There are rumors that during the full moon, if you follow the third alleyway in the Underground and take a right, you would stumble upon the Black Market.
The Black Market is a bazaar for the bizarre. The bulk of the market encompasses what seems to be a street that only appears to accommodate it. It has hundreds of stalls that display all sorts of products, from the magical and dangerous to the simple and mundane. It’s apparent that, with the way the bazaar’s set up, that the store owners operate in standards that doesn’t really consider human conventions and currency. A yarn stall will be smackdab between a wooden staff store and another selling alchemical potions. One would be hard-pressed to find something that can’t be found in the Black Market, if you understand the systems the store owners are using.
Most of the vendors are scavenger types. Shadows. Crow people. Pixies. Sentient vultures. They pluck things out thinking they would never be missed, like buttons from dead bodies or pen caps that dropped to the side of the bed and were never retrieved. The bigger items came from abandoned buildings, secret lairs or dump sites. They take things forgotten, pretty them up and make them valuable again.
One important thing to note, though.
The Black Market does not accept human currency.
Anybody who wants to do business with the store owners would have to haggle something of theirs. A valuable item for a valuable item, is what all the store owners would say. Of course, “valuable” takes on a different meaning here. In one store, you’d be able to trade your jewels no problem, but others would prefer different things, like shiny coins, pens, tissue paper or the shirt on your back. Some of the stalls exclusively take limbs. The wise customer would often bring a huge collection of items when entering the Black Market to bargain with the merchants. The fool would only bring a wallet and the clothes on their backs.
The Black Market will close when the sun rises and reopen on the next full moon.
The Black Market is a bazaar for the bizarre. The bulk of the market encompasses what seems to be a street that only appears to accommodate it. It has hundreds of stalls that display all sorts of products, from the magical and dangerous to the simple and mundane. It’s apparent that, with the way the bazaar’s set up, that the store owners operate in standards that doesn’t really consider human conventions and currency. A yarn stall will be smackdab between a wooden staff store and another selling alchemical potions. One would be hard-pressed to find something that can’t be found in the Black Market, if you understand the systems the store owners are using.
Most of the vendors are scavenger types. Shadows. Crow people. Pixies. Sentient vultures. They pluck things out thinking they would never be missed, like buttons from dead bodies or pen caps that dropped to the side of the bed and were never retrieved. The bigger items came from abandoned buildings, secret lairs or dump sites. They take things forgotten, pretty them up and make them valuable again.
One important thing to note, though.
The Black Market does not accept human currency.
Anybody who wants to do business with the store owners would have to haggle something of theirs. A valuable item for a valuable item, is what all the store owners would say. Of course, “valuable” takes on a different meaning here. In one store, you’d be able to trade your jewels no problem, but others would prefer different things, like shiny coins, pens, tissue paper or the shirt on your back. Some of the stalls exclusively take limbs. The wise customer would often bring a huge collection of items when entering the Black Market to bargain with the merchants. The fool would only bring a wallet and the clothes on their backs.
The Black Market will close when the sun rises and reopen on the next full moon.