Storyboards: Thag

Thag enters the Consortium | Thag enters the Merchants hall | Thag's Apprenticeship

Thag enters the Consortium
Thag nodded his head up and down, vigorously agreeing to the deal. "Oh, yes yes Thag thank you for trade. Thank you, sir. Thag needed that. Good man is kind to Thag." He repeated his obeisances over and over, making sure that the merchant whom he was dealing with got the full Thull experience. Then, Thag walked away - about thirty silver less wealthy according to the Murgo's perceptions anyway - with about two more gold than he had had in his pocket that very morning. The half-Nadrak's appearance as a full-blooded Thull gave him a significant advantage over either of his bloods. Speaking in broken English put any other merchant at ease, thinking Thag to be an idiot and an easy con, and making them overlook Thag's sharp Nadrak mind. He had become a modestly wealthy independent merchant in only a couple years by exploiting stereotypes in this way.
He turned around, with a large grin on his face and a coin rolling between his fingers, to come face to face with an intimidating-looking Mallorean. He immediately resumed his look of stupidity. "Sir, can I help you sir?"
"Hah! You may fool those two-bit shysters that you're an idiot, but your accounts can't long fool those who are in a real business."
"Sir, what do you mean, sir?" Thag asked, and was met with a sudden slap. As a Thull, it was less to hurt him than to provoke. "What the hell was that for?!" Thag slipped in his anger. The Mallorean replied,
"Thag, do not assume that I am an idiot. I already told you, we know that you are not an idiot, so kindly give me the same courtesy. You're a rising merchant, and we have a use for you."
"Who the hell is 'we'? And why in hell should I give you any of my time? If this scene goes on any longer, you'll ruin my racket." Thag looked around with anger at the staring eyes.
"You should give us your time, because you don't want to play this game anymore. You don't want your racial appearance to keep you down any longer. Come with us, Thag. We care not for the color of your skin, merely the yellow of the gold you reap. We can free you from your need for verbal chicanery and instead we will respect for the mind you have, not rewarded for the show."
"So who the hell is 'we'?"
"Come, let me introduce you to some members of the Consortium."

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Thag enters the Merchants clan hall
Rolling along in the back of a cart headed for Boktor, Thag was moderately surprised by the lack of evil looks he received from the Drasnian peasants in the countryside. He knew enough, and had had enough practice, to look like a normal thick-witted Thull, his gaze holding onto nothing and hands blindly working, in order to keep people from noticing him. He was still surprised, though, at how fully invisible his race was to these Alorns, by how much those considered disabled were invisible to all people regardless of race.
Thag had perhaps betrayed himself by slipping too wholly into his role, as startled as he was when, just inside the gate to the Merchants clan hall, the driver had to snap in his face to pull him out of his reverie. "We're here, we are. Get out." Thag wordlessly removed himself from the cart and walked through the gate of the Merchants clan hall. He supposed that other people might be impressed by the ostentatious presentation of riches, but Thag had early learned that appearances could be deceiving. People could inherit the fruits of their parents and then be rotten mentally inside, an inverse parellel to Thag, who had received only a blunt exterior from his parents, belying a keen mind inside.
So he walked in and a Nadrak porter led him into the lounge to await whom- ever would come to interview him, and to set him up with a mentor. As he waited, carefully evaluating his surroundings, a Sendarian Lady came into the room, and he quickly averted his eyes in order to play dumb again, to be humble in her presence. Footsteps padded over to him, however, and she placed a hand on his chin to lift it to look at her. Suddenly, Thag was truly afraid for the first time in his life, as one person looked through his disguise so quickly. Then, she spoke -
She said, 'Thag, I take it, I'm Chyre.' She looked him up and down. 'Yes, well, I was told you were coming. Follow me and I’ll show you to your quarters.' He wordlessly followed her, his angst showing clearly on his face. Lady Chyre said, 'and don’t look so surprised. We're used to clever ones here.' she said, smiling. 'I'm sorry, mad-... mistr-... Lady. I just... please forgive my insubordination.' Thag mentally kicked himself for getting caught up again in his Thullish acting... perhaps he'd played the part one too many times, he began to think. Perhaps this truly was auspicious for him to come here, and stop having to act. 'Lady, it's just that you surprised me... I'm not used to being picked out like that.' She replied, 'It was no real trick Thag, We don't get many Thulls through here and I knew you'd be here around this time.' Her eyes glittered as she continued, 'plus the description I got from your recruiter included a sketch.' She chuckled. 'Of course, I should have known. So what do you people plan to do with me, anyway?' She ignored his question, and instead answered, 'Come, let me show you around, you'll soon settle in, we have plenty of room for a young man of your talent.'

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Thag's Apprenticeship
In Boktor, Thag began to learn things. Real merchant things, none of this mere shyster crap. His days of being a con-man were soon to be over. He took classes on how to properly appraise gems, and learned how to verify weights of metals against their purity and worth. Endless days were spent being sent into the markets of Boktor and told to come back at the end of day a certain amount of money richer. Thag took it all in stride, knowing in his mind that this was the training which he required, which would raise him above being a petty wares dealer to being true merchant amassing true riches and prestige, but still it chafed at his heart and festered in his soul to have to do such menial tasks, day in and day out.
"Thag, this rug is not of the quality which was requested." "Excuse me? You requested a rug worth approximately seventy silver." "And you failed to get it." "Excuse me? That is worth at least seventy-fi-" Thag burst out, when his mentor interrupted him, "it's not about the worth, it's about the color! You failed, Thag! I requested a maroon and gold rug, and this is cherry and canary." "Have you turned into a woman overnight," Thag asked the elder merchant, "the colors will work fine for whatever you intend, they're close enough, they're just colors! Stop sending me on stupid errands to memorize colors! Stop treating me as a slave Thull to be sent about on your tasks. I am no such Thull, and I'm sick of your tasks and your mindless memorization. I'm going to leave here and pack up my belongings. I'm through." "Stop! It isn't about the colors, and you know it! It's about getting your customer a product, a product which they requested, and doing it right." Thag did stop in the doorway, listening. "You walk out that door, you aren't coming back. You stay here, and you'll get the skills you need to become a real merchant. You leave, and you'll never amount to anything more than a petty peddler, an evader of the Grolims, just delaying your time before the knife."
Thag straightened up, ramrod straight, and said, "I’ll have you that maroon and gold rug tomorrow. Don't worry about the cost, it won't net me a loss." He then turned and bowed a challenge while making a quick rude hand gesture, and stalked out of the room.

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