[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/adb01259-53a5-4c37-8dd0-07d9259d9823.png[/img][/center] On an unmapped sandbar in the middle of an unnamed sea, clumps of beachy mud were seen flicking up and out of a hole that must have been several meters deep. Chopstick's naive and optimistic attempt at digging had started off well, but her progress had stalled once the seawater started to seep in from the side of the hole faster than she could splash it out. After a while (an hour? a day? eight years?), she poked her head out of the burrow to see what was going on. [color=wheat]"...Oh. Nice."[/color] A new light was shining in the sky, glittering off the sea, hot enough to burn her skin. It was the first warmth above background temperature that she'd felt for some time. A deep, distant [i]crack[/i] ricocheted through the endless waters, followed by a cataclysmic [i]crash[/i]. Chopstick Eyes turned her head to the horizon and saw a great surge of water approaching from one side. She turned her head and saw an equally enormous tsunami approaching from the other. [color=wheat][i]Oh,[/i][/color] thought Chopstick, as her sandbar was annihilated, along with her plans for the evening. [color=wheat][i]Shoot.[/i][/color] A few days later, her speck of a body finally floated up onto the surface, and there she stayed for a while, spread eagle on the still-tossing seas, looking up neutrally at what remained of the sky. But the warm blue had been overtaken by volcanic and meteoric dust, and the waters were now so turbulent that she had little chance of ever finding her way back to the chopped mountain, or really any other landmark, should any have seen fit to arise. Well, screw that then. With a kick and a paddle Chopstick Eyes made her way down into the depths where the waters were calmer. Unseen and unheard in these empty seas, she could hear for hundreds of miles of unliving depths; sensing that her body was caught in a current far larger than she could see, she curled up for now and let it do what it will. [hr] Eventually Chopstick found herself bumping slowly along an igneous seabed, raising tiny clouds of dust as she scraped the ground with an arm or knee. Her environs were still vast and melancholy, but at least there were landmarks, such as they were: distant, uneven shapes in the dark, signs of godly interference and the first hint of what was to come. The pressure here was crushing, but all Chopstick's bones were made of rubber and her only internal cavity was a stomach that had long since filled with seawater. Kicking along the seafloor to the highest ridge, she began to listen once again to the echoes of the constant, splintery wooden creaking that oh-so-quietly followed wherever she went. Up and up and up, ever so slow. Up and up to the edge of the broken ridge. Then down, down again into the crack. She could sense someone's presence nearby, even after all this time, and it wasn't hard to tell who it had been. Ashalla was gone now, into the heart of the rift where this crack led, and Chopstick Eyes had no intention of following (just yet). She needed to find some other way down. And she did, in the end. [hr] Choppy fell for several miles once she squeezed herself (octopus-like) through the leak. At last she hit the floor of the enormous chasm, splattering a small puddle of water that continued to fill, one drop at a time, with seawater from the unseen crevice above. Vomiting up the last of the ocean, and her kite, Chopstick Eyes looked up, and watched patiently in a crosslegged position as the leaking droplets slowed, then stopped. Eventually the water soaked away into the dirt. Whatever route she had found into this world, it was transient. She looked around. No light, of course. Only black. Black air in every direction, not musty, but still. Without illumination, her god-sense took over, and she saw an endless plain of reddish hardpan stretching off in every direction, dusty and not quite smooth. No walls, no roof. Leaving her cleavers stuck in the clay, she walked as far as she could in one direction, until she came back where she started. She was very alone. But it was a cosy kind of alone. [color=wheat]"...Time to set up shop."[/color] Wringing out her dress again, Chopstick's first thought was that if she had some bamboo and rattan to work with, she could probably light a fire and make a rack on which to dry both that and the pretty kite. It came to pass, and some stalks and palms sprouted up nearby. Sitting crosslegged in front of the fire with her things on the rack, she thought it might be a good idea to fix her dress, and maybe make some more later on. For that she'd need silkworms, which needed mulberry-leaf, and some bone for the buttons and needles. It came to pass, and soon her mouth was stained with mulberries as she sowed together a new dress and her surviving buffalo chewed up her bamboo. With that done, it was probably about time to start building stalls. Soon there would be buying and selling (she Knew this), and that would require vendors, who would need lodging for their stock and ware. She could probably build most of it out of bamboo and rattan, but she'd need some sturdier wood too, and less labour-intensive fabric, and water, and nails. Chopstick Eyes surmised that she could make good use of the pine and cotton trees sprouting alongside a nearby stream, and refine some iron out of the ore in its bed. So, she did. With a mountainous supply of lumber stacked up beside her, rolls upon rolls of cotton, leather, rice paper and wool, and hundreds of crates of wrought-iron nails, Chopstick Eyes tapped her chin, looked out over the endless supply of clay at her feet, and thought. At this rate, and if she was thrifty with the available space, she could probably fit about a billion stalls in her Sphere. So, she did. As she stocked the last of the stalls with some bronze hair-curlers and nail-trimmers, Chopstick Eyes thought about how she would go about livening up the packed but still lonesome Sphere. All of these goods were made for mortals of the generally humanoid persuasion, and there would one day be such mortals on Galbar (she Knew this). But Chopstick Eyes had not the faintest clue how to (responsibly) put together something like a human, or even if it would be appropriate for her to try it. In fact, she wasn't even sure she wanted mortals in this Sphere of hers (at least yet). This big market didn't necessarily need buyers and sellers. It just needed buying and selling. She could probably arrange that somehow. So, she did. Still, the 'invisible hands' solution felt a bit lacking. Without a human touch to them, the Sphere was missing something of the bustle and flair that defined a true market. Chopstick Eyes didn't know how to make humans, but she had a pretty good eye for fashion, so she could probably work something out. So, she did. Finishing the last stitch on the last glove and fitting it onto the last invisible hand, Chopstick Eyes looked out over her innumerable horde of impatiently muttering hagglers and wondered what it was she was missing. What did a human need beside air, food, water, and a limitless thirst for liquid assets? ... Ah yes. The last flying lantern was released from the window of Chopstick's workshop, and she leaned out to watch its passage. It was a pretty thing, and she was proud of it, not least because of the papery patterns painted onto its side or the streamers billowing out below. It was bright with life and light and warmth, a little flame spirit just like the countless others she'd caught seeping through the walls; it oozed oxygen and ate smoke, burning in reverse, purifying the air and purring an ethereal hum as it bumbled across the canyons of trinket-shops. The invisible hands weren't always the gentlest market-goers, but these critters would offer a guiding light to anyone who'd stumble across the Sphere of Chopstick Eyes. And with that Sphere now illuminated, it was finally done. Chopstick Eyes looked out over the assembled hands and picked up the big mallet she'd been saving for this occasion. [color=wheat]"I now declare-"[/color] She hefted the mallet over her shoulder. [color=wheat]"-the Grand Bazaar-"[/color] teetering under its weight, Chopstick Eyes nearly fell of the stage, but managed to teeter her way back to where the huge bronze bell was waiting. [color=wheat]"-to be..."[/color] She swung. [color=wheat][i]"OPEN FOR BUSINESS!"[/i][/color] And it was. [hider=cha-ching] Choppy gets caught between the meteorite tsunami and the Ashalla tsunami. She decides she's had enough of the surface world. After a while, she finds her way to the Grand Bazaar-to-be. There she invokes a tremendous amount of divine bullshit in order to build the entire thing by hand. She spends [b]8 Might significantly changing the landscape,[/b] and [b]4 Might creating a complex (economic) ecosystem.[/b] Both of these actions fall squarely within the Markets portfolio, but do not claim the discount, instead making the Bazaar the vastest, grandest, most bountiful marketplace imaginable. Choppy also spends [b]2 Might creating reverse lanterns, a moderately extraordinary species.[/b] These tiny fire-and-paper spirits float around eating smoke and other pollutants, and producing oxygen. They still emit light and heat, though, because fuck literally everything I know about physics and chemistry. They're also quite friendly! Much friendlier than the invisible hands, at any rate. Those just want your money. Reverse lanterns have streamers for appendages and a variety of patterns painted on their surface. They don't appear to reproduce, but any flying lantern lit in the Grand Bazaar will probably become one. They make ghostly purring and chirping noises. All of this was done with free points. [b]4 Might (Native) 4 Might (Age of Creation) Markets Kites (1/5) Knives (1/5) Lanterns (1/5)[/b] [/hider]