[WTS] Waspo's House of Curios

[Bearcub]

Trusted trader

[Yasso]

Haven't traded but +1 for the amazing stories/roleplay

[alprice]

Turkeys!! They are hard to kill when you are new. I admit to being KO by one once upon a time. Waspo rules! Best stories ever!

[Suffragium]

Turkeys!! They are hard to kill when you are new. I admit to being KO by one once upon a time. Waspo rules! Best stories ever!

This.

[ElManisero]

Hello Again My Friends and Lucky Clients;

I must say I am appreciative of all your kind words and support after my fowl brush with death. I have spent the past few days at home, resting. But when you live above the famous House of Curios, even a simple rest can become more than it seems.

In the chilly evening air, I resolved to light myself a small fire in the stove downstairs. There was a bit of wood left from the day before, and I bent down to start the fire. As I fumbled with my tinder drill, the bundle broke. I shook my head, chuckling to myself at my own clumsiness. I had a spare tinder drill in a drawer, and I retrieved it from a drawer and returned to my task. But it broke - again! Surely, I was much more careful at my task than I was just moments before. I was out of tinder, and it was the dark of night, but I was now determined to start a fire.



I put on my boots and set off outside, collecting grass and small twigs to set up a small pile near my fields. Again I set about trying to light the fire, but the only result was more snapped twigs and further frustration. The night dragged on, and my annoyance became routine. I would scour my fields for small sticks, only to return to my pile and watch them snap at my touch. By this point, I must confess, I my blood was already so heated that I scarcely needed a fire to keep warm. I was more than annoyed, and each snap meant another anguishing trip back into the darkness to find more tinder.

Soon, I noticed my eyes had become more skillful at picking out the sticks from the dirt. As I sat by my fire pile for what must have been the eighth or ninth time, I noticed I could see my work quite plainly. I wondered if I had somehow grown accustom to the darkness, only to realize that the Sun had steadily crept up behind me. It was morning and by now, my need for a fire and my patience for starting it had both left me.

As I slowly plodded back inside, I began to wonder if I had been cursed by an unseen hand. Perhaps a client who felt my terms were not fair? Perhaps a witch whose heart I had broken? Could it be that I, Waspo, was the target of a diabolical hex?! Surely, such witchcraft has not taken root in Salem... right?

Your tired, tattered, tinderless trader,
Waspo

[alprice]

I enjoy your stories and dang that tinder drill is a killer!

[Suffragium]

Witches? Are you sure? Nay, I believe it is but a stroke of bad luck. Witches are nothing but a myth, much like Argopelters.

[ElManisero]

Friends, Friends!

Stay a moment, I beg you! My shoppe has not been open in several days... I told a client that I was out foraging for mushrooms, but in truth, I was cowering within my walls, afraid of what I've heard.

It began a few nights ago. I was fast asleep in my cozy bed when I heard a noise. It sounded like a feint buzzing, as if far-off locusts roamed the sky. But I thought little of this noise, for the plagues of Egypt surely did not follow us faithful Christians to the New World. Nonetheless, as I tried to return to sleep, the buzzing changed tone into something else. A scratching? No, more like a scraping - yes, yes. A scraping on wood.

By this point, I was well annoyed. I resolved to get myself up and go downstairs to deal harshly with whatever creature had wormed its way into my shoppe, before it could knock over something valuable.

Once I entered the room, with candle in hand, the noise stopped. I figured it was a smart beaver to sense danger was near, so I silently scoured the shoppe. Checking in corners, under cabinets, anywhere a coy little varmint could hide.

But then I heard an entirely new noise; the sound of a child in pain, or a young foal being struck down. It was a sharp, screaming noise - surely a noise to make one's fear instantly manifest itself. A chill ran up my back as if the Devil himself was using my spine as a ladder. I spun around to the source of the unholy screeching, and then I saw it...

An eye! A knotted, woody eye! It pierced my soul with it's grainy gaze and then it was gone - blinked? closed? gone!

It took me a bewildering moment to realize that my candlelight fell upon the dulcet singing log of which I have grown so fond. It seemed as if this mystical log was both the source of the terrible screeching, and the face for the netherworldly oculus. Yet, once my light was upon the log, the eye vanished and it returned to it's soothing melody.

Was I dreaming? Was this a nightmare? Just days before, I believed I was the target of a witch's hex, and now I was seeing living eyes in a piece of wood. Am I eating the wrong mushrooms? Am I cracking under the stress?

For my own safety, I took a few days from my tasks to stay in bed. The sleep gave me time to ponder, and I have emerged a wiser man. Surely, the New World is full of strange beasts, but there is no such thing as magic, and there is no such thing as curses. I firmly believe that, and while the world I know remains a thing of boundless curiosity, it is not a habitation for monsters or witchcraft. Together, the people of Salem live in a giant cradle of sand - to mold and shape as we see fit. There is no end to the cities we can craft, or the tools we can shape. But the hand of the Almighty God is the only spectral force we should fear. Never forget, "the life I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God." (Galatians 2:2)

Your sane salesman of the splendidly strange,
Waspo

[vienradzis]

A++ Trader.

[ElManisero]

Greetings Friends and Esteemed Clients;

When we last spoke, I was still shaken up by my experiences and fears. But as I returned to sanity, I set about adding on to the small hovel that houses myself and my collection of curios. I have spent the past few days diligently building upon my home and the surrounding land. My fields are flourishing with all manner of New World crops. My crates are bursting with exotic items I've yet to sort. Trade has been good to me, and I am always thankful to the people of Salem and God.

If you should come by my home, you will enjoy the additions I've made. I've rethatched the roof, added a stove, and even added more space for strange items.