'That's my name!!'The Grand Bazaar
The Bazaar is a Sphere with no sun and no sky, but it does have lights- thousands and thousands of lights. A million million lanterns illuminate a million million streets, bordered not by walls or houses, but by stalls, tents and shacks, makeshift or otherwise, stacked on top of each other into a haphazard infinity. Endless canyons of shops and stores stretch in every direction, where billions of invisible hands peddle every good and service ever seen on the face of Galbar, and even elsewhere.
Sometimes wearing gloves, sometimes rings and bangles, sometimes nothing at all, the invisible hands barter, bicker and chatter into eternity, speaking without true language, their voices never distinct and never alone. From a distance, upbeat music plays- always from a distance.
It is said that if you can follow the beat to its source, you will find the Market God.
Sphere Orientation
The Grand Bazaar is a shallow Cthonic sphere and its borders are thin. Things leak into Bazaar, or are duplicated there: a rock, a flower, a missing sock, a fallen sword, a secret you forgot when you were twelve. When things are forgotten in Galbar, lost in some corner where they will never be found, they frequently pop up in Bazaar.
All these things can be bought, and nearly everything can be sold. Your money, your metal, your cow, your wife, your name, your soul, your firstborn son, all of it has a price, communicated through unintelligible jabber and finger-pointing. The invisible hands are shrewd vendors, and difficult to trick, but they will take rarities where they can get them.
Some natural connections exist between the Bazaar and other Cthonic spheres. In its lower depths, fighting mantids are sold, ants crawl over the Bazaar's messy floors and moths flutter around its lamps, creeping in from the Hive through cracks in the floor. Certain sectors hear the jabber and babble turn to mutter, where crude rations are traded for weapons from the Pit of Trials- a grim market with little adornment. It is said that if one follows the babble closely enough, one can hear a single intelligible voice, an unseen swindler beckoning you to Sanvadam.
Ultimately, most of the Bazaar is a reflection of Galbar, and prices and goods will reflect this. Things that are rare on Galbar will be rare in Bazaar, and things that require godly might to acquire on Galbar will require godly haggling skill to get from the Bazaar, not to mention the time spent, how you say, picking up what fell from the back of the Architect's truck, if you know what I mean. But there's a certain someone who can help you out there...
The Market Lord
The Market Lord is a god that can get you things. Boil away the niceties, toss aside the pretences, and it really is that simple: Chopstick Eyes can
Get You Things.Every material resource imaginable can be found in the Bazaar, be it livestock, minerals, food, wood, fuel or fabric. Any good you can put on a scale and weigh resides here, and will be gladly packaged for the right price. And though the currency of Bazaar may be inconsistent, the prices are always two steps ahead of the market on Galbar. If you intend to pay less, you can very well expect to get less. In fact, even if you pay more, you can still probably expect to get less.
Enter the Market Lord.
The Market Lord is the only being in all of reality to fully understand the ever-changing structure of the Grand Bazaar, the only creature who can always find her way in its maze. The Market Lord knows every bit of blackmail, has jotted down the password for every smuggler's den, is on first-name terms with the matron of every brothel, and she ALWAYS gets a discount. The Market Lord has tabs on everyone, and everyone is eager to pay their debts. The Market Lord speaks the unspeakable language of the invisible hands.
'...and even I can't always get a good deal around here, wouldnya believe it?'Even beyond her Sphere, the Market Lord is king over her domain. Numbers that pass through her presence do not stack up, and cause does not always meet effect. Wherever there is wealth to be accumulated through trade, it accumulates in the Market Lord's accounts, and wherever mortals are profiting en masse, the Market Lord profits also. Every piece of gossip that passes through a selling-place has passed through her, and she knows the source and passage of every good.
Any place that a shop can be set up, the Market Lord has one there. She has always had one there. Perhaps you don't remember, but soon you will. And when she departs, you will forget again. Just like everyone else.
Who is the Market Lord?
At the counter of half a hundred stores in the Grand Bazaar is an entity named Chopstick Eyes.
Chopstick Eyes has been instructed to adopt the form of a woman, and she took to this duty with enthusiasm, even though 'she' had and continues to have only the most distant conception of what a human being is meant to look like. Her head is too big and her legs are too long. Her arms bend where they shouldn't, and often she forgets the proper number. Her mouth opens too wide and has too many teeth, all of which are much too sharp. Her hair is prehensile. It hides many knives.
Above all, Chopstick Eyes has chopstick eyes. Sticking out from her eye sockets where true eyes would be are dozens of thin wooden skewers, densely packed and filled with splinters. These are slightly mobile, shuffling around like the antennae of a shrimp, with the sound of splintery wood and flesh rubbing together, occasionally shedding or being plucked for use by their master. Occasionally, when Chopstick Eyes needs to store something small, she will skewer it on her chopstick eyes to be attended to later, or simply let the skewers pinch it in place in front of her face. The skewers can also be weaponised.
None of this is particularly human, of course, but Chopstick Eyes never really changes them, even when she makes contact with an actual human. There is something missing from her, perhaps not broken but certainly incomplete, some blind spot that prevents her ever noticing or correcting the abnormality of her body. Perhaps that's for the better.
Chopstick Eyes typically wears a cheongsam dress with a neat cut- colourful, and every day different, but nothing too flashy. It gives her the appearance of a regular front-of-shop employee. Her uniform does tend to change a little depending on what store she's minding.
Her favourite weapon is an oversized meat cleaver.
But who is she really?
Chopstick Eyes prefers to live in the moment. Neutral Good by nature, she's a generous and easygoing creature with a habit of seeing the good things in life and getting, really, really excited over them.
It is the firm belief of Chopstick Eyes that
now is the only real thing to exist- the future is chaos, the past is missing, and even memories can only ever be re-lived in the moment. It is this thought that has led her to become something of a tasteful hedonist, an aspirant after every art. Song, dance, painting, sculpture, and games, and stories, and cuisine, and sex, and meditation, and ESPECIALLY acupuncture- all these things have value to Chopstick Eyes, and she will pay well for any of them.
Oftentimes, she'll even offer them to you, free of charge, so you can enjoy them too.
Fair trade matters to Chopstick Eyes, as it does to any good economist. She defends the Bazaar and its occupants from fraud and thievery, both in person and by arranging the endless maze, as is in her power to do. She considers it good and just to be good and just. However, she isn't always going to take responsibility for your idiocy. If Chopstick Eyes makes an offer for your flesh, don't accept it too lightly. She's handy with that cleaver.
Chopstick Eyes respects boundaries and generally respects the will of other gods. Not everything can be packaged in a store (though most things can), and Chopstick appreciates being able to see new worlds and new influences. What really matters is that we all enjoy this moment together, without getting too hung up on the future or the past.
After all, all things come to an end.
Àl͝l th̛in͞gs ̛sho̴u҉l҉d ̴com̴e t̛o an̵ en͏d.͘
Al҉l̀ t̛h͏̸̨i͞͞n҉҉g̕͡s̕ ̷̧̢
m̧͟u̕s̨̛t̡̨ ̢c̸̢om̴e̢͢͏ ̕t̷͟o ̴̧an̷͡ ̵͝҉e̕ǹ̵̀d̡.͠
A̷̴͢l̷͏l̛͜ ̀͢͝͝t̸̵̨̕̕h̸̀̀́i̧͜͞͏n̴̛͜ģ̸̧͢s͟͡ ̵̨͘W̡̛͡҉̷Ì̵Ļ͡L̨͏̡͞ ̶̨͞҉̢c͢͠҉̷o̵̸m̛̛̕e͘͢ ͠͝͠t̴̀͏ó̀ ͏͢͠ą̵̸͜n҉͞ ̴͡͝͞e̶̡͢n̢͜d̕͘͜͞.̴̶
S̶̡̛̲͍̜̜͍̳͎̬̥̣̺̗̜͙̻̟͠O̸̶̴͚̦̦̯̘̳͇͙̮͍̥͈̬͞O҉̢̥̣̯̖̳̤̞̯̹̭̼̘̱̭̲͘͜N̢͚̠̻̯̼͚͚̟͈̫̼̭̲̫͕̹͔̣͜͜͝.̵̬͉̠͇̦͎̰̯͔͕̦͓̬̙͙̱̙̕͡ͅ.
...But until then, let's just enjoy the sunlight.
Music
DUMMY!!@Strange Rodent brought it to my attention that there was a
better fit for the Market Lord, actually.
Codeword
Entropicalicious entropicadoodle! OwO 
Lord Zee
MarshalSolgriev
urukhai
Alby47
Crispy Octopus