Fae Courts The Goblin Market - Decannual Move

[Grimn]

The Fringelands
Northwest of the Spine

OOC - Please read the notes below for a quick reference on the Goblin Market and #ifyourcharacterwouldknowaboutit


There were many layers to the world through which a creature might find their path of survival. For most, there was the surface world. Known to some as the Overbright and to others as simply nothing more than the only thing they would ever experience. There they might live through the seasons and feel the warmth of the sun on their face or the bite of wind in their hair, completely oblivious to the lives taking place far beneath their feet.

Folklore told of a place deep, deep down beneath the crust of the planet where it was so dark that the creatures living there had evolved skin and eyes that glowed and could see into the blackest reaches. This they called the underrealm or the Underdark. There landscapes existed in open caverns that span the world over, as traversed and populated as its surface counterpart, but arguably far, far more dangerous.

And then there was the Inbetween. The crust of Arethil made of dirt and stone and elements yet to be discovered by mortal creatures for the depth far exceeded their ability to uncover. The tunnels here were treacherous and full of horrible beasts, though pocket caverns existed where a culture might bloom for a time. Many of those pockets had long since gone still, though the ruins and rubble and bones of the ones that came before still slept there.

That is where the Goblin Market made its home.

Every few years the market moved to keep the flow of contraband and clientele fresh. Stagnation wasn't good for business, after all, and the market was long since overdue for a change of scenery.

"Well," Grimn remarked as he stepped out into the rays of a setting sun over a landscape of craggy green terrain roughly torn in half by a wandering river, "at least it's not fucking snowing."

He'd had quite enough of snotcicles, frostbitten ears, and frozen gonads.

"Roight, you lot, get this place open. I wanna see fresh grimey patrons walkin' in by nightfall."

The Goblin Market bowed to no master and paid homage to no Kingdom, but when the Black Prince's Enforcer cracked the whip on the slaves that made this entire move possible, you didn't complain.

Making a hidden entrance to one of the world's best kept secret black markets was no small task or feat. Grimn didn't have that sort of magic, but others did and it was the others he let get on with their task. Within the broken landscape a pathway hidden by fae magic slowly emerged from the wild and untamed landscape. It wound through a narrow valley that rested between the rise of stone that formed a massive plateau. The pathway eventually became too narrow for mounted creatures, forcing patrons to walk the rest of the way on foot.

Eventually it lead to a flat stone wall that looked like nothing at all. But with the right magic and the right word of entry, it became a hidden passage that took one deep into the heart of the Fringelands plateau. Eventually the rock tunnel opened up to the ruins of a once-fallen civilization where dilapidated building of stone had long since crumbled to pieces. There one could find the entrance and the horrible things that stood guard.

THE KEEPERS

Known only as the Keepers, these creatures that loomed in the doorway were so twisted and disfigured as to be indistinguishable as fae, but the aura of power and magick they gave off was enough to make a mountain wilt. The one standing closest to the open doorway would beckon the patron forward and withdraw from his cloak a dagger made of gleaming red crystal. Every patron paid the blood toll to enter the Goblin Market. Even the Dark Prince's Enforcer. No exceptions.

Grimn sighed of boredom as he took the blade in his hand and pierced the opposite palm with the tip. The first thousand times he'd watched as the blade drank in his blood with silent wonder. He didn't wonder about it anymore. When the deed was done he stalked languidly by, yellow eyes scanning the faces of the entry hall for his partner in business and grinning broadly as he found the fae hunched over a rousing game of Bohnes.

"Harleth," Grimn gripped the other on the shoulder, "you owe me a round or ten."

It didn't take much to convince Harleth to drink, so onwards they went, walking the tunnel as it sloped down into the pits of the Inbetween and the new pocket cavern the market had settled into.

THE GOBLIN MARKET

OOC -

What is the Goblin Market?
It is a secret, underground fae black market run by a Conclave of Dark Fae - thirteen leaders from various fae or fae-adjacent races known as The Keepers. It has no allegiances or allies and recognizes no higher power or local laws, regardless of what fae lands it may be located within at any given time.

What can you find at the Goblin Market?
Pretty much anything and everything. Normal things you might expect at a fae-centric market, and all the things that are illegal in many, if not most of the fae Courts. It is a large center for slave trade as well as illegal smuggling and fighting rings.

What sort of magic protects this place?
Ancient dark magic that not even the leaders of the fae courts have the power to undo. The Goblin Market has existed for countless millennia without falling. Yes, raids have happened, but seldom are they successful to the point of being worth the effort. A combination of high-fae and eldar magic is what hides it from mortals and fae alike.

Do I need magic to find/access the market?
Yes, magic is required. If you don't have it, you need someone who does to take you there.

How can my character know about it / find it?
Is your character a fae or fae-adjacent (goblins, elves, druids, etc) creature? Is your character involved in dark and dastardly dealings? Was your character a slave or perhaps smuggled through? In the general sense, if your character isn't one of these things, then it is highly unlikely they would know about it, let alone be able to find and enter it. Knowing the right people who know where it is and how to find it is one thing (having a guide), being able to access it without magic or help is quite another.

Keep in mind this is a WELL HIDDEN, HIGHLY PROTECTED, and VERY SECRET market. If you don't feel like you should know about it or should be able to access it, come up with a cool story as to why you do/can.

Any questions send me a DM or hit me up on Discord (I'm Velaeri). Have fun!

 

[Little Doll]

The Goblin Market pulsed with life, shifting and twisting like a living thing, its lantern-lit pathways thick with the scents of damp earth, burning herbs, and the metallic tang of old magic. Stalls spilled over with strange and forbidden and stolen things. The air was alive with haggling voices, the clink of coins, the rustling of secrets being exchanged in the shadows.

And yet, in the heart of it all, she sat unmoving.

Propped against a pile of tarnished trinkets and moth-eaten silk pouches, the small porcelain doll was easy to overlook. A delicate thing, no taller than a forearm, dressed in the faded lace of a long-lost era. Her auburn hair still soft and meticulous, framing her pale face, and her lips, painted soft rose, were ever-so-slightly pursed, as though she was forever tempted to spill secrets.

Her glassy, brown eyes did not blink, but she was watching.

The goblin trader had carelessly placed her among his wares, thinking her just another forgotten treasure, a curiosity to be sold to the highest bidder. He had plucked her from the wreckage of an old vault, dusted her off, and placed her here, surrounded by rusted amulets, timeworn brooches, and cursed rings waiting for foolish fingers. He did not know what she was. Who she was.

Neither did they.

The wanderers who passed, eyes gleaming with hunger for lost things, had no idea what lingered beneath the porcelain, what listened as they brushed too close.

She had spent so long in darkness. Time had blurred into nothing inside that box, her thoughts dissolving into silence, her name slipping like sand through grasping fingers. But now, after so long, she was here. Not free. Not yet. But close.

And so, she whispered.

"Hello.. Aren't I pretty? A gift for your daughter, perhaps?"

The words were no louder than a breath, barely a suggestion in the air, but the male at the stall stiffened as though a cold hand had brushed the back of his neck. His fingers, which had been hovering over a bundle of rusted keys, twitched as uncertainty flickered across his face. He turned his head slightly, scanning the market with narrowed eyes, searching for the source of the voice.

But there was no one. Just the goblin trader, grumbling under his breath, and the endless murmur of the market. After a pause, the man shook himself and stepped away.

Little Doll did not move. She could not. But she felt something shift, a ripple in the air, a sliver of acknowledgment. Not enough to draw him in, not yet, but the first thread of doubt had been sown.

Another figure approached—a woman, her cloak heavy with hidden weapons and protective charms. A bounty hunter, perhaps, or a sellsword looking for a blade worth its price. Her gloved hand ran over the length of a silver dagger, the edge catching the lantern light like a sliver of moonlight.

"That would look wonderful on you.."

The woman inhaled sharply. Her fingers curled around the hilt of the blade, grip tightening as she jerked her head up, eyes flicking around the stall with sharp-edged suspicion. For a moment, she stood still, listening. Hearing something she shouldn’t have.

But doubt crept in too soon. She exhaled, muttering something under her breath before setting the dagger down and striding away.

Little Doll waited.

Her whispers were weaker than they should have been, her voice a mere thread of what it once was. If she still had her name, her power, they would not walk away so easily. But that would come later. For now, she would watch. She would listen. She would wait, and she would whisper.

All she needed was the right one—someone desperate, someone hungry, someone willing to listen just a little too long.

 

[Harper Kai]

“Bweehehehe. Didn’t think you’d get caught little starfish? Thought you was safe in winter? Bweheheehe,” her captor was a tall, willowy shade with skin that was nearly translucent but held a light red hue. He wore a tattered black cloak and hood. A set of pale eyes were the only things that pierced free from the cowl.

“Come along, my pet. Summer will pay a pretty price for your lovely head,” the shade tugged the glimmering rope that wrapped around her neck sharply.

Harper hissed at the sudden burn. It looked as thin and translucent as a fishing line. But it was a magicked silver. Harper assumed the owner would not be so easily burned. The water nymph held her head high even as she was yanked forward. Deeper into the goblin market. Those eyeing her as if she was nothing more than a piece of that dragon fruit. An object to be sold and bought. It made her sick.

And angry.

Her aqua lips remained sealed. For now. Head tilted as they passed a table, her eyes snagging on a female peering down at a..doll? Harper’s attention didn’t stay long. The Shade’s gliding pace wouldn’t allow it. And there was something darker. Something more ancient that whispered for her gaze not to linger.

Did it matter though?

If she was sold to summer, she’d be dead anyway.

“Come starfish,” the Shade barked again, pulling her deeper into the twisting rows toward his stall.

 

[Kael]

The Goblin Market was no place for a Dreadlord, and no place for a Dreadlord Initiate either. Perhaps in the deepest secrets of the Sirl house, or the Virak archives such things were hinted at, but it was a secret that Kael knew of that his 'country' certainly did not. Born to the shamaness of a goblin tribe, Kael had learned of the market. How while it shared their name, it was in many ways a fae smuggler's bazaar. Of the slaves that were common place, the exotic magics and secrets that could topple nations all for sale if one could provide the right price.

More specifically, he was told to do everything he could never to arrive. The shamaness had seen a vision of misfortune linked to his arrival at the goblin market. She was a leader of his tribe, revered as a prophetess. Yet she could not stop her own demise, or that of his tribe, at the hands of a single Anirian battlemage. Kael had made the decision to go against his mother's wisdom, finding the potential rewards worth the risk. Perhaps his mother was still right, but he knew she didn't see all.

It was the first time in years he had worn his own skin. In truth he didn't recognize himself. The last time he held this shade of green he was far younger, less developed, less hardened. Though still an initiate in Vel Anir, in any Goblin tribe he'd be considered an adult. A warrior. Perhaps even a veteran. But he knew that his old life dealt with players so much smaller than he thought possible. He made his way to the entrance and presented a hand at the guards. The dagger was drawn, blood was spilled, and the price for entry was paid. Now he had entry to the market. There was no reason for him not to be granted entrance, but the goblin was relieved.

He made his way through the market without a particular destination in mind. He knew what he wanted, but it would be difficult to find, and there was the matter of Kael being broke. At least in comparison to the merchandise he intended to purchase. Kael instead scanned the markets for fighting rings. If he could bet on himself, his training, perhaps he could earn enough to get close. While looking for such games he spotted a Little Doll of an exotic material he couldn't recognize, and some sort of water spirit Harper Kai ushered around by a simple wire he was certain held magic properties. The goblin made no effort to purchase either, but did hold a curiosity of the wares he hoped didn't show on his face. The Goblin Market certainly housed it's oddities.

 

[Yvoire]

Yvoire did not like being here, but the sheer secrecy and presence of the market was not what had her put off. It was her guard, someone of the Nexus and sworn to protect the Day Court's Princess. She had ignored all concern for a Princess to even be here in these unhallowed halls, but she was a female that liked creating new connections.
"Your Highn—"

But the guard was cut off by the chastising click of her tongue. "Ah, ah, ah..." The wicked smile graced her lips. "For someone concerned my identity would be found out, best to not use my title here, hm?" The Day Court rarely left their own lands, and Yvoire herself had only travelled to the Autumn Court and Vitae Court only recently.

"Apologies..."

"Call me Syn for Syndril if you must."

"Yes, that should suffice."

"Well," Yvoire sighed, "I best find The Abbatoir." Her icy eyes roamed the different stalls and tables, the cavern come to life with trade. Dressed in gear that made her look more hunter than Princess, Yvoire knew coming here was reckless. Whispers had come her way that the Night Court had eyes on her. There was no true way of deciphering if it were on good intent or foul, but either way, Yvoire wanted her own guardian that did not come from her cousin, the Queen. The Nexus were loyal to the Day Court, not just the Princess.

Oisinn gave her a concerned stare before casting his gaze wide, as if a signpost may give him direction. "Any chance I can dissuade you on this, Syn?"

Yvoire chuckled. "Not a chance." And forward she went, diving into the moving current of fae and bodies going deeper into the market. "I paid the price already, I may as well leave here for what I came for."