Rooms

  The soft flurry of a wind chime, stirred by the motion of the door,

announces your arrival.  Hushed voices, from behind a curtain at the far end

of the store, lower in volume to the barest hint of a whisper.  These sounds

are largely dampened by several thick, dark tapestries and rugs, hanging

about the store's walls and cover most of the darkly stained oak floor. 

Their secondary purpose is well served, as they obscure any view through the

narrow windows set into the crude stone walls, keeping suspicious glances at

bay.  A single candle flickers unsteadily, barely illuminating the store

itself.  It perches atop a glass showcase that dominates the majority of the

floor space, running the length of the opposing walls and separating

customer from merchant.  The display houses a myriad of short blades.  They

range in quality from simple cutting utensils to highly ornate knives, all

resting comfortably atop a plush, velvet setting.  The long cushion itself

is dyed a deep, crimson hue, offsetting the wicked glint of steel and adding

menacing backdrop to these knives that leaves no further doubt as to their

common purpose.