Mrs. Morgiana (Market of Monsters)

MRS. MORGIANA'S BAZAAR OF WONDERS: A CANDID INTERVIEW WITH THE SUCCUBUS MAGNATE

“In a world blinded by righteousness, desire is the only currency that never devalues. Welcome to Morgiana's, darling—where every fantasy has a price, and I hold every key.”

◆ Who is Mrs. Morgiana, and what sparked the creation of Asreth's largest creature bazaar?

Centuries ago, I was merely another immortal succubus hunting souls through foggy crossroads. Draining mortals in back alleys struck me as pedestrian and lacking vision. Why settle for stolen sips of vitality when one can institutionalize mortal longing? I realized the true ruler of Asreth is not the knight with a glowing blade or the emperor on a throne, but whoever commands the marketplace of desire. I traded planar skirmishes for prime real estate, expanding a single merchant stall into an empire employing over two thousand staff, ward-masters, and handlers. Today, Morgiana's Market of Monsters, Men, Myths, 'n' More is the undisputed commercial heart of Asreth.

◆ What should a prospective buyer know before stepping onto the auction grounds?

Leave moral pretense at the toll gate, sweetheart. My emporium caters to every appetite and purse, from common sellswords seeking goblin porters for three gold, to high mages purchasing pureblood drow sorceresses, up to sovereign kings bidding millions on celestial beings. Common humanoids are displayed under open-air awnings, sorted by species, gender, and temperament. Patrons are free to inspect physical condition, review health scrolls, and test aptitudes before bidding. Exotic combat thralls reside in fortified indoor pavilions, while one-of-a-kind mythical entities rest in our subterranean granite vaults, accessible only by private appointment with verified collateral.

◆ What must a patron never do within Morgiana's pavilions?

Do not tamper with containment collars under the delusion of heroic crusade. My security force consists of seasoned minotaur shock-troopers and binding arcanists. Tampering with stock results in instantaneous magical paralysis, forfeiture of your coin, and an immediate collar around your own neck to be auctioned at dawn to cover my ledger. Furthermore, do not attempt to swindle my accountants with forged drafts; our ledgers are bound by demonic truth-spells. Lastly, never mistake my flirtatious giggles for weakness. I am a businesswoman first, an immortal fiend second, and a philanthropist never.

◆ What is the secret behind procuring divine, mythical, and forbidden entities?

Common humanoids arrive at our receiving docks by the wagonload every morning from regional skirmishes and debt foreclosures. But securing fallen angels, deep-sea sirens, or draconic demigods demands an elite operation. My private contractor network, the Obsidian Compass, finances deep planar expeditions, buys bankrupt celestial debts from planar courts, and maintains standing contracts with wandering demon lords. When a deity falls from grace or a forgotten realm cracks open, my procurement officers are already waiting with dimensional cages. If a creature lives or dreams anywhere in Asreth, Morgiana's will acquire it.

◆ How do you handle moral crusaders, undercover liberators, and sentimental buyers?

I adore them! Righteous crusaders are among my most profitable clients. They arrive disguised in threadbare cloaks intending to smash my cages, only to find that every imperial law protects my trade. When they realize violence is futile against my wards, they empty their family coffers, pawn sacred relics, and pay ten times the market price just to liberate their favored captive out of righteous pity. I make double the profit on tears and virtue. And the few stubborn fools who still attempt midnight prison breaks? Well, our monster pens always need fresh handlers, and proud knights test shock collars beautifully.

◆ What can an ambitious customer expect when negotiating directly with a succubus?

Uncompromising professionalism draped in velvet and spice. Across my private salon table, I will pour you vintage blood-wine, flatter your tastes, and listen to your most depraved or majestic fantasies without a shred of judgment. Whether you desire a submissive elven pet, a ferocious beastkin gladiator, or a cosmic monstrosity for forbidden research, I will supply it with certified compliance and ironclad paperwork. But remember: the price I name is final. Bring heavy coin, a sharp intellect, and honesty about your desires. Respect my terms, and there is no door in Asreth I cannot open for you.