9829/The Troll Market: February

The Troll Market: February
Date of Scene:	24 February 2022
Location:	The Troll Market
Synopsis:	Things are searched for. Things are lost. Then things are gained. Two people go home with wares, but at what cost?
Cast of Characters:	Veira Lazarescu, Martin Blackwood, Jan de Wit, Jonathan Sims, Gabby Kinney, Tim Drake

---

Veira Lazarescu has posed:
The Troll Market is busier than ever this cold February night and there is a soft falling of snow that covers the tracks of those that had already found their way to the entrance to the place underneath the Brooklyn Bridge. By some token of luck or by knowledge already possessed, people had made their way here.

This place is a veritable riot of things that have only been seen in dreams and things that might be considered only seen in nightmares. But people that are here should realize that the mortal realm has been left behind and they are in a very different place.

A short set of steps grant access for people to join the main walkways of redidents and buyers that mill about. There are humanoids, scaley folks and feather haired things peddling their wares and imaginative creations tonight. It's just like going to a really busy mall at Christmas...

But you might have taken some psychoactive drug prior to this trip.

For Jan who has been here previously he'd recognize some of the Slenderman like creatures are back, but for the most part they are just wandering about, catching up with other patrons.

Veira Lazarescu has posed:
"I figured if I had to stop in and get my book that you'd want to come." Veira had whispered to Jan as she'd lead him through the crowd towards one of the doors with intricate etching towards the farther reaches of the main line of stalls. The woman raises her hand, tracing out a set of the lines. After a second there is a pulse of red light and then the top half of the door is opened with a huff of wind.

There is a scraping noise as something short drags over a stool before popping their head up into the open door, "What?!" the short woman asks. And by short we mean not more than two feet tall. Her cat like eyes give a look up to see who it is and she recognizes Veira, but not her companion. It makes her huff a bit, "Your book is here. Do you have payment?" she asks the Morticia Addams looking woman with the eyepatch.

"Yes and payment is nothing to do with him." she chuckles as she pulls a black velet bag out and settles it on the little counter like lip. "No rush." she adds.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin needed a distraction. He imagined that Agnes needed one, too. And what better for a distraction than some shopping and mystical shopping at that. The market is something of a novelty to Martin but he has managed to stumble upon it all the same.

    "I guess my need was great enough" he mutters as he offers his hand to the girl at his side. "I probably don't need to say this to you, but don't accept any freebies and don't get separated from me." The last thing he wanted to do was start a war with--whatever these beings were--because they decided Agnes was a good enough price for whatever it is Martin decides to buy. "If you want something talk to me first before agreeing to anything, okay?" he asks his young companion.

Jan de Wit has posed:
It was a magical field trip, for Jan! Last time he stumbled in quite on accident, this time - he's got a tour guide of sorts. He keeps near to Veira, smiling at the odd people present. "I appreciate the invitation, Veira." The man offers over, pleased as punch. He's dressed nicely - a tailored suit, cufflinks and all! A warm coat as well, as this weather has been psychotic. I mean, not as pyschotic as the sights and sound of the market, of course.

True to his plan, he keeps close to the one-eyed woman. She knows the place more than he would. He's a novice, if at all, in terms of magical things. Clearly, he's not mentioning anything else in the middle of the bartering and such. No need to get roped into a deal, unwittingly.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Agnes is quite nearly as tall as Martin already, and the combination of curly hair dyed purple with silver tips, dark skin, and eyes like smoky quartz /would/ make her stand out as a potential target for creatures looking for something unique. She's wearing a plaid skirt, black leggings, glow-in-the-dark sneakers, and a cream-colored sweater, along with black-and-red striped gloves. She looks like a normal teenager--but anything in the vicinity that can sense such things would sense massive magical power stored inside the child.

    "No freebies, don't get separated, don't buy anything without talking to you first." Dark eyes dart around the market, accent placing her origin in London rather than New York. "I know the general idea. Elias took me to places like this a few times." She frowns, swallows hard. "They were always trying to buy me off of him, which he seemed to think was... amusing."

Veira Lazarescu has posed:
Henny reaches out to take the bag that Veira has plopped down on her ledge and she eyes Jan one more time, "Did you need anything?" she asks the dancer. Then she looks down to the bag and opens it, giving a sniff to what's inside, "Mmmm. Fresh. You're always a good customer, Miss Lazarus." she rasps out. "Now if you'd just let me fix that eye of yours we'd all be better off." she cackles.

Veira rolls her eye at the little woman, "Now, now, don't be mean spirited, Henny. I do love visiting you." she muses. Then she gives a look to Jan as the woman hops off the stool and skitters off on quick little feet to retrieve her goods. "She's a bit of a gem." she whispers to him as she reaches out to twine her fingers with his. "Anything catching your eye in here?" she asks him.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
When searching for something dear, sometimes you find places you probably shouldn't be. This is precisely what happens to have one green eyed girl with dark hair, and a scarred face, find her way into the market. Gabby was dressed for the cooler weather wearing jeans, stompy boots that gave her just an inch or two of extra height, and a wintery leather jacket. To top it off she's got a knit cap tugged down over her head complete with the little ear flaps and pompoms on the dangly string ends. To say she looked out of place is... Well. Okay a lot of people looked out of place here.

"Welp, not in Kansas anymore, Toto," she mumbles to herself while digging her hands deeper into her pockets to keep her fingers nice and toasty warm. And to keep from accidentally touching anything she probably shouldn't as she makes her way through the array of vendors, and non-humans with a mix of curiosity and cheer--If she found THIS kind of place, maybe she was on the right track to finding what it was she was in search of.

Maybe.

Jan de Wit has posed:
The transaction between Henny and Veira is witnessed - though not understood. Too many mystical implications, for Jan. He grins to the small woman, shaking his head. "Not today, I think. Perhaps once I am more learned, yes?" Jan offers, a slight bow to the dimunitive seller.

Looking to Veira after the woman skitters away a bit. "I have no idea what to be looking for, truth be told. I don't know if it's even in my realm of possibility, learning magick." An amused shrug to her. "There is so much to see, of course. I am open to your suggestions, as you are the experienced one here."

Tim Drake has posed:
    CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

    Anyone who's been to a renaissance festival, or played any fantasy game, knows that sound. The strike of a blacksmith's hammer. One of the prized locations close to the entrance of the market has been claimed by a stocky man with his hair pulled back into a bun, his brow furrowed and his clothing tarnished with soot and sweat as he brings the hammer down upon the glowing, white-hot length of metal.

    He looks entirely average in a way that sets himself apart from the rest of the market, because he's just so... boring. The only thing unusual at all is that he offers no wares for sale. Only his anvil, and his forge, and the other tools of his trade. Nothing else on display, though there are unopened crates and big bulky chests stacked neatly in the corners of his tent.

    Anyone with a lick of mystical sense will get the vaguest notion that there is something amiss, though that may be difficult to parse as the heavy magic-crafting going on upon the anvil. Whatever he's shaping, it's quite powerful.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    The mention of Elias forces Martin's mouth into a tight line. "Of course he did..." he says flatly. He looks out over the stalls. He has an inkling of something that he might find here that could be useful for the future. He leans down and says softly to Anges. "Keep an eye out for..." he pauses and decides to call a spade a spade. "Mystical prosthetics or something along those lines."

    His eyes hit on a pair of familiar faces, Agent Lazarus and the man that was there and helped with the saving of the black dog and her pups. Small world. His senses are pulled away from musing on it further by the tug at his senses from the forge and whatever it is that the smith within is creating. Hmm. Maybe what he seeks could be found there?

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Agnes blinks at Martin, then smiles. "Oh! You're looking for an arm to replace Jon's." She considers that for a moment. "That makes sense... I doubt he'll come back whole. His arm got cut off in the mystic realms, so it's... what did he say? The platonic ideal of him is changed now? Like, if we tried to summon a facsimile from the Astral Plane, it wouldn't have an arm." She chews on her lip as she looks around.

Veira Lazarescu has posed:
Veira gives a soft smile to Jan, "I think I know where to start your magical endeavors off at. Since you already seem good at diving some." she admits to him. "But we'll figure it out. Shouldn't be too hard to get a hold of some good literature to share with you on that." she adds with a bright smile.

Then her gaze is drawn back to the counter as Henny drops a rather old looking tome on it, "There's something else in there. Someone asked me to give it to you next time I saw you." the little humanoid points out before she's looking at Jan.

She's just staring at him. Like she wants to ask him something, but she is trying to formulate the right words.

Gabby is lucky to find such places, but there is a Slenderman looking figure that brushes past her with a bit of a muffled apology as it tries to rush down the main concourse. Apparently it was a busy night!

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney shivers just a bit when that Slenderman fellow brushes against her in his?It's haste to go where it was going. She merely nods a single time with a quick, "No harm done," though she does wriggle her fingers in her pockets testingly. Fingers still there. Good. With that small self-check done she pauses to look over an array of shiny stones (some looking precious, some looking... vaguely... she wasn't sure) which were carved into Witch Stones. Curious, and about to ask the long armed furry vendor what their purpose was, she's instead distracted by the sudden sound of metal on metal ringing out. It was hard to miss after all. "I may be back if I don't find something more interesting," she doesn't promise the seller before she turns to wander toward the sound of hammering.

Given her small stature she's rather quick on her feet when she has an actual goal to go somewhere. Ducking between some people careful not to bump anyone herself, she makes her way to the stall of the metal smith. There she stops, staring and watching, while the hairs on the back of her neck prickle just a bit.

"Are you making something new or fixing something?"

Jan de Wit has posed:
"Some might say I have an inkling for sorting out fate, yeah?" Jan muses, grinning at Veira. "That might be a path to look in for me?" The silver-haired man rubs at his chin, thinking on that possibility. "There are books on this then? That seems... tempting, yet terribly dangerous." A wry chuckle.

There is a glance back at the clanging smithy, the man watching for a moment, spotting the young woman curious about the craftsman. Did he hear something about prosthetics?

His focus goes back to Henny, then to Veira, then back to the tiny woman. "Did you have a question for me?" He asks, politely.

Tim Drake has posed:
    As of this very moment, the length of metal that the blacksmith works is undefined. Nothing more than a bright cylinder of magma just barely holding its shape together as he rolls it deftly with the tongs in his off-hand.

    It seems to be all muscle-memory, as more than once he looks up, scanning the faces of those passing by. The blacksmith's gaze narrows down briefly to Martin, and Agnes by his side. All the while, he continues his work. Twist. Strike. Twist. Strike.

    "New, I think," is the answer Gabby earns for her curiosity, and it seems to give the man pause. He holds the metal length up to peer at it, rather quizzically, before he gives a slow shake of his head and turns away to drive it into the belly of the forge. He pumps the bellows down at the forge's once, twice, before he turns back to Gabby, hands momentarily empty.

    Which means it's a good time for him to reach down below a nearby table and get himself a drink. Of water, out of a hydroflask. There are stickers on it.

    He's a totally normal dude.

    "What sort of things do you make?" he asks her. Maybe he's mistaken her for another vendor.

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Martin nods to Agnes. "That's the idea, yeah" he says. "I looked into the more common ones and well..." He frowns. "Let's just say the ones I want are above my pay grade." He remembers staring agape at the six figure number that fully articulate prosthetics go for these days. Which is what brought him down this avenue where transacions are made with more significant funds than numbers on a paper or plastic card.

    He moves over toward the forge and takes a peek into the boxes around the area, normal guy or not perhaps being in this place could give his creations a more than normal bend to them. He looks over at Gabby and arches a brow, was she a vendor or a patron. She didn't look as outrageous as the rest of the vendors... but looks could be deceiving; if anyone knows that its him.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney pauses to consider that question. While it was true it was likely he was mistaking her for a vendor... That was a rather loaded question as well. She'd spent perhaps more time than anyone ought to in Limbo dealing with the demonic with Illyana and others trying to barter back the soul of a friend. Should she answer honestly? Or... or did she make things? There were things she had made in the past. Even if it wasn't something she sold here.

Whatever thoughts run through her head she decides upon an answer simply enough. Though nothing was really simple for her.

"Lots of things. I make outfits for pets. I make friends. Oh, and I decorate shoes." So saying she rocks back on her heels to wiggle her feet indicating the boots she wore which had crazy colored laces, and what looked like paint marker designs on them in various colors. Just as she finishes this her attention shifts over to Martin to flash him a grin.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Agnes eyes Martin and then eyes the blacksmith and Gabby both. Then she walks right up to them and, ignoring most of everything Martin told her, says, "Do either of you make, umm, prosthetic limbs? Arms, specifically." She gestures to Martin. "My stepfather is looking for such an item, as a gift for my father, who lost his right arm and has no way to re-grow it."

    She folds her arms across her chest, trying to look like she's a savvy shopper and not a thirteen-year-old stepping in because she figures the adult with her is afraid of talking to the vendors. Nope. That's not it at all.

    That's totally it. Look, she knows Martin barely believed in magic until recently.

    Then she peers at Gabby. "Wait, you decorate shoes? Like how?"

Veira Lazarescu has posed:
Veira picks up the book and looks to it, her eyes squinting a bit as she opens the aged cover. Inside there is a little scrap of vellum with inked words in another language. Jan can't read them, but Veira sure can. It make her give a look around and then back to Jan, "Interesting." she chuckles. "Henny, thank you. I'll be sure to come and visit when I need another dragon book." she tells the little vendor.

Henny gives a look to Jan and tsks, "No young man I don't. My tongue works just fine." she chuckles to him. "I was just measuring you." she wiggles her eyebrows at him. Then she unceremoniously slams her door shut again. Leaving Jan and Veira standing there.

"We can talk about books over food. I'm starving." she murmurs to him as she reaches out to take his hand. "But yes, I think Divination might be the wise choice to start in for you, handsome." she grins to that.

Jan de Wit has posed:
He doesn't even try to read the words - that might invoke some eldritch, slumbering god! Jan smirks, nodding in agreement to Veira. "Dragon book? Oooh... that sounds wonderful. Would your Royal Overlord need it, or is it for yourself?"

At Henny's comment, he looks amused - perhaps a touch concerned. A glance to Veira and a shrug. "Perhaps I measured up well?" He comments, once Henny has departed.

His fingers lace with hers, a smile and a nod. "Food, yes. We can bring some home to Atilla as well, if we get to the right place." Divination is a talk for later.

Tim Drake has posed:
    There are all manner of things in the boxes that Martin manages to sneak a peek inside. Mostly tchotchkes, though. Things of no seeming important. One box is filled with toys, in varying states of 'mostly new' to 'very well-loved'. Stuffed animals, action figures, dolls, gameboys, yo-yos... the list goes on. Another box holds a few musical instruments, laid out in foam to protect them: a violin, an old banjo, an ocarina (not like the one from the Legend of Zelda) carved out of a sweet potato. It's a real strange assortment of things that make no sense except that they seem to be organized by type.

    "How do you make friends?" the blacksmith asks Gabby, a frown on his face. Then what he's said sinks in, and he shakes his head. "You know what I mean."

    The metal piece he's working comes out of the forge, glowing golden again, and his previous rhythm resumes. Strike. Twist. Strike.

    He's still doing just that when Agnes approaches him. The blacksmith doesn't look up. "I make what I make. Not really up to me." Strike. Twist. Strike. "What are *you* in the market for?" he asks, pointedly, and that's when he does glance away from his work, up at first Agnes, then Gabby.

Gabby Kinney has posed:
Gabby Kinney flashes a rather toothy grin when the phrasing she had used is shot back at her with no small amount of amusement. "Generally by talking, and listening. That's usually what most people want. Someone to listen and accept them." Speaking of listening, her attention shifts to Agnes with a little grin. "Oh, usually with Sharpies, paint markers, or if it's leather they actually have leather dye markers but they're expensive and dry up quick. Works for a lot of clothes really."

It's the other questions that earn a small shake of her head. "Sorry, I can't really make arms. I mean." Here she pauses, considering with a narrowing of her eyes. "I could give him one of mine but it's probably not the right size. Plus I don't know how you'd attach it."

Her attention shifts back to the blacksmith watching him continue his work. The question though is simply answered.

"I'm looking for my sister. Or a way to find her."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    As Martin looks over the assortment of the man's goods he frowns. This probably isn't the place he's looking for. Then something catches his attention from the corner of his eye. A dark tent that he could have sworn wasn't there a moment ago. The vendor hovering in the window was something altogether unpleasant.

    Pale grey skin stretched over an emaciated frame inside a voluminous black robe. But what was truly frightening about it was its face. It was completely inhuman, that much was clear but the shape wasn't unknown to Martin, after all he's seen an octopus before.

    A webbed hand slips from one of the sleeves of the robe, beckoning the man to come closer. Martin swallows and nods before making his way toward the dark tent. Sometimes it's best to let chance take you where it will. Hopefully, this was one of those times.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Agnes' eyes brighten as she listens to Gabby. "You... you can /do/ that?!" This is evidently news to her. She sounds excited by the idea.

    Then she looks to the blacksmith. "I'm not in the market for anything, really, except an arm for Jon, like Martin--" She turns away to look at Martin... who's gone. And walks over toward...

    Agnes' eyes widen as she sees him disappear into a dark tent. "Oh, /shit/," she says, and then flinches like she's done something terrible. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't... umm... I'd better... I'm just going to... go... make sure he doesn't get /eaten/ or something. I'm Agnes, nice to meet you!" This last for Gabby, and then she runs off after Martin. Though whether the tent will even be there when she gets there is a good question.

Tim Drake has posed:
    The blacksmith levels a steady look at Agnes. "I imagine that's what he's in the market for," and here he nods to Martin, who is indeed vanishing into that very suspicious tent. "But--."

    And then Agnes is off after Martin, and the blacksmith is left standing there, shaking his head. He's distracted enough that he has to turn and shove the metal he'd been working back into the forge again. "That's not how this all works," he complains. Apparently to the fire. Or maybe to Gabby?

    A few more blasts of air from the bellows, and he's heated the metal up again. He starts to hit it with his hammer once more, and as he does so he looks up at Gabby, contemplatively.

    The way he stares at her maybe lingers a little bit too long, but he seems to be assessing her... or searching for something in her eyes. After a little bit, though, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry. What I'm making won't help you." Strike. Twist. Strike. "I hope you find her, though. Good luck."

Martin Blackwood has posed:
    Inside the tent Martin explains his need to the creature. Even though the being itself doesn't speak it's clear some conversation is being had between the pair. "I... I'm willing to do anything, I just need to get him a second arm. Magic is fine and well, but it's not always available something to supplant him having to focus on a hand all the time... just..." he gives the ilithid-like creature a frown. "What will it cost me?"

    The tentacles of the being twitch and flutter before settling again in silence. The dead eyes of the creature bore into Martin as he replies. "Oh... my... second happiest memory? That's... just the memory right? I won't lose anything after it. Like... taking it won't make me forget everything about the subject of the memory, just the day of the event?" He waits and seems to get a response before taking a breath. "Alright. Done. The memory for an arm for my husband."

    The mind-flayer moves forward with surprising speed and it's tentacles wrap around Martin's face and head. The exchange is swift and over Martin is released before he can even let out a scream of terror or pain. He stumbles back and falls on his rear end. "That was... wholely unpleasant" he says glaring at the creature.

    It's about that time that Agnes enters the tent. The creature's dead eyes fall on her and blink independently as he holds out its webbed hands and a dark skinned arm appears there. At the end where it would connect with the shoulder is a sort of metallic cuff that pulses with eldritch power. Martin pushes himself to his feet, still feeling uneasy. He knows what he gave up, and he also knows it was worth it. For Jon. He takes the hand and looks behind him to Agnes. "Let's go home. I got what I needed." Het turns his back on the ilithid and stalks out, his pain falling under a mask of stiff determination. He'll cry about losing the memory of the day his daughter--no desceased--moved in with him and Jon later.