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The Multiverse

Setting

A shady market place teeming with activity as vendors peddle their wares to passersby. The Undermarket serves as a haven for thieves, brigands, cutthroats, and shady dealings.

Like the rest of the Undermarket, this marketplace exists as an extra-planar entity that runs parallel to the mortal plane. It can be found underground, deep beneath Wing City. There are no streets or open skies to be found here, and neither police patrols, or access to vehicles are available.

Law enforcement is a near non-existent concept among the denizens of the Undermarket. Should trouble be found, there would be none to call for police assistance (provided you have a phone company that can provide you with service across dimensions), nor any means for police to respond. Hidden far from the view of the the city above, those who venture down into the Undermarket are on their own with nothing more than their wits and a bit of luck in this god forsaken place.

The Undermarket is beyond the reach of normal methods of access. The Undermarket can be entered via the secret entrance in the basement of Gambit's Bar, the Smuggler's Route, and a handful of other obscure points across Wing City. In addition to the established entrance points, numerous one-way exits spill out into the sewers and service tunnels of Wing City. When departing the Undermarket from one of these points there is no tangible change in one's surroundings or perception, but attempts to return the same way will be met with failure as one finds oneself lost in the service tunnels and sewers of Wing City.

RP notes: The best way to describe the Undermarket is as an extra-planar entity that is lain over-top of the sewers and service tunnels of Wing City with multiple points at which a crossover is possible. It is both physically present and not present at the same time. While it is possible for law enforcement to locate entrances to the Undermarket, the metaphysical nature of these entrances means they can be destroyed and new ones created to take their place should the denizens of the Undermarket discover that the police have gained access.
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The Undermarket

A shady market place teeming with activity as vendors peddle their wares to passersby. The Undermarket serves as a haven for thieves, brigands, cutthroats, and shady dealings.

Minimap

The Undermarket is a part of Wing City.

3 Places in The Undermarket:

55 Characters Here

Black Darkness [28] The darkness is my world, as is the shadows that I walk. The Void is my
Luci Gray [25] "..."
Hoen Naith [22] A blood mage seeking a higher power.
Uriel Spencer [15] A once cursed man who now has something he seeks.
Adam Ruin [14] There is a god, but he is far from benevolent.
Layla Moroe [14] "What are we standing around here for? I'm hungry...."
Sandra Viper [13] A woman on the run after a failed assassination.
Zacariah Grimm [12] Careful who you're messin' with, punk. Cause mean as you are, I'm meaner.

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Character Portrait: Takara
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Character Portrait: Takara Takara says,
 “ I think Im Lost ”

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Takara

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Character Portrait: Aurelia
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Character Portrait: Aurelia Aurelia says,
 Test

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Character Portrait: Aurelia
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Character Portrait: Aurelia Aurelia says,
 “ ”

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Character Portrait: Aurelia
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Character Portrait: Aurelia Aurelia says,
 Avatar test is a-go!

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Character Portrait: Aurelia
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Aurelia Tests once more.

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Aurelia Yet another test

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Aurelia .

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Character Portrait: Kathleen Dawson
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#, as written by Prose
Kathleen Dawson walked around in a circle.

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Character Portrait: Lauvie Tanaka
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anyone here?

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Balthazar Winchester the Seventh
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Sitting on a bench in his bright canary yellow suit and featureless mask, Balthazar stood out. But there was something notable about him. He was leant forward and shaking ever so slightly. One hand was pressed to the face of his mask, as if trying to cover the tears. A sharp ear would hear a very low whimpering noise.

It seemed he was crying.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Balthazar Winchester the Seventh
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#, as written by Tiko
The marketplace was largely closed for the night - as closed as a place of this nature could ever be. A few figures could still be seen, but the normally shady dealings that went on during the daylight hours had taken on an even darker tone with the late hour.

Amongst the few stragglers was a cowled figure that slipped through the market place silent and unobtrusive in every manner of the word. There was nothing about the figure that really stood out in a place of such notoriety as this one, nothing to put it apart from a crowd or to linger on the mind once it was gone again. Scarcely even an eye was cast in its direction as it flitted through the market.

Walking this place was a dangerous undertaking even under normal hours, but to be out this late was just courting a mugging or worse. With that in mind, the figure seemed in a hurry to get wherever it was going, and the man upon the bench was spared only a brief glance. However, that glance was enough to reveal a momentary glimpse of feminine features and silvery white locks of hair beneath the shadows cast by her cowl.

In a place such as this, you don't simply stop to aid those in need, unless you yourself wished to become the victim.

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose) Character Portrait: Balthazar Winchester the Seventh
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Balthazar did not move, nor twitch, nor flinch. He continued his act, utterly ignoring the cloaked figure. He would let them completely walk past without comment or action. In fact, he was going to let her leave entirely before getting up and walking the opposite direction himself.

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Character Portrait: Red Drake
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#, as written by Tiko

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Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
Whisper had traversed these tunnels enough to know her way even in the dark, and as such, no light lit their way. In the distance though as they neared their destination, a light glow signified the mouth of the tunnel. Pulling her robes closer around herself, she led them into the market place. This time of day, it was bustling with activity. Vendors were situated about the place, peddling their wares as people passed by, and to the south a crowd could be seen gathering about an action block. It was with practiced ease that Whisper navigated the crowds, heading towards the auction block.

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Character Portrait: Tycho Darsin Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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Tycho put an arm out in front of the woman, his other hand still on his weapon. "Look, where exactly are we goin'? I ain' never seen this place before." He watched each person that walked past with suspicion, his hand gripping tighter into the sword. When he caught sight of the auction block, his eyebrows raised.

"Where we goin', lady?" He asked again.

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Character Portrait: Tycho Darsin Character Portrait: Whisper (Jacquelyn Rose)
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#, as written by Tiko
“You're the one that insisted. Now keep your head up, hand off the sword, and try not to look like a victim,” Whisper remarked. Her tone was entirely seriously as she spoke. “And don't look at anyone, and for the love of all that is good within the world, don't talk to anyone.”

Tycho pursed his lips, lifted his hand from the sword, and nodded slightly.

Shifting around Tycho's arm Whisper kept on her way. She led them through the throng of people, past the auction block and down a darkened side alley. The stench of piss, tobacco and alcohol assaulted their nostrils as they turned down the way, away from the more populated regions of the undermarket.

The alleyway seemed ripe with the dredges of society. In small clusters shady figures whispered amongst themselves, doing business over a few games of cards. A few spared the two arrivals careful glances, as if sizing them up but none rose to confront them. Whisper didn't spare them even a casual look, keeping her steps even and purposeful, her head high and her face concealed in shadow. Soon the men had returned to their discussions, and their whispered words fell away as the duo continued on their way.

Their destination it would seem was a rundown shack, its windows boarded up and the wood rotted out. That anyone lived here was astounding, but Whisper led them straight to the doorway. Laying a hand against it she stood motionless for a moment, before the loud thunk of something falling to the floor on the other side was heard.

Casting a look in either direction, Whisper pushed the door open and waved Tycho inside.

Tycho paused outside of it for the briefest of moments, looking cautious. He had asked for this, as she had pointed out. He had little right to back away now because of a creepy building.

Besides. He wanted to know why she had pictures of the swords.

As he stepped inside the shack, he wrinkled his nose at the smell of sawdust that assailed him. The interior of the building was little better than the filthy alley they had traversed to reach the place. Dust and grime coated much of the furniture, consisting of a rickety table and an unlevel wooden chair. There was no bed to speak of, only a heap of blankets on the floor along one wall.

"Nice place." He grunted, turning to face her. "You live here?"

Moving in after Tycho, Whisper carefully closed the door behind them and lowered her hood to reveal a gaunt looking woman with silvery white locks of hair and an almost sickly pale complexion. Lifting a bar of wood from the floor, she set it back into its resting place across the door. “It's a place that serves its purpose,” Whisper replied as she reached overhead and removed a lantern from its hook on the ceiling. It took only a moment to have a flickering glow of light driving the shadows from the room before she replaced it on its hook.

“Now, you're going to tell me what it is you want with me,” Whisper stated simply. Her pack was carefully tossed down onto the pile of blankets, but her staff remained firmly in hand. There was no warmth in her eyes, or her expression, only a hardened and practical gaze.

"May have mentioned tha', yeah." Tycho muttered, rubbing a hand through his hair repeatedly, staring at her for a long moment.

"Alrigh'," he murmured. "So, Jacquelyn, righ'?"

"Whisper will suffice," Whisper interjected.

"Uh, righ'. Whisper." He glanced at his feet, scuffing them slightly, making sure he was able to get space between them, if necessary. "I wan' ta know why 'xactly yeh got a picture o' my sword in tha' book. What yer interest is in 'em, wha' ya know. Tha's as far as my interest goes."

“I'm a scholar, I have interest in many things,” Whisper offered. Though marginally truthful, her words suggested she was hiding more than she was revealing. Quick to push the topic back in Tycho's direction and to hopefully put him on the defensive early on, Whisper forged ahead. “So you're telling me this has nothing to do with Orochi?” Whisper inquired bluntly.

Tycho's head jerked upwards, fixing her with his gaze. "How d'you know tha' name?" He asked, sharply.

“As I said, I'm a scholar, I make it a habit of knowing these things. Now tell me again, what do you want with me,” Whisper reiterated.

Tycho raised an eyebrow. "Bullshit." He said, simply.

"Wha', did ya jus' read 'bout a spirit in a big, dusty tome, out of some kinda fascination? Th' only people I know who know them kinda names is people who've had direct contact. I may talk like a sailor, Miss, but I ain't stupid."

He folded his arms. "I wan' some information outta ya. Yeh look like ya know what's goin' on, and tha's a rare qual'ty these days."

“I believe, Tycho, that you are mistaken if you think I would disclose such information to a servant of Orochi, or to anyone who wields one of those accursed swords. No, either you tell me what you want with me, or I walk away now. And I assure you that if I don't want to be found, you won't find me.”

Tycho raised an eyebrow as she called him by name. "Ain't that somethin'." He murmured, the hand that was sifting through his hair sliding to rub the stubble of his cheek. "Ain' that somethin'."

"Unlike you, m'dear, I don' like just beatin' on people 'less I have reason. An' yes, that Adriaan guy did deserve it." He muttered darkly. His words elicted an arch of Whisper's brow.

"Alrigh, Whisper. Why d'ya hate us? What've I done ta ya - other than try an' stop yer arrest - to make you be mistrustin'?" Diplomacy, it seemed, was a hard thing to shake.

“That's not a tale for a stranger,” Whisper replied. “Now are you going to answer the question, or are we done here?”

Tycho grinned, crookedly. "Guess we're straight to business, huh."

He rolled his shoulders, and then his neck, loosening his limbs. "Alrigh'. I can' make ya talk, I suppose. Hell if I'm stealin' a stick from ya, too. So, I suppose this is goodbye."

Whisper's eyes narrowed sharply at Tycho's words. “So this is about Orochi.” Her gaze shifted briefly to her pack, which was near at hand.

Tycho sighed explosively. "Thanks, tips." He said to the ceiling, as his head tilted back. "Well, stop helping."

Facing the woman once more, Tycho began to point at her, wagging his finger slightly. "Look, I told ya why I wanted ta talk to you. Wanted info, you didn't give any. All that fun shit. I didn' come down here for some lazy-ass spirit, an' my thievin' days are over."

Still, he caught her eye movement, and despite his words, his gaze, too, rested upon her pack.

Was it in there...?

Whisper's ire turned to a flicker of a frown. “If that's true, then give me your hand,” Whisper offered, her voice substantially softer than moments ago. She even went so far as to step forward and offer her hand out to him, palm up. The mistrust in her eyes remained, but it had shifted from hostility to simple wariness.

Tycho raised an eyebrow at the woman as she came closer, and took a step back.

"Gonna turn me into a vegetable?" He asked, before wincing. "Told you to stop helping," he said to his shoes.

Whisper withdraw her hand, her frown growing all the more defined. She hadn't picked up on it before, but there was something not quite right about this man. “I only wish to ascertain the truth of your words. I will explain after, once I have done that. Will you allow me?” Whisper asked.

Tycho shook his head, hard. "If brain mush is the prerequisite for babblin', yeh must not have much left, dear."

He then thrust his hand out towards Whisper. "'Course I'll allow it."

Whisper lowered her staff as she reached out once more. Her touch was calloused but gentle as she took his hand in her own. A brief sense of unease filled Tycho, coupled with an underlying sense of calm. Whisper's eyes locked on his as she studied his face intently.

Whisper stood there silently for many moments before she at last withdrew her hands. “I apologize. Just understand that it has become a necessary component of my survival to mistrust people. But you may stay, sit if you wish,” Whisper offered with a gesture towards the one available seat in the room. “There's something I must ask though. Who are you talking to?”

Tycho's eye twitched, and he rubbed at the offending spot. "Nobody importan', tha's for sure. Jus' a voice I picked up. Bound ta happen eventually, with how long I been 'busin' my conscience. It protests sometimes."

He shrugged his shoulders. "No apology necessary; I myself don' care too fondly for people, mos' o' the time." He ignored her offer of a seat, instead leaned against one of the walls of the place, gripping his wrist with his opposing hand.

"So, wha' can ya tell me? I'm assumin' not everythin'."

“I imagine not much more than you yourself know. Most of what I know I've gleaned from old tomes and research. Uncovering information into the swords and their origins isn't hard, the lore is legendary for those who know where to look. I recognized yours the moment I saw it,” Whisper explained. “Wraith's bane. I know that it slew Orochi, and that he won't be far behind the one who wields it. I know that he sent you for my staff.”

Tycho shrugged. "Aye, he did.

"Wha' old, dusty spirits wan' of me ain't concernin'. Least, not righ' now." He said. Brushing his fingernails against his coat, he shrugged again. "I'm keepin' options open. Seems like th' spirits are jus' throwin' things tha' interest them at us, willy nilly. 'Till I find a reason for it, I ain't movin' on anythin'."

Except for making friends. That seemed important. The thought made him grind his teeth.

"How'd ya get the staff? Yer clearly not affiliated with any o' the spirits."

“I think, Tycho, that you're going to help me,” Whisper said after a moments deliberation. Her words were so boldly spoken and so genuine that it was as if she had no doubt in her mind that he would do so. “I imagine you'll be asking why, so I'll tell you. You help me, and I'll answer your questions, but furthermore, I'll be straight with you. I get the feeling you're not the kind of person that likes to be yanked around by his chain, or manipulated and deceived into doing other folk's dirty work. I think you hold no sense of endearment towards spirits who would make a puppet of you.”

"Got that right." The man grunted, as he straightened and watched her carefully.

Whisper paused a moment, picking over her words carefully. “As a gesture of my good faith, I will tell you where I got this staff. It was entrusted to me many years ago. I have been tasked with its safety. You see, what you will find in that vault of yours is no power or riches.”

Tycho contemplated her words for a long time, thinking about how she seemed more... mystical, more wise than even Orochi in some respects. She knew his name, and she spoke as if she had seen... things. Things he couldn't imagine.

And he'd been dead.

"You know this? For sure?"

“I do, because I'm the only one that can tell you what's really going on here. I don't lurk in the shadows down here for my own health,” Whisper pointed out. “I will ask nothing more of you than I myself am willing to offer. Information for information, it is as simple as that. I tell you what you want to know, and you keep me informed as to their movements and intentions.”

Tycho nodded. "A'righ'. Tha' seems fair. How we goin' about this, then? Meet up e'ry few days ta' tell what we know? Pen Pals? Or d'ya have some psychic connection?"

He said this last part warily. He was getting tired of people speaking in his head.

Whisper shook her head. “I'll contact you when necessary," she interjected. Pursing her lips briefly she contemplated just how much she was willing to offer the man before she began speaking once more. “The first thing you should know is that this vault you seek is no vault at all. While researching, I've discovered some overlap in the lore of the Seven Swords, and the lore of... Lzothoszth. A being so loathsome, so unfathomable that to even look upon him will drive one to insanity. Furthermore, his followers require my staff for a machine they designed to awaken and free Lzothoszth. And Orochi wishes the staff to open this vault. It is my belief that they are one and the same.”

Tycho scratched at his cheek. "There mus' be some connection, what with everyone involved havin' some form o' silly name." He murmured. Louder, he adressed her.

"Why would he wan' ta open Loozooferoo? Wouldn' that be jus' as bad fer them as 'tis for us?"

“If the spirits can be taken at their word. They get a second chance at life out of this. The spirits themselves may not be malicious in intent, only selfish. But I cannot say for certain.” Whisper paused again, a flicker of a frown touching her lips. “There's more of a connection than simply that. Am I correct in the understand that you know an Alrion Flavaar?” Whisper inquired.

Tycho nodded, his countenance darkening considerably when she told him this news. "Wouldn' say I know him, but I met him once. He got me Wraymon's Blade, or whatever he called th' Ghost." He lifted the sword half out of his scabbard before dropping it.

“Alrion is servant to the Corruption. The Corruption in turn is in the service of Lzothoszth,” Whisper explained, giving a moment for her implication to settle in.

The moment was half baked before Tycho reacted.

"Well, shit." He muttered, finally taking the seat she had offered long ago. "Never did well with conspiracy theories, so let me get this straight."

He held up a finger. "Some guy, workin' for Loozooferoo, tells me ta get a sword."

A second finger. "Sword belongs to Orochi, big spirit guy, tells me tha' I can become a God, if I jus' unlock a vault."

A third. "Orochi is tryin' ta become alive again, so he wan's me ta take yer stick and unlock th' vault with the other seven swordspeople."

A fourth. "Bu' that's all a front, because in th' end, they all jus' wanna become real."

Tycho dropped his hand. "Somethin' don't add up. When Orochi spoke ta me, he said tha' if I unlock th' vault, I were to grant him a mortal form. If he gets one anyways, why would he tell me?"

Whisper nodded briefly. “I don't yet know everything. I only know enough to know that opening that vault, would be a very real mistake for all involved, and for the entirety of the world. I have sworn on my life to never let this come to pass. But you, you have the means of garnering further information to assist my efforts.”

“What I ask of you is nothing more than you've already been doing. Continue efforts to open that vault. Without my staff, they will be unsuccessful, and the more you assist them, the more they will trust you. And should they send you after my staff again, do so if necessary to abate any suspicions. Your cover in this will be important, and I assure you I can take care of myself. The closer you are to the matter, the better I can come to understand this... vault and the people involved.”

Tycho stood, then, and closed the distance between them with careful, measured steps. When he got halfway towards her, he extended his palm, fingers splayed out as if he were to shake hers. Touching him seemed reassuring to her before; he figured it would do the same now.

"Y'have my word."

Whisper accepted the offered handshake, returning it with a firm grasp of her own. “And Tycho? Be careful. The way of the Corruption and of Lzothoszth is one of cunning and deception. Trust no one.”

Tycho nodded. "Aye."

Once he released her hand, he turned and walked out of the small hut, his steps taking him back through the undermarket, up through the stairwell, and back to friendly ground.

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Character Portrait: Marian Charlemagne
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"I'm alive!" Marian fell on to her backside, vaguely aware that a few shady peddlers could see her overly exuberent relief. Though she questioned whether she had run enough. And, more pertinently, although safe, she was completely and utterly lost. That said, she was a thief.In what appeared to be the perfect place for one of her profession. Marian supposed she'd wonder around a bit, feeling surprisingly secure.

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Character Portrait: Die Wu
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The Undermarket was one of the few places anyone would make a living in. It was crowded, it stank, and worse, it was fifty fifty wet and dry, depending on where you are at the halftime show. All sorts of creatures and people and who knew what else made a living down there. Under Wing City the massive undermarket was huge, all sorts of sellers trading their wares. But to get there was a boat, or a block of wood. Either one worked for the idiots from above that went into the underhive. It was below the city but above the 205 tunnel bridge network by a good mile or more.

There were shops, homes, and who knew what else in the Undermarket. For the moment one of the more open air dining areas was well lit and half full, it was deepest most smart people went into the Undermarket, All sorts of stuff could be found there, including people, weapons, and textile goods. though whoever wanted a rug that smelled as if a elderly male yak had taken a leak on it nobosy bothered to ask. It just selled good 'Au de Yak Rug'

news had a way of traveling in the Undermarket. And when new comers arrived from above to below, everyone was on edge, slightly. At least there was the market truce at all times. No fights, but everyone was on guard nonetheless.

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Character Portrait: Drakus Flavaar
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Drakus all but smirked. So this 'Phantom Bazaar' was actually the Undermarket. He should have known it had more than one name. Unfortunately, this left him in a position of poor fortune, lacking the knowledge of even where to begin. He had heard of a few fellows who had seen somebody with a sword that looked like the one he was after. That was as good a lead as any, so he might as well start there, seeking a decent description of both sword and wielder.

He was armed with four concealed and cursed daggers strapped to his breast where they could not be seen underneath his large cloak. And in addition he carried a more standard sword, something to deter the ruffians who thought he might be easy pickings. No, he would not be robbed today.

But to business. He immediately sought the first few traders, ignoring their wares and offering coin for description or word of the person he was after, or their sword if that was all he could find.

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Several eyes of unsavery looks eyed Drakus as he passed, one of them a larger male dragonlike thing, which ended up being a distant relative of Godzilla, pointed towards the main eating spot that most uppers stopped at and never went past. Unless they were going to the Auction Block another block down. The lizardman said, 'Saw that thing minutes ago, that-a-way' he pointed towards the eating place a good half block from their current location. Then Lizard man waved Drakus on, not saying anything more, soon disapearing into the throng.

The dining hall, half full of people and creatures of many types, was not exactly large, nor was it small. At one table a person sat alone. Other tables were crowded with people. stuff was everywhere, most of it rotting bodies that formed the hard compacted floors of the place. The table had very little food on it. But the person eating there was only drinking a type of tea of some sort.

Atop the damaged and constantly repaired table laid a item wrapped tightly in a cloth of some sort, by its shape it was clearly a sword of some kind. The woman poured a cup of liquid, set the pot onto the table, then picked up the cup to take a sip. Many people chattered around the place, some of them pointed at her. Jeering voices filled the messy place, the woman ignored the voices,focusing on her drink.

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Character Portrait: Drakus Flavaar
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Drakus wandered in, not worried about the sorts of folk he might encounter. Let them stare. He had business. He was heading towards a serving person, raising his hand to hail them then offering a description of both sword and a rough few words on what the person carrying it was supposed to look like. "It's known as the Sword of the White Tears, I believe. I seek the owner of the weapon."

One or two shiny coins were offered for discretion and answers.

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The keeper of the dinning place listened to Drakus and when he tilted his head thoughtfully as if how to answer, the coins appeared. With a feral smile the Keeper nodded and whispered, 'corner table' and pointed in the direction where a single person sat at table, drinking nothing but tea apparently. the man seemed suddenly scared and whispered to Drakus quickly 'Don't be going to start a fight Updweller, the market truce goes on here.'

The woman never looked up from her table as she poured another glass of the tea, set the pot down, then drank the tea. It seemed to go on for hours apparently. The woman appeared to be in good shape, tall by the look of her, dressed in pale blue with light grey. her eyes were extreme blue in color, and her hair black as oil even in the dim light of the eating locale.

She looked,... quite normal, important..... pretty.

So why was she drinking ?

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Character Portrait: Drakus Flavaar
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Drakus approached the table and stared for a moment. There was the sword, albeit wrapped up, and there was the owner. This seemed promising. "Hello there," he said simply. "Up to share a drink? My shout."

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Character Portrait: Die Wu
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Die Wu looked up at him, her eyes never blinked, She said nothing, nor did she nod outright. But a second cup was turned over to allow Drakus to have some. When he h ad sat she spoke. "It is not normal for an updweller such as yourself to come to the Phantom Bazaar" She said softly. her voice carried a strong undertone to it, as if with inner strength of some sort. She took another drink of the tea before speaking again "What do you seek, and why ?" She asked simply.