Tuesday 7 February 2012

Abullah Azeek's Mystical Emporium of Magickry

While travelling, one may on occasion witness an adventurer, while locked in fierce battle with his or her opponent, frantically call out the following words: Keeza! Keeza! Keeza Halluba! The invoker of this cant then seems to wink out of existence momentarily, to reappear a split second later, frequently observed to now hold a scroll, flask or wand of some kind, which the adventurer subsequently puts to good use in besting his or her foe. After some inquiry you may learn that this dwimmer is well-known among those of the adventuring profession; a trade secret as it were.

Uttering these exact words projects the speaker to a pocket dimension, home to Abullah Azeek’s Mystical Emporium of Magickry: a small shop dedicated exclusively to miscellaneous ingredients, scrolls, consumables and various other magickal items the discerning adventurer might have need of while plying their trade.

The Emporium consists of one medium-sized, rectangular room. Three walls are linked with book cases and shelves filled to the brim with scrolls; potions, draughts and other concoctions; dozens upon dozens of different ingredients bottled in small jars, bearing labels written in an illegible scrawl; ancient-looking statuettes, relics, talismans and charms of every kind; crystals, semi-precious stones and shells; incense and candles in every colour imaginable, both tallow and wax; skulls of at least a score of different creatures, including a few human ones. Dried herbs, strings of colourful feathers and beads hang from the rafters. In the center of the room is a long rectangular table, covering almost the entire length of the shop, which is likewise stacked with similar wares. At the far side of the room is the counter. The wall behind it has an enormous apothecary cabinet placed against it, which reaches almost up to the ceiling. Next to it is a small door leading off to a smaller back room; this is the only door in the shop, as there is no discernable exit. Customers are not allowed in this back room; what it contains is a mystery (more exotic merchandise, angry creatures, the bodies of troublesome customers, are but a few of the possibilities).

The eponymous proprietor, Abullah Azeek, is a small, scrawny man of advanced age, dark-skinned, extremely wrinkled, and completely hairless but for a few bristly white chin hairs and thick eyebrows. No matter his mood, he always seems to walk around with closed eyes and furrowed brow. Though Azeek will not volunteer such information of his own accord, he is a seventh level magic-user, with a variety of charm, hold and sleep spells to deal with unruly customers. Azeek however does not like to be bothered needlessly, and every customer in his shop is expected to buy something before leaving. The prices he charges for his wares range from expensive to exorbitant. He accepts all forms of currency, rare ingredients of spell components and valuable magickal items. If a customer has no means of paying, Azeek will put a geas on him or her, tasking the person to return the first magickal item of appropriate value to him. After the purchase is completed, Azeek will dismiss his customers from the shop with a gruff “Thank you, come again!”, returning them to the exact location where they called for his services. No matter how much time passes in the Emporium, to the outside observer the dimensional shopper will only appear to have vanished for a fraction of a second.

Should Azeek be killed, the pocket universe containing the Emporium will collapse on itself. Unless those trapped inside have a means of leaving, such as dimension door, they will be unable to escape; this could mean they vanish along with the shop into oblivion, reappear in their dimension in a random time or place, or any other effect of the LL’s choosing.

2 comments:

  1. I'm loving your concept of Grognardia as a world!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks Gavin, it's a thinly veiled excuse for throwing all kinds of weird fantasy and sci-fi stuff together, but who cares. ;)

    ReplyDelete