>>5168609
>STARE AT YOUR REFLECTION.

>>5168609
>DOUBLE CHECK YOUR LIST.

>>5168609
>STARE AT YOUR REFLECTION.
>THEN SHANK THE BITCH

>>5168609
>THEN SHANK THE BITCH

>>5168609
>TAKE STOCK OF YOUR KNIVES.

>>5168609
>DOUBLE CHECK YOUR LIST.
become and remain the sharpest tool in the kitchen, where women belong

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>>5168609
I KNOW ITS YOU
THE MAN BEHIND PKMN RED/BLUE QUEST
YOU BETTER FINISH GOLD/SILVER ONE DAY, OR AT LEAST FORMALLY DECLARE IT DROPPED LIKE A CONSIDERATE PERSON

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>>5168617
>>5168629
>>5168630

>STARE AT YOUR REFLECTION.
>THEN SHANK THE BITCH.

Suddenly stricken with vanity, you turn to face your reflection in a large section of polished chrome wall nearby. Although a bit distorted from the metal’s dents and scratches, the image of you is just about how you remember it; you make a face, she makes a face back. You continue doing this for nearly a minute, before you start to get sick of her and pull out one of your LOVELY KNIVES.

Your reflection, naturally, has the same idea and draws one of her own. Though you have prepared for this in the past, you are relatively well-matched and the ensuing struggle continues for quite a while before your reflection finally surrenders. In exchange for her life, she offers her SANDWICH COUPON, which you accept. It is, however, printed in reverse.

With two (?) sandwich coupons, you could certainly eat for a while; but the sooner you got around to killing this BAZAAR MASTER, the less likely it was that some other killer-for-hire would do the job before you. You were at the bazaar, you had arrived here in fact, now you simply had the undertaking of finding its master.

Heedsnog was layers upon layers of old chrome buildings and the service tunnels that ran between them, overgrown with both natural flora and ramshackle huts. The bazaar took up one otherwise bare muddy patch within the city’s limits; the law was loose, but people were much more likely to dole out punishments themselves. Between the nonstop bustling crowd, and the shacks and tents offering goods and services, SOMEONE HERE had to know where you could find the bazaar master.

>THE STARRY-EYED TELEPATH WITH A CRIMINAL LOOK ON HIS FACE.
>THE POLYMEROUS STRANGER SHARPENING KNIVES USING A STRANGE CONTRAPTION.
>THE CLERGYMEN OFFERING BLESSINGS OF LUCK AND FORTUNE.
>THE SANDWICH VENDOR YOU WANT YOUR SANDWICH NOW NOW NOWNOWNOW.

>>5168642

I'm not :)

sorry!

>>5168689
>THE POLYMEROUS STRANGER SHARPENING KNIVES USING A STRANGE CONTRAPTION.

>>5168689
>THE POLYMEROUS STRANGER SHARPENING KNIVES USING A STRANGE CONTRAPTION.
A new replacement for our whetstone? Interesting. Even if we don't buy it now, it'd be good to learn this for the future once we need a new one.

>>5168689
>THE POLYMEROUS STRANGER SHARPENING KNIVES USING A STRANGE CONTRAPTION.

>>5168689
>THE SANDWICH VENDOR YOU WANT YOUR SANDWICH NOW NOW NOWNOWNOW.

is this White Tower OP

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>>5168689
Did we really just mug our fucking reflection for a coupon?

>>5168741

More like a Quiznos.

>>5168747

You mugged your reflection for your coupon's reflection

I sleep soon, back in a few hours. Glad people seem interested so far.

>>5168689
>THE STARRY-EYED TELEPATH WITH A CRIMINAL LOOK ON HIS FACE.

>>5168689
>THE POLYMEROUS STRANGER SHARPENING KNIVES USING A STRANGE CONTRAPTION.

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>>5168693
>>5168699
>>5168723
>>5169177

>THE POLYMEROUS STRANGER SHARPENING KNIVES USING A STRANGE CONTRAPTION.

Because of the market’s vast, bustling crowd, you have no trouble staring at the strange man while he works. He was quite tall, and clad head-to-toe in a grayish, purplish suit of clay material; though, he was hunched over a STRANGE APPARATUS, obscuring his face and making his true height hard to approximate.

Gently working a pedal with his foot, the strange man kept a length of wire spinning at an INCREDIBLE SPEED; his hand slowly raised up underneath the wire, fingertips as close as possible without ever even so much as getting the smallest of nicks. His other hand carefully lowered the flat edge of a knife towards his fingers, turned at a very slight angle so the wire could shave metal off the blade’s edge by the micron. He remained PERFECTLY STILL besides the minute movements required by his work; the stranger’s IMMACULATE FOCUS was undisturbed by even the rowdiest of bazaar-denizens.

The allure of FRESHLY SHARPENED KNIVES drew you in, however; even though you had meant to voyeuristically stare from a distance. Sensing your presence, the stranger lifted a metal rod into the path of the wire, making a terrible whining sound as the machine came to a halt. He slapped his plasticine-clad hands against his thighs and turned his ODDLY CYLINDRICAL HEAD towards you; where there would be a face there was nothing but an aperture in his suit to make way for his impressively large, lipless mouth.

Of course he was some kind of MEATMAN; the precision he utilized in his work was far beyond what the average creature was capable of. Especially you, despite how much you would love to put such a perfect edge on some of your knives. The POLYMEROUS SUIT was, naturally, to protect his MEATY EXTERIOR. Heedsnog was not far from LAKE PODPOD, which was filled with extremely toxic algae and often brought CORROSIVE CHEMICALS when the lake mist drifted into town. A meatman working in a more favorable environment wouldn’t require such protection.

“B-B-Buy a k-knife?” the meatman stuttered. Firstly, you felt your gut wrench at the prospect of BUYING a knife from this stranger. Secondly, you were surprised by his stutter; normally a meatman that worked so efficiently would be programmed with the utmost care. Either he was masterless because he was defective, or that polymerous suit was covering up A LOT MORE DAMAGE than you previously thought.

>WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO USE THAT MACHINE.
>GIVE ME ALL YOUR KNIVES AT ONCE.
>DO YOU KNOW THE BAZAAR MASTER.

>>5169256
>WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO USE THAT MACHINE.

>>5169256
>WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO USE THAT MACHINE.

>>5169256
>WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO USE THAT MACHINE

Sojourner?

>>5169256
>DO YOU KNOW THE BAZAAR MASTER.

Don't forgot our mission

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>>5169265
>>5169480
>>5169490

>WHERE DID YOU LEARN TO USE THAT MACHINE.

“M-My machine?” the meatman said as he glanced towards the knife-sharpening machine. Though it required considerable room to operate, when deactivated it looked as though it could be packed up quite nicely. “I-I built it out of s-some old junk... s-spacer junk...! D-Dug it out of the lakeshore!”

You thought that STUTTERING RUBE looked more like he WAS spacer junk. But you could not deny the BEAUTY and PRECISION with which he sharpened those KNIVES; however, you were HIGHLY SKILLED at sharpening knives yourself. You could do it quickly and with few tools, and you had never been disappointed by an edge you had recently tended to. The meatman had an impressive knack, but he wasn’t necessarily of much use to you. That wasn’t to say you weren’t still ogling his SHARPENING MACHINE and wondering how hard it would be to learn to use.

While you stood there, thinking, the meatman reached one clay-like hand out to ruffle your hair; the plasticine substance left an oily residue. You debated putting him on the LIST.

“W-Well, have a k-knife of yours I c-can sharpen?” he stammered. The meatman’s twitchy jaw, likely the cause of his stutter, also caused him to very quietly grind his teeth together when his mouth was shut; no matter how quiet the grinding was, it still GOT ON YOUR NERVES despite all the other noises in the bazaar. “T-Two tickets... just two t-tickets! B-Best price in Heedsnog! Best in t-the Valley!”

>OK. SHARPEN MY KNIVES.
>GIVE ME YOUR SHARPENING MACHINE.
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.

>>5169624
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.
>THE COST OF KNIVES MUST BE PAIN IN KNIVES

>>5169653
Supporting. I assume you mean "paid"?

>>5169624

>>5169685
i did

>>5169624
>I WILL KILL SOMEONE FOR YOUR SHARPENING MACHINE.

>>5169624
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.
>THE COST OF KNIVES MUST BE PAID IN KNIVES

>>5169624
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.
With the riches of assassination you could sharpen as many KNIVES as you want. Plus a masterless meat man means he's ours for the taking. We have two sandwich stubs, we have the provisions for a companion.

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>>5169653
>>5169685
>>5170236
>>5170350

>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.

You explain to the meatman that even a small cut of the payout you were offered would be a much greater sum than what he could make sharpening knives all week. The meatman’s grin started to grow at the prospect of MANY TICKETS, so you quickly dash his expectations; you explain that he has HEINOUSLY been SELLING KNIVES and as such OWES A DEBT OF VIOLENCE.

“I suppose.. I s-suppose...” the meatman replied, tapping his fingertips together. The space where a brow would be on his putty-clad forehead furrowed in thought. FERAL MEATMEN were not renowned for their bravery in the wild, so you were PLEASANTLY SURPRISED when this one started to pack up his stool, contraption, and wears. “Maybe, m-maybe for just a few t-tickets?” he continued to mumble as he worked. You stood there, chiding him about how knives should be MADE, FOUND, or TAKEN; never anything else. He didn’t quite seem to get it, but by the time he was ready to locomote elsewhere the meatman was very eager to assist in hunting your mark.

“I s-sharpen knives! A-And I’m a locksmith t-too! Really with the r-right junk, I can assemble w-whatever you’d like!” The meatman gleefully clapped, all of his belongings squared away in his fanny pack. While he certainly had MUCH TO LEARN, he would no doubt be a valuable asset. Unfortunately, he did little more than frown when asked where you could find the BAZAAR MASTER. Being marginally more familiar with the city, though, your new companion had a few ideas on where you could start looking for INFORMATION.

>HEEDSNOG COMBINATION MASS GRAVE AND FIGHTING PIT.
>PATTERNDALE, DISTRICT POPULATED BY THE AFFLUENT AND STRANGE.
>THE VERY EXCLUSIVE BAZAAR SWEATER CLUB. (FOR SWEATER OWNERS ONLY.)
>YOU HONESTLY JUST REALLY WANT THAT SANDWICH.

>>5170534
>YOU HONESTLY JUST REALLY WANT THAT SANDWICH
Great way to gather intel

>>5170534
>PATTERNDALE, DISTRICT POPULATED BY THE AFFLUENT AND STRANGE.
>PONDER THE OPTIOMS AND ASK MEATMAN IF HE COULD ASSEMBLE A SWEATER... MADE OF KNIVES?

>>5170534
>YOU HONESTLY JUST REALLY WANT THAT SANDWICH

>>5170534
>PATTERNDALE, DISTRICT POPULATED BY THE AFFLUENT AND STRANGE.

>>5170534
>YOU HONESTLY JUST REALLY WANT THAT SANDWICH.
its a good thing we have two coupons now

>>5170534
>PATTERNDALE, DISTRICT POPULATED BY THE AFFLUENT AND STRANGE.

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>>5170542
>>5170554
>>5170672

>YOU HONESTLY JUST REALLY WANT THAT SANDWICH.

Fuck it. You’re hungry.

You had spent several days in the HASHISH CART before you made it to Heedsnog; the cart driver was amicable enough to share some of his provisions, but your diet had mostly been RATS and BEETLES for the past while. The last time you had a real meal was back in SNEEDHOG when INQUISITOR AND CITY COUNCILMAN MOSTPIOUS was giving you the details of your job.

You and your meatman wandered around the bazaar for a while until you found a SANDWICH STORE where you were able to cash in your COUPONS. The establishment’s sliding glass doorway opened with a hiss; the inside was humid, with beads of condensation settled on every surface. Though there were plenty of customers, at first you thought the store wasn’t operating; there were no EMPLOYEES behind the counter, only an abundance of VINES AND PLANT GROWTH. Only upon closer inspection did you realize that the vines WERE the employees; fronds curled around various utensils as they worked together to assemble SUBMARINE SANDWICHES.

A curly vine accepted your coupon and handed you a sandwich in return. It also accepted your COUPON PRINTED IN INVERSE and, in return, handed you a sandwich nearly identical to the previous, though the ingredients were STACKED IN REVERSE ORDER. You gave one sandwich to your MEATMAN and took a seat on the curb outside with him while you had lunch.

You SHOT THE SHIT with him for a while while you ate; during your conversation you came up with the idea for a SWEATER MADE OUT OF KNIVES. It was a good thing you were sitting, as the mere thought of a thing like that made you WEAK IN THE KNEES. The meatman insisted it could be done, but you would require a LOT MORE KNIVES. Maybe FORTY KNIVES. Maybe EVEN MORE. Your meatman companion also insisted that a KNIFE SWEATER probably wouldn’t pass the dress code for the VERY PRESTIGIOUS SWEATER CLUB, regardless of how much you wanted it.

You felt a BIT LESS HANGRY. You glanced at the MEATMAN as he licked mustard off of his fingers. There was still WORK TO BE DONE.

>PEOPLE-WATCH FOR A BIT LONGER.
>CONFRONT THE SANDWICH-MAKING PLANT AND INSIST THAT THEY GOT YOUR ORDER WRONG.
>ASK THE MEATMAN WHERE YOU CAN FIND MORE KNIVES.
>KIBITZ WITH THE SANDWICH STORE PATRONS.

>>5170953
>KIBITZ WITH THE SANDWICH STORE PATRONS

Maybe they know about the master of the bazaar.

>>5170953
>KIBITZ WITH THE SANDWICH STORE PATRONS.

>>5170953
>KIBITZ WITH THE SANDWICH STORE PATRONS.

>>5170953
>IMPRESS PEOPLE WITH YOUR SANDWICH CUTTING SKILLS

>>5170953
The VOTES were SPLIT, OP.
>ASK THE MEATMAN WHERE YOU CAN FIND MORE KNIVES.

can't believe you've ditched wage quest AND blood babes and loot, such a callous individual you are, QM.

>>5170953
>KIBITZ WITH THE SANDWICH STORE PATRONS.

>>5171351

Sorry, I had a minute to write an update and there was a tie so I just picked the one that got mentioned first.

>>5171401

Also not me, sorry. I did abandon some other quests but they were a. relatively unpopular, and b. I mentioned they were stopping, I didn't just flake.

Will post an update in a little bit; it's the weekend and I'm takin it easy.

>>5171737
Next time please roll a tiebreaker like a civilized QM. Enjoy your weekend.

>>5171737
>Sorry, I had a minute to write an update and there was a tie so I just picked the one that got mentioned first.

Reasonable, especially for something as trivial (probably?) as getting a sandwich.

>>5171777
It was a decision between going to two different places and it's not a reasonable solution, as all the people who voted for the other thing will feel cheated by QM ignoring their votes.

>>5171787
I wish you would consider mellowing out. We can probably just go to Patterndale next, unless it turns out we don't even need to.

>>5171737
Thank you for having some human decency then

>>5171854
I don't care about this choice in particular, but I suppose it was worded too aggressively. Really I just wanted to leave QM the advice so he doesn't unknowingly annoy 50% of players each time there is a tie.

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>>5170973
>>5171054
>>5171161
>>5171600

>KIBITZ WITH THE SANDWICH STORE PATRONS.

You loitered about in the humid eatery and eavesdropped on conversations; there was quite the variety among the patrons, so there was plenty of GOSSIP to listen in on. WRECKAGE SCROUNGERS and LAKESHORE FORAGERS were among the most prevalent; ratty clothes turned a kaleidoscope of green, blue, and red from algal blooms. They were the most difficult to spy on, as you couldn’t get close to them without being INVITED TO TAKE A SEAT. The outdoorsmen spoke in sing-song voices and recalled tales of their most interesting finds out in the wilds; you were usually QUITE TERSE, so their merriment wasn’t exactly the kind of conversation you could easily chime in on. You still managed a few quips about their survival knives; jagged things hammered from REEF SLAG, giving them a rainbow patina not unlike the garments of the scavengers themselves. You thought they were kinda cool; the KNIVES, that is.

There was also a circular table of SLUDGE BROKERS. Tickets and other forms of trade goods had become more standard out of necessity, but there would always be those few that preferred to do business in SLUDGE over anything else. It was hard to blame them; those that didn’t have any SLUDGE wanted it, and those that had SLUDGE TO SPARE wanted more. There was something about it that drew people in. The sludge brokers had their faces deep in ledgers and folios; some doing calculations by hand on looseleaf paper, others punching numbers into pocket calcs with the end of their pencils. They were talking business, and you didn’t want to (or didn’t think you COULD) intrude. Not hard to eavesdrop on, as they IGNORED the rest of the store quite readily.

A SALLOW-FACED TINKERER was sitting in the corner; beside him was some kind of MACHINE GUN TURRET on a tripod, slowly turning its barrel from side to side as though still programmed to watch for targets. The gun itself, however, had been drilled full of many holes and stripped of armature to render the firing mechanism inert. A tracking laser flashed rhythmically as the turret spoke in a GRATING, ELECTRONIC MONOTONE; it conversed with the tinkerer in a fluent, casual tone despite its (previous) function.

BEASTMEN and other ANIMATE FLORA filled in many of the other seats. A SKULL-SHELLED CRAB gently picked crumbs of bread off of a sandwich roll that had fallen to the floor while FORTUNE TELLERS and CLERGYMEN offered advice to patrons who were dining alone. The REMAINING PATRONS were unremarkable; they dined alone and in silence, clad in standard travel wear or OTHERWISE UNEXCEPTIONAL plainclothes. You still took in every snippet of information you could, exercising your skills of BEING UNNOTICED; occasionally you would probe further with a question, when doing so seemed appropriate. Once satisfied, you returned to the MEATMAN, who you found still sitting on the curb and gormlessly staring into the passing crowds.

[1/2]

>>5172051

You had heard a number of rumors, each of which you could potentially INVESTIGATE FURTHER.

>IMMINENT CLERGY CRACKDOWN IN THE FIGHTING PITS.
>IMPRESSIVE SCAVENGER HAUL COMING INTO TOWN SOON.
>GOBLET LORD GOBLETHEAD’S SOIREE FOR HEEDSNOG’S ELITE.
>ILLEGAL SWEATER TRADING RING SOMEWHERE IN THE BAZAAR.

You had also heard some useful information that was worth knowing, though difficult to actively learn more about; the bazaar master possessed a GIGANTIC, PSYCHIC TOAD as part of their bodyguard retinue, and Inquisitor Mostpious had a BIG STAKE in the sludge trading ring. Before you left the sandwich store to investigate some of your INTEL, you could always linger here longer; only IF YOU’D LIKE.

>START A KNIFE FIGHT.
>PROBE SOME OF THE PATRONS FOR MORE INFORMATION. WHO?

[2/2]

>>5172052
>>IMPRESSIVE SCAVENGER HAUL COMING INTO TOWN SOON.

>START A KNIFE FIGHT.

>>5172169
+1
THREAD THEME
THREAD THEME
THREAD THEME
THREAD THEME
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_ZBacZUlQI
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_ZBacZUlQI
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_ZBacZUlQI
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_ZBacZUlQI

>>5172169
Seconding this, but have the knife fight to first blood.

Also thread theme!
https://youtu.be/nC7ii3Ir-no

>>5172052
>GOBLET LORD GOBLETHEAD’S SOIREE FOR HEEDSNOG’S ELITE.

>>5172052
>IMMINENT CLERGY CRACKDOWN IN THE FIGHTING PITS.
>START A KNIFE FIGHT.

>>5172052
>GOBLET LORD GOBLETHEAD’S SOIREE FOR HEEDSNOG’S ELITE.

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>>5172169
>>5172280
>>5172804

>IMPRESSIVE SCAVENGER HAUL COMING INTO TOWN SOON.
>START A KNIFE FIGHT. (TO FIRST BLOOD?)

All the standing around and attempting to mingle with the eatery’s patrons quickly started to get on your nerves. You weren’t against a good conversation on principle, or anything like that; it was just all the KNIVES in the establishment making you antsy. That, and it had been a WHILE since you’d properly managed to STAB SOMETHING.

You did think it would be best to only give them some MINOR WOUNDS; but you were so good at stabbing that FIRST BLOOD was usually already LOTS OF BLOOD. You snuck up behind one of the SLUDGE BROKERS and introduced him to one of your 14 knives; he howled in pain and reached for his PISTOLET, accidentally loosing a stray bullet that struck a beastman in his hairy shoulder. Chaos quickly ensued afterwards. The ENRAGED BEASTMAN threw a scavenger through the front window; the tinkerer produced a monoblade from his cloak and lunged at the rest of the sludge brokers. More bullets flew, along with tufts of hair and torn leaves.

All the while, you were of course DEEPLY ENGAGED IN THE CARNAGE. You cut and stabbed your way through anyone who got in your way, expertly running from one corner of the store to the other just so you’d get as many chances as possible to KNIFE. You were soaked to your elbows in blood, and very eagerly getting use out of ALL OF YOUR KNIVES. You even THREW ONE and got a PERFECT BULLSEYE; which is to say, you hit a BULL MAN in the EYE.

The VERY ANGRY, ONE-EYED BULL MAN nearly cornered you; his immense silhouette and grotesque muscles too much for you to STAB THROUGH. Though you hadn’t necessarily accepted your fate, you were prepared for the worst; barely an instant before he lunged, the BULL MAN let out a HORRID GRUNT and fell face-first onto the linoleum floor. Behind him, grinning, was your very proud MEATMAN; fists at the ready. “T-Think we’d better... b-better leave!” he huffed out as he doled out punches to assailants that closed in around you; you were truly impressed by the TRAIN PISTON level of force he could deliver with a CROSS PUNCH.

You quickly pocketed everything you could STEAL, and ran off into the BAZAAR CROWDS with the meatman; making sure to RETRIEVE YOUR KNIFE from the bull man’s eye.

By the time the howls and gunshots were no longer audible, you’d made it to the edge of the bazaar. It was a lot stranger (more bizarre, even) than the heart of the marketplace; the goods for sale were less common, and in a lot of cases LESS LEGAL. Not that Heedsnog often enforced that. Most importantly, it was where the REEF SCROUNGERS and JUNK DEALERS would bring in their finds; their beasts of burden packed with oddities until their poor legs bowed outwards. It was definitely where this rumored BIG HAUL would be.

[1/2]

>>5173594

You looked a bit gross, and had pockets so full that you weren’t even entirely sure what was inside.

>FIND SOMEWHERE TO CLEAN OFF ALL THE BLOOD.
>GO THROUGH YOUR NEW (AND OLD) POSSESSIONS.
>FIND SOME WAY TO CONGRATULATE MEATMAN FOR HIS EXCELLENT SERVICE.
>ASK AROUND FOR THE REMARKABLE FINDS YOU HEARD ABOUT.

[2/2]

>>5173596
>GO THROUGH YOUR NEW (AND OLD) POSSESSIONS

>>5173596
>FIND SOMEWHERE TO CLEAN OFF ALL THE BLOOD.

>>5173596
>FIND SOMEWHERE TO CLEAN OFF ALL THE BLOOD.

>>5173594
>FIND SOMEWHERE TO CLEAN OFF ALL THE BLOOD.
>GO THROUGH YOUR NEW (AND OLD) POSSESSIONS.

>>5173596
>FIND SOMEWHERE TO CLEAN OFF ALL THE BLOOD.
>GO THROUGH YOUR NEW (AND OLD) POSSESSIONS.

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>>5173760
>>5173771
>>5173988
>>5174339
>>5174536

>FIND SOMEWHERE TO CLEAN OFF ALL THE BLOOD.
>GO THROUGH YOUR NEW (AND OLD) POSSESSIONS.

In a quiet alleyway, you decided to sit down and take stock of all of the odds and ends you had obtained. At least SOME of it was sure to be of use, eventually at least.

Foremost, of course, were your KNIVES; SEVENTEEN knives. There were the 14 you had owned prior, and three you’d stolen from the scene of the fight that YOU STARTED. Of the first 14, 9 were fairly standard kitchen knives not designed to be used for much besides turning food into smaller pieces of food; though 3 of them were currently SOAKED IN BLOOD. The other 5 knives were more notable, but you didn’t use them quite as often; you did like the classic, no-frills knives the BEST. There was a +1 DAGGER, but you often found that the enchantment put you OFF TARGET; you also had a DEMON-KILLING MULTITOOL, though you only really used the knife and bottle-opener; a BALISONG, which you were still trying to learn all the nifty sleight-of-hand for; a FANCY LETTER OPENER that you stole from the Sneedhog COUNCIL OFFICES; and lastly, there was your SHOE KNIFE, which you kept under the sole of your shoe.

The three NEW KNIVES consisted of a BROKEN MONOBLADE, a technicolor REEF SLAG KNIFE, and a BIG OL CLEAVER.

In your pockets were myriad non-knife goodies of varying use. You still had your whetstone, wallet, microfiche map, and your grappling hook. In the chaos of the KNIFE FIGHT, you had stolen a number of other random goods: a POCKET CALC, a SLUDGE BROKER’S FEZ, a BOTTLE OF CATSUP, a STRANGE DEVICE OF UNCLEAR FUNCTION, and a PISTOLET (sans ammo).

You also supposed that your MEATMAN was somewhat within your possessions; and in his own FANNY PACK he carried a few items of his own. His STRANGE SHARPENER, a FOLDING STOOL, several PLAIN KNIVES, and a HASH BONG. At least, that was what he took out to show you; there was always the chance he had some hidden pockets in that bag of his.

You quickly wrote down your resources in the inside cover of your NOTEBOOK, flipped through your list for a second, then gathered your things. You and your meatman wandered through the rougher parts of Heedsnog until you found a ditch with a trickle of clean-looking water. After thoroughly washing your KNIVES, CLOTHES, and HAIR, you rolled in some dry dirt to attempt to cover up the BLOOD SMELL. Once you were cleaned off, you turned yourself back towards the MARKET’S EDGE.

>ATTEMPT TO FIND AN INFORMATION BROKER.
>LINGER NEAR WHERE THE PACK BEASTS ARE UNLOADED.
>BROWSE FOR EXOTIC GOODS.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5174835
>ATTEMPT TO FIND AN INFORMATION BROKER.

>>5174835
>PACK HASH BONG WITH CATSUP AND SMOKE TO GET HYPED UP

>>5174835
>ATTEMPT TO FIND AN INFORMATION BROKER.

>>5174835
>ASK THE MEATMAN IF HE'D LIKE ANY OF THE NON-KNIFE ITEMS WE HAVE OBTAINED, AS PAYMENT.
>ATTEMPT TO FIND AN INFORMATION BROKER.

>actual knife autism
Is this a quest or HEAVEN?

>>5174835
>ATTEMPT TO FIND AN INFORMATION BROKER.
>PRACTICE WITH YOUR BALLISONG SO YOU CAN LOOK TOUGH

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>>5174920

>PACK HASH BONG WITH CATSUP AND SMOKE TO GET HYPED UP.

You rip a FAT BOWL of CATSUP and rock a sick CATSUP HIGH for a little bit.

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>>5175021

>PRACTICE WITH YOUR BALISONG SO YOU CAN LOOK TOUGH.

You take a seat on the curb and spin the FANCY KNIFE for a bit. You get a little bit better, but get a lot of KNICKS in the process.

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>>5174906
>>5174954
>>5174968
>>5175021

>ATTEMPT TO FIND AN INFORMATION BROKER.

Before anything else, you offer any of your non-knife items to the meatman. He strokes his chin for a moment, before shaking his CYLINDRICAL HEAD.

“N-No, not yet...” the meatman said, carefully looking over the items. “We finish the job. T-Then we split t-the spoils...!” he continued, punctuating it with a chuckle.

With everything squared away, you set out to find an INFORMATION BROKER. You and the MEATMAN had wandered to the squalid end of the bazaar, and GOSSIP was not so commonly TRADED FOR closer to the heart of the market; finding such CLANDESTINE AFFAIRS would be much easier here, however. It didn’t take long at all for you to find a SHADY FIGURE standing between some stalls and flashing the INFORMATION NETWORK’S secret signs.

“G-Gossipmonger...” the meatman said to you, slyly gesturing towards the figure. “The s-secret brokers of H-Heedsnog are... are quite the powerful c-cabal... I’d be careful, o-or he’ll sell your s-secrets, too...!”

The GOSSIPMONGER glanced at you; beneath his cowl you noticed something FAMILIAR. As you drew closer, his GLITTERING EYES focused into a piercing gaze; because you could only see a sliver of his face, you couldn’t tell for sure, but you had a STRONG FEELING it was the TELEPATH you had seen earlier.

“Buy a secret?” he asked rather nonchalantly.

>HOW MUCH DO YOU CHARGE.
>WHAT’S WORTH KNOWING.
>THREATEN HIM INTO SPILLING SOMETHING INTERESTING.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5175278
>WHAT’S WORTH KNOWING.

>>5175278
>CLENCH YOUR TEETH, BUT PRETEND YOU HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH SHARP, STABBY K-KNIVES.
>HOW MUCH DO YOU CHARGE.

>>5175278
>HOW MUCH DO YOU CHARGE.

>>5175278
>CLENCH YOUR TEETH, BUT PRETEND YOU HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH SHARP, STABBY K-KNIVES.
>HOW MUCH DO YOU CHARGE.

>>5175278
>MUG HIM FOR HIS SHINY EYE KNIFE

>>5168689
>>5168747

Ok, I just realized something. Knife Girl just found massive exploit.

>STEP 1) - go to your reflection and mug it for a food cupon (or anything really)
>STEP 2) - repeat step 1 until you have whole bunch of useless mirrored food cupons.
>STEP 3) - go to your reflection and offer it a trade instead. exchange your useless mirrored cupons for her useless mirrored cupons
>STEP 5) - PROFIT

>>5176098
Honestly, it's enough to do it once probably.
Then you could just trade one mirrored food cupon for two non-mirrored food cupons. your reflection gives up two useless food cupons for one useful in her world while you get two useful cupons for one useless in you world.

>>5175278
>STAB THE AUTISM OUT OF >>5176098

>>5176109
This poster is a BAZAAR MASTER. Look at the pathetic wretch, it's afraid, it's economy is about to be metaphorically stabbed and the prices inflated like a balloon ready to be popped with sharp knife.

>>5176125
This poster is the BAZAAR MASTER. Look at that WEAK SLUG, how he is trying to defend his EXPLOIT with some BAD GRAMMAR. If you LOOK CLOSELY, it is merely a poorly DISGUISED PLAN to DESTROY the QUEST before KNIFE GIRL can STAB HIM TO DEATH.

Ha ha yes what a great quest, now draw her nude.

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>>5176171
Way ahead of you

>>5176171
Isdat achallenge?

>>5176968
You won't do it.

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>>5176990
I already did it, 35 minutes ago.

>>5177015
Based department called, they're asking for your resume (and more lewd)

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>>5177015

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>>5177015
Holy fuck. He actually did it, Based Lunatic

You're all FUCKED in the HEAD. Kinda fun though!

Posting will resume soon, I've just been slackin'

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>>5177518

Almost forgot.

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>>5177539
Holy motherfuck. Thank you, BASED GOD.

>>5175278
>Whisper into the Information Broker's ear,"They KNOW."

>>5178016
>"SHUT it DOWN"

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>>5175414
>>5175556
>>5175754

>HOW MUCH DO YOU CHARGE.

You took a deep breath and attempted to clear your head of thoughts before asking him what his fare was.

“I know a lot of things, buddy.” the gossipmonger said, inspecting his nails and trying not to sound too smug. “I’ve got dirt on everybody from here to Sneedhog.”

You made a RUDE GESTURE and requested he skip his usual DRAMATIC LINE DELIVERY.

The gossipmonger rolled his eyes. “Depends on the secret, how much is it worth to whoever I’m selling it to? I could give you some juicy information on the other knife-sharpeners ‘round here, charge you 5, maybe 10 tickets.” he paused. His eyes twinkled as he glared at you, mouth curling into a smile SO DEVIOUS that you could see it peeking past his cowl. You HATED telepaths. “But you want something on the bazaar master, hmm? 100 tickets, and I don’t take bargains.”

Offended by the telepath’s self-satisfied offer, you stared him DIRECTLY in the eyes and did your best to imagine a VIVID SCENE of you cutting him into TINY CUBES. It certainly wiped the SMILE off of his STUPID FACE.

The information broker definitely KNEW SOMETHING, but 100 tickets was a LITTLE STEEP for your current financial situation. You would come into some money once you finished your JOB, but then you wouldn’t need the info.

>LET’S CUT A BETTER DEAL.
>GOT ANY CHEAPER SECRETS.
>TELL HIM TO GET FUCKED. LOOK FOR INFORMATION ELSEWHERE.
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5178602
>THE COST OF SECRETS MUST BE PAID IN SECRETS
>YOU HAVE PEEKED INTO OUR MIND FOR A SECRET AND THEREFORE MUST PAY A DEBT OF SECRETS IN TURN
>If he gives us a discount for our amazing philosophy pay the man for the info

>>5178602
>THE COST OF SECRETS MUST BE PAID IN SECRETS
That was the opposite of pretending to not have knives on mind lmao

>>5178615
you cant hide knife autism from a tele-autist

>>5178618
It's the thought that counts, anon!
She could've tried and failed miserably instead of outright sending threats.

>>5178602
As much as I want to go with the secrets paid in secrets deal, I doubt we have a secret that is worth anything to this gossipmonger. Thus, I propose we
>CUT A BETTER DEAL
like, literally. Grab their deal and slice it in half! I mean, we mugged our own reflection, an abstract concept or two's no sweat, right?

>>5179045
Supporting this one.

>>5178602

>>5179045
>>5179104
It's about the fact HE READ OUR FUCKING MIND. He alteready siphoned a fuckton of information out of us, probably well above what's BM's location worth.

>>5179218
>broker goes into our mind
>just endless thoughts about knives and knife accessories
>maybe some practical knowledge about knife fighting
>perhaps one or two thrilling thoughts about sinking our knives somewhere warm, moist and bloody
Yeeeah, not seeing it.

>>5179312
Yeah knowing we're an unhinged killer who just murdered a bunch of people and is looking to stab Bazaar Master is nothing worth knowing. SURE.

>>5179045
+1

>>5178602
>>5179045
+1 to this. The obvious answer!

>>5179325
In a world filled with violence like this on the daily im sure hes seen a few people who wanna kill BM

>>5179045
Seconded

Also, I'm heartbroken we couldn't adopt the little skullcrab at the sandwich place to teach it the sacred art of knifing people to death

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>>5179045
>>5179104
>>5179334
>>5179551

>LET’S CUT A BETTER DEAL. (LITERALLY)

You pulled out your knife best equipped for ABSTRACT THINKING, (definitely the FILETING KNIFE) and cut the DEAL in HALF. The gossipmonger looked on in surprise; though you were sure that a PSYCHIC like him would be familiar with HYPERBOLIC GEOMETRY.

“That’s not fair!” he said, balling his fists. The air around him began to fill with PSYCHAL GLITTER as he started to conjure up a TELEPATHIC RAGE. “You can’t do that!”

But you DID. However, exploits in reality like these were FROWNED UPON by the MATHEMATIC INQUISITION; those squares already didn’t like you, you didn’t need things any WORSE. They were PAYING YOUR SALARY here, anyway; or at least were supposed to.

“Fifty tickets.” he growled, letting out a deep breath. The chromatic aberration around him began to subside as he relaxed. “That’s as good as it’ll get. Try anything else and I’ll make sure Mostpious comes after you himself.”

You weren’t particularly PLEASED about the telepath knowing who your EMPLOYER was, but there wasn’t much you could’ve done; this guy could DIG FOR SECRETS like nobody else you’d met before. Figures; it was his JOB, after all.

Fifty tickets was still a steep price. You didn’t have much more than that to your name at the moment.

>FIFTY TICKETS? FINE.
>MAYBE I CAN DO SOMETHING FOR YOU.
>SPILL THE SECRETS OR YOU DIE.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

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>>5180011

What a COINCIDENCE!

While you were LISTENING TO CONVERSATIONS earlier, the MEATMAN fed the SKULL CRAB some of his crust. Enamored, it followed you here, and you had only just noticed.

The little guy would, of course, need a NAME.

>HAWKBILL
>BODKIN
>LANCET
>BOWIE
>SANTOKU
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5180410
>SPILL THE SECRETS OR YOU DIE.
>>5180411
>SANTOKU

>>5180410
>FIFTY TICKETS? FINE.
>MITTENS

>>5180411
>SPILL THE SECRETS OR YOU DIE.
>BOWIE
THEY ARE ALL KNIFE NAMES, HAHA!

>>5180410
>FIFTY TICKETS? FINE.
Time to mug people's reflections, let's find a big ole mirror.

>>5180411
>FIFTY TICKETS? FINE.
>MITTENS

>>5180411
>>5180410
>FIFTY TICKETS? FINE.
>MITTENS

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>>5180435
>>5180521
>>5180618
>>5180631

>FIFTY TICKETS? FINE.
>MITTENS

Against your BETTER JUDGMENT, you gave your new CRAB COMPANION the name MITTENS. He snapped his claws contentedly at your declaration. “F-Fitting, I’d s-say!” the meatman added, who bent down to gently pat the crab on his HEAD AREA.

“Done playing with your pets? Finally ready to get back to ripping me off?” the gossipmonger said, adding a DISDAINFUL SIGH as he crossed his arms. You STARED HIM DOWN briefly, or at least until his attitude seemed to subside. He rolled his eyes and extended a gloved hand. “Fine.”

You fished around in your bag and handed him some CURRENCY. Mostly TICKETS, but you also had some GILDED GREGS; you were relatively eager to get rid of the heavy coins before the near-weightless tickets. You also had some SLUDGE, but it was rare enough to keep around for exchanges with MORE PARTICULAR individuals.

The gossipmonger stuffed the tickets and coins into his pockets. Of course he didn’t have to COUNT them; he was TELEPATHIC, and had a pretty good feeling you weren’t shorting him.

“The bazaar master lives in a compound under the sludge broker lodge. Guards, traps, false hallways, the works. They don’t meet with anyone except for a couple of Heedsnog’s biggest movers and shakers. The biggest news is that they’re planning to pull the sludge trade out of Sneedhog and move it somewhere else.” the gossipmonger said, telepathically; you had paid for the secrets, a PROPER SECRET SELLER like this one wouldn’t want to risk eavesdroppers getting them for FREE. “It’s hard enough breaking into the lodge alone, but trying to get into the bunker underneath is suicide. Good luck.”

You quietly RETOLD the information to your meatman, who nodded along understandingly. “W-Well... what’s t-the... the plan? What n-next?” he asked, holding Mittens up so he could hear as well.

>START KILLING UNTIL YOU GET THROUGH THE BUNKER.
>GO TRY TO SCOUT OUT THE DEFENSES.
>TRY TO FIND SOME ADDITIONAL HELP TO BRING ONBOARD.
>POKE AROUND SOMEWHERE ELSE FOR MORE INFO. (WHERE?)
>FIND SOME WAY TO MAKE SOME MONEY.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5181174
>GO TRY TO SCOUT OUT THE DEFENSES.

>>5181174
>GO TRY TO SCOUT OUT THE DEFENSES.

>>5181174
>GO TRY TO SCOUT OUT THE DEFENSES.

>>5181174
>>GO TRY TO SCOUT OUT THE DEFENSES.

>>5181174
>GO TRY TO SCOUT OUT THE DEFENSES.
We can disguise it as checking out the sludge brokers lodge

Update later today, just been busy with some life stuff lately.

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>>5181180
>>5181194
>>5181206
>>5181266
>>5181312

>GO TRY TO SCOUT OUT THE DEFENSES.

You donned the SLUDGE BROKER’S FEZ you stole earlier and followed a REEDY ATTENDANT back to the lodge.

The building itself was a GAUDY MONUMENT to the accomplishments of the SLUDGE BROKER CABAL. Like many of the other buildings of Heedsnog, it was an old refurbished structure with walls of FULLERENE CONCRETE and CHROME REVETMENTS; unlike similar buildings, however, colorful REEF SLAG had been dragged from LAKE PODPOD’S TOXIC SHORES and hammered into TECHNICOLOR FILIGREE and SNEERING GARGOYLES. As the SICKLY, GREENISH DAYLIGHT caught the building, it erupted into a BLINDING DISPLAY OF COLORS.

Though you had no personal interest, you gave your meatman and pet crab ample time to appreciate the EXPENSIVE REFURBISHMENTS before entering. With your FEZ on, none of the brokers barred your entry, let alone broke stride. You were free to wander, so long as you didn’t interrupt the INDUSTRIOUS BUSINESSMEN of ALL SORTS; there were brokers of GREAT, WOBBLING GIRTH as well as EXTREME DIMINUTIVE SIZE. Some bulged with MUSCLE, while others whizzed by on WHEELED PAPASAN CHAIRS. Occasionally you saw other INVESTORS or SPECULATORS from outside of the SLUDGE BROKER NETWORK enraptured in conversations about DIVIDENDS. You saw a JACKBOOTED (both in terms of his apparel and demeanor) INQUISITOR and his retinue of TORTURE CONSULTS readying a set of THUMBSCREWS. You definitely didn’t envy the BROKER who squandered that man’s investment.

Like most of Heedsnog, the demographic was varied enough for you to not STAND OUT in particular; at least on the TRADING FLOOR. You weren’t sure how well you would manage in the more PRIVATE areas of the lodge, but your FEZ did offer some means of disguise. Taking an inconspicuous seat in an OPULENT PLUSH CHAIR stuffed with what could only be the finest AUK FEATHERS, you panned your gaze around in search of any indication of where the bazaar master’s BUNKER might be.

>ASK THE INQUISITOR WHAT HE KNOWS.
>ASK A BROKER WHAT THEY KNOW.
>FOLLOW SOMEONE IMPORTANT LOOKING.
>SNEAK INTO THE PRIVATE QUARTERS.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5182640
>FOLLOW SOMEONE IMPORTANT LOOKING.

>>5182640
>FOLLOW SOMEONE IMPORTANT LOOKING.

>>5182640
>ASK A BROKER WHAT THEY KNOW
>ASK ABOUT KNIFE FUTURES AND THE IDEA OF A KNIFE-BASED ECONOMY

>>5182640
>ASK THE INQUISITOR WHAT HE KNOWS.

>>5182640
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?
>Send Mittens on a mission of the utmost importance: sneak inside the ventilation / scuttle through the attic.

>>5182640
>ASK A BROKER WHAT THEY KNOW

>>5182640
>KILL SO MANY PEOPLE THAT THEIR BLOOD FLOODS THE UNDERGROUND COMPOUND AND THE BAZAAR MASTER DROWNS

>>5182640
>ASK A BROKER WHAT THEY KNOW
>ASK ABOUT KNIFE FUTURES AND THE IDEA OF A KNIFE-BASED ECONOMY
Knife Party later once our mission is over if we survive

>>5183912
>ASK A BROKER WHAT THEY KNOW
>ASK ABOUT KNIFE FUTURES AND THE IDEA OF A KNIFE-BASED ECONOMY

Sorry for the continued delays, just became a year older. :^)

Update later today.

>>5185427
Happy birthday, QM!

>>5185427
you've just made it one more time through the entire fucking sun and you are more likely to do it again, that ain't cheap shit

>>5185647
>through
how did OP not burn

>>5185684
That's why it ain't cheap shit.

>>5185696
Guess he's called GOD for a reason, huh?

>>5185427
Ayy, happy belated birthday yo!
At least it is in my time zone atm. Ready for another orbital lap, yes?

Oh no, he's flaking...

Thanks for the birthday well-wishes!

>>5187608

Just caught up in various birthday duties and events, writing the next update now, expect it in a few.

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>>5183138
>>5183342
>>5183912
>>5184778

>ASK A BROKER WHAT THEY KNOW
>ASK ABOUT KNIFE FUTURES AND THE IDEA OF A KNIFE-BASED ECONOMY

You waited patiently until you spotted an EXCEPTIONALLY MILQUETOAST BROKER. He stumbled by in a pair of OVERSIZED SHOES, moving at a particularly SEDATE PACE. You had no trouble signaling to your MEATMAN to close in behind him as soon as he turned down a hallway. Within a minute, you and your COHORTS had cornered him in the corridor’s ELBOW BEND. The broker glanced around as if to PLAN AN ESCAPE, but resigned to his fate with a GULP after MITTENS menacingly snapped his CRAB CLAWS.

“What do you want?” he whimpered out, fishing a PISTOLET from his vest; though you simply grabbed his wrist and WRENCHED the derringer from his hand. “I have... n-nothing of value! Nothing on me!” the broker continued, pulling fistfuls of BUSINESS RECEIPTS from his pockets and dropping them to the floor in front of you.

You proceeded to explain your ideas on KNIFE ECONOMICS. You broke down your mantra of “THE COST OF KNIVES MUST BE PAID IN KNIVES,” and further elaborated on how KNIVES are a BACKED CURRENCY due to their DEMAND as weapons and tools. You weren’t a particularly proficient BUSINESSMAN, certainly not as much as this SLUDGE BROKER, but you thought you gave a fairly CONVINCING PITCH. Unfortunately, the broker wasn’t so convinced; though you did successfully CONFUSE AND TERRIFY him into sharing some useful information.

“Okay, okay!” he began, glancing nervously at you as you GESTURED with the PISTOLET. You scoffed; people should be afraid of KNIVES not GUNS. “I haven’t met the bazaar master, almost nobody has. He just stays locked up in his vault, counting his vials of sludge; he’s got more tickets than anybody, and is too paranoid to let anybody else count ‘em.”

Another broker, suitcase in hand, came down the hallway past you. “J-Just a business meeting! A b-business meeting!” your MEATMAN said, chuckling gently. The second broker rolled his eyes and continued on.

“There’s a little chute where people send stuff down to him, food and forms and other things like that. I could show you where it is, but I don’t exactly know where it ends up. It could be even more dangerous than trying to go through the door.” the sweaty broker said, holding his hands up defensively. “Someone did, uhh... someone broke into the bazaar master’s vault once before, s-so I’ve heard; but I don’t really know many details about that...”

>TAKE ME TO THE CHUTE.
>TAKE ME TO THE DOOR.
>WHERE CAN I FIND THIS OTHER BURGLAR.
>TELL ME MORE ABOUT THE VAULT OR I’LL MAKE YOU EAT YOUR FEZ.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5187919
>WHERE CAN I FIND THIS OTHER BURGLAR.

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Rolled 1 (1d17)

>>5187919
>TAKE ME TO THE CHUTE.
>WHERE CAN I FIND THIS OTHER BURGLAR.
>GIVE A KNIFE TO THE CRAB.
Rolling which knife to give.

>>5187872
Sorry, didn't mean to be rude.

>>5187919
oh yeah add
>GIVE A KNIFE TO THE CRAB.
to my vote in >>5187931 please

>>5187938
Supporting. Especially arming Mittens.

>>5187919

>>5187919
>TAKE ME TO THE CHUTE.

give mittens a knife and a gun

>>5188175
>and a gun
No. Gun cannot be equipped and used by crab.

>>5188508
This, give gun to meatman, for we and Mittens are knife purists
>captcha sez: WAR4J

>>5189422
He punches though

>>5189539
He can still use a gun. If nobody here can, we could just use it as intimidation against others. Maybe keep it unloaded in case somebody snatches it to try to get one over on us

>>5189568
I'm really just afraid this will ruin our knife gimmick.

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>>5189422

>GIVE MEATMAN A GUN.

You offer a PISTOLET to your MEATMAN.

Unfortunately, due to his ENORMOUS HANDS, he is unable to wield either of the DIMINUTIVE FIREARMS.

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>>5187971
>>5188063
>>5188175

>ARM THE CRAB.

You give MITTENS your MOST FAVORITE KNIFE. He accepts and clacks his CRAB CLAWS in delight. You offer the DERRINGER as well, but Mittens is unfortunately unable to use it due to his CRAB CLAWS.

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>>5187931
>>5187938
>>5187971
>>5188175

>TAKE ME TO THE CHUTE.
>WHERE CAN I FIND THIS OTHER BURGLAR.

Before even moving from the spot, you DEMANDED the broker share what he knew about the OTHER BURGLAR. You had more than enough CONVERSATIONAL LEVERAGE for him to immediately SPUTTER OUT the little else he knew.

“I don’t know!” he squeaked, shuffling further into the CORRIDOR ELBOW. “I heard about them breaking in! Not anything about them breaking out! I figured that the bazaar master did something... something awful to them!”

You believed him; a WEEDY PENCIL-PUSHER like that wouldn’t likely be able to LIE TO YOUR FACE. If nothing else, your interest in this BURGLAR gave you even more reason to go down this DELIVERY CHUTE.

The broker lead you and your posse down the GARISH HALLWAYS of the BROKER’S LODGE; the walls were decorated with EXPENSIVE BUT TASTELESS artwork, and all manner of cracks in the ANCIENT CONCRETE had been plastered over with CAMPY WALLPAPER. Your FEZ still provided ample disguise as you shuffled past other businessmen; a servile meatman was not uncommon among the SLUDGE-RICH, so few passersby felt the need to bother you.

“J-Just on our way to... t-to do some business!” your meatman would say, assuringly; his polymer skin peeled back into a TERRIBLE SMILE.

“Uh, here! We’re here!” the broker said, stopping in front of a rather small FULLERENE STEEL DOOR. Along its edges bubbled a mass of sickly brown MEAT, forming a perfect seal between the DOOR and FRAME. “The bazaar master had a flesh-lock installed a while ago... the chute only opens for those given, uh, authorization.”

The broker GRIMACED at you. You still had a KNIFE in hand, and he seemed QUITE WORRIED about DISAPPOINTING you. “B-But... but!” he interjected, just as your fingers constricted around the knife’s handle. “A biohacker c-could open it! Or if you, um, got the eyeball from someone authorized! I think I-Inquisitor Holymoat does...! And... and a few of the Sludgemasters!”

You were FAR FROM PLEASED by the development, but you were still CLOSER THAN BEFORE.

>WHERE CAN I FIND HOLYMOAT.
>WHERE CAN I FIND THE SLUDGEMASTERS.
>WHERE CAN I FIND A BIOHACKER.
>KILL THE BROKER AND TELL YOUR MEATMAN TO RIP THE DOOR OUT OF ITS FRAME.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5190895
>WHERE CAN I FIND HOLYMOAT.
then
>RETURN THE DERRINGER. TELL THE BROKER IT WAS ((PLEASURE)) DOING BUSINESS WITH HIM, NOW LEAVE US.
try to muster a forced smile

>>5190895
>WHERE CAN I FIND A BIOHACKER.
handy crew addition

>>5190895
>WHERE CAN I FIND A BIOHACKER.

>>5190895
>WHERE BIOHACKER
>WHERE HOLYMOAT
We gotta find more than one leverage. See if we can get Holymoat's eye, attached to them or not, and if that fails or is too hard, get the biohacker.

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>>5190961
>>5190987
>>5191246
>>5191319

>WHERE BIOHACKER
>WHERE HOLYMOAT

“Holymoat d-does... does what?” your MEATMAN pressed further.

“Does... as in he does have an eyeball that can open the chute! Probably in a box or jar or something... not much like an inquisitor to trust a flesh-lock.” the broker stammered out.

You then interjected, and proceeded to deliver a OBLIQUELY THREATENING series of questions to the broker; some of which he provided USEFUL ANSWERS to.

“I, uh, I bet Holymoat keeps the eye on his person somewhere! Or at least somewhere near him; I heard he has a jar full of psyker eyes on his desk, m-maybe in there? Probably, uh, pretty hard to break in there right now; the some Telechoir clergymen have been mingling around in the markets and Holymoat’s been filing death warrants for all of them... he’s been in his office stamping papers for days.” the broker huffed out; the inquisition offices wouldn’t be hard to find, but HOLYMOAT’S OFFICE would be rather tricky to sneak into. Especially with Holymoat inside.

“I do, uh, I do also know a biohacker...” the broker continued. “One of the Sludgemasters had a psychal tumor, and he got some of us to track down someone to deal with it.” The BROKER produced a BUSINESS CARD from the inside of his PUFFER VEST and extended it towards you with SHAKY HANDS. As you turned your gaze down to READ IT, he cleared his throat and continued. “She’s probably down by the fighting pits, giving tune-ups to the athletes. She’s very good, I p-promise!”

You returned the broker’s DERRINGER and allowed him to run off, you were confident he wasn’t going to give you any trouble. Your meatman stared at the FLESH-LOCK; it wasn’t going to open itself.

>GO TO THE INQUISITION OFFICES AND FIND INQUISITOR HOLYMOAT.
>GO TO THE FIGHTING PITS AND FIND THE BIOHACKER.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5193922
>GO TO THE FIGHTING PITS AND FIND THE BIOHACKER.

>>5193922
>GO TO THE FIGHTING PITS AND FIND THE BIOHACKER

>>5193922
>GO TO THE FIGHTING PITS AND FIND THE BIOHACKER.

>>5193922
>GO TO THE FIGHTING PITS AND FIND THE BIOHACKER.

oh yes fighting pits
sold

>>5193922
>GO TO THE FIGHTING PITS AND FIND THE BIOHACKER.
let's meet this leet haxxor

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>>5193950
>>5194042
>>5194130
>>5194349
>>5194548

>GO TO THE FIGHTING PITS AND FIND THE BIOHACKER.

You liked the sound of the FIGHTING PITS much more than you liked the sound of the INQUISITION OFFICES. The BIOHACKER was there; but if there was time to spare, you could always try engaging in the CARNAGE yourself.

Following the STENCH OF DEATH, you eventually found your way to the FIGHTING PITS. There was an impressive CHROME ARCHWAY that overlooked the entryway; betters, fighters, and audience members all filtering in and out from between the CHROME STRUTS. Not far beyond the entryway, the rows of seating began, stretching in a wide circle around the edge of the largest of the FIGHTING PITS.

Two COMBATANTS danced around each other, climbing over the mountain of CADAVERS that made up the fighting pits’ FLOOR. You caught a glimpse of the fighting just in time to hear a TRIUMPHANT YELL; one athlete had severed the other’s head with a swing of his MIGHTY CLEAVER, the stray body part flying in a GRACEFUL ARC before landing in the audience. Immediately, a group of YIPPING and CHEERING children scrambled to the impact site, before one grabbed hold of the severed head.

“Do you think he’ll sign it?” the child asked his COMPANION, the two running past you and your MEATMAN on their way to speak to the bout’s victor.

Far across the arena, opposite to the entryway, a HULKING SILHOUETTE sat upon an impressively large pile of GOLDEN TREASURE. He would stamp his POWERFUL LION PAWS to signify the beginning of each match; wine spilling from his GOBLET HEAD and running through his COARSE FUR.

“ARKG ZNGPU SRNGHERF GUR FUNEXZNA IREFHF SABEQ BS GUR CBYLTYBG NFFBPVNGVBA.” he bellowed, stretching his FALCON WINGS. Crowds began to gather around the edge of the arena, BETTING-AGENTS elbowing their way into the frenzy while shouting the odds. The ground shook as GOBLETHEAD slammed his paw. “ORTVA!”

With the majority of the arena visitors investigating the BLOOD SPORT, the pathways quickly became DECONGESTED; now would be the time to track down the BIOHACKER.

>APPROACH GOBLETHEAD AND HIS MOUNTAIN OF TREASURE.
>INVESTIGATE THE ARENA WAITING ROOMS.
>BROWSE THE VENDORS.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5194615
>INVESTIGATE THE ARENA WAITING ROOMS.

>>5194615
>INVESTIGATE THE ARENA WAITING ROOMS

>>5194615
>APPROACH GOBLETHEAD AND HIS MOUNTAIN OF TREASURE.

>>5194615
>INVESTIGATE THE ARENA WAITING ROOMS
Biohacker should be there near the competitors for support

So... Quest still alive, or no?

>>5199576

Still alive, just trapped in the mortal coil. Never said anything because I didn't notice how long it had been since the last update.

KNIFE GIRL will resume soon; I may be a slacker, but I'm not abandoning ship until at LEAST you deal with the bazaar master.

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>>5194628
>>5194676
>>5195202
>>5195422

>INVESTIGATE THE ARENA WAITING ROOMS.

You wandered around the FIGHTING PITS for a while until you found the WAITING ROOMS for the UPCOMING COMBATANTS. During your WANDERING, your meatman purchased a NOVELTY HAT and BUCKET OF POPCORN; you were slightly more SINGLE-MINDED in your pursuit of the BIOHACKER, though you couldn’t deny the humor of the NOVELTY HAT.

The WAITING ROOMS also happened to be where all of the BUREAUCRACY was done, you ran into FNORD THE ILLEGIBLE collecting his winnings from the previous bout. He tipped his CONICAL HAT as he passed, stroking his LONG, GRAYING BEARD. Through the windows along the edge of the CHROME and CONCRETE room, you could see the MOUNTAIN of bodies that filled the primary fighting pit.

GOBLET LORD GOBLETHEAD could still be heard introducing the upcoming fighters; however you weren’t particularly up-to-date on your DIVINE BEING SPEECH, so his shouting meant little to you.

While your MEATMAN happily chewed through his POPCORN, you elbowed through crowds of SPORT FIGHTERS. Some were ODD MUTANTS, others had GRAFTED CHROME IMPLANTS; Fnord was speaking to what you could only assume was another WIZARD, combing through an OVERSIZED SPELL TOME. At the end of a long line of fighters (that had you assumed was for some kind of REGISTRATION) was a BIOHACKER; presumably the one you were LOOKING FOR.

She was some kind of FISH WOMAN; her GILLS twitching and flaring to take in the scent of BLOOD SPORT that seeped in through cracks in the walls. Her TWELVE FINGERS were deep in her BIODECK, massaging the SENSORY RECEPTORS; two VEIN-WIRES extended from the biodeck into a fighter sitting in a chair adjacent to her.

“How about now?” she said to the fighter, who disappointedly shook his head. She dug her fingers deeper into the biodeck’s flesh. “How about now?” she repeated. This continued for SEVERAL ITERATIONS, before the FIGHTER nodded and handed her a freshly-minted GILDED GREG. “Just a problem with the cheap bio-implants, should be better now.”

She turned her gaze to you, as you had managed to FIGHT YOUR WAY to the front of the line. “What’s up?” she asked you, carefully inspecting you and your COMPANIONS as she retracted the VEIN-WIRES back into her BIODECK. “Faulty bioware? Disease? Psychal ennui? Looks like your meatman has a bit of a twitch, want me to see if I can fix him for you?”

>CAN YOU BIOHACK A FLESH LOCK.
>WHAT’S THE DEAL WITH SIGNING UP TO FIGHT AROUND HERE.
>SURE, FIX MY MEATMAN.
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5199650
>SURE, FIX MY MEATMAN.
>CAN YOU BIOHACK A FLESH LOCK.

>>5199650
>CAN YOU BIOHACK A FLESH LOCK.
>SURE, FIX MY MEATMAN.
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME

I like to imagine we scream out all our dialogue at max volume

>>5199650
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.

>>5199650
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME.
>CAN YOU BIOHACK A FLESH LOCK.
>CAN YOU HACK BONE KNIVES.

>>5199650
>CAN YOU BIOHACK A FLESH LOCK.
>SURE, FIX MY MEATMAN.
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME

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>>5199658
>>5199708
>>5199909
>>5199957
>>5201025

>CAN YOU BIOHACK A FLESH LOCK.
>SURE, FIX MY MEATMAN.
>DO YOU WANT TO KILL THE BAZAAR MASTER WITH ME

You gestured for your MEATMAN to SIT beside the biohacker; he obliged, contentedly holding MITTENS in his lap. The biohacker prepared her BIODECK, pulling away some of your meatman’s polymer suit to attach the VEIN-WIRES. There was a soft squelch as her TWELVE FINGERS sank into the PSYCHAL MEAT of the biodeck, gently massaging it as she attempted to FIX your MEATMAN.

Once the BIOHACKER was clearly settled in, you proceeded to ask about FLESH-LOCKS and the BAZAAR MASTER.

“Can I hack a flesh-lock?” she replied, rhetorically; her tone was sarcastic, clearly surprised that you would ask if she could perform a task so TRIVIAL. At least, trivial for her; there was an EXPERT’S TOUCH in the way she manipulated her BIODECK. “Yes, I can hack a flesh-lock; that’s, like, biohacking 101. Sometimes it can take a little bit of trying, but yeah; I can definitely get that sucker open.”

Your MEATMAN twitched in his seat, grinding his teeth together. “J-Just a tickle!” he reassured you, “I haven’t had my programming a-altered since I was m-made! What f-fun!”

The biohacker waved her BLOODY HAND in a way that suggested your meatman to HOLD STILL before she continued to speak. “My name’s Gillian, by the way. I’d offer a handshake if I wasn’t wrist-deep in psychal meat. The bazaar master’s a pretty high profile target; either they’re paying you a small fortune, or you’ve got some other reason of your own.”

GILLIAN paused and looked up at you. “I’ll help, don’t worry about that; I just wanna know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

There was a pause, before she added to her statement. “Not in a biohacker-ey way, just curious.”

>SEVEN HUNDRED TICKETS.
>I OWE A FAVOR TO THE INQUISITION.
>THE BAZAAR MASTER FUCKED ME OVER PREVIOUSLY.
>JUST THOUGHT THERE WOULD BE LOTS OF KILLING.
>SOMETHING ELSE? WRITE-IN?

>>5206644
>THE BAZAAR MASTER FUCKED ME OVER PREVIOUSLY.

>>5206644
>I OWE A FAVOR TO THE INQUISITION.

>>5206644
>JUST THOUGHT THERE WOULD BE LOTS OF KILLING.

>>5206644
>SEVEN HUNDRED TICKETS
>PLUS I GET TO SHOW OFF MY KNIVES

>>5206644
>JUST THOUGHT THERE WILL BE A LOT OF KILLING
>IT IS TIME FOR A KNIFE-BASED ECONOMY

Hello PALS and FRIENDS.

I am in a school-related nightmare of my own creation and will be QUITE BUSY until closer to April 5th. It's been slowing down the updates already, but I just wanted to let everyone know that I'll be TOTALLY ABSENT until then, probably.

I will be BACK, just not for a WEEK.

>>5211366
I'll wait warmly for you OP

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>>5211366
UNDERATANDABLE and THANKS for keeping us UPDATED.

>>5211366
Ay, understandable. But do make a new thread, this one's at the 9th page and would probably not last a week.
Archive it?

>>5211829
It's already been archived.