Breaking the surface both of the adventurers take deep, cleansing breaths and tumble onto their backs in a side street off the main thoroughfare. Toward the end of the narrow street they can hear the bustle of a new and busy day starting in the City.
The buildings lining the narrow street seem to lean inward, ready to topple over. Each successive level leaps another foot or two toward the opposing side. A thin trail of sewer water runs the mid line of the street, and trickles toward a drain.
A large barrel sits on the corner of the street. A merchant’s cart is peeking around the corner, just making it’s large wheels visible. The busy street is filling with merchants, mariners, and maidens. Everyone is setting about their daily routine.
Akasha takes a moment to smooth her hair and make sure she is atleast mildly presentable after all the dust, soot, and sewage. The effect of her primping is far less than she wished for but its better than nothing. She heads around the barrel and starts looking for something worth lightening her pockets. A staff or a good cloak would all be welcome additions to her at the moment.
Stepping out from the narrow dead end alleyway Akasha glances around at her surroundings. Blackbird McAllister is taken aback at the bustle of the crowded marketplace. Certainly he expected some rabble of cart keepers and their patrons – but never had he imagined such a gathering.
Peoples from every walk of life, and every corner of the Realms had descended, it seemed, upon the City and her market. At every turn a new shop could be discovered, down every dark passage an alley of adventure.
Nothing of purpose is noticeable here. There are multiple torch sonces with unlit torches set into corners of buildings. A few unmonitored carts sit with horses resting idly waiting for their drivers to return.
The busy street is filling with merchants, mariners, and maidens. Everyone is setting about their daily routine. Near a busy stall a rotund woman with wildly stringy white hair loudly objects to the merchant’s pricing. She pushes her sizeable belly and chest into the tiny man, toppling him into the cart. In the distance someone is overheard saying, “That Sandy, at it again…”
The two adventurers mill about the corner, glancing at a few small carts laden with various object. Nothing seems to catch their eye, and the marketplace continues to become busier.
Akasha grabs a small sword from one vendor, waives it about testing it’s weight and balance. Then tosses it back into the cart as if it were no more than a rusty dagger.
Blackbird McAllister spots a tiny vial of slightly glowing liquid. Thinking it might be some restorative, or even a more dangerous tincture, he swirls the liquid about in the vial. The tiny orb at the bottom of the container does indeed glow a bit when swirled – but it is only a trick of the light and tiny metal pieces floating about the unenchanted water.
Just as they are about to give up their search for anything useful or even mildly interesting, the party is approached by a small boy in tattered clothing. “Takes you where you wants? Shows you the town shall I! For a fee…”
The waif’s broken phrasing falls just short of his poor mastery of the common language. His clothing is a stinking mess, and his face and hair are covered in grime. If anyone knows the streets – it would be him.
Peoples from every walk of life, and every corner of the Realms had descended, it seemed, upon the City and her market. At every turn a new shop could be discovered, down every dark passage an alley of adventure.
There are multiple torch sonces with unlit torches set into corners of buildings. A few unmonitored carts sit with horses resting idly waiting for their drivers to return.
A street waif, Donnor, stands before the party ready to guide them to any destination they request. Blackbird McAllister and Akasha eye the boy suspiciously. They’ve both been taken by street urchins before, and don’t care to go down that dark alley again.
“I can tells what ye be thinkin’, I can – quite wright,” says the dirty faced boy standing before them. “But I got nothin’ like dat planned see. I’m earnin’ me an honest livin – quite wright – I am. Sees here…”
He holds out a heavy parchment with dark markings on both sides. It takes the group a moment to recognize what they are looking at, because the lines are rudely drawn, adn the markings inconsistent. But in the end, it is clear, this is a complete map of the entire market place.
Pointing over the layout of the shops the boy explains, “Here’s where I found you two, huh! And over this way not far are some Training Quarters, for your skills and abilities. South of us is where the Alchemists, Spell Wards, and Enchanters come a’seekin’ usually.”
“I know a good Armour Smithy here,” he points to a central location on the map, and a long road cutting through the marketplace off to the East. “He will usually make something to match any Weapons made by his brother, over here…” He drags a grimy finger down to the lower side of the map.
“Hmm hot cakes, buttered scallops, and a pint – when I have the coin – this is the place I end my day – when I have my choice. It’s called Blakely’s but no one there is called by that name. At least by me. Anyhow it’s a good Tavern. Across the way from Blakely’s you can visit the many Outfitters and get any sorta clothing you desire. I’ve seen the strangest get up’s mind you.”
The boy shakes his head as if recallign a bad memory. “I won’t be takin’ you into this Den of Theives, or parading you through the Marketplace Center either.
That be where my tour ends friend. You’ll find plenty in the Center for entertainment, but mind you don’t get so distracted you loose your purse to the theives. They gather and thrive in the abandoned side shantys lying about.”
“Beyond Blakely’s,” he backtracks as if he’d forgotten a crucial detail, “there are an assortment of Ranged Weapon shops, an open Archer’s Range, and plenty of Masters in the art of range craft to fill more thean an afternoon, I’d say – quite wright.”
“As I’ve said I aint wandrin’ too far past the Fountain with ye. But I’ll remind you to kindly walk lightly through the Barracks and mind who you address there. Some will help build up your body, while others in training are just waiting to tear your’s down.”
“While I’ve got my ways – and I don’t mean I saunter through the Center – I do live far beyond the Marketplace in the Slums to the south. Just before you come into my neck of the woods – you should visit the Furtune Teller to see if she’s got a word for you from above on your purpose here. Not that she’d ever pointed me to fame and fortune mind’ye!”
At that he quickly folds his map and stuffs it back into his waist. After sinching his rope belt, he looks up eageler, “So, where to?”
Peoples from every walk of life, and every corner of the Realms, had descended it seemed, upon the City and her market. At every turn a new shop could be discovered, down every dark passage an alley of adventure.
Akasha smiles down at the waif and says “I’ll make a deal with you, you show us around for the remainder of our time here in the city today and we will buy you the best dinner you have had in months. Bearface over here is not much of a talker so I could use the company” with that she turned to McAllister and flashed a toothy grin.
“You keep grinning! We’ve had one close call too many for my taste. I’ll join you until you are properly outfitted, then scrounge up some good weapons, armor, and salves for myself.” Blackbird McAllister glances around the crowded block and doesn’t eye anything that catches his interest yet.
“I’m ready for some skills training myself, that fireball is draining and I would like it to be more natural and a whole lot hotter. Though a real sorceress’s staff would be nice as well. I feel like a common thief running around with these daggers all the time.”
“For the moment, follow me to a small place I think you’ll appreciate. Aye, I’ve seen plenty o’ finely crafted pieces with a touch of magical spark wander off from this door.” As the waif talks he leads you to the end of a wide passage. The thoroughfare is busy, but not crowded. It is still grimy, but not disgusting.
“Second door down, on your left, just barge right in. He sells Magical Weapons – staffs, wands, enchanted daggers for rituals and such. Beyond that you can also wander into the Healer who can remove any ward, hex, or curse placed on you. There’s also an outfitter specializing in Magical Clothing – and at the end The Cracked Rune – a tavern for anyone versed in the dark arts and a member of the mages guild I am told.”
“Just here, immediately at the end of the street, is a famed Enchanter. Well – famed from what he tells me. But what do I know of fame. Nothin’ I reckon. I know these streets well enough though.”
The waif considers Akasha’s request for improved magical skill training a moment, and then nods. “I can lead you down to the Mage’s Tower round abouts the University and Hall of Genealogy when you are done here. Just let me know when that’ll be.”
The street is wider than other alleys the waif brought them past, but this one is still a bit grimy and questionable. There are doors on every side, but those of greatest interest are pointed out by the street urchin.
Donnor continues to guide them through the twisting merchant quarter streets. Other people move in and out of shops, and onto and off the side street here. Most are wearing the garb of mages, magicians, or novice magic users.
