SPOOK.
“bushwacker joe„
Look up magical realism in the dictionary and it'll describe a literary style incorporating fantastic or mythical elements into otherwise realistic fiction. Baltigo is where it began. And anyone who spent any real time here knows why. It's a place where the bizarre and the inexplicable meet on a daily basis. But just like in the novels of Gabriel Garcia Marqueez, the weird shit usually pops off at certain critical moments.
That brings this story to an importer of shady wares. Rumour was that the sunlight didn't shine upon these alleys. It was a metaphor for what this place was; a black market. This was the only place on this planet where you could get a marine uniform, pirate uniform, revolutionary uniform all from the same stall. These types of markets mainly dealt in contraband. Three stereotypes dominated much of the street here; first-timers, regular customers, specialists. Now the first-timers were typical, they took their time browsing the stalls - asking lots of questions. Usually the regular customers have a look of "I know what I'm doing" on their face, and they do for most of the time. Specialists are the most annoying. They ask very specific questions about wares, and ask more questions based on the answers. Most of these stallowners didn't know minute details about their goods. "EIGRP is an advance distance vector routing protocol, and OSPF is a link state routing protocol; get your facts straight" Nobody really liked these types. Some were recruited and met a less than fortunate fate.
Our main character is a first-timer. He bare to witness all these different types of lowlife. Social contracts, etiquettes - they were foreign here, that's how the locals could pick the tourists out of the crowd. People familiar with these areas didn't stick out - they knew better than that. Nothing's worse than being seen as prey on a black market. The stall owners charge more, see what they can get away with - besides also going against all the odds of making it out, you also become a target for conmen. The folk definitely didn't seem friendly. Deep cut scars embedded in their faces, marking the beast they must've taken down.
His first purchase was a plastic small baggy of reefer dust, packed in a large brown bag. One you would use to carry your groceries. Sure, being a virgin in this place wasn't easy - but at least his virginity taken by drugs. The shop owner was happy to tell the bearded man the lay of the land, after having sold his goods at a five-hundred percent markup. So, sure enough, he went out and started to explore in a more discreet manner.
reference: https://strawhats.rpg-board.net/t2533-god-is-dead-voyage
That brings this story to an importer of shady wares. Rumour was that the sunlight didn't shine upon these alleys. It was a metaphor for what this place was; a black market. This was the only place on this planet where you could get a marine uniform, pirate uniform, revolutionary uniform all from the same stall. These types of markets mainly dealt in contraband. Three stereotypes dominated much of the street here; first-timers, regular customers, specialists. Now the first-timers were typical, they took their time browsing the stalls - asking lots of questions. Usually the regular customers have a look of "I know what I'm doing" on their face, and they do for most of the time. Specialists are the most annoying. They ask very specific questions about wares, and ask more questions based on the answers. Most of these stallowners didn't know minute details about their goods. "EIGRP is an advance distance vector routing protocol, and OSPF is a link state routing protocol; get your facts straight" Nobody really liked these types. Some were recruited and met a less than fortunate fate.
Our main character is a first-timer. He bare to witness all these different types of lowlife. Social contracts, etiquettes - they were foreign here, that's how the locals could pick the tourists out of the crowd. People familiar with these areas didn't stick out - they knew better than that. Nothing's worse than being seen as prey on a black market. The stall owners charge more, see what they can get away with - besides also going against all the odds of making it out, you also become a target for conmen. The folk definitely didn't seem friendly. Deep cut scars embedded in their faces, marking the beast they must've taken down.
His first purchase was a plastic small baggy of reefer dust, packed in a large brown bag. One you would use to carry your groceries. Sure, being a virgin in this place wasn't easy - but at least his virginity taken by drugs. The shop owner was happy to tell the bearded man the lay of the land, after having sold his goods at a five-hundred percent markup. So, sure enough, he went out and started to explore in a more discreet manner.
reference: https://strawhats.rpg-board.net/t2533-god-is-dead-voyage
Last edited by Spook on Sat Sep 01, 2018 7:07 am; edited 1 time in total