Kylestien
Posts: 749
2/10/2015
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Let us assume for a moment that, though a horribly expensive Association to do with Spire Emporiums At The Bazzar, trade between players became available, and you could run a store of items and sell whatever you wish at a price you wish long as you have the item in question. What would you sell? What would you set your price as? Would you only allow customers of a certain type or affiliation? Would your shop be a background for illicit activities? Would you openly defy The Masters and sell contrabrand?
Discuss.
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I will accept all actions, though I hold the right to refuse for my own reasons. However, if you explain WHY you send me a harmful action like Loitering or Dantes,And I feel the reason good, I will consider it more. http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/Kylestien
Persuasive patron. You want a lesson, send me a message asking for one.
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Elias Phillip
Posts: 6
2/14/2015
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I’d sell only things that cause fundamental and irreversible madness. Articles of clothing that murmur to you when you are half-asleep, weapons and tools that require a sacrifice of blood and of sanity. Daggers that you will inevitably turn upon yourself, just to silence its whispers. Idols of lost gods, stone eyes that follow you, before closing abruptly, while its granite smile cracks and widens. Objects that disappear, but then resurface in your nightmares. Works of art that twist the mind to look at, impossible angles and fractured lines. Miles of wares, engraved with the most potent Correspondence sigils, hot to the touch. I would only stock the most malicious truths, the most mind-shattering revelations. Passerby would stop and stare at the goods in my front window until their noses began to bleed and their eyes were dark and hollow. My staff would be entirely custom-made clay men, sculpted without eyes, so as not to be rendered useless by the sight of some of the wares. Blindfolds and earplugs, for what little good they would do, would be available upon request, and fainting couches would be conveniently located throughout the store. Customers would leave, harrowed and empty inside, clutching their concealed goods with white fingers, stumbling drunkenly down the streets as their hair rapidly began to grey.
What you may call a gibbering madman, weeping and tearing at his clothing, calling out half-remembered chants and hymns from a forgotten world in some forgotten time, staring at the roof of the Neath, as if he could somehow see the stars so far above…
That’s what I call a satisfied customer.
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"Then he began to gaze about,
and saw within the walls a rout
of folk that were thither drawn below,
and mourned as dead, but were not so."
- Sir Orfeo
http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/Elias~Phillip
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