<strong>Time of day beginning post: </strong>Noonish<br/><strong>Time of day ending post:</strong>Noonish<br/><strong>Location beginning post:</strong>Seaside Sal's<br/><strong>Location ending post: </strong>Seaside Sal's<br/><strong>Characters currently interacting with: </strong>Sol<br/><strong>GM Intervention Request\Required? (Yes/no):</strong>No.<br/><br/>By the time Sol walked into Seaside Sal’s, Corann was already inside, haggling with Sal. The interior of the place was a ramshackle assortments of odds and ends; a mixture of a general store with all the accoutrements of things brought in by sailors and adventurers passing through and looking for to make some quick coin. The entry led to a series of counters lined with glass, below each of which rested gewgaws, rings, necklaces, gemstones and an assortment of other delicate objects.<br/><br/>Corann’s back was to the door leading in, and he was illuminated by a bright swatch of morning sunshine, deliberately reflected through one of the room’s open windows and off an assortment of delicate looking fine dining wear, then off the burnished breastplate of an obviously magical suit of full plate, currently marked “Only 500 gold. No identification available. Purchase at your own risk.” Corann was clearly a man of some size and his aforementioned foppish ware poked out of his armored chain, and his voice was raised in something between amusement and consternation.<br/><br/>“Look, I just want a suit of clothes,” Corann said.<br/><br/>“And I am telling you, clothes in your size only come from the Dulosians. You’ll have to make your purchase accordingly.” Seaside Sal was a bronze skinned man with a deep accent, the sort of thing you’d expect to hear from people originating from more southern climes – fast, and eager to argue. He had a huge stack of clothes near his lean, boney arm on the counter, all bright colors and covered in swirling flowers and other designs.<br/><br/>“Sal, I’m not into flowers and art. I just need something functional.” It sounded as though Corann was repeating himself for at least the third time; he sounded exasperated.<br/><br/>Sal seemed entirely cheerful about repeating what he’d said before, nonplused by the argumentative nature of the Chosen. “I can dye them again for you.”<br/><br/>Sighing, Corann murmured, “My people are at war with the Dulosians. Don’t you see it as something of a problem, me buying clothes they’ve made?”<br/><br/>Large, knowing eyes blinked up at Corann and Sal seemed about to speak, when he glanced over Corann’s bulging arm and toward the new person. Addressing Sol, he said, “Welcome, welcome, to Seaside Sal’s. Sal is your pal! What can I get for you?”<br/><br/>Gritting his teeth, Corann exhaled harshly and turned to see who had interrupted his attempted purchase, his large, cat-slitted eyes widening slightly at the vantage he was given of the seemingly simple woman.<br/>