Timestamp: 75th of Summer 511 AV
Smack! The sharp noise shot through the air like a cannon, forcing the surrounding crowd to turn toward the cause of such a disruption. Flying across the street, a man flung out his arms before abruptly clashing with a series of tables. Utensils and carvings soared and clattered over the street below, painting the ground in clay, broken pottery, wood shavings and glass. Frightfully, the owner of the shop ducked behind one of the already collapsed tables, taking shelter from the brawl that commenced before his market stall.
Spitting a gobful of blood onto his boot, the large and hairy male pulled himself from the wreckage of the broken shop, readying himself as his opponent approached. Stampeding toward his target with fists clenched another man appeared, his skin covered in mighty tattoos depicting animal print. A Myrian.
Once again, the two men collided forcefully, a large smack catching the air and making the crowd disperse quickly. Some feared for their lives and ran, others simply moved aside and created a ring around the fighters to survey the show. The entire street came to a halt, patrons and matrons poking their heads out from nearby windows to catch a glimpse of the spectacle below.
The Myrian grunted and threw out his hand, attempting to choke the hairy and most unpleasant other with a grapple. Beads of tears leaked down the primative male's cheeks, his dirty hands clinging to the tightening noose of raw muscle that enclosed around his throat like a serpent. Brutally, the Myrian roared and picked his nemesis by the throat, hauling him into the air like a ragdoll before flinging him down into the already broken and shattered tables of the store.
Another loud crash of broken glass, pottery and wood stung the air, signalling the defeat of the red hairy man. His forearms drooped, warm blood flowing from the symphony of cuts that marred his concealed flesh, painting the shattered remains of the table in red. Victorious, the Myrian raised his arms to the cheering and booing of the crowd, some supporting the violence with a round of applause, others gesturing crudely and giving the victor an evil eye, subtly whispering to eachother behind turned backs.
Red orbs scanned from the shadows of one of the vacant balconies overlooking the markets below, bemusingly smirking to herself while descending the staircase to reach the busy intersection. The fight between the two had been going on for some time, first starting off as a mutual disagreement, then staging into a verbal dispute and then ultimately ending with physical punishment. The hairier male was most likely drunk, having tried to rip-off the Myrian of a good deal by trading a flawed product. He was a fool to challenge and con the war hardened warrior, and now there he was, laying unconcious in a bloody pool of broken carvings, glass and splinters.
Syndela pushed her dark robes over her hands, concealing the Symenestrian claws from prying eyes as her figure converged into the growing mass of onlookers. The Myrian had left the scene of carnage and chaos, disgarding the hairy human's mattered body on the stall most likely for the guards to pluck up. Or a nurse. A few snide comments weaved between the huddled groups of peasants, market's people, traders and travellers, a small child brave enough to move forward gently poking the defeated and fallen male's buttocks with a curious finger.
She used the scene of the chaos to move, her pale feet barely noticeable. Weaving and ducking between the passing figures, the Symenestra made way toward the Bizzare - the dong of the bell signalling the passing hour. With her pay in check, the black robbed woman yearned to not linger, her hidden eyes pacing over the stalls and clerks in search of a vendor. Surely, someone would be selling vegetables and not useless clutter like junk and gifts and remains of old relics. None of them interested her. She seeked fruit and vegetables, simple protein to sustain her energy...and if lucky, maybe something else would catch her eye. Something useful. But how would she have any luck seeing anything through this blasted crowd?
