Your vision darkens and your hand seems to unconsciously curl up into the shape of a pair of horns as you enter this shadowy marketplace with your the bandits. Angry-looking hawkers growl and shriek at you from the gloom, touting their wares. "Final requiems for the dead, two thousand yen!" "Snake diadems, real platinoid, a million yen!" "Get your heathen repellent here!" "All that's profane! Looking for something special?" "Hook you up with a perilous encounter, mate? Worth every yen, be assured!" "Nigrescent necromancers for hire! Pay me by the job or by the hour!" Are these people serious?