[Location] The Seaside Market

by **Stigandr** on March 22nd, 2012, 11:22 pm

10th of Spring, 512 A.V.

Stigandr walked down the street, shuffling past the other...patrons...on the street doing business. The stench of such a vast number of bodies was sickening. From the sweat of laborers and whores to the alcohol smell rolling out of drunkards mouths and those who had just left bars, it was all still almost too much. Only the need for a cloak and years of being around such another vast number of smelly humans helped him cope with it now.

His feet carried him quicker, noting the sun was within a couple hours of setting and he wished to be away from here before darkness hit. His eyes scanned the stalls as he moved, finding one that carried some semblance of clothing and other various items. Walking up to the stall, the merchant in charge looked up and stared at him, the pockmarks on his face creating deep shadows in the fading light, giving him and even uglier appearance than Stigandr first thought he had. "Are ya just gonna stare at my face and waste my time?"' The merchant spoke in a scratchy voice that dripped in impatience and annoyance.

Stigandr stared a moment longer before speaking, "I want that green cotton cloak. He spoke in a way that came off slightly awkward or completely lacking interest. He was not skilled in communicating to others, and purchasing items was a rare and almost painful process for him. The merchant raised one eyebrow at his tone, "Three silver mizas." The merchant did not move to grab the cloak, waiting for Stigandr to show payment first.

Stigandr reached inside his simple shirt to retrieve a gold miza and showing it to the merchant, "My change please." As distrusting as the merchant was, he was not about to hand over seven silver mizas too much without seeing his change on the table first. The merchant sat up straighter, looking a bit riled by this request, "I ain't no cheat," he replied, but none the less retrieve seven silver mizas, trading with Stigandr for the gold miza. Stowing away his money safely, the merchant stood up and retrieved the cloak. As he turned to hand it to Stigandr, he dropped it to the wet ground with a simple, Oops, as his only semblance of an apology.

Stigandr stooped to pick up the cloak and glared at the merchant, his nostrils flaring, but noticed two thugs in the shadows and the smirk on the vile man's face. It was time to go before he got himself killed, and with that, he turned and left the market.

by **Chamaeleon** on May 30th, 2012, 8:23 pm

Spring 38th 512 AV

Chamaeleon strolled through the market, edgy and wary beneath the dark eyes of passersby. Her shimmering horns refracted the light as it slanted across her gleaming coils, into the faces of those who watched her, and she cringed under their angry looks almost self-consciously.

She knew she could die here if people decided she should, but she had no interest in spilling her blood on these docks or in this rotten water, so she kept her head down.

Her blue eyes jumped from stall to stall, searching wares she could use for the coming journey to the north. Warm clothes were sort of a necessity, and perhaps so were rations. Those she could not go without.

Approaching a man selling tools, she picked over his wares with her gemstone eyes. This man here was selling some interesting jewelry with glittery stones in them and shiny metal. Chamaeleon smiled at the sparkling baubles, but didn't buy them, enjoying merely the sight of them. The clerk of the stall had a knowing look in his eyes though as he appraised the Ethaefal, and when she realised he was watching her, she backed off and continued on, disconcerted.

The Ethaefal stopped not five stalls later to look at clothing left over from the winter stock. Unflattering designs greeted her gaze, but she reached forward to feel the fabric anyway. Perhaps thin, but the soft feel of fur couldn't mean it was too bad.

"How much?" She said to the clerk, a woman lacking a few teeth but with an otherwise pretty face.

"The cloaks are twenty-five gold apiece. Shirts are a gold each, scarves a silver and pants five." The woman smiled broadly, displaying a few more missing teeth, and Chamaeleon smiled back.

"I would like these." She reached forward and took a bundle of clothes. Two of the bulky, silky fur cloaks, a scarf, a shirt, and a pair of pants. The woman chuckled merrily and nodded, reaching her hand out even as Chamaeleon reached forward to deposit fifty and seven gold mizas into the offered hand. She unslung her bag and loaded it with the clothes before walking off. More eyes followed her, and her hackles raised warily. She wished she had brought one of her comrades with her, but who could she?

Next she stopped was at a shady dealer with a stall stocked tall with things she had rarely seen. Toolkits, of varying purposes and design. Most were of plain wood, worn down by age and use, but one or two were lacquered and shiny. Chamaeleon swallowed and smiled at the man hidden in the shadow of his own cloak. "Do you sell things like this for medicine?" She asked, waving. She didn't know what they were called, or even if they had what she wanted. Where did one find a supply of medical tools without stealing from, or even approaching, Petricious?

A low rumble of laughter met her words.

"I wouldn't show a girl as meek as you my wares unless they had the coin to pay." He said, low voice grating on her. "A hundred gold mizas, and you can have the medical kit I have."

Chamaeleon raised her eyebrows at this request.

"I have the money, but if you show me the kit, I will put on ten more and make it worth your time." She tried her hand at the bargain, smiling slightly to show she was honest. She would probably have to make a run for it after buying this.

The clerk grunted his approval and reached below his stall to pull out one of the gleaming, lacquered kits like the ones sitting on the stall. He lifted the lid and put on display the full contents of the kit, revealing bandages, a paste thing in a jar, a splint, scalpel and some liquid in another set of jars. Chamaeleon was inept at proving the quality of the items, but she doubted she could find anything like this anywhere else in Sunberth, and so she smiled, nodded, and reached for her purse, labouriously taking out coin and counting eleven tens out into the hand of the clerk. Quickly, she snatched the medical kit, clutched it tight in her hand, and made a discreet run for it before someone was sent to steal from her.

Receipt167 gold mizas for an overpriced Field Healer's Kit and clothes.

by **Quint Caravel** on December 1st, 2013, 12:52 am

Quint Caravel wrote:

65th of Autumn, 513 AV

It was terrible. The flooding was terrible. Waters had swamped his casinor, and Quint himself had been swept overboard and had nearly drowned. Items of clothes had needed to be hung up to dry and other items had needed to be aired out. His life was a mess, but he could not complain because he was alive.

Still, items needed to be replaced. At the insistence of his sister, the first item that Quint was replacing was his bar of soap. When the casinor had been overwhelmed by water, Quint's stuff had gone floating in all directions. He was able to grab most of it, but as far as the bar of soap... it had floated away. He was sure that it had eventually simply dissolved in the flood, perhaps turning some corner of the swollen river into a nice bubble bath for a moment, but was now lost to time and tide. In any event, it needed to be replaced.

He found a friendly-looking merchant selling bathing supplies. "Hello, my name is Quint Caravel and I need to buy a bar of soap to replace the one lost in the flood." He knew that a bar of soap normally cost 3 SM, but this was Sunberth. He was still a stranger here, and he was still mostly unknown. Plus, he had no skill in haggling. When the merchant told him that it would cost him 6 SM, Quint had insisted he didn't have that much on him. He tried paying just 3 SM, but the merchant would not have it, and insisted on 6 SM. Quint tried paying 4 SM, but again the merchant refused him. Finally Quint tried paying 5 SM, and as it actually was really only 3 SM, or perhaps even less, the merchant took his 5 SM.

Quint shook his head, took the soap and went on his way.

by **Fallon** on February 4th, 2014, 8:43 pm

63-winter-513

So, Sahova beckoned and Fallon was indeed in no ready mindset to go there unprepared. Of course, the current climate had caused the cost of somethings - food in particular - to go through the roof in an instant. That did not stop her for too long however, the nagging thoughts and wonders of hunger made think, plan and take other ideas into consideration. Money of course was tight and her experience with food was limited. She would need something cheep and filling, and far from difficult to prepare and deal with. Tea first came to mind, shortly followed by wheat. And as the small list grew the mercenary continued to make her way around the Market and picked up what she could where possible.

Receipt :