1st Summer, 516 AV
The darkness of the tent was oppressive, hot, sweaty. It was early morning, yet Baran had slept fitfully, tossing and turning in his sleep, with paranoia already setting in. He'd arrived at Sunberth a few days ago, grimy, in sore need of a wash, but nevertheless, happy to have arrived. The others he'd been travelling with had long since departed, with a brief pat on the back. He thought he'd overhead one mutter, "Good luck", but the remark had drifted on the wind.
Pushing aside his bedroll, the man clambered up, and pushed aside the flap of his tent. The weak light of morning filtered through the murk, and he rubbed his face, despising how unclean the place was. A quick inventory check told him that thankfully, no-one had robbed him in the night. At least, not yet. Perhaps the locals were still checking him out, seeing if he would be a threat or not. He wasn't, at least, not yet. Thankfully, they didn't know that.
His pony, Meredith, snickered and puffed steam from her nostrils. Where he was camped was a vast conglomerate of tents, some fresh, others firmly rooted to the environment. Obviously the place was a permanent one. The man wasn't sure if he'd stay here for long though. His tent he would keep, but the evil stares directed his way were beginning to unnerve him. But, the man appreciated a challenge. Whether these people accepted him or not, he would stay for as long as he could.
With only a week of rations left, Baran decided that he should probably get supplies of some kind. Although he was loathe to leave his tent behind, he had to hope that the shabby appearance of the structure, and the vague warning of a kick from Meredith would warn people away. His gamba though, he entrusted to no-one. And so, the man strapped it to his back, and wandered with his coin tight to his chest through the meandering 'streets' of the Tent City.
It was some time before he found anything even remotely edible. But the people of the Tent City still needed to eat, he presumed, and soon enough he found a vendor. He watched from a distance for half a chime. There didn't seem to be anything remiss with the stall, so he walked towards the wizened vendor. The man stared at him, his eyes obscured by heavy eyebrows a startling shade of black under a thick bushy white head of hair.
The stall was laid out with bread, for the most part. There was a box of dubiously smelling fish, which Baran avoided, but the assortment of vegetables in the other box seemed decent. He picked up a potato, a wheel of hard cheese and a small loaf of tough brown bread. The man continued to scowl at him, all the way through the purchase. It was only until Baran reached home again that he realised he'd been fleeced a handful of change.
Pushing aside his bedroll, the man clambered up, and pushed aside the flap of his tent. The weak light of morning filtered through the murk, and he rubbed his face, despising how unclean the place was. A quick inventory check told him that thankfully, no-one had robbed him in the night. At least, not yet. Perhaps the locals were still checking him out, seeing if he would be a threat or not. He wasn't, at least, not yet. Thankfully, they didn't know that.
His pony, Meredith, snickered and puffed steam from her nostrils. Where he was camped was a vast conglomerate of tents, some fresh, others firmly rooted to the environment. Obviously the place was a permanent one. The man wasn't sure if he'd stay here for long though. His tent he would keep, but the evil stares directed his way were beginning to unnerve him. But, the man appreciated a challenge. Whether these people accepted him or not, he would stay for as long as he could.
With only a week of rations left, Baran decided that he should probably get supplies of some kind. Although he was loathe to leave his tent behind, he had to hope that the shabby appearance of the structure, and the vague warning of a kick from Meredith would warn people away. His gamba though, he entrusted to no-one. And so, the man strapped it to his back, and wandered with his coin tight to his chest through the meandering 'streets' of the Tent City.
---
It was some time before he found anything even remotely edible. But the people of the Tent City still needed to eat, he presumed, and soon enough he found a vendor. He watched from a distance for half a chime. There didn't seem to be anything remiss with the stall, so he walked towards the wizened vendor. The man stared at him, his eyes obscured by heavy eyebrows a startling shade of black under a thick bushy white head of hair.
The stall was laid out with bread, for the most part. There was a box of dubiously smelling fish, which Baran avoided, but the assortment of vegetables in the other box seemed decent. He picked up a potato, a wheel of hard cheese and a small loaf of tough brown bread. The man continued to scowl at him, all the way through the purchase. It was only until Baran reached home again that he realised he'd been fleeced a handful of change.
Ledger :
