Thamel
Once, Thamel was the marketplace of Kathmandu. Foreign traders came from distand lands, or from just around the corner. There were spice traders, tailors and merchants beyond count.
It was the very place that first attracted tourists. When the country opened its borders to the west more than 100 years ago, people who were looking for a hotel, English speaking natives or other pleasure came to Thamel. As everything it Nepal, the process went slowly, but after a few decades, the economy was adapted to tourists from India and the west of the world.
Things changed, and when the gods of the mountains claimed the mighty Himalayas for themselves, only few people who tried to challenge the mightiest of nature spirits dared to seet foot into Nepal. Or those who were not looking for mountains but for organs, kids or cheap labour.
Year by year, Thamel decayed more and more. Nowadays, it is but a shadow of the (relative) splendor of ancient days. Old hotels are empty (save for gutter rats like us, only grown up) or have become brothels for those who still come to Kathmandu. Former shops still have signs displaying "Vishnu handicrafts" or "today shawls 20 % off". Cheap AROs float in front of them - for those who have the gear to read them - to inform the honored customer that they don't sell clothing, but kidneys. And no 20 % off, either, saathi.
"Uncomfortable" is a euphemism to describe how you feel when you enter this world that screams one thing above everything else: this is grown up world. It is dark, sinister, dangerous and predatorious. You make sure your guns are loaded when you enter the area. Your only hope is to make it through here without attracting attentions.
Which you can't. Three young boys and ... and, well, HarleQueen. You certainly do attract attention. You feel that you're being followed by hungry eyes whereever you go, and sure enough, after only a few turns, you encounter the exact kind of people you were trying to avoid.
"Heh," makes the troll as he blocks your way. "Kiddos in da hood".
"Fairly strange," agrees a four-armed blue-skinned Gandharva who obviously makes a point of wielding eight shuriken simultaneously. "What leads you here, young lords? You need someone to guide you around, eh?"
People stop and turn.
Almost simultaneously, both Lucky's and Scipio's commlink buzz.
