Bargains are opportunities to earn more Sovereigns selling items in Sunless Skies.
Overview[]
In regular markets, items buy and sell for the same amount, making profit impossible. To make money through trade, you will need to use Bargains and Prospects.
By viewing a port's Bazaar, there may be opportunities to buy certain items for a cheaper price than through the markets. However, the number of items for sale in each bargain is limited, and bargains will only be available for a certain amount of time (30 Days = 30 Real Life Minutes). Bargains are only available at minor ports: that is, any ports not in the centre of the map.
Opening the map and clicking on a port will alert you if there are new bargains available there. Which ones will appear is mostly random, but some will only show if your captain has a particular Affiliation at a certain level, and some only at a particular port. Those only available at certain ports tend to have a larger quantity of items available.
Information on Bargains and Prospects is available in-game at New Winchester, by choosing to Visit the Promise of Days. This will also give you Seasoning with the other captains, unlocking an extra Bargain and Prospect.
Possible Bargains[]
Bargain Name | Item Sold | Cost per Item | Amount | Location | Unlocked with | Profit |
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"Fresh hours! Get your fresh hours here!" A Buoyant Broker sells barrels full of geode-like hours."'Dug fresh from the shapely flanks of the Mother of Mountains by rugged but well-mannered prospectors!" He cries. "Put 'em to your ears, m'dears, and hear 'em call." |
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3 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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A seizure of hours The Governor has discovered a secret stash of hours that had been squirrelled away by a gang of refinery workers. He has seen fit to sell them on the open market, in order to raise funds for 'programmes to improve the moral character of inmates.' |
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A squandering of time The Acting Senior Probiter has raided the backrooms for unused consignments of Hours. "The last thing anybody wants," he says, "is to spend even more time here." |
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An Abandon of Hours The Engraved Mourner is happy to trade Hours with his favoured friends. "After all, I hardly need them, what with being made of clay. My previous master was just as thoughtlessly beneficient too." |
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An improbable abundance of hours The hawker smiles a little too brightly. "No hurry. Got all the time in the world, me." His eyes dart nervously about the station, as though anticipating the inclement hand of the law upon his shoulder at any minute. "Brabazon's finest here!" |
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Hastening the end A visiting London aristocrat has become besotted with the scale and splendour and sequence of the Blue Kingdom. He sees no point in delaying his return here as one of the dead, and is selling his pension of hours in order to accelerate his end. |
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Hours, mined from the sky The captain of a battered mining-locomotive is selling unrefined hours quarried from drifting sky-rocks. Each is a walnut-sized geode, within which an hour grows like salt-crystals. The captain dabs discretely at his eye with a handkerchief. Being close to this much time makes one melancholy. |
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3 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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Hours for inspiration A Poetical Prospector is selling barrels of hours to an interested crowd of Bohemians. "Hours of melancholy, hours of wonder! Hours of optimism and tragedy! Buy a barrel, and spin yourself a day of your choosing! Inspiration is only an hour away!" Yes – you're not sure it quite works like that, but the price is a good one. |
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The Buoyant Broker: a trove of unwanted hours The Buoyant Broker has been trying to sell hours to devils. "They just ain't interested," he complains. "Suspicious, ain't it? Who'd turn down a little more time, eh? Show me a contented man and I'll show you a lunatic." |
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Unneeded, abandoned A many-legged spirit paws at your arm and pulls you towards a trove of hours it has piled in a ditch. These are hours shed by spirits intending to pass through Death's Door. Their quality is as good as any dug from a sky-rock, or from the Mother of Mountains. |
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Bargain Bronzewood A rangy captain employed by the Wit & Vinegar company — a struggling lumber-concern — is selling bronzewood offcuts. The bark gleams where it was cut by her engine's saw. |
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3 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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Hearth and Home Various loners have tried to establish homesteads in Eleutheria. Almost all fail. A Muttering Scavenger seeks out these abandoned homes and strips them of planks of bronzewood, which he sells to skyfarers like yourself — skyfarers with ready cash and limited scruples. |
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3 | Any bazaar on Eleutheria
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Treasures of the marsh Most of Achlys is constructed from trees gathered in the marsh. They're soggy. They take time to dry. But while technically not Bronzewood, they're close enough to it that most Londoners can't tell. Today, the merchants have a surplus. Either they sell it, or it has to go back in the mud. |
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What remains of the Guinevere A scrap merchant is selling off plating from a wrecked locomotive. A plaque on one of the larger plates reads GUINEVERE. "Her lights failed," the scrap merchant explains. "So she crashed. One of Eleutheria's little tricks." |
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3 | Any bazaar on Eleutheria
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A boring of Bronzewood The oldest bronzewoods — tall as mesas and broad as cathedrals — are too grand to fell. Instead, tree-borers mine into the trunks in search of the gleaming heart-wood. A wiry borer is selling bundles of resinous splinters, each taller than he. |
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"Tea for sale! Buy tea! Everyone likes tea! Please?" A Dishevelled Research Associate sells caddies of dried tea from an oak chest. "Due to an unfortunate but entirely understandable administrative error, the professor's entire research budget has been spent on tea," she explains, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "Please buy some." |
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A researcher is selling 'tea' Is it tea? Is it really? Is tea that malachite shade of green? Are tea leaves usually so serrated? Certainly it's tea-ish. That's probably good enough out here. |
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The benefits of a bilious by-law A recent by-law pushed through by the Restorationists' Committee has outlawed the drinking of tea in Parliament, on the grounds that it is 'an undemocratic and imperialist beverage'. Port has been recommended instead. The law will no doubt be overturned soon, but for now it creates an opportunity. |
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The cut-throat tea-trade Frobishers, who supply tea to the Admiral Nelson in Port Prosper, are offering selected clientele an opportunity to purchase their latest loose leaf. They will not, however, be drawn on rumours of a deal gone bad with the Nelson. |
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The shady sale of an unlikely amount of tea What a lot of tea. Why is this scarred gentleman selling it so cheap? He picks at his teeth. "D'you want to ask questions, or d'you want to buy a load of cheap tea that may or may not have recently been used to conceal other substances of less certain legality?" |
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'A Hunter's Hoard: a choice of Caged Catch' A mangled hunter is selling his catch outside his sleek, gun-bristling engine. A Cantankeri grumbles in its cage. A tangle of pardoner-eels thrash. Something fungal and livid oozes gently. |
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A fisherman's strange catches The mirror-waters of Eleutheria are smooth on the surface, but often turbulent and dangerous below. A Scarred Fisherman offers some of his more unusual catches for sale, advising customers of a nervous disposition not to peek into the cages. |
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3 | Any bazaar on Eleutheria
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A hissed offer "Grandmother doesn't want these ones." One of the Widows, a cadaverous woman, holds a knot of sorrow-spiders in her arms. They have been woven intricately together: a braid of jointed legs and faceted eyes. She thrusts it towards you. "You may purchase them." |
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A mercantile menagerie The Jolly Collector is doing the rounds. What's he got this time? A pilfered collection of silverware? The complete set of commemorative plates from the Captivating Princess' latest wedding? No. Instead he seems to have branched out into taxidermy. No, wait — that one moved. Zoology, then. Where'd did he get these specimens? His eyes sparkle as he taps the side of his nose. |
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A Miserable Bestiary The Duchess Incarnadine is willing to trade various of her menagerie — those deemed 'insufficient', 'lacklustre', 'unfortunately taxidermied', 'regrettable', and 'sobbing'. |
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Fruits of the sea The things that glide through Worlebury's ghostly sea of mist are not — let's face it — fish. But if we call them 'fish' we don't have to think about what they actually are. Recently, a school of them was found grounded on the port's pebbled beach. "What a sight it was," a local remarks, wistfully. "The stars a-shinin' on their membranous wing-fins, their mouths all gulpin' for the vapours." |
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Horrors of the heavens An Aristocratic Celestozoologist captures and studies the creatures of the High Wilderness. Now, he is selling some of his menagerie to fund his next hunting expedition. This time, he intents to hunt Grievers and Undeparted in Eleutheria. |
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Meals fit for Rubbery Men Distressing shapes bob to the surface of the Rubbery Chef's cauldron. He scoops one out for you to taste, and it wriggles delicate antennae at you. Well, it's certainly fresh. The Rubbery Man indicates that he will happily serve them dead or alive. He even has cages ready. |
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On ice While excavating ice to build their homes at the well's edge, the Psalmists unearthed a number of large, sinuous creatures frozen within it. The beasts thaw slowly. Still trapped, this one flicks a lazy eyelid. For a fee, you may take the monsters off the Psalmists hands. |
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Wriggling Miracles of Science The Royal Society of Titania has several... one looks like a crustacean, another a bit like a jellyfish, another... they aren't sure, but they're all starting to smell. They're welcome to a good home. Or a bad home. Or anywhere else, really. |
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A sale of shot and shell A crow-like captain sells used, but functional, armaments scavenged from the cold wreckage of a sky-battle. "Good pickings when the Tacketies and Stovepipes fight," he observes, professionally. |
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3 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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An expulsion of problematic material The Dazzled Sequencer sells buckets full of armaments retrieved from Azimuth. "Terrible hazard, all these instruments of lethality lying about the place. And most untidy. Keen to get them off the sun. Very keen." |
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An opportunity to bid on Admiralty munitions A retired Commander has tipped you off to the sale of a substantial amount of admiralty surplus. Shot and shell. Rifle and revolver. |
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A furtive sale of less-than-legal armaments A Doleful Fence lifts the corner of a tarpaulin to show you the wares underneath. "Davy's Dust," he intones, like a vicar at a funeral. "Chivs, irons, barkers, bulldogs-with-six-teeth." You translate his criminal argot into plain English: gunpowder, knives, guns, guns, guns. |
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Slipping through the Eagle's grip A Stammering Eelmonger has a brother who captains one of the Empyrean Outriders. Sometimes, the brother ensures crates of ammunition go missing. And then a skyfarer like yourself gets a very good deal on crates of munitions. |
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A revolutionary surplus A Ragged Revolutionary shows you three crates of mixed munitions, some of which look distressingly home-made. He is selling them cheaply; today, he needs money more than murder. |
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3 | Any bazaar on Eleutheria
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Firepower for the favoured An Auditor is looking for you. Fortunately, you're not in trouble. Although you're an independent agent, your establishment friends speak highly of you, and you have been selected to receive a special deal on armaments. "Protecting our investment," the Auditor says. |
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A Curator's treasure trove A fellow skyfarer in urgent need of money for repairs offers sparkling Navaratine Gemstones looted from the Curator that damaged his locomotive. |
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3 | Any bazaar on Eleutheria
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A burglar's bargain A Dubious Fence has an offer for you: several casks of Navaratine gemstones for an exceptional price. This must have been a month's work for a whole gang of burglars. |
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A grinning miner is selling gems They say in New Winchester that the skies of the Blue Kingdom are hung with diamonds the size of cows. A few gullible miners have made their way here, only to learn that the tales are exaggerated. This miner, for example, has yet to discover one larger than his head. |
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A liberator of Navaratine Gemstones He moves in stuttering starts, like a rabbit who knows a dog is about. Some call him a grave-robber, but he prefers 'archaeologist'. He's in no hurry, he professes, none at all, to shift these gemstones. Of course they're from a legitimate source: he plundered the vault himself. |
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An auction of seized goods A notorious smuggler's recent arrest is the excise-man's gain. The glittering contents of the smuggler's cargo hold are being auctioned off quickly, to raise money for the department. Only 'the right sort' of bidders are invited, and most purchases are negotiated in advance to avoid ruinous bidding-wars. How civilised. |
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The residue of creation Some say that Navaratine gemstones are cooled sparks that once fell from the Forge of Souls during its heyday. The shades that watch over the Forge occasionally find a new trove of them glimmering among the mounds of ash and slag. One of the spirits, a Scorched Servitor, furtively sells handfuls of the gems in the shadow of the port's gate. It does not say what it wants with London currency. |
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Wages of sinful lives A Chaplain of Piranesi offers you some of the treasures that once belonged to the prison's longer-serving guests. The jewels are, he points out, no good to them in Piranesi, and — if the prison is doing its work — unlikely to be of interest when they leave. |
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An auction of blue-painted crockery The recent death of a well-to-do widower has triggered an unseemly family squabble over the disposition of his estate. An Indifferent Solicitor has been charged with auctioning off various of the deceased's unwanted belongings in order to cover the death duty. |
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The shadow of suspicion A London trader is suspected of espionage, and needs to raise funds quickly to leave the Empyrean. His extensive collection of coronation crockery is a particular bargain. But he would like you to decide quickly. The Khan's guards are getting closer. |
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'Crockery for Sale! Nearly new! Cups! Saucers! Gravy boats!' An irritable footman is taking whatever he can for the crockery. The dinnerware seems in mint condition; why is his master selling it? He indicates the geometric pattern. "Last season, innit? It's all wistful featherin' now." |
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"Chorister-nectar! Going cheap!" A Whistling Apiarist is selling fresh (or at least recent) chorister-nectar. A versatile substance used, variably, as a sweetener, an intoxicant, and a tonic for the vocal chords. The Apiarist seems jolly, though his tune is not. |
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3 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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A Disgraced Chorister is selling his store of nectar He has been ejected from his choir following what the papers are only calling 'a recent Incident'. He will have no need of his nectar now, nor of its beneficial effects on his vocal range. If you give him the slightest chance, he will recount the details of his recent scandal bitterly, his melodious voice contrasting vividly with his profane language. |
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An ambrosial acquisition: chorister-nectar, going cheap! A hive-harrower — a well-plated locomotive that hunts chorister-bees for their nectar — has called at Lustrum. The nectar-scent uncoils down the mountain slope, sweet as Turkish delight. |
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Fresh nectar! Guaranteed no bits of bee hair! The new Chorister Hive is producing more nectar than Titania can manage. The Rhapsodic Mayor is almost desperate to export it before the port drowns. |
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A clandestine transaction: souls for sovereigns The crew of a passing mining-locomotive have been engaging in some unlicensed excavation of Port Avon's ruins. They're keen to sell what they found. Quietly. And quickly. |
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A line on a cheap collection of souls Until recently, decorating your parlour with bottled souls was a fad in Bohemian circles. Now, fashion has moved on, and souls are out. |
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A spirifer's accident A 'spirifer' is an unlicensed trader in souls. It is not a popular profession. Recently, a spirifer was the victim of a fatal case of seller's regret. He left behind an impressive stash, which his associates are now trying to dispose of quickly. |
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All that remains A ragged tribe of scavengers, claiming to be exiles from the Graven who rule the White Well, pick through the churned mud. They sell wan, listless souls; all that remains of shades who failed the tests at Death's Door too many times. |
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Poor unfortunates The Macabre Counsellor has gathered a cluster of lesser souls by some stratagem or other. She has grown bored with them, and would happily exchange them for coinage, which she prefers as a method of influence. |
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The Snivelling Spirifer is selling souls A spirifer is an unlicensed dealer in souls. This one has a perpetual sniffle. He finds a quiet corner to show you a sample of grubby bottles. Wispy shapes coil inside. "See?" he sniffs. "Fine as porcelain. I swears every one of 'em was teetotal or church-goin'." |
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3 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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The spirifer's supply Spirifers — traders in unlicensed souls — flock to the Blue Kingdom. Is it just the temptation of its sealed stores of souls and hapless, exploitable spirits? Or are they drawn to it, like pilgrims at Christmas or sparrows in summer? This Spirifer is selling her recent bounty, in order to raise capital for a secretive new venture. |
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'Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill' A prominent and tedious poet offers copies of his latest epic to 'the right sort of person'. At 10,000 lines, it is a sequel to Spencer's 'Faerie Queen', depicting Her Enduring Majesty as a second Gloriana. There are few reviews — no one has thus far managed to remain conscious to the end. |
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An auction of dusty literature An amateur enthusiast has passed away. Hers was an obscure field of scholarship, and her family are selling off her books by the bundle. Stacks of pamphlets, tomes and journals teeter behind the stall. |
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A Selection of Fine Books The Curator of Albion's Museum has a stack of unwanted novels and volumes of poetry – they are superfluous to demand. Many bear the name 'Mrs Frontispiece'. |
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A crisis of faith A theologian who travelled here from London is selling his bibles, his prayer-books, and his hymnals. Having witnessed the afterlife firsthand, he has come to regard them as works of naive fiction. |
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A half-price stack of penny-dreadfuls A hawker sells the latest London potboilers: flimsy, mass-printed books with wood pulp paper, lurid covers, and fresh, gleaming Ministry stamps. |
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5 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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A bibliophile's bargain: the latest literature from London A consignment of recent publications have arrived from London. Journals of Her Enduring Majesty's courtiers, recounting her wisest judgements. Mournful memorial poetry written at the Most Serene Mausoleum. Accounts of the eternally-youthful debutantes at Perdurance, and their unending revels. |
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A sale of Ministry-approved poetry A Starving Poet is selling collections of his latest work. He seems to have rather a lot of it. "A minor printing error," he explains. "A simple matter of a misplaced 'u' that rather dramatically changes the... ah... tone of a sentence. Also its probity. But if the Ministry of Public Decency didn't spot it, I'm sure hardly anyone will." |
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Clogging up the stacks In recent years, over-eager Scrive-Spinsters have picked reams of London literature from the wrecks of engines they have destroyed, and taken it to the Forge. A yoked servitor spirit is selling it off by the pound. He indicates that it's starting to clog up shelves that could be dedicated to more interesting and important subjects. |
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Looking for Patron An up-and-coming poet requires additional funds to support to sustain them while they work on their magnum opus. |
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The Word in the Sky The Luminous Cardinal is prepared to part with some of his early illuminations. They depict the Reach as the celestial Paradise, before the Fall of the Rebel Angels. |
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'Poems of the Cypress King' One of Pan's recent Cypress Kings was a poet of the Neonocturnal school, who wrote this slim volume during and after his brief reign. The book is, in fact, in no way Ministry-Approved, but the forged stamps are exceptionally convincing. |
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5 | Any bazaar on Eleutheria
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A chemical confoundment A soot-besmirched chemist peddles panes of coloured glass from the back of her workshop. "Unexpected side-effect," she explains. "Had a small fumes leak — nothing to worry about! Completely safe! But it did turn all my windows these different colours. Striking, eh?" |
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A gang of grubby urchins are selling Stained Glass They have sandwiched the panes between wooden boards, and wrapped them in rags. When a passing costermonger asks where they got the glass, a Sooty Vagabond snaps "Never you mind!" and throws his coat over the baleful glass angel adorning the pane they had on display. |
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An Unfortunance of Glass A Bashful Showman is selling tall panes of coloured glass. "We had to dismantle the Maze of Mirrors," he explains. "Following a number of... well, 'disappearances' is a very strong word, isn't it? Anyway, as long as you keep them away from silver, they should be entirely safe." |
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A fortunate misfortune: a sale of stained glass! An ambitious local family planned to extend their townhouse. But space in Port Prosper is at a premium, and the governor demanded they abandon the work before it was complete. Now, they're trying to recoup their losses by selling a number of splendid, unused panes of stained glass. |
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His last works This glassmaker came to the Blue Kingdom in order to capture the gold of its sun and the blue awe of its sky. But he has looked too long and too closely. The light sears his eyes; his vision fades. But still he makes pane after pane, spending the last of his sight in attempts to trap the things he has seen in prisons of glass. |
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The Queen's Good Servant The Engraved Mourner has recently put a halt to a proposed fourth window in the Upper Gallery. It was intended to depict Her Renewed Majesty thundering through Albion on a chariot emblazoned with the colours of Empire. The Mourner put a stop to it on grounds of 'good taste'. He now has a lot of glass on his hands. |
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A Bombazinous bargain Ravenscourt & Stamford make a healthy profit selling academic robes for graduation ceremonies. They insist that only light-drinking bombazine cloth is acceptable at such occasions. Bombazine is splendid but expensive, so there's a bustling second-hand market in used robes among impoverished scholars. One such secret market is taking place now. |
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A Tableaux Mort Sable-liveried footmen are cutting up vast rolls of midnight fabric for sale. These are the cast offs from the Macabre Counsellor's latest tableaux, rejected for being insufficiently direful. |
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Bales of cellar-woven Bombazine Bombazine is worked in the dark, in candleless rooms with boarded windows. A milk-eyed weaver sells rolls of the cloth she has made in her cellar. It is black and splendid, drinking the starlight thirstily. |
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Robes of Bombazine A gloomy spirit sells folds of black cloth. These are the robes customarily worn by shades of the Invisible class, and are wrought of light-drinking bombazine to prevent them from offending the eye of their king. What became of the specific shades who wore these robes? The vendor will not say. |
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The Weavers of Eleutheria Bombazine cloth drinks light. In brighter domains, it quickly becomes soaked and impossible to work. But in Eleutheria's soft gloom it is pliant and delicate. Weaving is a common vocation here, and Bombazine can often be found cheaply. |
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3 | Any bazaar on Eleutheria
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A good price for Verdant Seeds A syndicate of allotment-owners are selling seeds. The vegetation of the Reach grows boisterously, even violently, and the sacks are strapped tight with leather belts. |
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3 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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Achlys' Gift Deep in the Achyls marsh lies a garden of beauty and poison. Braver traders visit it to gather seeds for the market. Those that cannot be turned into spice or incense, they sell at cost. |
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An 'orticultural Opportunity: a Buoyant Broker is selling Sacks of Verdant Seeds The flora of the Reach is dangerously fecund. Plant a seed, water it, give it a little light and it'll sprout overnight. During transport, it is vital the sacks be stored in a cool, dark, dry place — or your hold is likely to become an impromptu shrubbery. |
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An agricultural windfall: a sudden crop of seeds Seasonal cycles are unpredictable in the Reach. A settler's crop ripened suddenly, and he's selling the seeds while he can. You examine one, and find it both feathery as a dandelion seed and winged, like that of a sycamore. |
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An arboreal opportunity: seeds from the forest A handful of tangle-haired recluses dwell in the wood, growing food in their glade-gardens. Sometimes they visit the bazaar, selling their wares silently. |
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Experimental seeds for a song An Experimental Horticulturist is selling a mountain of seeds. Yes, she is very pleased with how well they turned out. No, she will not tell you what she treats her crops with |
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Seeds of Titania The flower-port is in bloom. The Rhapsodic Mayor has arranged a sale of some of the prettiest seeds. |
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The captain of a greenhouse-engine is selling seeds "Fresh from the gardens of the Reach!" This green-thumbed captain buys crops for a pittance from the region's scattered farmsteads, then sells the yield at larger ports. |
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3 | Any bazaar on the Reach
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A Congenial Vagabond, and a sale of sublime souls A Congenial Vagabond sells bottled souls in the shadows between the tents. He unwraps one. It blazes! This is no parson's soul; no milkmaid's! Not even a prophet's soul burns so brightly! Where did he get it? The Vagabond smiles. |
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An immaculate opportunity A Sombre Footman offers discerning visitors a chance to admire (and procure) samples from Perdurance's collection of souls. "A recent and exceptional donation," he says, showing you a set that burn fiercely in their fluted bottles, "to accompany the arrival of a Duke's daughter. A gift of souls is considered good luck." |
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Souls for silver Only a minority of the shades of the Blue Kingdom are human, or even human-like. Here, between Death's Doorstop and the Endless Furrows, a group of pachydermous spirits congregate. Their thick legs, and the prehensile trunks that hang from behind their huge porcelain death-masks, are caked with the local grey mud. They will exchange souls — possibly theirs, possibly not — in exchange for sovereigns, which they eat one by one before taking the next. It is a slow transaction. |
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Souls from the Horizon The Devil is pleased to have done great work at the Home Bureau. "See what one can accomplish when one sees idleness as potential, London's detritus as opportunity, not waste, and tedium as the crucible of perfection." He offers a selection of scrupulously refined souls. |
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7 | The Devil at the Horizon ≥ 1 | ![]() Sovereigns | |
Souls on the mountain-slope A Tight-Lipped Devil sells impeccable souls in the shadow of Caduceus' temple. Where did he acquire them? Has he been plucking them from the Bohemian celebrants? No. You examine their elegant angles, their spasmodic movements. These souls were never human. |
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The archaeologist's game A plucky archaeologist is selling souls of savage brightness. "Found these in a vault only a few days away. Didn't need them all, but I could hardly just leave them there." She considers you for a moment. "I'll offer you a good deal if you take them off my hands. I'll need the space — I'm bound to pass more vaults on the way back to Albion. There'll be plenty left for the museum." |
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The souls of the peerless Eleutherian poets "Wordsworth? Keats? Whitman? Amateurs!" The Snivelling Spirifer wipes his nose. "Friends, here are the souls of true poets, who learned pentameter in Pan and alliteration in Achlys! Perfect for budding writers! An unparalleled conversation-starter! A paperweight! A doorstep!" You can't verify whether they come from poets, of course, but the souls seem to be of very high quality indeed. |
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