If you can't blow them away with your brilliance, baffle them with your bullshit. -- Anon Guest
"Two thousand gold per square quarter-inch of ear... five hundred per digit of phalanges... three hundred for the tarsals and metatarsals..." The person running the tally was not a necromancer. They were not a crime lord. They were an "acquisitions agent" for the Dark Market. Not the Black Market, the Dark Market. It's much, much worse.
"Oh don't worry about me," Wraithvine muttered to hirself, "You go ahead and take a day. I won't get into any trouble on a nature walk to hear the bell-birds of Lalhelia..." Ze had lived, effectively, forever. This wasn't the first time that ze had been audience to hir price per piece. It was, however, one of the more insulting. "Two silver per karatweight of my liver? Two silver? Really? Last time it was fifteen!"
The Tallyman working on Wraithvine's price per piece looked up from his books. "There can't have been a last time, you're still alive." Okay. So not that easily gulled. Great. Time to spin a stronger yarn.
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