The Shattered City: Chapter Four
Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
Tomas abruptly starts a coughing fit, as if he were choking on a bit of soup.
"Is there anything keeping us from checking that place out tonight?" Besides sanity, naturally.
Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
"A thoughtful sentiment Mr. Eisenwald, but I must disagree with your reasoning. Simply by virtue of not being regular to this market will mark us well enough as interlopers already. Any attention a large party would present is easily offset by the enhanced capacity for the whole to prohibit reckless decisions by individuals." Eying Nicolas's preposterously ill advised get-up and Tomas's wounds, Mr Agale raised an eyebrow.Tomas wrote:Smaller parties will be less...how you say? Conspicuous.
What do I possess that these strange denizens we are to meet would consider to be of value? the Borcan pondered.
"In normal times, evil would be fought by good. But in times like these, it must be fought by a different kind of evil."
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Nathan of the FoS
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
"Yes," Mercator replies, briefly. "I will, of course, need an assistant...someone to stand about looking ornamental and vaguely threatening, and to steer a neophyte away from any rash actions...either of you would do nicely."NeoTiamat wrote:“Thinking of going into business, are you?” Bertriz said, fixing her eyes on the Darkonian.
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
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Rock of the Fraternity
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
"Essence," Lia says as she twirls her staff in her hand. "Would these merchants value essence? I have some in my room, it would be the work of a moment to get it." The Mage eyes the rest of the group through her veil, her expression... carefully neutral. "Before we go, I think we should make it explicitly clear what we are going to be shopping for, my friends. The less chance that we will be sidetracked once we are at the Market."
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The Whistler
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
Celeste had been taking notes. Had been. That had lasted about a minute and a half, followed by an intent period of random doodling. As of now, she had gone on to a landscape drawing of the view through the common room window, which was...actually, it was surprisingly good, considering the short amount of time she had put into it. If you were the philosophically inclined, you wondered how many other drawings she hadn't bothered to finish, over the length of her "career".
She did perk up at Lia's mention of salable items, though. "If the clientele of the market is known to shown interest in objets d'art of the non-magical variety, I am more than well-furnished with the like! If I may visit Monsieur Leclerc's vault prior to our excursion...ah, but failing that, I may nonetheless select from the small collection I maintain here. But how to appeal to the tastes of those we shall meet..."
With that, Celeste dove into a comprehensive, silent reverie on the nature of transplanar art appreciation. This was going to be a fun night.
She did perk up at Lia's mention of salable items, though. "If the clientele of the market is known to shown interest in objets d'art of the non-magical variety, I am more than well-furnished with the like! If I may visit Monsieur Leclerc's vault prior to our excursion...ah, but failing that, I may nonetheless select from the small collection I maintain here. But how to appeal to the tastes of those we shall meet..."
With that, Celeste dove into a comprehensive, silent reverie on the nature of transplanar art appreciation. This was going to be a fun night.
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NeoTiamat
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
2 Days, 6 Hours, 0 Minutes
Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine, Mid-Afternoon on April 22nd, 770
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At six PM, right on the dot, you were contacted by the agents of the Marquis of Montmort. Gauvain did not deign to come himself, but instead you were visited by two red-capped gendarmes. It was a rather brief meeting. All Gauvain wanted to know, it seemed, was whether you were engaged in practical endeavors, and once it was established that you were making progress, the two agents departed.
2 Days, 0 Hours, 16 Minutes
Place de Saint Sebastian, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine, Night of April 22nd, 770
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The Place de Saint Sebastien was quite near the Chateau Malchance, a large open plaza just inside the city walls. Athene was waiting for you, lounging in the shadows beside a shop. Her eyes flashed as she spotted you, two little candle-lights in the darkness, and then the woman herself appeared.
“You're here. Good.” Athene said, her eyes seemingly normal for the moment. “Few quick rules, though they're all common sense. No violence in the Market, whether magical, physical, or something else. All deals are final and all prices are serious, so when they ask you to sell your soul, it is not a metaphor. Don't bother giving or expecting gifts, if it's free it means it's flawed.”
“Since I'm bringing you in, I'm responsible for you. I've my own place to mind, but I'll try and stay close.” Athene paused, then smiled in a way that was likely meant to be flirtatious but emerged more predatory. “We'll discuss favors after the market. I've something in mind already.”
1 Days, 23 Hours, 59 Minutes
Le Champ de Foire, Port-a-Lucine, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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The Midnight Market took place at the Port-a-Lucine fairgrounds. There was a certain logic to this, once one thought about it. There were plenty of booths and stands already, left over from the daytime markets that were held here. It was on the outskirts of the city, outside the walls but close to the urbanized area, equally convenient for people moving from the city or from the King's Forest. It was large. It was also deserted. There was not a sound as you approached the fairgrounds, not even a whisper. From the outside, the fairgrounds were utterly empty, hardly a surprise given that it was close to midnight.
Somewhere, the clocks struck 12. Your guides entered the Market proper, speaking as they did so, “Welcome to the Market,” flatly, ironically, or welcomingly. Then you passed through the wrought-iron gates. There was a sudden chill, and you were in the Midnight Market.
It was cloudy, the night sky gray and overcast, filtering the moonlight through viscous clouds. Everything was shrouded in shadows, washed out and gray somehow shown in exacting detail. The air smelled crisp, as though just about to rain, and you could detect an odd assemblage of aromas floating in the air. Spices, and roast meat, and a sense of salt. The air was cool, colder than was the norm for mid-April in Dementlieu. It all combined for an odd effect, of putting your senses on edge, while at the same time offering you less to perceive.
Where before there had been only empty lanes, now shadowed figures moved through this bazaar of the bizarre. Snatches of whispered conversation hung in the air, but the natural tone of the Midnight Market was a hushed whisper. Every so often there were booths and stands, places that in the day sold candy or small toys to children, and now served a significantly more peculiar clientèle. Few came openly to the Midnight Market. Cloaks and cowls were the order of the night, and many of the patrons bore masks of gleaming ivory or dark velvet.
"Mmmrrf mmffm mrrrrf mmmmfmfffmm mmrf?"
There was a voice coming from near your feet. Looking down, the voice was coming from a small gray cat. It appeared to be a talking cat; "appeared", because it was not a talking cat precisely, it was a cat that was making muffled "mmf"ing noises that might have been attempts at speech. The reason for this was that it was holding a bunch of flyers in its mouth.
"Mmmmf mmrrfrrrrr," the cat said, holding a flyer up toward you.
Someone handed the cat a silver, which it somehow took. In return you received a small gazette, slightly damp and chewed, but serving its purpose quite admirably.
Chateau Malchance, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine, Mid-Afternoon on April 22nd, 770
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At six PM, right on the dot, you were contacted by the agents of the Marquis of Montmort. Gauvain did not deign to come himself, but instead you were visited by two red-capped gendarmes. It was a rather brief meeting. All Gauvain wanted to know, it seemed, was whether you were engaged in practical endeavors, and once it was established that you were making progress, the two agents departed.
2 Days, 0 Hours, 16 Minutes
Place de Saint Sebastian, Quartier Marchand, Port-a-Lucine, Night of April 22nd, 770
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The Place de Saint Sebastien was quite near the Chateau Malchance, a large open plaza just inside the city walls. Athene was waiting for you, lounging in the shadows beside a shop. Her eyes flashed as she spotted you, two little candle-lights in the darkness, and then the woman herself appeared.
“You're here. Good.” Athene said, her eyes seemingly normal for the moment. “Few quick rules, though they're all common sense. No violence in the Market, whether magical, physical, or something else. All deals are final and all prices are serious, so when they ask you to sell your soul, it is not a metaphor. Don't bother giving or expecting gifts, if it's free it means it's flawed.”
“Since I'm bringing you in, I'm responsible for you. I've my own place to mind, but I'll try and stay close.” Athene paused, then smiled in a way that was likely meant to be flirtatious but emerged more predatory. “We'll discuss favors after the market. I've something in mind already.”
1 Days, 23 Hours, 59 Minutes
Le Champ de Foire, Port-a-Lucine, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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The Midnight Market took place at the Port-a-Lucine fairgrounds. There was a certain logic to this, once one thought about it. There were plenty of booths and stands already, left over from the daytime markets that were held here. It was on the outskirts of the city, outside the walls but close to the urbanized area, equally convenient for people moving from the city or from the King's Forest. It was large. It was also deserted. There was not a sound as you approached the fairgrounds, not even a whisper. From the outside, the fairgrounds were utterly empty, hardly a surprise given that it was close to midnight.
Somewhere, the clocks struck 12. Your guides entered the Market proper, speaking as they did so, “Welcome to the Market,” flatly, ironically, or welcomingly. Then you passed through the wrought-iron gates. There was a sudden chill, and you were in the Midnight Market.
It was cloudy, the night sky gray and overcast, filtering the moonlight through viscous clouds. Everything was shrouded in shadows, washed out and gray somehow shown in exacting detail. The air smelled crisp, as though just about to rain, and you could detect an odd assemblage of aromas floating in the air. Spices, and roast meat, and a sense of salt. The air was cool, colder than was the norm for mid-April in Dementlieu. It all combined for an odd effect, of putting your senses on edge, while at the same time offering you less to perceive.
Where before there had been only empty lanes, now shadowed figures moved through this bazaar of the bizarre. Snatches of whispered conversation hung in the air, but the natural tone of the Midnight Market was a hushed whisper. Every so often there were booths and stands, places that in the day sold candy or small toys to children, and now served a significantly more peculiar clientèle. Few came openly to the Midnight Market. Cloaks and cowls were the order of the night, and many of the patrons bore masks of gleaming ivory or dark velvet.
"Mmmrrf mmffm mrrrrf mmmmfmfffmm mmrf?"
There was a voice coming from near your feet. Looking down, the voice was coming from a small gray cat. It appeared to be a talking cat; "appeared", because it was not a talking cat precisely, it was a cat that was making muffled "mmf"ing noises that might have been attempts at speech. The reason for this was that it was holding a bunch of flyers in its mouth.
"Mmmmf mmrrfrrrrr," the cat said, holding a flyer up toward you.
Someone handed the cat a silver, which it somehow took. In return you received a small gazette, slightly damp and chewed, but serving its purpose quite admirably.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
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Nathan of the FoS
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
Mercator blinked at the apparition of the small grey cat and its mouthful of correspondence; taking one, he murmured, "Ah...thank you."
Scanning it, he blinked again, then smiled slightly. "I see I am advertised, and even assigned a locale. Excellent. I will be found beneath the Century Oak, it seems. If you would be so good as to accompany me, mademoiselle Renier?"
Scanning it, he blinked again, then smiled slightly. "I see I am advertised, and even assigned a locale. Excellent. I will be found beneath the Century Oak, it seems. If you would be so good as to accompany me, mademoiselle Renier?"
[b]FEAR JUSTICE.[/b] :elena:
Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
"Who knew you'd see a cat fetching papers." Tomas observed, chewing on a toothpick. He's not thrilled about bringing the small haversack of souvenirs, mementos, and trophies from his adventures, but if it gets the job done...normally Eisenwald would be bouncing up and down at the prospect of an adventure like this, but recent events have put a bit of a damper on things.
"This Vevue woman seems to only be interested in her old clients. al-Darwish might be someone to see, definitely Halvari. Who only accepts silver? Maybe he ran into that cursed coin that Borcan was talking about." Tomas cannot still his temper entirely, however, and winks at Lia. "Want to go on the carousel? I'll hold your hand if it goes too fast.~" Ducking a little as if anticipating a smack, Eisenwald continues. "...a law firm? How would that even work?"
There's a pause as the humor drains from Tomas's face, and he woodenly hands the gazette to someone else. Most of Dior's ad could be ignored as euphemism but 'captured' was pretty blatant, and when combined with the loving descriptions of the human condition made for an unpleasant tumble down memory lane. Most of Tomas's face is covered in the heavy scarf he brought from his 'how not to freeze to death' pack, but it is difficult for someone as expressive as Tomas to completely keep his emotions to himself.
"This Vevue woman seems to only be interested in her old clients. al-Darwish might be someone to see, definitely Halvari. Who only accepts silver? Maybe he ran into that cursed coin that Borcan was talking about." Tomas cannot still his temper entirely, however, and winks at Lia. "Want to go on the carousel? I'll hold your hand if it goes too fast.~" Ducking a little as if anticipating a smack, Eisenwald continues. "...a law firm? How would that even work?"
There's a pause as the humor drains from Tomas's face, and he woodenly hands the gazette to someone else. Most of Dior's ad could be ignored as euphemism but 'captured' was pretty blatant, and when combined with the loving descriptions of the human condition made for an unpleasant tumble down memory lane. Most of Tomas's face is covered in the heavy scarf he brought from his 'how not to freeze to death' pack, but it is difficult for someone as expressive as Tomas to completely keep his emotions to himself.
"Is there anything keeping us from checking that place out tonight?" Besides sanity, naturally.
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The Whistler
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
Celeste...
Well, Celeste was dressed for the occasion, because Celeste was always dressed for the occasion. There was the dark grey number with emerald highlights that she'd had on as she'd nipped off to Monsieur LeClerc's--presumably so as not to clash with the vault's color scheme--and there was what she had on now. This being the evening, it was an evening dress: a low-cut gown that did some forward-thinking things with vermillion and silk, and harmonized quite nicely with both the hibiscus blossom in her hair and the rosewood display trunk that she was wheeling around behind her.
You weren't sure where Celeste had acquired a gold-inlaid rosewood display trunk on wheels--or, for that matter, a fresh hibiscus blossom in the Northern Core--on six hours' notice. Celeste probably knew engravers. And florists.
Right now, she was looking around as if it was a full-time job. Immediate surroundings had to be cooed at in ill-suppressed wonder, and damn the consequences. At some point, the flyer got around to her; she glanced at it for not more than it would take to read the first entry that caught her eye. This happened to be...
"Wise woman...fortuitous! The solution to our difficulty may yet be close at hand! Oh, M. Mauganson, you simply must accompany me to the establishment of Mme. Halvari--her expertise rests firmly in your bailiwick, and I should be ever so grateful for your company!"
Well, Celeste was dressed for the occasion, because Celeste was always dressed for the occasion. There was the dark grey number with emerald highlights that she'd had on as she'd nipped off to Monsieur LeClerc's--presumably so as not to clash with the vault's color scheme--and there was what she had on now. This being the evening, it was an evening dress: a low-cut gown that did some forward-thinking things with vermillion and silk, and harmonized quite nicely with both the hibiscus blossom in her hair and the rosewood display trunk that she was wheeling around behind her.
You weren't sure where Celeste had acquired a gold-inlaid rosewood display trunk on wheels--or, for that matter, a fresh hibiscus blossom in the Northern Core--on six hours' notice. Celeste probably knew engravers. And florists.
Right now, she was looking around as if it was a full-time job. Immediate surroundings had to be cooed at in ill-suppressed wonder, and damn the consequences. At some point, the flyer got around to her; she glanced at it for not more than it would take to read the first entry that caught her eye. This happened to be...
"Wise woman...fortuitous! The solution to our difficulty may yet be close at hand! Oh, M. Mauganson, you simply must accompany me to the establishment of Mme. Halvari--her expertise rests firmly in your bailiwick, and I should be ever so grateful for your company!"
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Rock of the Fraternity
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
Unlike Celeste, Lia has gone for her standard outfit. Standard, except she has elected to wear a black set tonight. Her new wand is sheathed at her belt as if it were a dagger.
"Steady," the Mage says in a stern tone, and seizes Tomas by the shoulder when his demeanour changes. "I do not like slave traders any better than you, but we knew this would not be a market full of sunshine, daisies and sweetness when we came here, yes? Fortunately, I can not see any reason for us to visit him, so the temptation to put him out of his wares' misery need not arise. As for a lawfirm... I can see many ways that would work. For instance, the people who would deal with fiends probably like to make sure the fine print can not bite them in the buttocks before they die of nat"
Lia waits until she is certain that Tomas has himself back under control, then releases him. "Let us go see this al-Darwish," she says. "Monsieur Lessard, would you be so kind as to accompany us? As professor Marchand-Renier's top student, I am sure your linguistic skills would be invaluable when haggling with a merchant from so far away."
"Steady," the Mage says in a stern tone, and seizes Tomas by the shoulder when his demeanour changes. "I do not like slave traders any better than you, but we knew this would not be a market full of sunshine, daisies and sweetness when we came here, yes? Fortunately, I can not see any reason for us to visit him, so the temptation to put him out of his wares' misery need not arise. As for a lawfirm... I can see many ways that would work. For instance, the people who would deal with fiends probably like to make sure the fine print can not bite them in the buttocks before they die of nat"
Lia waits until she is certain that Tomas has himself back under control, then releases him. "Let us go see this al-Darwish," she says. "Monsieur Lessard, would you be so kind as to accompany us? As professor Marchand-Renier's top student, I am sure your linguistic skills would be invaluable when haggling with a merchant from so far away."
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yalenusveler
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
It appeared that Kerrian's reaction to certain advertisements for this particular market were much the same as Tomas', the young shifter trying very hard to keep from saying things that would sound suspiciously like threats of violence to a certain merchant. "The woman from Pardion sounds like a good idea...but calling your booth the haunted mansion seems a little..well, tacky." He then finally actually overheard what Celeste said . "That sounds good to me. She might know about the thing that attacked me at the Cathedral. Someone should definitely check out the Haunted Mansion though."
He then turned back to Celeste, and with as much of a smile as one could manage while considering inflicting terrible harm on slavers said "Shall we?" Offering her his arm, trying to hide his anger at Dior with cheer.
He then turned back to Celeste, and with as much of a smile as one could manage while considering inflicting terrible harm on slavers said "Shall we?" Offering her his arm, trying to hide his anger at Dior with cheer.
"Sometimes, Mr.Liquor cabinet is my only friend"
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Nerit
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
Nerit remained stoic at the prospect of human slavery, not to mention the prospect of a talking cat without a master, but she did not in the least look pleased. She said nothing on the matter.
"<Melanchthon, I will find you under that tree when I can>," Nerit told the physician in Darkonese, purely because it was a comfort to speak the language. "For now I can see about Mme. Grissoie. Richard? Alice? I would most enjoy your presence." She lifted her light eyebrows and put her hands in the pockets of her lent jacket like she'd had it all the time. If Katja was nearby she also smiled to her.
Speaking of pockets, hers were full, and it was a good thing Katja had given her something with pockets, because she carried no handbag. Around her neck though, she tied her white handkerchief as a scarf, and she just might have looked like a normal counter-culture Dementlieuse something-or-other in casual enough clothes. Certain academics (literature and sociological types) of the liberal variety often attested to the role of clothing as performative, and it was true in Nerit's case this week.
"<Melanchthon, I will find you under that tree when I can>," Nerit told the physician in Darkonese, purely because it was a comfort to speak the language. "For now I can see about Mme. Grissoie. Richard? Alice? I would most enjoy your presence." She lifted her light eyebrows and put her hands in the pockets of her lent jacket like she'd had it all the time. If Katja was nearby she also smiled to her.
Speaking of pockets, hers were full, and it was a good thing Katja had given her something with pockets, because she carried no handbag. Around her neck though, she tied her white handkerchief as a scarf, and she just might have looked like a normal counter-culture Dementlieuse something-or-other in casual enough clothes. Certain academics (literature and sociological types) of the liberal variety often attested to the role of clothing as performative, and it was true in Nerit's case this week.
Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
Agale, sporting a sleek black coat with a snazzy trim of light brown fur snatched up a flyer and scanned it intently. His eyes tarrying noticeably toward the lower right of the sheet. He rubs his forehead in consternation. Well then, that explains much, yet leaves much else unanswered.
"Perhaps if there is time..." he mumbled softly. "This Ms. Halvari's advertisement does cut straight to the crux of our current necessities, and is as good a place as any to begin."
"Madam Petrik, how long can we expect the market to remain in operation this evening? If the duration is amenable, I propose well all reconnoiter at Mr. Mercator's stand at half that interval to compare notes and reevaluate our leads."
"Perhaps if there is time..." he mumbled softly. "This Ms. Halvari's advertisement does cut straight to the crux of our current necessities, and is as good a place as any to begin."
"Madam Petrik, how long can we expect the market to remain in operation this evening? If the duration is amenable, I propose well all reconnoiter at Mr. Mercator's stand at half that interval to compare notes and reevaluate our leads."
"In normal times, evil would be fought by good. But in times like these, it must be fought by a different kind of evil."
Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
"I agree entirely Signore" Nicolas says to Agale, relaxing a little now that Athene was off plying her trade. "On both the likeliest avenue for information and the reconvening, which should hopefully prohibit some of us from running too wild this evening." He adds a rueful smile to the last part of that, and waves a hand to encompass his Benoit get-up.
"As for me, I have no particular preference on destination, I will go where I am needed, but not... there." He jabs a thumb at the advert for Msieur Dior. "I am uncertain how I might conduct myself in the face of... that, and with the prohibition on violence I think I'll agree with Mademoiselle Mourneswaithe and steer clear for now at least."
"Still" he adds blinking away the sudden vehemence with a cheery smile, "I've bought plenty to barter with should we need to." So saying he holds up the satchel which bulges with what appear to be books. "First editions" he says with a wink "I figured the sentimental value might make them actually worth something.."
OOC: not fussed where Nicolas goes, he can just be used to balance out the other groups.
"As for me, I have no particular preference on destination, I will go where I am needed, but not... there." He jabs a thumb at the advert for Msieur Dior. "I am uncertain how I might conduct myself in the face of... that, and with the prohibition on violence I think I'll agree with Mademoiselle Mourneswaithe and steer clear for now at least."
"Still" he adds blinking away the sudden vehemence with a cheery smile, "I've bought plenty to barter with should we need to." So saying he holds up the satchel which bulges with what appear to be books. "First editions" he says with a wink "I figured the sentimental value might make them actually worth something.."
OOC: not fussed where Nicolas goes, he can just be used to balance out the other groups.
"I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space..."
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NeoTiamat
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Re: The Shattered City: Chapter Four
1 Days, 23 Hours, 53 Minutes
Entrance, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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She sniffed as she looked at Halveri's advertisement. "I will accompany you," she stated.
"I expect that my company may be extraneous to this gathering, so I shall merely bid you the very best of good fortune, my incomparable Seiglinde." Lemercier said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Though my heart shall be rent asunder with your absence, and every step will cause the wound to bleed anew."
"You talk too much, Old Man." Petrik said with a small sniff.
"That has been observed, my beautific Seiglinde." Lemercier said with what was most certainly a smirk. "I shall meet you at a later hour. Adieu, my dear."
1 Days, 23 Hours, 41 Minutes
Kasim al-Darwish's Pavilion, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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The tent-pavilion of Kasim al-Darwish was a large, circular tend in red and orange silk, luxurious and ostentatious to a grand degree. A table had been set up before the tent, covered in cut-glass bottles and little jars of liquids and powders, all arrayed in a haphazard fashion. There were long, blue bottles with thin necks, small red jars that contained something that glowed lightly, what appeared to be an obsidian inlaid snuff-box, and other strange odds and ends. There was a price-list pinned fabric of the tent, written in a calligraphic style upon a stretched out parchment.
Kasim al-Darwish himself sat in an over-stuffed chair behind the table of merchandise, a pair of huge animals lounging at his feet. They looked like russet-furred hyenas, though they were currently asleep. Kasim al-Darwish himself looked like a decidedly predator sort, with a slim smile and mismatched eyes beneath his tattoos. One eye was a dark brown, nearly black. The other was a pale blue. Al-Darwish had claws. Long claws, which tipped the fingers of a powerful hand.
“İyi geceler.” Professor Lessard said politely, bowing his head to the clawed merchant. “Adım Lessard.”
“İyi geceler!” The merchant said with a small smile. He rose to his feet, bowing with a sweep of his arms. “Greetings to you, honored scholar, and to your friends. Welcome to this one's small shop. Please, how may this one help you?”
Kasim al-Darwish's Potions & Elixers
1 Days, 23 Hours, 41 Minutes
Inky's Emporium, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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Inky's Emporium was a large, triangular tent, pitched with heavy beams of wood, the tops carved into intricate knots and animal's heads. Several more beams created a large overhang in front of the entrance. Petrik sniffed as she unceremoniously pulled the red tent flap open, striding inside. The place seemed bigger on the inside than on the outside, though that might have been your imagination. It was very warm in here. The interior was lit by a large, iron brazier, punched and carved with designs that left intricate patterns across the tent cloth; the smell of incense tingled at your nostrils. Herbs lay drying, hanging from racks, along with a few stray ducks and hares. A table in the back contained jars and pouches, their contents unknown. Nearby sat a basin of water with a ladle, a pair of chalices, a drinking horn, a broom, and a milking stool.
"Oh, Petrik. I didn't recognize you. You've grown so old," you heard, as you followed the professor inside. The voice had a slight, foreign accent; the speaker was a lovely young woman with blue eyes, her long golden hair pulled back behind a white kerchief. A long, cow-like tail trailed out from behind her dairy-maid's dress. "Did your master let you off his leash for the evening?"
"Mind yourself, Huldra. You have customers," Pertik replied curtly. Agale found himself abruptly taken by the arm and presented forward.
"Oooh," Inkeri murmured, pressing her fingers coyly to her lips. She looked at all three of the strangers, but seemed particularly struck by the lawyer, giving him a shy smile. "I am Inkeri Halveri. You can call me Inky," she said invitingly, her tail beckoning him forward before curling behind her back. "What would you like me to do for you?"
Inky's Emporium
1 Days, 23 Hours, 41 Minutes
Century Oak, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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The Century Oak was in one of the less-used parts of the Midnight Market, standing in the middle of a meadow just off the beaten path. It was certainly distinctive, a short, gnarled thing nevertheless so broad that you two men could not wrap their arms around the trunk. Some of the branches were blackened by lightning strikes, but still the tree lived, more by sheer bloody-mindedness than by any more conventional explanation, it seemed.
Less-used, however, did not mean unused. A few shoppers passed through the small meadow, seeking either some privacy, or else a chance to test the merchandise which they had bought. Short figures, no higher than your waist, could be seen in the distance, clad in all-enveloping black robes. The Grand Carousel was nearby, as a matter of fact, though behind a row of concessionary stands which blocked it from direct line-of-sight.
“You've been given the most scenic place in the Market, M'sieur.” Bertriz Renier said with an impish smile. “Also the place with the fewest customers, I see.”
“If you build it they will come, a wise man once said.” Bertram observed philosophically, running a hand along the tree's gnarled bark. “Until then, however, I intend to take a nap.”
Choosing one low-hanging branch as thick as a lesser tree's trunk, Bertram jumped and grabbed it, boosting himself up with athletic grace. The Renier was stronger than he looked.
“You're going to fall.” Bertriz said, eyeing her brother as he arranged himself on the branch.
“I have perfect balance.” Bertram retorted with a smile. “And don't mention that bridge in Pont-a-Museau.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, brother dearest.” Bertriz said with a smirk.
“Do you need help setting the stand?” Katja said. She had followed along, though with a look at the Reniers, she seemed to be re-thinking the wisdom of that.
Entrance, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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"Professor Petrik," Petrik sharply corrected. "The Market lasts until dawn. Though some merchants leave well before then."Agale wrote:"Madam Petrik, how long can we expect the market to remain in operation this evening? If the duration is amenable, I propose well all reconnoiter at Mr. Mercator's stand at half that interval to compare notes and reevaluate our leads."
She sniffed as she looked at Halveri's advertisement. "I will accompany you," she stated.
"I expect that my company may be extraneous to this gathering, so I shall merely bid you the very best of good fortune, my incomparable Seiglinde." Lemercier said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Though my heart shall be rent asunder with your absence, and every step will cause the wound to bleed anew."
"You talk too much, Old Man." Petrik said with a small sniff.
"That has been observed, my beautific Seiglinde." Lemercier said with what was most certainly a smirk. "I shall meet you at a later hour. Adieu, my dear."
1 Days, 23 Hours, 41 Minutes
Kasim al-Darwish's Pavilion, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
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The tent-pavilion of Kasim al-Darwish was a large, circular tend in red and orange silk, luxurious and ostentatious to a grand degree. A table had been set up before the tent, covered in cut-glass bottles and little jars of liquids and powders, all arrayed in a haphazard fashion. There were long, blue bottles with thin necks, small red jars that contained something that glowed lightly, what appeared to be an obsidian inlaid snuff-box, and other strange odds and ends. There was a price-list pinned fabric of the tent, written in a calligraphic style upon a stretched out parchment.
Kasim al-Darwish himself sat in an over-stuffed chair behind the table of merchandise, a pair of huge animals lounging at his feet. They looked like russet-furred hyenas, though they were currently asleep. Kasim al-Darwish himself looked like a decidedly predator sort, with a slim smile and mismatched eyes beneath his tattoos. One eye was a dark brown, nearly black. The other was a pale blue. Al-Darwish had claws. Long claws, which tipped the fingers of a powerful hand.
“İyi geceler.” Professor Lessard said politely, bowing his head to the clawed merchant. “Adım Lessard.”
“İyi geceler!” The merchant said with a small smile. He rose to his feet, bowing with a sweep of his arms. “Greetings to you, honored scholar, and to your friends. Welcome to this one's small shop. Please, how may this one help you?”
Kasim al-Darwish's Potions & Elixers
VIEW CONTENT:
1 Days, 23 Hours, 41 Minutes
Inky's Emporium, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Inky's Emporium was a large, triangular tent, pitched with heavy beams of wood, the tops carved into intricate knots and animal's heads. Several more beams created a large overhang in front of the entrance. Petrik sniffed as she unceremoniously pulled the red tent flap open, striding inside. The place seemed bigger on the inside than on the outside, though that might have been your imagination. It was very warm in here. The interior was lit by a large, iron brazier, punched and carved with designs that left intricate patterns across the tent cloth; the smell of incense tingled at your nostrils. Herbs lay drying, hanging from racks, along with a few stray ducks and hares. A table in the back contained jars and pouches, their contents unknown. Nearby sat a basin of water with a ladle, a pair of chalices, a drinking horn, a broom, and a milking stool.
"Oh, Petrik. I didn't recognize you. You've grown so old," you heard, as you followed the professor inside. The voice had a slight, foreign accent; the speaker was a lovely young woman with blue eyes, her long golden hair pulled back behind a white kerchief. A long, cow-like tail trailed out from behind her dairy-maid's dress. "Did your master let you off his leash for the evening?"
"Mind yourself, Huldra. You have customers," Pertik replied curtly. Agale found himself abruptly taken by the arm and presented forward.
"Oooh," Inkeri murmured, pressing her fingers coyly to her lips. She looked at all three of the strangers, but seemed particularly struck by the lawyer, giving him a shy smile. "I am Inkeri Halveri. You can call me Inky," she said invitingly, her tail beckoning him forward before curling behind her back. "What would you like me to do for you?"
Inky's Emporium
VIEW CONTENT:
1 Days, 23 Hours, 41 Minutes
Century Oak, The Midnight Market, Just past Midnight on April 23rd, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Century Oak was in one of the less-used parts of the Midnight Market, standing in the middle of a meadow just off the beaten path. It was certainly distinctive, a short, gnarled thing nevertheless so broad that you two men could not wrap their arms around the trunk. Some of the branches were blackened by lightning strikes, but still the tree lived, more by sheer bloody-mindedness than by any more conventional explanation, it seemed.
Less-used, however, did not mean unused. A few shoppers passed through the small meadow, seeking either some privacy, or else a chance to test the merchandise which they had bought. Short figures, no higher than your waist, could be seen in the distance, clad in all-enveloping black robes. The Grand Carousel was nearby, as a matter of fact, though behind a row of concessionary stands which blocked it from direct line-of-sight.
“You've been given the most scenic place in the Market, M'sieur.” Bertriz Renier said with an impish smile. “Also the place with the fewest customers, I see.”
“If you build it they will come, a wise man once said.” Bertram observed philosophically, running a hand along the tree's gnarled bark. “Until then, however, I intend to take a nap.”
Choosing one low-hanging branch as thick as a lesser tree's trunk, Bertram jumped and grabbed it, boosting himself up with athletic grace. The Renier was stronger than he looked.
“You're going to fall.” Bertriz said, eyeing her brother as he arranged himself on the branch.
“I have perfect balance.” Bertram retorted with a smile. “And don't mention that bridge in Pont-a-Museau.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, brother dearest.” Bertriz said with a smirk.
“Do you need help setting the stand?” Katja said. She had followed along, though with a look at the Reniers, she seemed to be re-thinking the wisdom of that.
Ravenloft GM: Eye of Anubis, Shattered City, and Prof. Lupescu's Traveling Ghost Show
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing
Lead Writer & Editor: VRS Files: Doppelgangers; Contributor: QtR #20, #21, #22, #23, #24
Freelance Writer for Paizo Publishing