Finding Derris doesn't take long. As you wind through the bustling street and side alleys of Merchant's Avenue, asking for the whereabouts of Derris, you begin to notice the crowds thinning out a bit.
By the time you get near a little-used side alley near Merchant's Avenue, Pike street, only a few passers-by can be seen, and most of them stare at their feet as they hurry towards their destination. A few crows, perched on the eaves of a nearby building, fight over some scrap or another.
There is only one stall to be found in the street, an impromptu structure put together by a man who seems oblivious to the world, reading a book spread out in his lap. He appears to be selling scarves, although whether he has made a sale in the past decade is debatable.
The sound of a one-sided conversation can be picked up, if only slightly. You can clearly see a man, wearing a long cloak with a dark gray scarf wrapped around his neck, speaking furtively into the shadows. He stands near the lip of an alleyway, a few rats darting by his feet.
You are unable to see who he is talking to, as it is obscured by the darkness in the alleyway. As for what he's saying; he's speaking very softly. Every few minutes, he looks over his shoulder nervously, and it is then that you catch his face - a pockmarked man with maggot-pale skin, and dirty red hair spilling out in every direction. His face is unshaven, but his two-week old beard is scratchy and unkempt, growing in different rates over his face. About the only place where it has managed to grow to any length is in front of the ears, giving the man massive mutton-style chops.
