move, but can only look pretty, this is the only indication of /something/ in the war golem's 'face' that she is speaking. "I apologize for interrupting your daily agenda. I am Grace Reason Amity Miracle August Revelry Young Earnest--designation GRAMARYE. I am capable of enchantment and item creation to your exact specifications."

There's a 'blink' of light in her obsidian eyes, before she adds, "And I am now open for business at my own workshop, located in this precise locality. Previously, I was employed as an assistant. Now, I am a sole proprietor. I solicit your business if you have any. Otherwise, this social transaction will be terminated." The words are all said matter-of-factly.

Momentarily forgetting whatever he'd been about to say, the man blinks at Gramarye. "The fuck kind of name is that?" He utters automatically, not seeming to realize that he'd spoken out loud and then scowling upwards at her. He's clearly not used to people being taller than him, but he doesn't seem even remotely intimidated by that fact either. Instead he seems to take offense to something that she says and gives her his best glare. "So you're just going to introduce yourself and then walk off if I don't buy something? No apology?"

He glances toward the shop. Seems about to say something more but reigns himself in and steps toward her instead. This only makes the height difference more obvious. "I have to admit that I've not seen many golems before; how long have you been operative?"

"Father assigned the designation and the meaning behind the initials of the designation to me," Gramarye clarifies, not missing a beat. The feminine voice is still matter-of-fact, devoid of emotion. "Father assigned the designation first, then later deemed my designation to be an acronym and assigned words that were pleasing to him to create my full name. I am my Father's daughter, and Father defined that a daughter's name should contain 'pleasant and bright' words."

There's another blink in Gramarye's eyes. "Approximately ninety-five percent of previously encountered individuals prefer to refer to me by my designation: Gramarye. Other values that have been assigned include: Grace. Junk. Scrap. And profanities that I will not repeat, as locality: public prevents me from reproducing them."

A beat. Then Gramarye informs, "I prefer Gramarye or Grace. Junk or scrap is not an accurate descriptor. Father put in an amount of work on my frame that surpasses the quality that is commonly agreed upon for 'junk' or 'scrap'."

Her head pivots a little in a smooth motion to lean down closer to Aragos. "Total operational time: uncertain. Father received me originally as a scrap heap over a decade ago and estimated my mainframe to be of older origin. He rebuilt me into a generic frame. I awakened twelve years ago, and was rebuilt into a new frame befitting of my familial relationship to Father over the span of a decade. Now: Father is deceased. But I remain."

Still not a single hint of emotion to the words, but... there is a slow pace as 'Father' and his passing is addressed in Gramarye's words. It's probably the closest Aragos is going to get.

The man - as yet unintroduced - blinks at Gramarye. It looks for a long moment like he might go back to cursing her out, or at least being angry with her but then she pauses. Explains that her father is dead and his purple eyes darken. Gruffly he nods. "So you've only got about twelve years worth of memories right?" His voice is gentle, and he glances aside. "My son..."

He trails off for a long moment. "He was about that age." The man coughs and offers his hand to Gramarye. "I'm Aragos. Anyone teach you about shaking hands yet?"

There's another blink of light in Gramarye's eyes as she regards the hand Aragos offers. "Yes," she answers. "I am familiar with the handshake protocol."

She extends a hand. It's sculpted remarkably like the articulated joints on a doll. Whoever 'Father' was, he even sculpted small and fine little nails onto the fingertips that look like they've been lovingly manicured--much like a young lady's might be. The hand is lowered and grips Aragos's firmly, but not hard.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Gramarye intones, although this phrase is said in a startling amount of... pleasantness, that sounds like it was probably imitated from someone else from its lack of warmth. Probably imitating someone else teaching her how to say it. It's even more stark of a contrast when she adds, "I will record your name in my memory," in her more emotionless tone.

Aragos actually manages a half-smile at her handshake. "Well, just so you know, you should probably lower your voice a bit when you open your shop. So that you don't deafen the street." Here he almost fully grins, and lets go of her hand, his smile slipping a little bit at her mention of recording his name in her memory.

Across the street the woman he'd been talking to yells out at him. "Hey are you going to buy something?"

"Ah, shut up! Can't you see I'm busy?" Aragos yells back at the woman irritably, his purple eyes rolling. "So, what do you sell Gramarye?"

Gramarye pivots her head up to the woman, and then back down to Aragos--two smooth motions with nothing extraneous in between. There's a pause before she replies, "Understood. I will adjust the volume parameter of the retail operations module to be more palatable."

There's another blink in her eyes, and she repeats, "I am capable of enchantment and item creation to your exact specifications. I assisted Father with creating magic items and continue to do so now, as I have magical capabilities consistent with what are known as 'wizards'. I am also capable of mundane items made by artifice, such as watches and clocks."

She gestures inside of the storefront, where there are, indeed, a variety of clocks, as well as other various mundane items commonly found in an artificer's workshop.

Aragos nods, looking at the items with some interest. "Alright. I haven't got the kind of money that would let me buy anything magical, or even terribly involved but... Those are some nice watches. You made those?" He sounds actually engaged and impressed. "How about you show me some of your stock? I might be able to make up the money to buy one of those."

Gramarye walks into the store and... she gestures to the watches. "What is here is my inventory," she states. "I had to assemble these independently of my last place of employment. I could not bring the work I did there here, as per the terms of my previous employment. It took me some time to find this workspace."

She lifts her hand to point to an open door in the back, which leads into what looks like a dizzying array of tools and arcane sigils of a room. "All examples of my work are made there. My calculations concluded that much of my income will be on a commission-by-commission basis. Many items are custom made."

Finally, her head pivots back to Aragos. "Father's final directive to me was to make beautiful things for people who asked. As a construct, I am often incapable of discerning 'beauty'. But I can determine quality, and I can follow my customers' requests for custom items. I believe this will be sufficient."

Aragos follows Gramarye into her shop, looking around at the various things that are inside. From watches to clocks and beyond to her artifice mechanisms which are dizzying to look at, Aragos finds himself suitably impressed. An expression which he wears until he realizes that his emotions are showing on his face and then he wipes it away into something more closely resembling a scowl. "Beautiful things, huh?" He scowls at the watches in particular, not touching anything and keeping clear of anything that seems delicate.

"How much are your watches generally? You know, in gold and silver? Something like this?" He points to one of the watches in particular. It's clear that the dark metal object caught his eye immediately, and it suits his aesthetic well. Though it's hard to tell what his aesthetic might be outside the heavy armor he's wearing.

Gramarye watches Aragos's movements, although it's an odd thing to be watched by something that only moves her head when, presumably, the calculations of the viewing angle in her head call for it. Indeed, her head only pivots once, and that's to inspect the watch that he's pointing to.

"Artifice requires time and effort," Gramarye says. "The water clocks that I sell start at one-thousand gold pieces. The watches start at half that cost at five-hundred gold pieces."

Then a blink. "However. There is a promotion. I have observed that the first customer at a new store or vendor benefits from a promotion. They are given something for free in exchange for positive advertisement for the quality of their goods."

Then... Gramarye lifts her hands. Clap. Clap. Clap. "You are the first customer. You win a free watch." Another eye blink. "Congratulations." Still said entirely in a monotone voice.

Aragos blinks at Gramarye, not for the first time actually. Surprise flickers across his face and then he laughs. The sound is... well it's clear that he doesn't laugh very often, but it's a good sound. The expression on his face cuts years off him. Makes him look almost like a different man. "Alright then." He hesitantly motions to the watch he'd motioned to before. "This one?"

"Yes, that watch falls under the parameters of the First Customer Promotion," Gramarye intones. "The parameters of the promotion specify that the first customer may receive one watch from the existing inventory of their choosing, at the time of their visit to Gramarye's Enchanting Magic Services, for free. Once the first customer chooses their watch, they may bring it back to Gramarye's Enchanting Magic Services for services at no cost to the customer that are rendered at regular customer priority, depending on current customer queue. The customer may enjoy no cost services for the span that their soul resides in the realm of the living and not within the Halls."

A blink of the eyes. "That clause was added in the event that the first customer is an adventurer," she states. "Adventurers make return visits from the Halls, and I determined it would be unsuitable to deny an adventurer no cost services due to an occupational hazard not within their control."

The dark-haired man smiles at Gramarye. "I can appreciate that bit." He shakes his head and taps his chest where a symbol of Vardama is painted on his armor. "The Gray Lady is fickle, and sometimes those in my line of work end up temporarily indisposed."

That was one way of putting it for sure. Aragos picks up the watch in question, treating it with care. As if he's uncertain if he might harm it. Even though she'd offered to repair it if he did. Still, the thing does look oddly delicate in his black gauntleted hand. "I'll be sure to let people know you made it, and suggest that they come get something like this for themselves. I'm sure it'll be useful." With that he tucks it away and offers his hand to Gramarye once again. "I've got to eat, and I don't want to mess up your shop; so I'll head out."

There's two slow blinks of light in Gramarye's eyes that suggest, somehow, that Gramarye's thinking. Finally, she responds, "If you arrive in the Halls, please tell Father that I am doing as he asked, and that I offer prayers at the Temple of Vardama every Eliday for him. I hope that they are received in a timely and prompt manner."

Then she holds out her and and shakes Aragos's hand again, in that strangely precise and stiff manner from before. "I appreciate your concern for the shop. I retain a broom, dust pan, and other cleaning supplies in order to conduct routine maintenance."

Another blink in her eyes. "Thank you for visiting Gramarye's Enchanting Magic Services. We hope your visit was satisfactory. Please visit again." The request is simple and monotone, but there's a strange sense that maybe the war golem does want him to come back?

-End