Avoiding the central dais your group moves deeper into the grass-floored cavern, the light and heat of thousands upon thousands of candles giving the odd market the sense of a warm summer's day.
From what you can see many of the stalls and low buildings sell various items of high value, or with arcane or illicit properties. You pass tables stacked high with exotic weeds and fruits harvested from the southern island jungles, thick-set men and women of various races perusing rank after rank of weapons created with the most exquisite craftwork and rickety stalls stacked high with scrolls and potions. Many of the sellers watch you as you pass, calling out with jovial cries and wide smiles... but those smiles rarely reach their eyes, and you can tell that they are sizing you up in terms of your worth or usefulness.
One thing you do notice is that you don't see any prices on any of the items for sale, and as far as you can tell none of the patrons of these places are paying with gold or banknotes for even the simplest of objects.
You do, however, see a lot of contracts being signed, and tense negotiations.
Moving into a section of the grass fenced off from the rest and hung overhead with prayer-strings and charms, your skin begins to tingle uncomfortably. You are close to a high density of magical items and artifacts, unless your mind and body are playing tricks on you, and their puissance is edging its way into your mind.
pursuant to his plan to keep the party safe, Roger will follow the group around, although he will pay close attention when he gets to the forge area, as new armor or a new sword would be good.
Miria eyes the negotiations and makes a mental note. 'So they don't use gold, they use labor and contracts. That's both interesting and uncomfortable.' She also eyes the 'clasp corner'. Though not generally practical, she does enjoy small trinkets and shiny things.
Jack follows John aimlessly, out of his depth in this strange place. Nervously he reaches down and taps John's shoulder, then points towards the area of trinkets
"Do you think they'll work there?" he "whispers" to John in a low but hissed baritone.
carries a wide variety of small trinkets, the majority of them in the form of rings, amulets and torcs. With the aid of John’s puissance you can determine much without speaking to the stallholders themselves – many of the objects have mild but beneficial enchantments that would aid an individual in mundane tasks , but one or two stalls give a stronger reading – they seem to contain torcs, mostly made of copper and silver, that bestow upon their wearer the ability to emulate ancient magics known now to a select few .
You doubt you could get much more information without engaging directly with the shopkeepers - one, in particular, seems to have a particularly wide-ranging selection spread out over several tables.
, the forge is crowded with customers that jostle and shove to get to the front of the stalls, each one set up in front of some kind of curtained workshop area. You are jostled a few times but not for long, as people soon realise when you fail to be pushed from side to side that your size is not merely for show. You cut an imposing figure in the crowd - not as big as Jack, still souped-up from whatever potions he consumed before you entered, but imposing nonetheless.
Each time he is jostled, Roger will check to ensure that his money purse stays his money purse. Barring that, he will use his height to take a look at what the vendors have to offer.
There are several stalls that catch your eye, Roger...
Roger will approach Rhocreanth and ask them about what sort of weapons he has, and the prices for each.
, there are five... objects... on prominent display that catch your eye...
- a crossbow with notches for multiple loaded bolts and a windlass mechanism covered in runes.
- a simple quarterstaff made from wood, but that flows and shifts when tilted like mercury and is warm to the touch. You've never seen wood like it before, and it seems to hold the promise of fire.
- a pale ivory bastard sword with a chain attached to the hilt and a matching manacle, not connected.
- a cloud of flechette-like metal shards sitting in a pile topped off with a delicate steel rose - you have no idea how they would be used as a weapon, though.
- a living metallic centipede that crawls around inside a glass case, sometimes letting forth little gouts of flame into the air from its mouth. It's about a foot and a half long, with a thick rounded body and no obvious use as a weapon.
When asked about prices, one of the short creatures thrusts a contract into your face brusquely - you can't make heads of tails of the writing, but you see nothing numeric mentioned.
For most of his life Jack has pursued size and strength via magic. Soon enough the lure of such a trove of arcane goods pulls him out of his shell.
Slavering slightly through his toothy maw he looks down upon one shopkeepers in the clasp corner.
, one of the salesman talks you through his wares at breakneck pace - I'll give the basic summary below.
Torcs that hold Cantrips (can be used four times per day as a quick action, requiring no use magic device check, maximum charges 30). Available spells are...
Torcs that hold 1st level spells (can be used three times per day as a quick action, requiring no use magic device check, maximum charges 25). Available spells are...
Both of these items are paid for, from what you can tell, by signing away the possibility of certain future life events or the memories and experiences of past ones. If you wish to purchase, the merchant will happily offer you a potential price so you can weigh up the options.
One of the stallowners shakes his head in dismay, but suggests you go ahead and speak to the paper-merchants, hinting that you might have some luck (of a sort) with those kinds of inquiries with them. He warns you, though, that they're a strange bunch - even by the standards of the night market.
When the others are free Jack wanders over to the Paper Merchants and repeats his question.
Roger will show the contract to the party, saying "can you guys understand this?"
Jack shakes his head sadly and slowly
"Seems kinda dumb that they have a contract that people can't even read."
Miria nods her head in agreement, eying the torcs.
Jack is frustrated by his own lack of understanding of the 'common' tongue.
Roger hears what each group member says, and then adds "That nob chick wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this; It would probably get her fancy party dress ruined."
At Jack's mention of using magic to understand languages, Roger will add "There's magic to do that? makes sense, I guess. Maybe we should find someone who can cast that kinda magic before signing anything then?" He will then mumble "stoopid wizards" under his breath.
A small Hooded monk like form is close to Rodger says in a voice he knows.
"Really Rodger you dos so have a turn of phrase, and John where in Hell am I, did you really think I would not be close to hand, this is just my kind of place, a most interesting place with things to find out."
The hood stays put but she moves close to him.
"Most odd no? the asking prices for the items don't you think, as if time and fate where needed by someone, maybe with an apatite for them. It would be interesting to ask why the merchants here value such things above gold and paper money don't you think."
"John, lets say I have been looking onto so of what our new friends said on the ship said abut this place and what they are upto. O and you may be interested to know so far I have counted three separate unsavoury types following your most conspicuous group about at some point. One of which is now sleeping off mild concoction. Sadly he had nothing on him to let me know who he was or what he was doing but Such is the fun of a cosmopolitan city. As for my clothing"
She flaps her arms slightly at them.
"lets just say sometimes its good to keep a low profile, most of all when your encouraging the locals thugs to follow us"
Again her hood stays in place, her clothing looks drab and simple.
"Now I think you where asking for help reading a document, lets have a look and see what it says. But if they ask for you to sign in blood and pay with your soul, Roger there selling you stuff cheap"
She says this jokingly. In fact she seems to have a joking and mocking sound to her voice now, the old Shallrana was not like this, she was hard, cold rude even. This new Shallrana seems to have a wry bent to her tone, a dark hummer that seems to be there now.
Roger hands her the contract, then thinks at her You shouldn't be going through other people's minds, that's not right
"O but Roger the things you can lean of you get the right mind"
She thinks back to him.
Roger will not dignify that with a response, but he does wait eagerly for Sallrana's explanation of the contract.
Miria eyes Sallrana with suspicion. Disappearing and reappearing may be a part of her job, but vanishing without a word to her companions is not acceptable. She'll be watching Sallrana.
Sallrana lower face smiles at Miria look.
"I do not mind you suspecting me, that is a wise way to be in the world as my Husband is fond of saying."
then she adds
"and wile I was away this afternoon. I found more than information, there are some new faces I think you should meet, they seem to have a tail to tell some what akin to ours own."
With this cryptic comment she then carry's on reading the odd contract.
, you can make neither heads nor tail of the contract in question. Some of the 'words' are nothing more than curving suggestions, and it looks almost more like musical notation than anything that could be spoken aloud.
One of the nearby stall-owners watches you with a look of unhidden amusement, a tall mustachioed man with a long tattered coat.
She waves the contract at the stall-owner and giggles back in her best blond voice she says.
"I never leaned to read law stuff, its all so complicated for my little head, silly me"
She giggles again
::Yes funny boy, you chuckle it up.::
In a low voice she says to the others.
"Well in my view this contract is a bit of nice old school flim-flam everyone. Its Glamoured so the true meaning is hidden or... and this is what I think, it has no meaning at all. Its a tool to trick the simple minded shopper onto handing over parts of their life's or souls for trinkets."
She stops for affect
"Nice bite size junks of life."
She looks up at the middle of the room and what may be hidden their.
"Remind you of any thing team? Odd magical doorway, leading to a big internal space that seems impossible, mystery things that have big appetites. It may just be a hunch and I could be wrong but as my Husband is also found of saying Just Because You're Paranoid, Doesn't Mean They're Not Out to get you."
She looks around and smiles at the others.
"I suggest that before anyone hands over bits of themselves. That we have a better look around, Say talk to some of the shoppers that seem to have been here fro a wile. Even go see if they will let us out of here."
She holds up her hand close to Rogers back.
HexQin unseen to Roger jumps off his back and lands on her arm, moving down her arm to where he normal lives,
"Report later Hexqin, I hope you had a fun trip away"
"Yes ma'am most pleasant"
He locks into place on her left breast.
"I found out things: They have a pretty nice sword, but the things that are selling it have a weird contract that makes my head hurt."
One of the salesmen excuses himself from his stall and waddles over, dragging the train of his ill-fitting robe across the grass behind him.
'I see you lads and... err... ladesses... are having some trouble with the old contracts. Let old Gavuran here help you out a little - see, they ain't actually meant to be read at all. Your lady here has the edge of an idea, but we aren't so cruel as old that. Old Arms behinds the curtain, he likes things done in a... particular way, and it works for us.
'So, instead of puzzling over the damn thing, just look at it. I mean, really look - and think about it. remember it. What does it remind you of? Where have you seen it before? '
, you catch sight of the paper in Sallrana's hands as you're about to scoff about how ridiculous the notion is... but then, there is something. You still can't make head nor tail of the contract, but the shapes of the letters, the lines of it, the paper, it all seems to remind you of...
Roger, you sit in the doorway with the other men and wait for your mark to arrive. Hale is picking his teeth, Kerrigan smoking a poorly-made roll-up. You're tense - the man you're following could have bodyguards, you've been warned, and although you're a big guy and you know how to handle yourself they could still pose a problem your comrades break under the pressure. It's worth it though - information on a shipment of exotic meats that never quite made it through customs, leverage for bribery of a cut of the profit. A tidy sum in your pockets, potentially, and with only a little bit of blood shed at that. The city watch probably wouldn't even investigate...
There's a poster on the wall of the alley opposite you, steam-printed and already fading and running in the spring rains. You don't know why but it holds your eye, a picture of a man with many arms surrounded by text, all picked out in red and gold. The text is typical noble tosh - high words about contracts and memories, signing away your rights to the moment in exchange for... something. Some blade or other. Your eyes slide off it easily as you hear the footsteps of your mark, watch your compatriots ready themselves. Hale slips a cosh out from behind his back, and Kerrigan...
The memory dissolves quickly and you are once again standing in amongst your grafted companions in the night-market, the merchant looking at you with a smile.
'There you go lad, you did it. He claps you on the back, then sucks air through his teeth and nurses his smarting fingers - you're a lot more solid than he was expecting. 'So you've seen the price of it - a moment in flux, is what we take. Potentiality. Archaic, yes, but all these trinkets...' he waves an arm around at the stalls surrounding you. 'They run on it. Old Arm behind the curtain forges with it, and we sell his wares. So... sell me a moment, lad?' The merchant looks eager.
Sallrana hands the contact to Roger not wishing to hold or look at it any more. You get the idea she really dos not like the thing.
She steps back and says shaking her head at Roger.
"Roger,Roger,Roger heed your betters on this matter, your ill educated and with out the intelligence to know what your doing, just trust a wiser and better class mind when I says don't agree to this"
You may get the idea that Sallrana is in fact goading Roger on TO agree, buy playing the Nob telling the present roll.
as she talks her clothing changes to that of a fine Noble woman's.
She smiles at them all.
As she talks her clothing shifts and changes to that of a fine Noble woman's, from hat to boots, her revolver is under her cloak.
She smiles at them all.
using Empathy on the seller was he lying about what he said?
"Old hands, using moments in flux, instances of Potentiality to craft things, is that all old hands dos with them?"
As far as you can tell, Sallrana, he's telling the truth.
'I think it's all he can do, to be honest. It's not like he - eughrk!'
The merchant's final utterance ends not with a word but a strangled cry as a shadow passes over all of you, the light from the candelabra flickering for a few seconds before turning to normal. The red curtains of the dais shift slightly in the breeze, and the clanking sound of machinery from within halts, or at least breaks stride, for a moment before continuing.
Visibly shaken, the merchant recovers quickly enough and mops at his brow with a handkerchief. A few of the other people around you are staring at him, some of them curious, others less than amused.
'Sorry miss, but I'm thinking that's my sign to shut my trap - there are a few... topics that we avoid down here, as a common courtesy. Have a good night, and do drop by if you need anything.' He laughs nervously and gives you a little wave as he retreats to his stall, and the people around you resume their purchasing and haggling.
Miria looks to Jack, and possibly Sallrana, before fluttering her hands. They shake with a mixture of anxiety and anger, but her movements are still easy to read.