Perlin is a traveler, though no one knows where he goes to. But wherever it is he comes back with many different trinkets and the like. They say he makes his own potions, using materials procured on his travels, but no one knows really.
Powders- His biggest seller by far has to be his "Huemag," a samll distraction of excellent quality. It's a galss bottle with a black liquid, and some sort of ground metal at the bottom of it. It's thrown and when it hits something it produces a large cloud of black, noxious smoke. It also tends to burn whatever it breaks open on, much to the dismay of many a city guard. Another of his big sellers is a brownish powder that when burned removes the user's feeling of pain.
Potions- While his potions are no where near the quality of any decent herbalist, his poisons more than make up for it. He also sells some of the strongest acids avalible on the street, some capable of eating through two inches of iron in half a minute. But one of his more requested potions is a black liquid, extremely bitter, that increases ones reflexes three, sometimes even four, fold, and allowing one to remain awake for long periods of time.
Perennials- The main seller here are plants that are near impossible to cut through, also possessing vicious thorns. Some of these are rumored to have poison in them, but with the restrictions on poisons within many cities you won't hear him telling you this. He also sells some vicious, man-eating plants; a vine that chokes living creatures and puts their bodies on its roots, a massive fly-trapesque monster that'll eat anything that moeves. He also sells an interesting weapon, a slightly magical, extremely fast growing vine. You simply throw it at something, preferably organic, and yell the command word and a plant will grow before your very eyes. It's a vicious thistle that'll shoot it's roots into the first thing it hits. The plant grows rapidly then, sucking all the avilible nutrients out of their substrate and growing to cover areas easily 20-30 feet wide. Go to Comment
The Knotworker is a retired guildmaster, who's true name once instilled fear in merchants and travellers far and wide. His infamous career ended when he was cursed by the priests of Tupu the Metal-Mind, after the Knotworker brazenly attempted to rob the treasury of the Smiths' god. Now, the Knotworker is a living pretzel. A man of misshapen and twisted limbs. Unable to work his trade, constantly in pain, and sadly, no longer able to command respect from subordinates, the Knotworker has found a new niche. He is the giver of advice and answerer of queries. His booth is empty and featureless. The Knotworker is the Dear Abby of the Black Market. Thieves from all walks of life, stop here to ask the Knotworker questions. Any question...from the best way to pick a particular lock, to shipping lanes schedules, to the whereabouts of some specific item, the Knotworker is well-respected and sought out often, for he has truly become a font of all information, treasured by thieves. The Knotworker will answer any question to your satisfaction, or he'll return your coin! But its a gold coin per question, so dont waste his time.
The Apothecary is a cliche name, but this noticeable little shop has a good clientel for it's specialized wares and it's 'special' inventories. The stall is broken into two parts - out on the outside of the shop is a series of thick bookshelves without backing. To the outside is glass, with signs painted on the outside pointing to products on the shelves. The shelves are as tall as the rood of the stall, and thick with various bottles. her 'public' selection is not to be scoffed at, but it is only fair.
If you give the female proprietor a double minted silver coin (fmr. counterfeit) with a specific flaw (which the assassin's/thives guild will give you), you will be welcomed with a copper coin (with a specific flaw)back out of a special purse she keeps from view.
Welcome to the real apothecary.
You now have access to the largest collection of poisons in the Capital, as well as the best selection of anti-poison's.
Each is prepared using recipes made by specialists, or recipes given to the Guild by a specialist, Spy or a Assassin wishing not to have their secrets lost(, perhaps seeking vengance from the grave.) For magical poisons, the guild will offer mages assistance in small ways. (As assassins are expected to be fair thieves as well.)
Special orders are not her forte, and she will need to have the guild look for the item in question (expect a three month delay with payment up front). Although if you have a special request you are probably insane, as the store already has every poison known to man. This may be a mark on your record with the guild, who prefers 'flexible' assassins. ('Flexible' when it comes to methodology, as the guild specializes in 'to order' assassinations.)
The rumor that a poison shop in the area of the city has 'everything' is well known. Hamlets will be searched for the shop by the royal army.
Where is the Myth?
The King is looking for the mythical shop because his assassins would benefit from such a shop. And putting it under royal watch would benefit his longevity. (The kind is cut from the same cloth as the Borgia's.) He hires your party to find that damned shop! Unfortunate for the king, the Assassin's guild/Theives' guild considers this shop a very very important secret. Expect them to try and stop the PC's. Go to Comment
The shack sells everything a budding thief might need, from lockpicks and needle-thin daggers, to contracts with hitmen and blackmail opportunities. But in the back of the store comes the real goods, explosives, acids, and anything that is extremely dangerous. The proprietor is never seen due to the fact that he never comes out of is small room but even then any thief that steals from him has a nasty accident later in the week. the shack is famous for the amazing amount of blackmail opportunities ceapt in one of the shelf's in the back, it is also known for the huge amount of explosives that the owner packs into the tiny place, the one time it went off it destroyed half the stalls at the black market that year and the owner disappeared, but the next year he was back with a new stock. Go to Comment