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Malakar's Crafts

Upper Market District - Poisons Shop   Beyond the flamboyant spectacle of the upper markets, a hidden path winds through an intricate labyrinth of narrow alleyways. Seemingly innocuous and overshadowed by towering boutiques, a quaint little shop is nestled, dedicated solely to the art of walking canes and scarves. Its facade suggests an unassuming charm with its polished mahogany panels, brass fixtures, and a tasteful display of handcrafted canes and neatly folded scarves. However, a discerning eye might catch a peculiar discrepancy. The jovial shopkeeper, an elderly dwarf with a perpetual twinkle in his eye, is oddly careful with his customers, guiding them in their selections with a discerning gaze.  
  Should he deem a patron trustworthy, he subtly taps a rhythm onto the counter with his fingers—a clandestine code. Upon recognition, a seemingly solid wall shimmers and disappears, revealing a clandestine entrance, which leads down into the hidden echelons of the market. Descending the narrow staircase into the hidden echelons of the market, you notice the air growing cooler, carrying a faint metallic scent, a stark contrast to the vibrant market left behind. As your eyes adjust to the dim light, you find yourself in a secret alcove dedicated to the art of poison. Behind a counter, bathed in the candlelight nestled in the room's crevices, stands the proprietor of this forbidden establishment. His name is Malakar a figure who treads the thin line between human and demonic – a Daemonkin.   At first glance, his features might be mistaken for entirely human. The flickering light etches shadows upon his sharp facial structure, deepening the sense of enigma that clings to him. But as you step closer, the evidence of his heritage subtly unfolds. His smoky gray eyes flash with specks of crimson that dance like embers, revealing an uncanny depth and an inhuman allure. His hands, deftly handling the delicate glass vials, bear elongated fingers tipped with sharp, almost talon-like nails, the pale skin faintly mottled with fine scales that glint under the light. His smile, though warm, reveals slightly elongated canines, sharper than any human's.   Malakar is a beacon of silent defiance in a society that marginalizes his kind. His illicit shop, brimming with elegant, deadly brews, offers an unspoken sanctuary to those who, like him, find their place in the shadows of the world above. His service is discreet, his knowledge vast, and his bearing, an embodiment of an uncanny grace found within the very heart of danger.
Type
Room, Lab, Alchemical
Characters in Location

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