>>5169653>>5169685>>5170236>>5170350>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.You explain to the meatman that even a small cut of the payout you were offered would be a much greater sum than what he could make sharpening knives all week. The meatman’s grin started to grow at the prospect of MANY TICKETS, so you quickly dash his expectations; you explain that he has HEINOUSLY been SELLING KNIVES and as such OWES A DEBT OF VIOLENCE.
“I suppose.. I s-suppose...” the meatman replied, tapping his fingertips together. The space where a brow would be on his putty-clad forehead furrowed in thought. FERAL MEATMEN were not renowned for their bravery in the wild, so you were PLEASANTLY SURPRISED when this one started to pack up his stool, contraption, and wears. “Maybe, m-maybe for just a few t-tickets?” he continued to mumble as he worked. You stood there, chiding him about how knives should be MADE, FOUND, or TAKEN; never anything else. He didn’t quite seem to get it, but by the time he was ready to locomote elsewhere the meatman was very eager to assist in hunting your mark.
“I s-sharpen knives! A-And I’m a locksmith t-too! Really with the r-right junk, I can assemble w-whatever you’d like!” The meatman gleefully clapped, all of his belongings squared away in his fanny pack. While he certainly had MUCH TO LEARN, he would no doubt be a valuable asset. Unfortunately, he did little more than frown when asked where you could find the BAZAAR MASTER. Being marginally more familiar with the city, though, your new companion had a few ideas on where you could start looking for INFORMATION.
>HEEDSNOG COMBINATION MASS GRAVE AND FIGHTING PIT.>PATTERNDALE, DISTRICT POPULATED BY THE AFFLUENT AND STRANGE.>THE VERY EXCLUSIVE BAZAAR SWEATER CLUB. (FOR SWEATER OWNERS ONLY.)>YOU HONESTLY JUST REALLY WANT THAT SANDWICH. 