The Grand Bazaar

"I am assuming that if the employer had any clue where to start, he would not need to put out anonymous bounties." The merchant said, a tad sarcastically.

He pulled out a rather hefty scroll, outlining that regardless of the outcome for the mission, the performer would not reveal anything about the merchant, or other party's that may or may not be involved in the matter.

"If I were you, sign that, and then see if you can find any bandits. They tend to know where kobolds like to lurk."

"You'll get money, don't worry. All I know is that he isn't in the city, else the client wouldn't need to hire the likes of you." Said the merchant

Samuel left the inn and wandered the city, it was very pretty in most places and he loved it. After a few minutes he found himself in a massive bazaar full of life. He walked through it browsing the many shops, he didn’t need much in the way of supplies so he mainly kept his eye out for medical supplies or healing herbs. He didn’t find much he didn’t already have or needed; but still looked around anyway.

The young boy how shifted through the crowds would feel a hand placed on his shoulder. Bærnet didn't do it because he thought anything of the boy being a thief or anything, but becAuse he needed to sell some horses and he could use him as an example.

"Hey, boy, want to make some coin?"

Bærnet Leonas Samuel Siphon

Listening to the strange man's conversation with the seller must have gave him tunnel hearing or something because the boy nearly jumped out of his skin when someone grabbed his shoulder. Like a feral cat the boy whirled around smacking the hand away from him and taking a step back to get some distance before putting his dukes up in a defensive posture. You ain't taking me with no fight!--- Confusion raced across his face as the man's words registered.

" Whatcha meanin' mister? " He lad asked , his guard only slightly lowered. Caution replaced the confusion in his expression, but none the less there was a hint of curiosity in his tone.

A few hours passed at the Grand Bazaar and within this time, Bærnet was able to sell five of his seven horses. It took time, but the value he was given on his horses made it a very valuable day and well worth sticking through a slow start in the day. He loaded what he had to load on to the horse and strapped his coin patch extremely tight to his side.

When he hopped onto his horse, he stroked its mane, "Lets gift this order to the king of this place and go shopping. We have more than enough to get a farm closer to this place and never go without again!"

Total Gold: 1,900
Horses Left: 2 (Golden Horse will be gifted)

Something about the way the man spoke about his little creations sent a cold chill down Roy's back, something that he couldn't quite place. Perhaps it was the way he held them so delicately, or the way he spoke of them almost like they were living beings...Roy didn't like it one bit. When the man held out the doll, Roy hesitated, some small part of his mind still telling him that it would jump out at him if he leaned close. However, his common sense and manners prevailed, and he leaned down for a close look. As he cast his gaze over the doll, he marveled at the skill that had gone into creating it. Every feature was as smooth as glass, without a single scratch marring its face. The eyes looked so realistic, to the point that Roy felt uncomfortable staring at it. Even the clothes seemed to have been tailored with great care, from the cut of the dress to the tiny lace trim.

"Wow...you're, uh, really good at this...it's a wonder that you don't get more customers. What do you mean when you say that people return them a lot, though? How much maintenance does a doll need, really? Surely it's not much more than dusting and polishing. I might be interested in one, for a gift...depending on how much they cost."

Perhaps the perfumes would be a nice gift for Roxanne or Wendy...but did a gift of perfume imply that he thought they smelled bad? Roy wasn't sure, and he certainly didn't want to risk it.

It had been a nice morning. A quiet morning. One of the more tolerable times of day in Isra, and Ulfang had been enjoying a pleasant stroll through the bazaar after his latest rendezvous with the Empress. He wears his ornate black and silver ceremonial plate with a cloak wrapped about his shoulders woven of raven feathers. He hadn't dressed in his standard battlefield plate, obviously. What need was there in the well-policed streets of the Free City, after all? The two heavily armed and armoured Dread Knights flanking him are there mostly upon the insistence of their captain, paranoid man that he is, but as terrified screams and cries of agony begin to ring out over the streets, Ulfang reasons that he ought to trust his ward-son on these matters more often.

A small unkindness of raven Watchers flutter overhead, surveying the bazaar with their sharp green eyes and picking out the sources of violence. Rabid, feral men attacking civilians and combatants indiscriminately. That cannot be a good sign. He turns to one of his knights and beckons for him to turn about, presenting the king's giant great sword, Fang, stowed in an ornate black and silver sheath upon the man's back.

Ulfang pulls the great blade from its binds and grips the dread knight by the shoulder.
"Get my son, Gunnar. And tell him to bring the First Eschille," he orders in a booming baritone, cutting through the chaotic cacophony, and the knight's helmeted head nods in understanding. The man takes off down the street, leaving only Ulfang and one of his honour guard remaining as Isran guardsmen swarm heedlessly around them to move toward the oncoming tide of afflicted.

The Dread Knight draws a grizzly-looking morning star, affixes a kite shield emblazoned with the Black Vale raven upon his left arm, double checks that the arming sword upon his hip is fastened onto him correctly, and then he and the King march down the street, cutting through the frantic crowd like a ship's bow through cresting waves.

Ulfang arrives at the back rank of guardsmen, towering over the soldiers to either side, and looks about to find someone who looks to be in charge. When he locates the division's commander, he hefts his great sword onto his shoulder and strolls toward him.
"What is going on here?" asks the King, calmly. The commander hasn't a chance to answer, though, as just then, the roar of the Sin of Wrath cuts through all other sound, and Ulfang whips his head around to look upon him.

"Asmund," he states, addressing his remaining Dread Knight, "join the Isran guard in dealing with this horde. I will face that creature at its front, and keep its attention away from them. Go!"
The knight clangs his shield against his chest by way of affirmatory salute, and steps off to get an assignment from the guard captain in charge.

The beast evokes the image of the minotaur to Ulfang, huffing and swinging its deadly ax with savage efficiency. He wades through the ranks of guardsmen to meet the beast head-on, and catches a backswing of its ax upon the pointed tip of his blade. He may not be perfectly equipped to deal with the creature at the moment given his lack of battlefield dress, but he's certainly a better match than any of Isra's regulars. The Sin of Wrath may be large, but the King of the Black Vale is yet larger, for giant's blood flows through his veins, and perhaps the valorous guard can turn the tide while Ulfang keeps the monster occupied.
"Come, beast," he bellows in a rumbling baritone as he locks eyes with the creature. "Face your undoing!"

A vast stillness reigned over the gilded city at night, and there was not even a speck of green in sight. Desolate of nature and without movement, and there was the cold laughter of the wind whistling so grim as it cut through the lifeless streets. His breath froze in the air as he pulled on his leather gloves, a bow made out of stout birch-bark resting in his hands.

Sloth perched like a bird on a building so tall it overlooked Isra's central district, the most populated as well as the most protected. Sentinels faithfully stood frozen in steely silence as they guarded the city streets; law-abiding citizens could rest easy knowing they were safe.

He was there when the sun began to rise and the people began to stir. It wasn't long before the city was brimming and buzzing with the business of the day. The movement was an offense to him that represented the Wild, and mankind was the most restless of all creatures; he simply felt that he must destroy it, to crush it into submission. But Sloth was the prideful Wild's most patient servant, and there he would wait until the run was in the sky most high and the grand design was nigh. An hour went by, and a second hour. Then, a faint far cry arose on the still air. It was time.

Sloth rose from his perch, tall and strong as he drew on his bow with purpose. One after the other, they would fall as the arrows struck true in between the eyes of officials that might call for reinforcements as the Blue Bloods began to bleed the streets.