>>5519395>>5519376>>5519329>>5519283>>5519035>>5519011>>5518964>>5518879>>5518866>>5518852>>5518841>The knife path.“The knife path, perhaps, my lady?” You examine the mark–a clean cut emblem, to be sure. “It looks to be a knife of fine make, does it not? They may be craftsmen, or perhaps even culinary enthusiasts! I have been in need of a new cookbook, so..”
“I somehow doubt there are many culinary enthusiasts in a sewer.” Your master mutters. The causeway down the knife’s way leads far, far down into the dank depths ahead. “But fine, fine enough. I will lead, lest we get a knife in the back.”
[...]
The path continues in quiet–your master, yourself, and your mossfolk, a procession of three in green as you walk the length of the concrete catwalk. You find no assassins in wait with knives in hand, nor do you find any culinary enthusiasts. Your mind begins to wander to strange places (like how your master’s hat seems to change size with her size) until..
“Ah. Stop.” Your lady comes to a sudden stop and you near trip over her. Her halfling’s ears twitch. “You hear that, Snuff? It’s.. men speaking, clinking glass, steel, merriment. Sounds like the city streets.”
“Not at all, my lady.” You respond, your ears nowhere near as lewdly large as hers.
“Hmm.. then, come on. But tread light. The mossperson, especially.” Sigrid a glance at Molly, who tilts her head.
[...]
You come upon the source of the revelry soon enough–the causeway’s walk widens, an assemblage of wood stalls and stone shop fronts built along the tributary before your party. The road runs riot with shady wizards and their ilk plying their trade and hocking their ill-gotten goods. It appears you’ve come across a MAGICAL BLACK MARKET, all too common in the wizard world.
“Hmph. It figures..” Sigrid frowns. These sorts of black markets pop up everywhere–in frontier villages, in capitol townships, and as one might expect, wizard cities. They hock potion ingredients and magical goods impossible to come by within the bounds of the law–even your master has a few parts in her ledgers that you’ve no doubt came from one such market. But you’ve never seen one of this size before..
“Come on, Snuff. Stay close.” Sigrid grabs your hand. “And try not to make eye contact with these lot. Your head might explode.”
Your eyes can’t help but wander as you follow the road down–the shopfronts here feature no legible text, but simple symbols like the ones that led here.
>Stick to your master. You had better be careful.>Look to the shop with a ghost mark.>Look to the shop with a knife mark.>Look to the shop with a dog mark.>Write-In. 