The Setting
Much of the city is intentionally left open for you, you can create the world or simply use this as a side quest in your current game.
What You Will Need
- 2+ Players
- A Game Master/Dungeon Master/Narriator
- 1 copy of The Moonfall Market flyer for each player
- A coin
- D6
- D4
- D20
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The city has been uneasy for days. People whisper about strange flyers appearing overnight — thick cream paper, black ink, no signature. Nobody sees who places them. They simply appear nailed to tavern walls, tucked beneath doors, hidden in books, slipped into coin purses, and pinned over missing person posters.
Every flyer looks slightly different.
The ink seems fresh no matter how old the paper appears.
Some citizens refuse to touch them and others become strangely obsessed.
And now…
Somehow…
You have one too.
Each character receives or discovers the flyer in a unique way.
The Rogue - Finds the flyer inside a stolen coin pouch. The coins are warm.
The Cleric - Discovers the flyer inside a holy text.
The Fighter - Accidentally wins it during a tavern gambling game. No one remembers putting it in the prize pile.
The Wizard/Mage - Keeps finding it in their notes despite burning the previous copies.
The Ranger - Discovers dozens of copies hanging from sewer grates near the city edge. All fluttering despite no wind.
Rumors Around Town
Investigate before heading underground. Characters are given a chance to question merchants, villagers, and tavern patrons.
Roll a D6
- “A friend went last year, they came back rich…but different.”
- “The Market only appears when the moon vanishes behind the clouds.”
- “Nothing there costs gold.”
- “Some merchants sell memories.”
- “The tunnels shift after midnight.”
- “If a vendor offers you soup, refuse politely.”
Finding the entrance
The flyer contains hidden markings only visible in moonlight. The symbols point towards an abandoned drainage tunnel beneath the city.
The market cannot be found during the day.
No map marks it.
No guard admits it exists.
No two visitors describe the same route.
The entrance only reveals itself at moonfall.
As the players approach the drainage tunnels distant music echoes underground, warm air rises from the tunnels, and the smell of smoke and spices fill the air. Then they hear laughter beneath the streets.
As the players descend the city sounds fade away.
Tunnel Encounters:
The Rat Collector - A cloaked figure herding unusually large rats into cages.
He warns “Don’t barter with anyone smiling.”
Living Graffiti - Painted eyes on the sewer walls that briefly blink as the players pass.
The Lantern Child - A small figure carrying a lantern silently points the way deeper. If followed they vanish at the market entrance.
The Final Passage
Eventually the tunnels narrow into a massive stone corridor lined with ancient merchant symbols. Warm golden light spills from beneath enormous iron doors.
Above the entrance hangs a crooked wooden sign:
THE MOONFALL MARKET
As the doors slowly creak open:
the smell of exotic food and burning incense floods outward.
And beyond… The market waits.
Entering The Moonfall Market
The massive iron doors groan open slowly.Warm air spills from the chamber beyond, carrying the scent of roasted meat, incense, wet stone, and something strangely sweet beneath it all.At first, the market feels impossibly normal.
Merchants shout over one another. Lanterns sway overhead. Crowds move between narrow stalls beneath patchwork banners stitched from dozens of mismatched fabrics.
But then the details begin to settle into place.
A merchant with far too many teeth smiles as you pass. A suit of armor turns its helmet to watch you. Coins crawl like insects across a table before being slapped back into place.
Somewhere deeper in the bazaar…Something enormous shifts beneath the floorboards.
As players explore, subtle hints reveal the market itself is alive.
- walls seem warm
- lanterns blink like eyes
- stalls subtly change position
- shadows move independently
- coins vanish when dropped
- floorboards pulse slightly
At one point a player may notice the entrance doors are no longer where they remember.
Throughout the market players occasionally catch glimpses of:
- giant teeth beneath cloth-covered stalls
- tongues retracting into barrels
- crates blinking
- merchants silently staring too long
The market feels hungry.
Because it is.
Market Merchants
Gribbit’s Potions & Tonics
A frog-like merchant waves them over enthusiastically.
“FIRST VISIT?!”
“Wonderful!”
“You all look mostly digestible!”
He offers the following items for sale:
A suspicious potion - Cloudy glass bottle sealed with wax.
“Totally stable!”
When consumed the drinker feels hyper aware of nearby movement and gains improved perception for 1 hour with the following side effect:
Roll a D4
1. Your voice echoes twice
2. Coins stick to your skin
3. You constantly smell cinnamon
4. Random objects whisper your name
A Discount Relic - Buried beneath cracked potion bottles and bent silverware sits an old brass key nearly the length of a dagger. Tiny teeth-like grooves run along one side. The metal feels strangely warm. The key can unlock any magical lock. 
"Opens almost anything!” He pauses. “Eventually.”
If players ask why it’s discounted:
“Minor appetite issues.”
Every time it’s used the key becomes:
- more animated
- more hungry
- more attached to its owner
At first this is subtle.
After first use:
- the key rattles excitedly near locked doors
- it hums softly at night
- small metal objects go missing nearby
After multiple uses:
- backpacks appear chewed
- coins disappear
- the key moves on its own
- nearby locks occasionally unlock themselves
- The owner may awaken to find the key sitting beside them.
Watching.
The key is actually a juvenile mimic. A very small one. It disguises itself as useful tools to survive. The more it feeds the larger and smarter it becomes.
If treated kindly the mimic becomes loyal.
It may:
- unlock doors voluntarily
- warn about danger
- bite enemies
- steal shiny objects for the party
If neglected it becomes aggressive.
Possibilities:
- eats lockpicks
- attacks fingers
- unlocks monster cages
- escapes into the market
Gribbit isn’t evil. He’s simply trying to get rid of it.
The key has already eaten two shelves, escaped six times, bitten a necromancer, and consumed an entire cash box.
If players inspect the key closely they notice:
- the “teeth” grooves shift slightly
- the bow of the key resembles an eye
- it occasionally purrs when held
A ‘lightly cursed’ ring - Displayed proudly atop a crooked velvet stand is a tarnished silver ring. The ring occasionally mutters to itself.
Gribbit insists this is “Totally normal ring behavior.”
“Ring gives advice.” Pause. “Advice quality may vary.”
When worn the ring grants uncanny instincts.
The wearer occasionally hears whispers warning them about traps, hidden doors, lies, and nearby danger
Mechanically it provides bonus intuition, improved perception, and occasional GM hints.
At first it seems genuinely useful. Because it is.
The curse - The ring becomes emotionally attached to the wearer. Over time the whispers grow more opinionated and increasingly jealous. The ring will begin to offer unsolicited advice and relationship commentary.
Why is Gribbit selling it? Because it never stops talking.
Mother Grin’s Curiosity Cart
After leaving Gribbit’s stall, the players are drawn toward a crooked wooden wagon decorated with hanging teeth charms, mismatched candles, tiny bone wind chimes, and dozens of blinking glass eyes suspended from string
A hand-painted sign reads:
“MOTHER GRIN SELLS WHAT YOU DIDN’T KNOW YOU NEEDED”
The cart itself appears larger on the inside than outside. And it occasionally giggles.
A hunched woman waves from behind a cluttered wooden cart packed with strange trinkets and softly glowing jars. Bone charms rattle gently above her head despite the still air.
Mother Grin is an elderly woman wrapped in layered shawls and patchwork fabrics. At first glance she seems human. Then players notice her shadow moves independently. Despite this she is surprisingly friendly. She treats the players like returning customers. Even though they’ve never met.
Unlike Gribbit’s chaotic junk, Mother Grin specializes in useful but dangerous curiosities.
Whisper coin - Repeats the last lie spoken nearby
Candle of Finding - Burns Brighter near hidden doors and passageways
Pocket Eye - Lets you peek under doors
Sleep Salt - Instantly causes magical drowsiness
Red Thread - Always leads towards something lost
Mother Grin rarely asks for gold. Instead she requests memories.
“Oh, keep your coins dearie. I’ll simply take the memory of your happiest meal." The player permanently forgets it.
She is secretly one of the oldest merchants in the market. She is aware that the market is alive and that the bells signal feeding time, but she never explains things directly.
If the players earn her trust she gives them cryptic warnings about the market.
“If the market offers you a bargain after the second bell… refuse politely.”
“Some doors here open both ways. Try not to become inventory.”
As the conversation continues players may notice items rearranging themselves, the cart breathing slowly, and tiny hands briefly reaching from drawers. But no one else in the market reacts.
Skullscribe Stationary - A crooked little paper stall that seems harmless at first glance. No cages, no screaming relics, no suspicious meat piles. Just paper, ink, quills, and books. That illusion fades quickly. Paper flutters constantly despite there being no wind. Every few minutes a quill writes by itself. The shelves are impossibly deep — customers swear they’ve seen entire corridors hidden behind hanging scrolls.
And the smell…
Dust.
Ink.
A faint metallic scent lingers underneath everything.
Like blood.
The skullscribe wears layered scholar robes and he speaks politely. Too politely. He offers forgery, counterfeit maps, translations, and false documents.
What he sells:
Whisperpaper - Blank parchment that records spoken conversations nearby while unrolled. The writing disappears at dawn. Spies love it. So do blackmailers.
The Borrowed Journal - A leather notebook that fills with entries from the future. Usually only one or two days ahead, sometimes years. The last pages are always torn out.
Players may notice:
- books rearranging themselves
- papers whispering secrets
- quills writing player names unprompted
- missing memories appearing in margin notes
- pages turning toward customers as they walk by
There is also a persistent rumor that somewhere beneath the stall lies The Deep Archive. A buried library containing histories that never happened, forgotten gods, erased kingdoms, and books detailing the deaths of people who are still alive. Somewhere in that archive is supposedly a single book chained shut with silver locks.
Its title changes depending on who reads it.
The Candle Man - The Candle Man is secretly collecting fragments of souls trapped in candle flames. His stall is filled wall-to-wall burning candles. Each flame contains the final moment of someone who died in the market. And somewhere in the center of his stall burns a gigantic candle that has supposedly never gone out.
Some believe the Candle Man is trying to resurrect someone. Others think he’s trying to remember who he used to be.
Suspicious Treasure Cart - Nobody remembers seeing the cart arrive. It’s simply there some nights. Parked crooked near the center of the Moonfall Market beneath hanging lantern chains and damp cavecloth banners, surrounded by too-good-to-be-true treasure, and somehow it always looks unattended.
The cart is an old reinforced wagon with warped wooden sides and rusted iron trim. Gold coins spill from cracked chests. Magic swords lean carelessly against crates. Jeweled goblets hang from hooks. Everything looks valuable, too valuable. The wheels never seem to match the direction the cart faces.
And no matter how crowded the market gets, there’s always empty space around it. The cart contains piles of loose gemstones, glowing potions, jewelry, strange keys, weapons, and more. Many items are magical, some are cursed, some are bait. Some are alive.
The wares:
Lantern of safe roads - Reveals hidden traps and safe paths while lit. Unfortunately it also illuminates things that were safer unseen.
Mimiclock Box - A tiny jewelry chest that protects whatever is stored inside from theft. Because it eats thieves.
The Lucky Crown - A tarnished silver circlet granting miraculous luck. Every lucky event is balanced by catastrophe happening to someone nearby.
Every item has a handwritten tag with a strange price.
Roll a D6
- “One happy childhood memory”
- “Your reflection for one year”
- “A promise you do not intend to keep”
- “Three inches of height”
- “Your next lucky moment”
- "Your surname”
The Truth About the Cart - The cart itself is partially alive, not a full mimic but something older. The wood flexes slightly when touched, metal parts twitch and sometimes the treasure shifts when nobody is looking. At night the cart quietly consumes unattended belongings, spilled blood, dead insects and occasionally…Hands.
Silent Collectors - The Silent Collectors move throughout the market recording transactions, retrieving unpaid debts, carrying cursed objects, cleaning bloodstains, and escorting rulebreakers away
The Collectors obey ancient laws older than the market itself. They do not steal, lie, bargain, or attack without cause. But they will enforce contracts, reclaim unpaid prices, remove forbidden items, and silence anyone who reveals protected secrets. Literally silence them
The Silent Collectors rarely take coin. Instead they collect voices, memories, or dreams. Sometimes physical items, sometimes abstract things the victim doesn’t realize they’ve lost until later. A bard who failed to pay once lost the ability to hear music.
Coin-Eater Sal - There are thieves in the Moonfall Market, then there’s Sal. A squat, filthy little goblin-like merchant with iron teeth, grease-black fingers, and an appetite that makes even the other vendors uncomfortable. Everyone says the same thing about Sal, never let him count your money. Sal’s stall looks like a collapsing mountain of stolen junk balanced on broken carts and scavenged shelving. The stall rattles constantly and has an unbearable smell of wet dog and iron.
Sal claims he can “taste magic in currency,” and he often bites gold pieces before accepting them. Counterfeit coins explode in green sparks when he chews them cursed coins make him violently ill. Once, according to rumor, he swallowed an entire mimic disguised as a treasure chest lock. He still coughs up teeth sometimes.
Sal knows more about the market then he pretends. Far more. He acts stupid, greedy, and chaotic. But he remembers every deal, every face, and every missing person. He hears things because nobody catches him listening. Rumors say that Sal once sold a king his own crown.
What he sells
Locked vessels with no keys
Items he stole from the players
The Half-wand of fireballs - Its exactly what it sounds like. Flip a coin, heads the spell casts correctly, tails it will explode backward. Sal calls those "good odds."
The Velvet Collector - Nobody sees the Velvet Collector arrive. One moment there’s an empty lounge hidden behind silk curtains and the next soft music drifts through the tunnels, perfume fills the air and velvet curtains sway where no wind exists. Those who enter rarely leave unchanged. Some do not leave at all.
The Velvet Collector’s domain is not a stall. It’s a private salon hidden deep within the market with crimson velvet curtains, blackwood furniture, gold-trimmed mirrors, candlelit tables, and silver serving trays.
Everything inside feels warm. Comfortable. Safe. Which immediately makes seasoned adventurers nervous. The room contains no visible doors once entered only curtains and mirrors. So many mirrors.
The Velvet Collector gathers regrets, heartbreak, obsessions, and desires. Strong emotions become tangible in the saloon, and your coin is worthless. Guests often find themselves confessing things they never intended to say aloud. The Collector listens carefully, always smiling. The Velvet Collector never lies, but they answer questions in ways that make truth dangerous.
The collector is a being that feeds on emotional intensity the way vampires feed on blood. Every confession strengthens them. Every regret nourishes them. Every stolen feeling becomes part of their endless collection.
The Quiet Butcher - The stall sits near the deepest section of the Moonfall Market where the lanterns burn low and the stone floors slope slightly downward toward old drainage grates. Hooks hang from overhead beams, massive cleavers rest on scarred butcher blocks, and long strips of smoked meat sway gently despite the still air. No flies gather there and nothing rots. That alone terrifies experienced market-goers. The stall is immaculate, too immaculate. Every knife shines, every chain is polished, and every surface perfectly clean despite obvious slaughter.
The Quiet Butcher is enormous, nearly seven feet tall and impossibly broad beneath heavy waxed leather aprons stitched together from dozens of older aprons. He never speaks, not once. Rumors state that the butcher was once a battlefield surgeon.
Nobody knows exactly what the Quiet Butcher sells because nobody is completely sure what the meat comes from. Most cuts resemble boar, venison, insects, or fish. Other cuts resemble nothing natural at all yet everything smells incredible while cooking.
There is one absolute law at the stall, never ask where the meat comes from. If you do the market will go quiet, merchants will look away, the butcher will stop mid cut, and the overhead hooks start to sway. Then one of the following will happen. Flip a coin.
Heads: The customer is politely ignored forever by all merchants.
Tails: The Silent Collectors appear shortly afterward.
What he sells:
Red Maw Jerky - Tough strips of dark red meat that slowly heal injuries while chewed. Users often develop cravings afterward, violent cravings.
Refuge/Camp
Tucked into the far corner of the Moonfall Market behind hanging moss curtains and crooked lantern posts sits The Drowned Lantern Tavern. The only place in the market where merchants lower their voices, weapons stay sheathed, and monsters mostly mind their manners.
Warm amber light spills from a crooked tavern carved directly into the cavern wall. A weathered iron lantern hangs above the doorway, half-submerged in thick black tar that drips endlessly onto the stone below. Despite this the flame inside never goes out.
The sounds of the market grow strangely muffled near the entrance.
Near the back of the tavern sits a lone figure wrapped in soaked traveling cloaks. Nobody else seems willing to look directly at them. Eventually the stranger motions the players over.
"You stayed too long."
The players likely assume this means the merchants, the debts, or the dangers of the market.
"Too long inside it."
A long silence follows before they reveal the truth.
"The Moonfall Market is not a place, its a mouth."
For several seconds, the tavern noise feels distant. Muted. The players suddenly become aware of sounds they hadn’t noticed before a slow creaking beneath the floorboards and a low rhythmic throb somewhere under the market, almost like a heartbeat. As if on cue, a nearby lantern flickers and for just an instant, the tavern walls seem to flex slightly inward. Breathing.
The stranger explains that the market has existed for centuries, appearing wherever desperation gathers strongly enough. It lures travelers in with safety, shelter, treasure, and answers. Then it slowly traps them.
Most victims never realize they are prey because the Market does not attack immediately. It cultivates dependency. The tavern becomes comfortable, the merchants become familiar, and the outside world begins feeling distant and dangerous. Eventually, people stop trying to leave.
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