Welcome to Gaia! ::

Here in the most northern segment of the Underdark lies the City of Eryndlyn, the closest drow settlement to the surface.
Eryndlyn is a city of trade and commerce and all kinds of subterreanean creatures gather to the marketplace to sell their wares. You can even find treasures and commodities from the Surface World, either brought down by dwarven merchants or stollen by drow surface raiders.

As Haeldril shouldered his way through the crowd, his expression was, behind the dark mask, nevertheless cleary one of disdain as he moved past a small band of dwarves prattling on in their bizarre language. His upper lip resisted the urge to curl in disgust, as finally he found the small stall where Andrika awaited. A slave, she was a gloaming with incandescent skin, kept carefully dimmed to avoid injuring the sensitive eyes of her drow master. Her extrasensory perceptions made her extremely useful, especially since it related primarily to the sensing of objects. A useful slave indeed in Haeldril's line of work. Today however, Haeldril had simply come into the city to sell some of the overflow of his most recent batches of poisons and Darkoil, and to justify his presence in the city while completing some more unsavory work. It would not be until at least late afternoon that the sixth House of Eryndlyn would find the crumpled body of their eldest daughter hidden behind a low outcropping of rocks in their courtyard. Haeldril flexed his right hand, the muscles vaguely sore from where the wretch had attemped to stab him with a poisoned dagger and steal the artifact Haeldril had tracked down for the noble.
"Idiot." He muttered beneath his breath as he slipped behind the counter of the stall, waving Andrika away.
His tolerance for poison was something he was quite proud of, but the small wound still itched and irritated him within his kidskin gloves. Andrika returned in a moment with the tools of Haeldril's apothecary as her master arranged samples from the small crates of carefully packed with poisons of varying rarity. He was not an aggresive salesman; his sort of clientele tended to find the stalls they needed no matter the size of the crowd. And so he waited.

Andrika curled up atop the now empty crates, her luminescent skin flaring once before extinguishing as she promptly fell into a deep sleep. She snored softly, and now and again a brown feather twitched; otherwise one would have assumed she was dead. Hael tried his best not to laugh, or even smile as he obsessively arranged the unpacked vials within the kiosk. It was unseemly to show such mirth when looking for buyers; it made paranoid assassins even more wary. However, he could not help but be amused by the gloaming. She could fall asleep anywhere; a convenient skill indeed, but also practical. She tired easily during trips such as this when her abilities were in constant use, and so Hael excused her frequent cat naps. For the time being he busied himself as he set up the potion displays; he'd designed the things himself and although they took a few moments to set up, the effort was well worth it. The architect mage had realized his vision flawlessly; the enchanted racks would release vials from their slots only when Hael activated the corresponding rune along the frame of the rack. Any thieves attempting to steal would find themselves both unsuccessful and missing their hands. Satisfied with his handiwork, Hael began to scan the crowd, at first searching out any wearing the black mask of Vhaerun, and after locating and signalling to several compatriots, his gaze swept over the crowd leisurey. There was a jostling which drew his attention; several dwarves had entered into a heated argument with a merchant, and now onlookers were getting in on the action. Haeldril spotted a man, lithe and attractive, staring at him from across the bazaar. Like a cat the stranger avoided the blows coming from so close, dipping just in time to avoid an airborne dwarf nearing the bottom of his arc. Haeldril quirked an eyebrow in curiosity, and awaited the male's approach.

Laden walked swiftly holding in his hand a small empty sack which he clasped tightly. The marketplace surrounded him, and in since he listened carefully. Over on his left a small crowd gathered for an entertainer and to his right a few stalls sold various gold and silver items. Most likely stolen. The craftsmanships of the Market sellers was sometimes amazing, if it was handmade. The sellers all talked to themselves or to the people who watched but none got to loud, and Laden hadn't a clue why.

As he passed one stall he quickly saw something interesting. It was a small antique looking box painted with one single flower on the front, and it stood open, playing a small tune. Intrigued he approached the small box and looked at it again. As he approached he let his mind wander. Lifting up the thing he observed it for a few moments before buying it and sticking it in the small sack he held.

The trades were all on top of things, probably because a lot had been happening, but that didn't concern him. The cool air swam around him freely as he sank unavoidable into a corner, and listened to the music box he had just bought, concentrating a bit more he watched it float just slightly.

"It is easily worth four times that!" Ryn hissed a little loudly to the merchant he had spent a good part of four hours haggling with. The merchant, a fat disgusting drow who might have had a little goblin mixed into his bloodline shook his head.

"No, no more then fifty gold." He hadn't budged on the price since Ryn had first produced the silver and amber locket from his purse. Ryn raged silently at the ugly merchant. If he hadn't spent so much time bartering with the man he would have moved on, but after seeing the fine quality of the wares he sold, Ryn had thought that this merchant, above all others, would appreciate the value of a gemstone that could only be found more often on the surface then not.

"Look at it. It's amber, a blood amber no less! Flawless!" Ryn drew his finger over the surface of the sapstone, his teeth grinding in a effort to keep from flinging insults at the man.

"Too thin, too flat. Its more brown then red." The merchant hadn't even looked. "Fifty gold."

"Vith! Forget it. I'd rather starve then sell this for less then half it's value." Ryn snapped and took a step back. He began to tuck the stone back into his pouch with one hand as with his other he made a irritated sweep back through his dyed hair. "Thieving cheat...none of this rothe dung you have laid out here is even anywhere near it's real market value." The merchant finally gave a start, but not out of shock or surprise.

Ryn himself wasn't so shocked when the man produced a ornately jewled dagger and pointed the tip at him. Of course he didn't want someone shouting out that he was overpricing his wares...

Haeldril considered the drow for a moment, before he took up the bottles, and sniffed, then dared to taste them. He was, by now, quite immune to those poisons which could not be detected by smell nor sight; therefore those with no olafactory properties were safe for him to eat.
"Ah, you're a master of your craft indeed. The poison of the black locust. Rare indeed, but useful to one such as yourself."
He nodded to himself, considering the dark knockout potions crowded with the moderately priced vials, before pressing his ring finger against a rune on the back of his specially built shelving. A pair of vials came loose, and he lifted them gingerly from their places.
"I have the two at the moment, though I may send for more if you wish. I assure you that they are of the finest quality; harvested from the surface during the dark of the moon, so that it has lost none of its potency from neither light nor heat. And a bargain of a price for you today. Ten silver. A piece."
He smiled broadly. The price was a little outrageous; the poison was rare, but only to the point of being difficult to come across in large quantities. And although it was of fine quality, it was expected within the markets that merchant and customer haggle.

Zariira had decided. She fought with the merchant for a few moments over the price, managing to talk him down to something resembling reasonable, before paying for the comb. Once it was wrapped up in tissue and ribbon, she handed the feminine purchase to one of the guards to hold. He took it without a word; the males of House Luana had become accustomed to carrying the purchases of their hedonistic mistresses.
"Come along, come along, still much to see!"
She laughed, but the males remained stoic; intent on watching the crowd. One person in particular had caught their eye, a drow who had continued to glance at their mistress. Despite her beauty, or perhaps because of it, they watched most closely those who looked openly at her ladyship.
"Pay no mind to the peasents, Fili and Kili, and pay more attention to me!"
Zariira huffed as if annoyed as she held out more packages for the guards to hold, but her smile betrayed her cheery mood. Away from the great house, she felt much more herself.