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Fifi La Våtslidan

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Fifi currently sells her wares in Boston when not selling herself. She has recently moved to the North end of town and is going by the name of Gloria Goodbuttons in a futile attempt at legitimacy.

Shop

Sells the following items:

Item Price Notes
Wool icon.png Wool x1 SilverStack1to9.png 100 Used to make a few clothing items. Some day, Wool will be available on sheep.
Legendary Thread (Chair) icon.png Legendary Thread (Chair) x1 SilverStack1to9.png 750 And odd chair you can buy here and carry in inventory to where you want to keep it.
Plague Doctor's Masque icon.png Plague Doctor's Masque x1 SilverStack1to9.png 700 A popular mask that cannot be crafted.
Decorative Lace icon.png Decorative Lace x1 SilverStack1to9.png 125 An artifact, which, if slotted successfully, will add a one free slot to your clothing.
Golden Lace icon.png Golden Lace x1 SilverStack1to9.png 625 Used to make a few clothing items.
Amber Coarse-Grain Thread icon.png Amber Coarse-Grain Thread x1 SilverStack1to9.png 500 Used to make a few clothing and artifact items. Usually better just to craft them yourself.
Merchant's Purse icon.png Merchant's Purse x1 SilverStack1to9.png 350 Holds up to 2500 silver. Without a purse it can become a hassle having stacks of 100 silver.
Nobleman's Purse icon.png Nobleman's Purse x1 SilverStack1to9.png 1000 Holds up to 7500 silver. Without a purse it can become a hassle having stacks of 100 silver.
Banker's Purse icon.png Banker's Purse x1 SilverStack1to9.png 2500 Holds up to 20000 silver. Without a purse it can become a hassle having stacks of 100 silver.

History

Fifi was born a fatherless bastard in a brothel in Paris. Her mother, a Swedish whore, kept the child despite responsibility and endless stream of men through her door. Children could, after all, make a fair wage on the streets themselves. However, a stream of bad johns and a bad heart led her mother to an early grave, and Fifi became a child of the brothel.

To earn her keep, she would sweep and tend to the prostitutes in any way she could. The brothel operated much like any other close-knit business, really more like a hotel than anything else. The only difference was that the rooms were pre-occupied and the boarders left more rested than when they came in. Madame Lefon, a noseless, voluptuous woman, ran the business and saw to Fifi's upbringing. She suffered from advanced syphilis, but that didn't stop her from being one of the most acclaimed mistresses a the bordello.

Before a misplaced cigarette would see the brothel go up in flames of hellfire, Fifi would learn two very important lessons. The first was that smoking tobacco was a dirty, dangerous habit. The second was that men (and women) would buy anything they felt had greater value than its price tag.

Although she was young, she was beautiful. Her eyes were big and sultry, cheekbones high and elegant. Her body looked to have been molded by God himself with the greatest detail given to every curve and arc. Each night, she would dress as a serving girl, smudge hearth soot on her forehead, and go about sweeping and serving those who waited for other prostitutes. Each night, a man would notice her, notice her figure hidden behind loose, coarse fabric, notice a glimmer of hidden cleavage behind a lace undergarment, notice her full chest and lips. He wouldn't be able to resist. He would pay anything to have this creature that was seemingly off the menu, thinking he had found some kind of gem among the common sands of the brothel. And each time, Madame Lefon would explain Fifi was a virgin and under the care of the brothel, destined to join the convent. Like a plague, this sealed the deal. The men would need her more powerfully than any other whore, and in so needing, would agree to the outrageous price Fifi's bed required.

The charade was a touch above what most common gutter whores were capable of, and so the cut Fifi earned was far more than modest. By the time the brothel was no more, she had saved up enough to seek out a new life away from Paris and France completely. Rumors were spreading of the burgeoning new world across the sea, a place filled with sexually repressed closet-perverts living on communes and worshiping a condemning and prude God. This, she realized, would be the perfect spot to begin a brothel of her own. "Let the men pray in their churches," she would say. "Until priests make men sigh in ecstasy, there will always be whores."

Unfortunately, having lived in Paris her whole life, Fifi hadn't realized how criminalized the Puritans had made the act of sex. This was a difficulty, but nothing she was unwilling to handle. During her younger years at the brothel, Fifi had darned the clothing and underthings of the other whores. Applying her knowledge of psychology and economics, Fifi opened a shop featuring her own line of clothing and accessories, setting herself apart from the common goods with imported cloths from Madame Lefon back in France. Using the same philosophy she used in the bedroom, she named her name brand the outfit of "Good Cheer," to ensure customers who experienced it did so with a smile.

Today Fifi still runs her business. Lately she has taken a fancy to Douglas the violinist, but, to her disappointment, he has little time for anything other than his instrument. She has on more than one occasion told him if his tongue was a bow, her lips would sing, but he doesn't seem bright enough for entendre.