Oh, what pretty little thing have we here? What pretty-pretty have you brought me today? Nice. Good weight. Very rare. In fact, a bit too rare. Is this stolen?
Oh, what am I saying? You're an adventurer—of course it's stolen. But that's fine! That's fine. Not a lot of clean hands Red Silk Route, are there? I can find you a nice price, so long as you didn't kill whoever it belonged to. You kill someone over a pretty little bauble, and the first thing their friends look for is the bauble itself. Follow the money and you—
Oh dear. Is that blood? Well, you're complicating my life by the moment, aren't you? I can't sell this here.
Wait, wait! Where are you going?! I said I could sell your pretty-pretty here, not that I couldn't sell it. Goodness, but are all adventurers so defeatist? The sign on the door does say "All wares bought and sold," after all. I wouldn't want you to think I'm a crook. I have friends on many foreign shores who love their pretty things. I have just the ship and captain to slip it out of town—both are very quiet and very well-formed. We could smuggle you out along with it, perhaps? I understand how you sellsword types love your violent ends, but perhaps you'd like to postpone yours a bit. We'll find you a whole new life in some other greasy underbelly, and get you back to stabbing and stealing as soon as you like.
Check through this little guidebook I have, Black Markets. A bit literal, I know, but I think we can all agree that allusions went the way of Ghol-Gan.
Not even a pretty smile for that one? Abadar's bronzed knickers, you lot are humorless when you're being hunted for murder. Well regardless, we've got a few treats for you in here: Pick out the black market of your choice from around the Inner Sea where you can land on your feet, and if you don't see anything you like, well you can always start you own my discerning little sack of contraband. All the rules are right there.
Not sure you're cut out for crime? The bloodstains on your boots speak otherwise. I mean, we're all cut out for a little petty larceny, but you certainly have no qualms cutting out what's owed you. But if you'd rather look into a new line of work, the guide offers a few helpful hints, like the pesh-addled sorcerer of sleep; get your jollies and give them out for free. You'll be the absolute life of the party. Or push your own brands of magical death by becoming an Eldritch Poisoner; pairs well with the selection of magical necrotoxins I'm selling these days— and for you, pretty one, I'll offer a lovely bulk discount.
Wherever you're going, you'll need a few tricks like those anyway. I can stock you up on personal, portable traps—you do seem like the paranoid sort. Or a few polished-up cursed relics you can sell as genuine magic. Seven Hells, I've a man out back who will stich ghouls' guts into you for enough coin. Whatever it takes to finish this deal and get you out of my shop, before disrespectable sorts come looking for the bauble you've brought me. Check the book, pretty-pretty, tell me what you need, and let's get your new life started.