Within the winding pathways and trods of the Hedge surrounding Sacramento sits a riotous scab, a crusted and seeping, and bustling with all manner of parasites and bacteria that perpetuate said scab. Of course, as with anything particularly vile and of note, the scab is not without a name. Among the Lost and the denizens of the Hedge alike, the scab is known as the Flesh Market, and it is a blight that has existed for years, its face changing as each layer is slowly peeled away, only to seep and reform anew...
Though, even if the face of the Flesh Market changes, its corrupted heart does not. The Flesh Market is a place that deals only in the most grisly of commodities. It is an abattoir and slave auction block in one, with fossils and other...biological ingredients sold on the side. Only meat and bone, blood and tendon, life and death, are sold here, and it's Master is the enigmatic Sal, who reigns as landlord, bursar, and, some say, enforcer for the entire operation.
Though who, exactly, Sal is is a secret known only to a few...
Though that secret might yet get out.
At the moment, the Flesh Market is fairly bustling with trade, Hobs and foreign lost wandering through the rough, dust streets between the stalls, trading creatures, munching on fragrant kabobs, placing bets around the massive gladiatorial Pit, or slaking...other urges. Lanterns blaze from within each stall and tent, shedding flickering light of all colors, capturing the entirety of the market within a manic edge that was usually only seen during the cresting height of raves fueled by ecstasy.
And so it is that the Dread Queen, Mhairi Ankaa, and her Paladin of Shadows, Morgan Bellanar, find themselves walking among the stalls of the Flesh Market, the hunt for Jenny and the Blackhats fresh upon their minds.