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Post by Shava on Oct 9, 2022 5:18:02 GMT -5
Getting off the boat, he picked up his simple messenger leather bag and pushed his hat back on his head. Setting the bag down, he helped the guide push the canoe back into the water and retrieved his bag before watching and waving as the man made to quickly head back towards the opposite bank before using the current to move swiftly back down stream. Marcos smiled and moved quietly into some underbrush nearby and found a rock to sit on awhile, watch for observers. It wouldn't be surprising to find some around. Folding his jacket quietly he fed it into the neck pouch after retrieving a small fanny pack like canvas bag. From it he pulled out a bag and started stripping slowly, spread a mucky bluish paste on his main scent spot; wrists inside, neck at the base, and a couple others. The more he spread, the less insects stayed near (a handy trick he had learned in Africa).
He left on a pair of ragged jeans and the neck pouch, but put everything else away except for a couple of meal bars. From out of the small fanny pack he pulled out a strap and leather shoulder guard with three stones in clear corners protected by plastic. They were held in place by three silver rings which combined were enchanted to make muggle missle weapons miss by close encounters near him. The stones were two wizarding made and one he had found in an Incan burial way up in Peru. The Blue one made his weight on the ground lighter over particular surface densities such as water or pit traps; he could walk across those light as a feather. That kept him from making tracks or being held up in a lot of places. The second (red) was like a video game inspiration by a very clever witch which showed his current map (as he slid it turned to the local spot under the leather cover of the guard) location on one and infrared "targeting" of all living creatures not hidden by magic in his other eye. The third and special treasure (a deep orange) made it hard for people to focus on him much, though any "native" would have a fair chance of seeing him depending on their belief in mysticism.
Hard to believe you just saw a White Siberian tiger wearing a shoulder guard pass by you after all. Much much easier to believe that was a dream.
Eating both the bars, he slipped the guard on, pulled a pair of Vibram toe-shoes on and the bag went around his waist. The guard wouldn't change, but the rest would with his magic. Only one other thing remained and that was mainly because of where he was headed. A half mask of a blue tiger he slipped on, the gold paint and other such surely the artist's imagination down in the villages to get to tourists. Still, the legend would be enough to convince most, especially those who saw him in the dark where white fur often took on other hues with the vegetation. Amused, he changed. For a couple of minutes after the change he was busy checking the ground for stuff left behind by accident and only turned his head once to check the belt and guard. Satisfied, he headed off in the way the map had pointed, but not using any trails a human might know about.
On the hillside above the water a watcher who had arrived after the boat had left about gasped when suddenly something large had moved at the far end of the clearing. They were on watch for gold miners, but having seen the brief impression of white he had been off from his post headed back to his village in quite a hurry. The shaman was going to beat him if he learned what he had seen and not stayed to track! Throughout the evening and well into the morning hours the tiger made steady progress avoiding four guards and moving much farther up the ravines in Peru, Those who had not travelled up deep into Peru, there were as many barren ravines and hill sides as there were undergrowth so working his way along took time with some obstacles which was made up in charging through the open ones. Morning found him holed up in a burrow he had found last year, preferred because of it's multiple openings of which several creatures exited rapidly when he entered.
It helped to be one of the biggest things around.
Wanding the entrances shut with alarms and visible camouflaged had made it perfect for sleeping away the day. For two more days he travelled like this, only being spotted a couple of times from a distance (each by obscure locals from farms). Twice he used dying campfires behind sleeping people's backs to make tea and soup, each time leaving behind puzzled night guards who didn't understand why the fires had gotten bigger in the night. By the time he was about a hundred miles from Chachapoyas he was in the right area and was as many miles from a road. While not unexplored, only locals had ever ventured into this area yet the ruins made almost terraces in some places if you had been able to look with the right eyes. This was about his ten or twelfth move into this area on different tasks and the one place he knew he would be undisturbed while doing his job.
Oddly, to his mind, he had never been hired to bring back buried goods. When he had first hired himself out on jobs he would have assumed most of his jobs would be in the toss up with Archeologists and yet the rare plant and animal fields had been by far more popular and high paying. He had run across grave diggers on many jobs and often used his abilities to play with their minds when he could. They deserved it, really, for robbing the dead and stealing what should probably be national treasures. The Pre-Colombian market was still a rather hot theft area of importance. A shake of his head as he found the smell he was looking for and turned aside off his way to climb up a rocky set of difficult ledges before he managed a landing large enough to change on and use a wand the rest of the way up now close enough to know where they would be.
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Post by Shava on Oct 11, 2022 3:18:03 GMT -5
After harvesting a third of them after a full night of the full moon, he had collected seeds and spread about half the seeds he found into the soil in the open space assuring future spread. Repeating that with six other species in the nearby area naturally. Sure, he knew the area well enough now he could have appirated but there were a few problems with that. First off anyone could add up his time in country and track back the time it took to travel, not to mention not being a tourist would have gotten him searched looking for illegal goods and such. Instead he payed a man to take pictures in a village in the similar area for a small fee and it was about the right number of days search, plus a medical assistant got him empty bags from medical supplies in the hospital which he put in a medical kit as biological waste and picked back up from a locker at the airport.
Not enough to be alarming, just a few "he had forgotten about" in an empty medical kit clearly well used up.
That and the envelope of pictures from the village plus a few "poor trinkets" that looked like the typical roadside selling he could say the sellers at been barefoot was enough to avoid all suspicion. He could sleep soundly on a plane back letting the muggle do all the rest for his cover and STILL make a hearty profit from multiple clients as the Wizarding exchange values galleons way higher then muggle expenditures. Seeds, plants, pictures, and samples of plants spread across the right clients could get him ten or twenty small paycheck expenditures (long standing accounts) and give him a reason for keeping a Gringotts vault even if very small. Of course, there were some long standing finds in there as well which he parceled out over time and this trip was no exception to a few items stashed.
Eventually someone would want something similar and would pay for it in a heartbeat when he thought the time was right. The research time when he was supposed to be "at the village" combined with the herb trips always paid off in the long run. In that way he need only go to the far off edges of the world once a year instead of multiple trips each and every time. Selling stuff to one client nearly always produced another couple wanting some of the same things. In that way the muggle rule often quoted about Murphy surely rang true. No one had figured out his triplet-animagus-secret yet and it gave him a huge advantage with plant and animal hunting for sure. Marcos "hunted" much faster then trapping anyway, though it had taken several years to get good enough at that sort of no-kill-hunting; tiger instincts were tough!
Preferring magical clients however was his main thing. Few wizards and witches wanted to venture into the deep jungles and deserts of the world to retrieve what they really needed and thus were used to paying explorers. That there were few with his success record wasn't his fault. Small time yes did not mean profitless. It just meant he kept a small stash and lived mostly in muggle places keeping a low profile. Which had allowed him to get sidetracked into many adventures along the way which was what he really enjoyed; freedom in the world and the wild places. With a practically professional philanderer/thief and a stay-at-home book writer for brothers they sort of cornered the market in exploration in different mediums. They each understood the other's "delights" in a way and lived through them instead of following the same paths.
Marcos and Maddox just felt Madden took the thrill of danger to the extremes.
Next was going to be in Northern Africa where he would get to hang out in a couple of his favorite places, Nigeria and Morocco where the ancient libraries were a mecca for old looking and existing tomes. While few were magical in nature (those he had added to Gringotts long ago), the age of the copies books meant that no one knew they were gone and the copies were as amazing as the originals and much safer for long life in the desert. That was more of a long term collection however as he knew the book market couldn't handle many ancient wonders at a time, but the book market ADORE AND INHALED rare books, particularly private collectors and libraries, muggle and magical. There was something about ancient collections that drove both crazy with the pocketbooks.
Release one or two a year and you had a steady income. While sipping honeyed drinks in the shade. Nigeria was far more an adventure, but Morocco was just a joy in certain corners, particularly the thickly forested neighborhoods of Meknès for him. Random treasures from far away places were his livelihood as much as stories of his wilder treks that people just didn't want to leave their homes for and take risks. Marcos loved the risks, but enjoyed the jewels of the world as much as the look in other people's eyes. That didn't mean life was easy, just that he had worked out the ways to get at things better then others. He still had to eat sometimes raw food in cold camps, deal with injuries from predators miles from medical help, and and dealt with intestinal issue from the wild places in both soil, water, and food supplies.
Desiccated supplies, meal bars, and questionable local cuisines were his staples, not the best of diets but worked well for his still youth. Eventually he wouldn't be able to do that any more and would need something more permeant, but he didn't see that happening with a secure home. Unless he chose something far away from home or the wizarding world really. If he never returned home he could live on a small savings in North Africa along the Sahara's edges for sure, but who wanted that? Family was a very big deal in Puerto Rican society and he still had no kids, not one to "go home" to. Even in his own eyes that spoke of failure.
Not a surprise he visited home the least of his family. Whereas liking risks Madden returned home with a new girlfriend almost every month to his mother's dismay. There was little doubt in the family there were several dozen kids they would never know about. It struck Marcos frequently how much they were like their forms, mostly loners built for survival. And even their forms had grown despite being already oversized for each species to begin with. Hell, Siberians were BARBED to keep the female from moving away before completion! Even he was embarrassed about that as being something to get his ass beat with if he had ever gone near another tiger! Again, Madd--
No. Marcos stopped that thought quickly.
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Post by Shava on Oct 13, 2022 14:37:08 GMT -5
One of the more dull parts of his work included some rare-ish rocks which could not be retrieved easily. Mostly those were because of international borders and most were for muggles. Interestingly enough, a number of meteorites were sought after, some for the muggle scientific community and some for private collectors. The private ones paid the most, but the scientists were often the more thrilled when he found things (and he rather enjoyed the process in a way). Having spent a few days in Morocco, he took the rough maps he had been given (and adjusted by his own experience) and the muggle-gps thing and did some work making himself directions. Into the desert he went, but not just anywhere in the Sahara, but a gathering where the nomads were going to be.
Since they covered the entire desert during the year, he knew at one of their gathering he would find the records he needed, the visual sightings. That ate up another four days before he narrowed down the search pattern and then a guide took him to the right general area by vehicle and established a water spot to meet at. He couldn't get to the actual springs themselves as those were a closely guarded secret, but meeting him up over a couple of days at a pre-decided spot made his water supply go much longer. This was one of the few places in the world where his advantageous second form helped not a bit, but a broom and some obfuscation magic certainly did. Of course, they thought he was going after three or four spots, not the thirty he had on his other list.
At each he took a picture with the GPS (and a compass to pick up on their magnetic fields) on a piece of paper with the dates it was spotted and a couple close ups on the rocks themselves. The more unusual and larger pieces went to the scientists first off and the ones he sold to the private folks he kept on a list of his own to make sure he did not go back to those spots or accept those jobs. Meeting up with his supplier of liquids gave him a good hunt time to stash quite a few which he would return/sell over the next few months. While it didn't pay high amounts it was literally sitting-on-the-surface-pick-it-up money collection. That was hard to resist for a few days work. Hot, dry, and wearing on the spirit it was still worth it.
This time however it paid more than he was expecting in excitement and adventure.
Approaching one section of rough rock crop part way up a dune he watched his footing looking for signs of an impact crater when he found his feet sliding out from underneath him into a sudden funnel of sand rapidly disappearing like a syphon under the desert! A few stumbles and he had to throw his arm up and use his broom to keep himself above ground; in less then a minute nearly eight feet of sand disappeared from under his feet, sucked away as he hung there watching in amazement! While it wasn't any hidden tomb or long lost historical site, it was a wonder of sudden change leaving him to suspect some fissure or cavern deep underground had collapsed for so much sand to sudden--
His attention was suddenly riveted to something that had flashed and he got himself straightened out on the broom before going a bit lower. Ten, fifteen feet down he hovered over the exposed rock from the mysterious sand and found himself seeing a nearly polished surface (sand storms probably over the millennium) seeing several pieces of reddish stone like crystals. Closer examination without touching the ground had him suspicious about their nature, but they looked to be semi-precious of some sort. Working with his wand he quickly loosened up and took ten to fifteen of the crystals, putting them in a bag separate from the rest of his finds so far. Marcos had no idea what they were, but he found it interesting enough to want to get them checked out. But not for long; the sweltering furnace of daylight was starting to wear him down.
A scan of the area showed no obvious people so he moved away from the place before touching down and putting the broom away again. Sudden holes appearing was nothing surprising in a way in the desert as sand shifted in all sorts of ways. And he found no other shifting geology on the rest of his trip which was very good indeed as that was not the sort of surprise one looked forward to! The trip continued till he returned back to his Moroccan base (and his second hotel reservation) where he spent more of the next day in the tub and lying in the shady interior of his room with the curtains shut. Within a few days he had dealt with the scientists part and returned to London with his stuff to put money and about half the other finds in his vault. Before he left however he tracked down a gemologist in Morocco to find out about the stone.
They got very excited and wanted any others he had offering a price which in his mind came out around 3-4k galleons a piece! He sold them all after checking in to what they called it in an internet cafe and was more than a little pleased at what his bank account would show now. Not wealthy mind you, but adding nearly fifty thousand galleons to his account for about a week's worth was the sort of thing he needed for a far off day when he retired for sure. He rarely hit those numbers often enough to suit him!
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Post by Shava on Apr 4, 2023 23:25:07 GMT -5
It had been raining for a week at least which Marcos didn't mind actually, but that brought other things to be concerned with. And this time it happened while he was sleeping in a hammock in a village far off in the jungle. The sound woke him, his head suddenly popping up. wiping his eyes he slid out of it registering it was getting loud fast and he yanked his wand out putting the hammock away in seconds just as he saw the trees suddenly jerk his way! He had time for one "F*cking Merlin" before the brown water hit him like a wall and he was under it as was everything here at once!
At least he had the mind to change so he wouldn't lose anything in the mudslide and tried picking a direction not so much to swim in but scramble in. Turned over maybe ten times in less then half as many seconds something caught his claws and he dug in, pulling hard. The tiger surfaced enough to get a gasp of air, then back under as his weight on the trunk of a tree made it turn, then back up just missing part of some disintegrating hut slammed into his butt launching him up some above the chaotic plunge down a ravine!
The tree caught on something nearly ripping out his claws as he held on with a roar of pain, the rush of mud and water nearly puling him away! A scramble of agonized paws, desperation and instinct making him move and he surfaced for real this time gasping big tiger lung fulls as he clung rather the freed himself. As the mass gushed past his tail he stayed unmoving, unable to move or fearful of freeing his precarious perch along the side of the brand new mud wall which the tree was stuck in.
Shivering from fear more then cold, a glance around showed no escape for now. How long had that been? Twenty seconds? His third mud slide, his second time being engulfed (though last time he escaped most of it). A tremble from his aching paws, the very much brown muck-covered tiger waited unable to go anywhere for seven minutes till the flow had mostly stopped. It was hard to release the claws. Finally he dropped the fifteen feet, landing on pain and crippled ankles to a cry of pain before he managed to limp to the side. Marcos changed for a moment into human and then back healing enough to move without extreme pain and crawled miserably out of the ravine edge.
A man, also coated and pinned by a tree on the top of the ravine, watched the tiger but neither feared the other. Anything going through that was too tired to do anything but survive. The rain pouring down upon him cleared much muck as he crawled to safety over the next fifteen minutes feeling glad just to live. Pulling up onto a rocky small ridge of rock, Marcos changed and lay there panting as he recovered. It would take two more changes before he felt good about bandaging his hands and the bleeding from long scratches down his legs.
Bandaged and semi-wanded clean, a hand mirror was used to check for injuries and tears in his clothes as he striped down. Now he cried, unable to look back and see the horror behind, the village gone, most of the people probably dead. Only instincts and claws had saved his life, magic having only been used to recover. Shock kept him mostly just thinking till he made a bluebell jar from his bag for fire and he sat there shivering another hour before dark. Damn. He really both hated and feared weather sometimes!
Now able to function, in the dark he made a flashlight and returned to wear the man was (fallen asleep in his trapped spot) and woke and freed him, the two stumbling back out of the danger zone in the rain which lightened some in the dark. Overnight they managed to find a spot of tree cover, but no fire, but some drying, warming, and memory charms saved the other's life before they parted ways. It took another day to find enough directions to know that in those few seconds he had been yanked nearly two miles, a huge distance in the jungle. Along with the jungle which was now a tangled fifty-foot deep tangle in that entire stretch hiding any evidence of what people might want to know down near it's bottom in many pieces.
Readjusting, he eventually managed to get back on track and away before the wet season started to end. It was another week before he found a healer in this mess who treated him for the lung fungus from swallowing mud and kept him still a week to fully recover. It would make him a week late returning to the UK with his prize and a shaken memory. The taste of the medicinal potions wouldn't be gone for a week after that, but he was a good patient in that at least much as he disliked being temporarily feeble. He didn't mention that part in the letter he wrote mind you, just that he had been in the clutches of a healer for a couple of weeks. If she followed international news she might catch on to the timing, but he doubted it.
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Post by Shava on Apr 24, 2023 2:43:53 GMT -5
Stopping at the mail sign, Marcos dropped the letter in the box busted up plastic box hoping it's arrival back in the UK would help her understand he had been medically delayed. (he had sent it to an Owl delivery cross-over in the York countryside) He still didn't feel great (nor recovered though the healer said the danger was passed and only natural healing was left. And he should have probably been using the cane, but his stubbornness was in being able to not look like "easy target" everywhere he went. The news was still about the missing numbers being turned into statistics as with any disaster, but most weren't expecting a victim from deep in the jungle being out here on the streets.
From what he was reading, the village he had been sleeping overnight in was gone entirely, no survivors yet that anyone knew about along with two others. Only a few witnesses, though he suspected the man he had saved was one of them. Who knew how long till the wildlife in that area recovered, but that was the rainy season too; you never quite knew what was going to happen and less you could do to prevent it. Trying not to limp, he made his way to the bike stand and paid the fee and inspected the bike. It seemed decent enough, though the tires were a little low. He knew where to get that taken care of in the end station, but asked about it anyway. The woman handling the rentals said the road conditions between here and the coast had a number of rocks and they went with less tire damage being a little under inflated.
He didn't know enough about bikes to know whether that made sense or not, but it could be. Marcos decided to run with it and wheeled the bike outside. One drive and he could recover on the coast; far less risky then here in the interior. Slowly he put one leg over and tried the engine, listening to it turn over with only a little smoke. Good enough! Weaving his way out of the city he did stop long enough to add some air to the tires anyway and then headed out on a side road instead of the main. Wind stirring his hair, Marcos enjoyed the wind and low traffic, though it was mostly trucks on the road he was using. The exhaust was not so nice, but the breeze helped to clear his mind up.
What would he do if he had to stay around London most of the time?
That thought of what skills he would have to use was puzzling. Certainly, he had reserves of things to sell, but that wouldn't last a year unless he was fairly careful. Marcos knew he would have to find some sort of work, if nothing else to keep himself active and not lose this edge he had built up for dealing with trouble. A chuckle at that thought as the only girl on what the muggles called his "radar" was trouble in herself he was fairly sure. Anyone who drew a focus of attention like that was worth the effort it took keeping up with he thought though he had never really given that much thought before to another. She smelled of excitement and movement, her eyes certainly filled with a lust for exploring life in ways even he might not have tried. Of course, he always had a mind towards needing his connections for the future and he imagined she had burned more than a few bridges before.
But hadn't his life been filled with excitement in different variations before? He would certainly have to choose some new methods of getting to the worst areas as his shapeshifting might not work well for two people. An eyebrow went up as he realized this was a first time in his life he had contemplated really giving out his best kept secret as well as the key to many of his successes. Narrowly missing a turn in the road suddenly while in that thought he wondered how she would react to having a tiger around. Not exactly a normal thing in the UK! Not knowing about his 'fae-touched-aura' he was also fairly unaware he was a piece of entertainment around the world for that other side of the supernatural; while they had messed with his brother and his hijinks many times (thwarted while escaping father and husbands on many occasions being their favorite scenario with young male humans) they had mostly just followed Marcos out of sheer curiosity.
Few missed his fae-touch, but there were few animals who would have lived long with one. Magic animals were not just rare, but supernatural-touched ones were like a magnet for the faerie in every corner of the world. A wizard shape changer with magic ITEMS who had been touched by the fae were high entertainment when they passed through one of their observations spots across the planet. What they would do to his traveling partner to make for amusing situations were beyond imagination! But the idea of sharing the fur secret had him wondering his way through different scenarios he could do to get by without it. The swift movement of animals in many habitats had been a blessing and many of his jobs were timed to cover things with the muggle world he darted in.
That kept his brain quite occupied during the drive, dodging quite a few large rocks (off a truck? Why Merlin in the middle of the road??!) until he reached the coast and turned the bike into the rental place and crashing in a small B&B for two days using the cane but sticking to the room to recover as fast as possible. The salt breeze coming in through the windows was such a delight he wished there was a way to package up the impression for her, he suspected she would have liked having a tucked away place like this despite her leather and lace. Instead he got the brochure, got the manager to give him some more pictures saying it was "for a friend" he wanted to come here with him sometime. Well. Maybe after a wild adventure.
Marcos wondered personally how many more of these 'adventures' he could handle since this last one had nearly killed him.
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Post by Shava on May 2, 2023 1:16:08 GMT -5
After a couple of days recovery of his energy mostly, Marcos put on brace he had bought in a muggle store to help conceal the last few days of healing and finished off a letter to his mother. Sending it off (though he often dropped in after a few months to see her) he turned his mind to getting back to the UK for both his customer and a certain lady. He had told her he had a Chinese venture to do, but had switched at the last minute to a job in the Southern part of the Americas for transportation issues. He'd take her on the more tricky Chinese venture for two reasons which lingered in his mind. First, she had already mentioned her interest in her family's trips to China and second, she had already mentioned a love of climbing.
And that was the really tricky part of the Chinese venture.
Somehow, he suspected she would enjoy the tense edged trip more then most things he might easily select. Calling it the "Tea Fields" was a total name trick however as he had to select new ways to get there each time among the middle of a crowd of muggles. And keeping an eye out to avoid the few wizarding kind who might be out there made it all the more tricky. Besides, it certainly had the sense of danger in his job without being too deadly if you had the right training. The muggles didn't call it the Death Trail for nothing, they just were unaware of the magical 'extras' at the end of it all. Tea fields were just along the way to keep his approach 'obscure.'
Suddenly thinking ahead, he left off getting tickets till he had arranged a parrot delivery to an express wizarding letter service and then returned to the airport just before the morning flight counters were going to open. Stopping in the bathroom near his gate, a man was washing his hands and turned seeing his reflection with a grin. *1"O que você tem desta vez David?" *"Apenas os blocos normais, encontramos uma maneira de reforçar a caixa sem metal para que fique mais pesada que o normal." Nodding, he took the handle of the brown suitcase and hefted it slightly.
This would be no problem, but "David" thought he had a special person on board to transfer the bag around customs so didn't know anything about magic. *2"Ah sim, sem problemas. Contato para pagamento? Oh! Aqui está a data da minha próxima viagem, daqui a uma semana." "Bom Bom. Você é uma das minhas melhores conexões, tem certeza de que ainda não quer um turno semanal? Ah sim, seria Patrícia. Acho que ela disse que queria laranja dessa vez." David gave a thumbs up even though Marcos shook his head no with a slight smile. Handing him a paper with some dates on it, they shook hands before Marcos entered the toilet as David made his exit. It was child's play to shrink the bag down and enter it in his neck bag which was under his shirt. It never set off the metal detectors of course being magical space. Nor did Marcos feel guilt about his participation in international smuggling since he only allowed valuable metals to be his luggage; no animals or stolen goods in their many forms. His contacts understood that though he was erratic, moving gold and silver between continents made their profit much more valuable in the long run.
Marcos knew the metals were stolen, but melted down and remolded was impossible to trace so he could always pretend ignorance of that part. Muggles pulled stuff on each other all the time. He pulled out an identical looking carry on which had nearly nothing in it to pull along for the look of the thing. Catching an international flight, he managed to convince the stewardess his cane and 'limp' were worth early boarding (not that she wasn't paying more attention to his chest then his leg it seemed to him) and got on the first of three flights to end up in London via Paris airport. Odd how he often ended up coming into Paris on international flights despite the UK's large airport access. Trick of traffic zones most likely; it often happened coming out of the Americas no matter which airport he ended up out of. With pillow from the bag he slept through most of the flight in the back of the plane leaving the shade up on the window in case those in his row wanted the look.
Released after the long long flight, he stumbled off the plane still waking up as he headed for the first bathroom, then to customs. Neither his paperwork nor his baggage drew much attention and then he was out into the Paris main area headed for the luggage when he turned as if a lingering issue awaited and moved into the bathrooms, switching out the two bags. From there he headed into the luggage locker area across and spotted the woman with little issue. It was a fuzzy orange top, not the French style he had expected, but she had the envelope in her hand so he sat beside her. "Oui? Good flight?" She held out the envelope and he took it as she took the handle. "Very, slept like a wild cat." She quirked an eyebrow, but stood and left without waiting for an explanation. Marcos took the bills out and put them in his wallet before putting it in the neck bag.
That foiled the pick pockets easily enough. Prostitutes however he had to watch out for.
Exiting he went to a small cafe across from the taxi stand and spent the first hour of his two hour delay eating a pretty damn good meal. If there was thing he had learned in all these years, having an empty stomach upon arrival in France never lasted for long. Buying some stuff to go, he slipped his box and bag into the neck bag in their restroom then headed back into the airport. Getting to his flight with his mostly empty case was not an issue and he found himself in the gate in the back corner. A woman in a skirt and blouse very very French whereas her coat (a absolutely beautiful canvas long coat) didn't match at all sat beside him with the words "Hey Marcos, got your letter just a few hours ago. Good timing! I had someone looking at these this week. How's ten thousand galleons work for you?" He coughed suddenly with the word 'robbery' barely discernable in it to her soft smile.
"It's always worth a try. Three thousand as from before? And next time an overnight visit?" Her eyes twinkled as he laughed softly as well before pulling out a bag and handed it over from "inside his shirt" as far as any muggles nearby could tell. "Deal. Although you never really know what will happen overnight, I would probably need to be fed up first if memory serves me from the past." She made the notation in the air as if writing in an invisible notepad with a wink. "Wined and dined it is. May I ask why the sudden change of mind?" A purse of his lips before he admitted "A too-close a call mudslide." Her eyes shifted to a concerned look and a frown at the folded cane he had next to his leg. "You were in that one? Peru?" He met her eyes, then she counted visibly on her fingers. "And a two week medical recovery, got it. Thinking about stopping the travel or more trying to set up a rainy day fund?"
It was hard to keep secrets from her; she had been dealing with collectors for many decades and she knew he was all over certain areas internationally. "Uh, something between those two yes. I'm not stopping yet, just might be edging out of certain...areas shall we say." An understanding nod. "You'd better damn well come and visit before you do anything else dangerous, Merlin!" She handed over the brown paper wrapped books-sized packages and he put them in the carryon on his lap as she kissed his cheek. "Mere was asking about you recently" she pointed out with a fond hand on his leg. Though Gisele was a friend, she had several times wanted something a bit more which he had never felt as intensely. Not an adventurer, she fought the underworld book market for rarities with gusto, often a sharp bird, but not so adventurous. "I promise to keep that in the front of my noggin, but you know my wandering feet never let me stay very still."
She stood with a "Oui, oui, I get that, but I think I could make them distracted for a good amount of time" as she hugged him and hugged her back. They parted without many more words, but clearly she was not disappointed so much as resigned to his love of travel. When they called the early borders he didn't stir this time, setting his cane back inside the luggage and using some magic to hide it's 'disappearance' before his row was called. He stood for boarding and made his way again towards the back of the plane after most had boarded, this time on the aisle. Resigned to being stepped over, he pulled out a magazine and started to read up on what wacky things the muggles were trying to sell him on now...
*1 What you got this time David? *Just the normal blocks, we found a way to reinforce the case without metal so it's heavier than normal.
*2 Oh yeah no problem. Payment contact? Oh! Here's the date for my next trip, a week from now. *Good, good. You are one of my best connections, sure you still don't want a weekly shift? Ah yes, that would be Patricia. I think she said she'd have orange this time.
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Post by Shava on Jul 18, 2023 1:23:34 GMT -5
Once in the UK (landing in London) Marcos would have surprised most wizards & witches by going to a muggle bank first off. Stopping at a cafe on the way he signed into a computer and checked the current country values on money, making some notes on the three that got his interest the most. Going to the bathroom he got all his cash out from his wallet (which was in three different currencies) and organized them, then keeping his wallet in hand paid the bill at the cafe and went two doors down to the Bank of London. Inside he got a manager and explained he was traveling and had an account (handing over his bank book) and saying he needed some currency in different places.
Within twenty minutes he had turned in and gotten the three types exchanged into Euros, then changed back into the three countries currencies he had on paper in equal amounts. There was a small fee, but since he had an account to pull from it was very small. He left with three small envelopes and headed at once towards the Alley. Stopping off in the Cauldron he put down advance on a room for just the afternoon, something he did frequently enough they knew him. Going up he stripped down and changed the dressings, seeing as they were mostly healed on his legs and back, but needed another day probably. Putting the salve on from the healer he could see he was at the bottom of the jar so this was the final. He took the potions however, he had three days left of those.
He could hardly wait to stop drinking those nasty things!
After making sure he was good on that end, he slipped the ankle brace on and did a bunch of cleaning charms then put on his robes wanding his other muggle things clean before putting them away. Refreshed, business first he thought though he would have liked to drop in on her to let her know he was back in town. But he'd rather get the sneaky stuff done first this time, especially as this was not exactly illegal, but questionable. Going into Gringotts, he waited his turn then approached a goblin and said (fairly respectfully he thought) "Good morning, I need to do three things. Money exchange, deposit, and then a withdrawal from my vault please." The goblin shoved a paper his way which he filled out with the amounts written on the front of each envelope.
As he did so he placed each envelope in front of the goblin so he could easily follow along. Paper done the goblin took the envelopes away to get the amount in galleons (minus a small amount again which he had already calculated in). While Gringotts took a fee for doing this, by exchanging to other currencies first on the exchange rate, he got better muggle value over galleons then he would have from a UK exchange. To the tune of nearly fifty galleons which was not pocket change. Some of those might be because of politics, announcements of better GPD, all kinds of factors including war, but Marcos didn't care about the reason, just the amount difference. When the goblin returned, it wrote on the paper first a number then slowly counted out the coins in question into a pan (to prove weight) and then into a bag that Marcos handed over. As the count was finished and he signed, he set his vault key on the counter and the goblin called another to take him to his small vault.
Because he wasn't wealthy, it was a short ride to a small-ish vault behind a single small door he had to duck under. Unlike most vaults, he had brought ten chests in that could be stacked which he preferred (keeping things organized just made it easier to keep these trips short and allow him his own security as well). They were down one side (it was a 5'x5' space), chests stacked onto chests in a row. From the one on the back end he opened the below chest and from a smaller chest inside there he pulled out a single silver coin that was well polished from an ancient mound he had once found and put it in his pocket. Setting the new gold in one chest, he set the books in a third down the row, then added two bags from inside his neck bag without turning around which kept them from being seen. Those were mostly gemstones, cut and uncut.
Taking a book off the first chest nearest the door he made an entry in the book in his native tongue and removed ten galleons worth of coins (galleons, knuts, and sickles) from the first chest and closed it as well. Tapping every chest he had just worked with with his own special magic stone (which gave it a personal seal really that resisted most knock type spells) he went back out to the cart getting his key back and letting the goblin take him back as he put key & rock back in the neck bag. There, with his personal traps added, he felt the Goblins could take care of his future easily enough. As they got back to the main hall he handed the silver coin over to the goblin who very nearly thinly smiled (his mother had taught him to tip those who guarded your home well and this was as close as he had) as he knew they enjoyed reclaimed treasure better than almost anything.
Heading back to the Cauldron, he went upstairs to the room and stripped off the robes, sleeping for a couple of hours before getting a meal sent up to his room. He didn't want to be either sleepy or tired looking when he saw her, figuring she knew too much about seeing 'clues' to his condition. When he finished THAT then he would head over to see how her business was doing and make his first appearance. Truthfully, he needed some new underwear and at least one newer shirt, but he could hold off on that till after he had checked in. She'd surely be busy either there or taking care of her sister and he would need time to kill...
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Post by Shava on Jul 19, 2023 3:39:35 GMT -5
Riding the truck with the two goats and the three boys, Marcos amused them with coins, making them disappear from their hands to appear behind their ears, from one's hole in his shoe, and once from out of his mouth on his tongue. The giggles and wide eyes at this display (which was more slight of hand then actual magic naturally) had them all fast friends and filled with laughter despite the lack of common language. This part of Kenya was used to tourists, though not tons of them. The ruins of Gedi which they were fast approaching (well as fast as a truck held together with rust, wire, and duct tape can go on a dirt road badly kept up can go) got it's fair share of visitors curious about the abandoned site many locals thought of as protected by the old dead priests of those peoples.
Hitching a ride with those supplying one of the dig sites was literally childs' play.
As they got in sight of the forest edge near the ruins, Marcos tapped the roof of the truck and the men up front pulled over, much hand shaking and a head bow plus a few British bills got them to much smiles. They parted ways heading to the other side of the old settlement while he walked along the forest edge till they were out of sight then turned into the woods heading for the other far side. Best not to be seen by the dig personnel asking questions and he did know where he was headed, this being his sixth (or was it seventh? He puzzled over that for a few minutes while walking) trip here for this particular site. Unbeknown to the archaeologists teams, one of the older buildings on sight was a wizarding one, a set of four through only one of them still intact more or less.
Like the rest of the ruins there was no roof, but at some point before it's abandonment here in the early part of the 1700s whoever had run this particular temple had managed to un-map it, making it location-less in a way. While not like anything in the modern wizarding society, this building was fully there minus the roof but muggles walked right through it, not even repelled in anyway by the walls. But if you had entered it by the magic side door (which was easy enough to find if you were a wizard or witch it was just that few went 'touring' the back ways of Kenya) you could stand inside the one room space and not see through the walls at the same time someone outside could see someone walk right throu-- Okay, it hurt the mind to see it happen, leave it at that. Whatever unknown wizarding ancestor who did this had clearly been way ahead of his time.
The magic plants inside however which were growing upwards for the moonlight on evenings however were fairly unusual and uncommon enough to fetch a pretty sickle in the wizarding community, especially still live ones. Maybe there were other places to find them, but he only knew this one batch, though the walls contained several hundred specimens every time he came here. If someone else was picking them, he had never seen evidence of them. Unless only the magical tourists took a few on their day trips. Setting his hand against the magical doorway (whose pointed arched top resembled everything else in this ruin) of another of the four ruins he went inside slowly and seeing no one else there, he closed the door behind him. With no walls practically at all left (only three feet of them high left at one of the corners from outside but inside half a doorway and no walls left above that) he knew he still couldn't be seen by muggles and could camp out here in perfect safety.
If not a little weirded out.
Setting down his mat from his bag, Marcos pulled off his jacket and used it as he had often as a cover lay his head down to sleep a few hours till it started to get dark. The afternoon passed and the night moon started to rise before he sat up and ate a ration bar. He never cooked in this location for both fire and detection reasons, respecting the space. There had been plenty of evidence someone had used the space for camping however as the floor never grew more then grass and was often burned down in one corner, possibly where the old fire pit had been in the original house as there were a few more broken bricking down at that end. So you might as well say "WIZARDS CAMP HERE" cause neither of the other three buildings ever showed more evidence of people. Which he did find curious.
Going to one of the other building structures he entered and used a large open box to pile dirt in from the space, scraping it off the ground. Maybe it wasn't needed, but he thought the soil from inside a magic active area made far more sense then just digging it up from the forest. Might even help the plants stay alive longer, who knew? He was careful not to take too much anyway. Once done he reached in his neck pouch for the next part. Setting out the long small box which was almost the width of a poster roll, Marcos opened it's long side and checked the 22 pots he had used for each of the last trips. He filled them all with soil topped off, and left the rest from the box on the ground, shaking out the box and then thanking any spirits left around for the dirt. After all he'd never seen any magical ghosts here, but the locals believed in it so who was he to go against custom? Better to be safe anywhere new.
With a trowel in the box for working with plants, he took the whole thing up under one arm and went to the primary remaining building and slowly entered it seeing no one else around. With a smile he unpacked the pots in one corner and began filling them with plants carefully repacked into the soil and watered from his bottle. The plants across the room changed color slowly as a group consensus it seemed following the spectrum (and even going dark for a moment after white which he always suspected was a set of colors humans could not see) as he worked, the ones in the pots following suit. The expanded space inside the box left them plenty of space for shuffling around, though he fastened each pot in with a band to keep them from shifting around too much. Completed, he slid it slowly back into his pouch which experience told him left them perfectly fine for at least a couple of days. Not one to take risks with living plants however, Marcos would follow his exit strategy anyway.
With the collection completed, Marcos recollected his things from box to pallet and appirated back towards the coast where some easily accessed ships going up the coast gave him a series of 'jumps' back to the mainland over the next twenty hours where he caught a train in Gibraltar headed north. There in Paris he would sell to a series of three dealers who often sold in London not knowing the others were also supplied by the same person which kept his intake of coinage high and his name well hidden. His bank vault would appreciate being kept topped off for his small amounts as one day he knew he would need every coin in them probably. Next trip he would reverse the process to keep his being spotted in the area the same way or places after all the less they saw him, the less connections were made every year for this harvesting which seemed to flourish in this unusual spot.
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Post by Shava on Jul 19, 2023 4:59:08 GMT -5
The quiet morning passed slowly, not much stirring in the morning air before the baking heat of the day could begin. A figure, moving cautiously made it's way through the wet marsh the sounds of sloshing feet in big boots a very uncommon one in this local. Few could have afforded the nice boots this particular one wore, waders up to mid-thigh through elsewhere in the world one could imagine they would not be considered so fine with their evident patches from long use. Still they enabled the person to reach the drier part of the land, still glancing occasionally at the map folded many times in one hand. The caution spoke of either experience or warning; the area hadn't been very civil in the past and occasional small clashes with armed groups had been heard of in the area more recently. Clearly either this was a local or someone who had been warned about it.
This part of the Congo had once been filled with foreigners, but had become more questionable in the last few years.
The man was clearly not local when one studied his face, though his skin and facial features would not be familiar to anyone around the area. dressed for the bush however he looked every step a seasoned traveler. Moving up along the grounds of the ruins, he seemed to be headed for an archway, partly covered up in tall grass which surrounded the area thickly but not tall. After all the building or more prominently known Dungu Castle had only been considered abandoned recently, the original owner passed and no family staying behind from Belgium. With no one to keep the wilderness back one had to wonder what would happen to the building and who would take it up first.
Once through the archway and inside the courtyard, Marcos stopped to remove the waders temporarily to make movement easier. the inside gate he used a key on and gaining access locked it behind him apparently happy to know it still worked well, if stiff. The stairs and empty upstairs he ignored, following a second map folded in the first across to the back part of the house which who-knew-what it had been used for. If ever there had been furniture it was long since removed after the death of the owner only a few years ago, though the way the plaster was cracking and peeling off messily would not last a long time without some maintenance here. Although considering how isolated this area was despite the population of the nearby town of several thousand, Marcos couldn't see anyone wanting to move in anytime soon. This was one wizarding residence he was sure was going to fall apart sooner then later.
Although an unusual job for him, whoever had been here had left rapidly even if the building was still intact. Maybe the man's family (if he had had one of course) were only here because of him and the old colonial effect on the country. For certainly this building looked like nothing else around here in Africa. It was probably the main reason why the building had not been broken into as it was clear from the windows nothing remained behind. Had they packed up in big trucks? Or flown out pallets with their big whirly birds? A glance out of the window showed no nearby roads except the bridge clearly built the same time and style of the "castle" though he hesitated to think of it as anything as grand as those found in Europe. In the very back corner between two doorways and a hall, he hesitated before moving to the dead end section between.
Pulling out a stick of wood with glances around, the man knelt down and began doing magic on the floor, exposing a metal door under a few feet of flooring which he didn't try to remove intact. Several minutes of grunting work followed before the box was 'removed' from the floor and then put inside a larger box he packed it in. Shrunken down and stored inside a bag from his pocket, he was about to turn away when he caught a bit of color near the bottom of the new hole. A green leather book (almost more a folder, but the old type with parchment you just knew inside instead of paper) lay down below and with some hesitation, he picked it up and added it to his neck pouch instead of the box. Nothing had been mentioned about it and only the box was his job but who knew what bits of history lay behind?
Picking up the detritus left behind he tossed it in the hole and did some waving, creating a floor with it to hide the hole and then began to make his way back through the house when his ears were alerted to several bangs in the distance. Muggle gunfire? He moved to a window and peered through the dirty glass towards the front way, seeing no movement, but hearing two more bangs, more towards the woods behind then the swampy front. Concerned, he ran back through the rest of the old house attaining the door and slipped out in haste, locking the door up and grabbing up the waders to pull back on. His questions of the locals yesterday had mentioned nothing abut troubles recently, though they admitted to troubles in the areas of the Congo down river. Tapping his head he cast several charms and concealment spells before freezing as a head poked around the doorframe looking inwards. Holding his breath, Marcos watched as the man quickly approached the door trying it softly, then retreated, looking around as if searching for someone.
'Morgana's mustache' he swore silently in his head, wondering if they were looking for him after his questions about the area. Maybe someone had already sold information to those who wanted easy targets? Counting to ten after the fellow left, he moved softly outside his waders quietened by a few silence spells as he moved towards the marsh carefully stepping anyway. He didn't want the rushes to give away his movement but then part way there he froze again, seeing a head ducked down near the bank! Now concerned enough to not want to move, he stood there looking around and wondering if this was going to be a long effort. He really did not want to risk his broom even concealed, but if he had to wade they would spot the movement in the water not to mention the sounds. If they were looking for him.
After a full minute the man glanced towards the house staying just low enough to see if anyone was around before ducking back down. Cussing silently he bent down enough to reach around for pebbles getting a handful and then moving out of the grass slowly and a wide circle around the bank to a spot quite farther down. There were no other good spots to cross here unless he went up to the bridge where he would be exposed on the roadway which was one lane. At that point he might as well be on a broom and going for speed really. Frowning he tossed a pebble into the grass near the man who quickly rose glanced around suspiciously and then lowered back down again. Someone called from the front and he looked, seeing a third man with a thick beard. The one by the bank answered back. A few interchanges during which Marcos wish he was good with languages of this continent before the one on the bank just stood as the bearded one retreated.
So. No more stealth. That couldn't be good.
Now moving even slower to prevent blurs from the moving spell, he made his way down this higher bank which before he had been unable to climb hence the flatter approach. Despite his wish to avoid drawing attention, he was going to have to move away quicker before they started looking for footprints. Pulling out his broom from his bag ever so slowly he stepped behind a tree and mounted the broom with agonizing slowness and watched for the soldier's gaze (cause he could see now the man's rifle and clothing clearer) and as soon as the man looked away Marcos shot off on the broom along the bank just above the water ducked low over his broom. Best to get all the movement done quickly and in a narrow field of range of the observer (and moving along the bank over the water got him lower and going parallel). In moments he was several hundreds of yards away far out of sight and then he dared turn and head back towards the town's far side where he could appirate safe enough from.
And as soon as he could, he did, but the crack sound there could be a number of different things and the confusion in town was WAY DIFFERENT then the noise in the marshlands. He returned to his client in Kinshasa the capital getting a decent sized reward for the box (which turned out to have some muggle coins for the old OLD government which were worthless to his eyes in it) to his clients disappointment. He read some of the parchment paper before he went to his client's meeting and found a lot of writing looking more like a journal with a few stock certificates hidden between pages he took to someone else and traded in getting overall a decent amount of cash for his vault. The book itself turned out to be nothing much, but the certificates had made up for it and the dangers.
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Post by Shava on Jul 19, 2023 5:04:53 GMT -5
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