It was a bustling day at the Wayfarer’s Point markets today. More so than usual, that was. The background hum of thousands of languages engaged in lively trade created a reassuring background buzz. Exotic scents clashed violently with mundane spells, as representatives of every class strata commingled in search of the best deals. Pop-up stalls in every fashion imaginable were beginning to appear everywhere a permanent structure wasn’t already taking the space.
The alleyways and streets were filled and bustling with excited energy, as the walkways were drawn ever narrower with the assemblage of goods, services, and everything catering thereof. It was a festival of sorts. A semi-annual bonanza from a group of the wealthiest multiversal trade combines. It was arguably the biggest exchange of items across the multiverse; everything from a kingdom’s worth of grain to legendary artifacts. Relics of dead advanced civilizations. Relics of living ancient civilizations. Yo-Yos.
If you had a material need, now was the best time to be at Wayfarer’s Point. If you were the kind prone to profit off the same, doubly so.
So it was during all of this activity that a group of strangers happened to be passing through near the entryway to one of the Point’s many spires. The most popular one in fact. A strange compulsion seemed to emanate from it the more focus was given to the entrance. The compulsion was gentle, benign, but also foreign. It made no disguise of itself, it simply suggested.
Now would be a great time to seek some refreshment at the Leaky Servo, it seemed to whisper in the back of the mind.
The alleyways and streets were filled and bustling with excited energy, as the walkways were drawn ever narrower with the assemblage of goods, services, and everything catering thereof. It was a festival of sorts. A semi-annual bonanza from a group of the wealthiest multiversal trade combines. It was arguably the biggest exchange of items across the multiverse; everything from a kingdom’s worth of grain to legendary artifacts. Relics of dead advanced civilizations. Relics of living ancient civilizations. Yo-Yos.
If you had a material need, now was the best time to be at Wayfarer’s Point. If you were the kind prone to profit off the same, doubly so.
So it was during all of this activity that a group of strangers happened to be passing through near the entryway to one of the Point’s many spires. The most popular one in fact. A strange compulsion seemed to emanate from it the more focus was given to the entrance. The compulsion was gentle, benign, but also foreign. It made no disguise of itself, it simply suggested.
Now would be a great time to seek some refreshment at the Leaky Servo, it seemed to whisper in the back of the mind.