The Purple Bowl2420
This is a very nice place in a very bad part of town. This is where the upper echelons of the criminal society dine. An occassional noble or merchant might find their way here, either on a dare or having a secretive meeting. The fare is a bit expensive for the neighborhood (heck most of the city actually), but the house sauce is Xoct sauce.
Here, they are selling the Bounder's Special which consists of a bowl of noodles, rice batter fried chicken, and Xoct Sauce. (Note: Bounder is the current slang for a cat burgler. It comes from bounding from roof to roof. ) They are also selling small bottles of the sauce that they are making locally. Go to Comment
Ahh, I see then. Well, I promise to have my entry ready by Friday. I think you'll enjoy it. By the way, sweet work on this criminal center of commercial. It has the potential to become one of the best threads here, in my humble opinion. Go to Comment
An uncommon name for a business that is by all accounts, run by a very unusual individual, even by the shady standards of the Market. Located on the more obscure outskirts of the Market out of his paranoid fear that some nosy parker might develop an inclination to thwart his ambitions, the Horatio lurks in his cone shaped mud-hut like a hungry spider, keeping a constant vigil at the entrance for customers genuinely interested in the products he has to offer for sale.
And what truly exotic products they are. Peek into Horatio's hut and you will see hundreds of reed cages covering almost every inch of his modest dwelling. Horatio as any visitor will soon come to discover, is an avid breeder of insects. Yes, insects. A most accomplished keeper of slimy, little repulsive things, Horatio has managed through years of zealously forcing distantly related species of bugs to mate with one another, resulting in a bewildering variety of insects that possess rather interesting attributes which a thief would find very useful indeed. Want a bug that can noiselessly disable sturdy locks for you? His unique Cront roaches can pull off this trick, when the lock in question is smeared with traces of their favorite snack, decaying pig brain material, their beloved food item. Just let them get a whiff of it and then release them from their cage, to watch with satisfaction as they slobber all over the lock with their destructive vomit, a highly corrosive substance the shade of thick, putrid yellow that utterly dissolves and melts the metal. Or need a bug that unleashes powerful fumes capable of causing an entire posse of guards to swoon, while you make off with the loot? Horatio's Bulg Spider can do this very nicely. Just remember to swallow an antidote, and then happily see your plan unfold as the fist sized critter is provoked into unleashing its deadly load when one of its legs is ripped off. Oh, and if any guard is strong enough to endure the stench and come after you, just chuck the severed leg at any part of his exposed skin that you see. The numerous toxin-laced hairs sprouting from it, immediately cause blood poisoning upon coming into contact with naked skin. Feel like poisoning anyone to death? Simply grab a pair of gloves, and give a bloated Shar slug a gentle squeeze. A few of the sickly green drops that ooze from its pores are enough to kill a hundred men.
Yes, old Horatio can be very useful at times, or rather his hideous little creations are. They certainly earn him a handsome profit, the little beasties.
And yet, Horatio continues to live in a state of wretched poverty. The clothes that clad his thick, grotesque body are rags, while the food he eats would make a pig gag. Unlike your common black market trader, Horatio isn't keen on accumulating money. Most of what he earns, is spent on procuring ever more rare types of bugs to breed with his existing stock.
Horatio, you see, lives only to inflict his vengeance on those who wrecked his dreams. Once a respected researcher of natural history for the Royal Archives and a devoted observer of the marvelous mini-beasts known as insects, he dreamt of the day that the miraculous abilities of these tiny invertebrates could be harnessed to aid man-kind in all his endeavors. Only to be sacked from the position he occupied when he proposed to cross-breed into existence, a species of fast breeding silk spinning insect that would make silk a widespread commodity. Powerful nobles owning large cotton growing plantations, became concerned for their future profits in a world where silk was readily available, and insisted that the king discharge from his service, this man who was audacious enough to incur the wrath of God by tampering with His creations.
Furious at their greed, Horatio vowed to punish them for it. And so he vanished from the sight of all academia, choosing to forge a new path for himself in the shadowy world of crime..
Twenty years have passed since then, and Horatio revels in the satisfaction that his creations bring him. That, and the knowledge that they now assist in emptying the vaults of the ones who halted his progress for their own narrow, selfish interests. However, a part of him lives in constant fear that his old oppressors are aware of what he is up to, and conspire to put an end to his research for once and all. Terrified of this prospect, Horatio avoids the other criminal traders of the Market as he is suspicious of their true identities, keeping to himself as much as possible. They in turn, think him a crazy, insect obsessed loon, and dismiss him as such. It's an arrangement that works for everyone, Horatio included. Go to Comment
A failed wizards apprentice, Carravi is a genial and well spoken man and one of the few tailors who frequents the Black Market. While his wares are not illegal, they are valuable to the criminal intent, and are quite pricey. He flashes a black cloak and tells that he took a swatch of midnight sky and sewed it into the lining. Once worn, the Thief gets bonuses to hide. nother gray cloak was woven from cloth that was drawn from mist and fog and woven into physical form.
A consumate socialite, Carravi is possibly the most friendly face to be seen at the market. Go to Comment
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.