Rolled 23, 93, 80, 90, 5, 52 = 343 (6d100)
>>5781301>>5781321The choice wasn’t exactly obvious as to where to go, because the Night Market was full of all SORTS of wonders. There were the <Lightning Bolt> cooked kebabs to the magical candies which the fairy court of the old maple so loved, and the beer gardens (with so many strange and exotic beers, and you uniquely ‘of age’ thanks to your slower-than-human development), and of course you looked forward to socializing with all your friends as well… But you reminded yourself that this PARTICUALR visit was as much about Izirina Henzler as it was about you. Well, okay, maybe not QUITE as much, but you felt bad for disappointing her. You knew just what would make it up to her, though, and so you grabbed her sleeve and pulled her along after Blanchette, towards the rows of tents and stalls festooned with all things foreign and fanciful.
“Most of the stuff here is borderline-fraudulent,” you warned her cheerfully, “but I suspect YOU can tell the difference, can’t you Henzler?”
She blinked a few times, but nodded, narrowing her eyes in concentration—and, you suspected, activating her second-sight. Together, the two of you caught up with Blanchette, who was standing before one particular, beige-skinned and wide-faced fellow wearing some sort of head-wrapping and rubbing his hands together as he grinned obsequiously.
“Classic,” you laughed. “Checking for cursed items, Blanchette?”
The merchant’s face fell a little at your words, as he quickly hastened to assure everyone nearby: “My friends, my friends, I sell no cursed things—only blessed ones, enchanted and wonderful ones!”
“Naturally,” Blanchette replied, adjusting his glasses and closely scrutinizing each strange implement and weapon, every jar and vase on display. “If there’s a hex or a curse, you can haggle a better price…”
“…And then, when Blanchette finally learns how to properly remove all the curses in his junk-chest, he figures he’ll come out ahead,” you explained, for Henzler’s benefit.
“But won’t holding onto them in the meantime run the risk of, um… Being cursed?” she’d asked.
“Why do you think Blanchette goes through so many classes, or twists his ankle so often, or gets sick all the time?” you laughed, incurring your friend’s glower.
“Trust in the process,” he admonished you. “or don’t. See if I care. More money and magic for me, that way.”
