Meat Market

Tenebrae - Thursday, September 26, 2013, 7:26 PM

-=--=--=--=--=--=<* A07: Local Alexandria Market District *>-=--=--=--=--=--=-

Just west of the Northern Highbridge and east of the arena, commerce blooms. Noisy and bustling, most anything may be purchased here for a price. Vendors from all cultures sell their wares from exotically colored carts, and the smells of different nations and far-off city-states mix with local ones from Alexandria and its riverbanks.

For all its commerce, visitors are advised to keep hold of their purses. Even the merchants possess a certain, cunning look. Most are positioned at carts or stalls as opposed to a formal storefront, with trade here being mobile, and visiting from all parts of the world.

Though the quality of goods suffers here compared to Upper Alexandria, the options are more diverse. Too, the oversight of the Watch is slightly less, and during times events are held at the Arena, chaos abounds. After dark, the square becomes a hangout for bards and other entrepreneurs whose business is best conducted by night; the shadows at the edges of the square often contain furtive figures engaging in their own brand of business.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Jame A tall Phurai Dae horseman in a breastplate. 7s 23s

Mikilos Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome. 0s 8m

Garak has arrived.

Garak approaches the market from the west, helping a smaller Gobber push a large cart. Garak is actually doing most of the pushing, while his smaller 'cousin' peeks out from behind the cart and tries to steer.

Mikilos has pie! Burnt, slightly lopsided pie. Or maybe it's cake, that fruity filling stuff might supposed to go on top. Either way, the small stand selling these bakery tragedies is run by authentic orphans, who made everything themselves. Without help. It shows. -But-, what a little burnt frasting to help a orphan?

Jame has heard of the young orphans who sell pie, and has gone to investigate these resourceful children. He offers a nod to Mikilos as he comes to see things, and he requests a pie for himself.

Garak gives the cart one last push and then tries to catch his breath. Under the gobber's direction it ended up in a strategic corner away from the main traffic but high enough that it can be seen behind other vendors and stalls. It helps that some merchants have already moved out for the day. Dusting off his hands, Garak nods at the merchant and then turns to look over the rest of the market.

Mikilos smiles a smile he learned from the priest Kerbasy, 'Blessed Be the Kittens', as he nods to Jame. Smile locked in place, the wizard murmurs softly to the other man. "Buy two, swallow hard, and smile. Then, three stalls north, hard cider, first mug's on me."

Jame bites into a pie, winces, but purchases another and makes a show of swallowing the bits. "This is better than one or two meals I've had," he says with a cheerfulness that might be a little forced but is broadly true. Though third worst in a lifetime is by no means a recommendation. He's eating a pie baked by orphan children all on their own. Seemingly without supervision. He nods to Mikilos and smiles to the children, then follows the advice, scooting three stalls north and demanding a hard cider.

Garak watches Jame for a bit, then returns his attention to Mikilos, nodding politely. "Greetings. You seem to know some of the local vendors here. Do yo know of any that have recently...ah, left the area? Or retired, perhaps?"

Mikilos takes a moment to take a long pull of cider, swishing around a bit before swallowing hard. "Gah... they're made with love... if only they used skill and knowledge instead." Taking another swig, the elf quirks a brow, turning his attention to Garak. "Mmmm, looking to set up shop yourself? Can't say anyplace really comes to mind. Lot of stalls have a chosen spot, but it's all pretty fluid. What do you have to offer?"

Jame looks over to Garak, offers a friendly nod, but then looks over to Mikilos for an answer because he's pretty new in town and has no idea. He's actually doing a little better with the pie, or he may simply be trying harder than Mikilos to keep his composure. He does drain half a mug of cider, though, and he chuckles at the made with love rather than skill quip.

Garak returns Jame's nod. "Ah...not exactly. I'm asking on behalf of some acquaintances." He gestures in the direction of the gobber he was helping earlier. "They'd like to sell their wares in this market." He puts a subtle emphasis on the word 'this'.

Mikilos nods, ponders a few moments, and shrugs. "Find an empty spot, set up shop, and be polite. If someone asks you to move, find out why, and consider it. And if anyone harasses you, speak with a Guardsmen. It's an open market. I've never had a problem, but I always rented an established stall. Not that people tend to mess with a wizard anyway."

Jame looks around the market, then at the goblin salesman and his wares. "What is it they're selling?" he wonders. "It doesn't seem terribly organized, does it?" he asks both Mikilos and Garak. "I mean, nothing to mark any space as belonging to anyone in particular. So I wouldn't think there'd be legitimate grounds for complaint if he set up and started selling?"

Garak considers. "I suppose not. But surely there are unspoken rules of etiquette? What if a newcomer attempts sell goods and there's already a merchant in the area...?"

Ol' Mags has arrived.

Mikilos nods. "There are legitimate complaints. Blocking the flow of traffic being the big one. Anything offensive or dangerous is of course a valid complaint. But most long term shops have some way of marking their spot. Elsewise, a rule of first come first serve tends to be the case. If you have every reason to believe a spot isn't currently being used, you're free to take it. Just don't expect to be able to use it again tomarrow. Are some general rules of thumb, but those are encouraged, not firm. Like don't sell hard booze next to the glass blower. No alchemy next to the forge. Stuff like that."

Jame looks around the market, and says, "Surely each of these stalls are not unique? There must be a great deal of duplication. Where you choose to set up must be a matter of where your strengths lie. If you have better wares, you will set up closer to competition, to show their customers your superior goods. If not, you would want to be further away. As far as ettiquette, who can say. As me about badgers and lions, not salesmen and vendors." He nods at what Mikilos says, "That sounds very reasonable."

Mikilos nods, and shrugs. "Is an art to it. Aren't to many fruit vendors in the dead of winter, for example, so it flows. But say the cloth merchants tends to be pretty stable. Now, if a fellow sells pastries, he might choose to sell up in Textiles Row. Someone's there and happens to get hungry, he's right close, can make a quick sale. But, if some fellow over in the Clockworks get's hungry, he's not going to head to the Textiles, he's going to head over towards the food court. And is how you sell it. Okay, so your stuff isn't so high quality. Not everyone can afford the best. Sell it at a fair price, should do okay. At least, those guys keep comming back, so they must make some sort of profit. I offer the highest quality possible, so can't say from experience."

Garak listens with great interest at first, but his gaze starts to drift as Mikilos gets into the details of commerce. Finally he offers, "So the quality here is less than the highest? Are there other markets in the city?"

Jame nods at what Mikilos says, as far as location strategies, though he, too, begins to glaze over. "Uh, from what I've seen, the quality varies fairly widely. I've seen some well-made things that I'd be proud to own. And then there were the meat pies I just ate that are going to haunt me tonight."

ANd Boshter suddenly bounds off the bridge! He's skidding to a halt here in the market distrct, beaming. Seems the Hob is in a good mood!

Of course, not all vendors are stationary, either. One fine example is a rather old, warty gobber - half-wearing, half-carrying her tradegood - a large pot of something... well, let's just say it can be smelled from miles away. An exaggeration, but not much of one.

Mikilos nods in agreement with Jame. "Aye, a wide range. Some of the other markets specialize diffrent, but wouldn't say they're higher quality." And then there's Boshter. The elf hesitates, wondeirng if there's still time to slip away... no, he's likely already been spotted. Damn this distinct profile. "Ho, Boshter! How go...oes?" The wizard's nose crickles, and he peers around... "...who's refineing guano?"

Jame grimaces as he smells Ol Mags's cart right after his questionable meal, and he tried hard not to sick up on Boshter as he bounces up and down in a way that doesn't sit well in Jame's gut right this moment.

"It ain't refined guano, sonny - this here is the finest guano stew you'll find, no refinin' needed!" Ol' Mags calls out cheerfully enough, before fishing out a long-handled wooden spoon that has seen better days. She scoops up some - something stringy hangs from the end, and offers it towards the group of strappin' young fellas. "Try a bit? First spoonful's free - guarenteed to put hair on your chest, an' warts on all the important parts

NEarly running into Ol' Mags, Boshter looks relieved that he did manage to stop in time. HE waves cheerfully at Jame, especially since he looks to be in dsitress. "YOU SEEM TO BE IN DISTRESS." The smell? What smell? He doesn't even notice.

Mikilos sighs, but smiles at Boshter. All that nose, and it's strictly decoration. "Uh.. *ahem*. Thank you, but no thanks. I've no need for a hairy chest."

Jame says to Boshter, "It's more than the sm-" and nearly doubles over at the sight of Ol Mags actually trying to get people to /eat/ the guano. And how it hangs off the ladle. ... Clutching his stomach, he turns away from Boshter to lose his lunch, which hadn't been sitting well to begin with, right there in the street.

Garak pats Jame gently on the back while he's doubled over. "There there...let it all out. You'll feel better, trust me." He seems to have some experience with this sort of response.

".... feh. Weak stomach. Gonna have to toughen that up, sonny. It keep on givin' you problems, well, just head down Ox Tavern way; ask for Ol' Mags - fix ya right up." Scarily enough, that seems honestly meant, even as she clearly takes some enjoyment from the poor boy's predictament. "Anyone else wantin' some?"

Mikilos quirks a brow, mildly intrested. "The Ox? I hadn't heard anything about a new cook. You do you just mean that area?"

Jame is hit on the back, and gets a bit more out, and hands braced on knees as he shudders, "I ... I thought I knew about things, but I had no idea how bad things had gotten here." He shakes his head vigorously about the Ox, recognition in his eyes. "No ma'am!" he says with a grimace. "I was warned before I came here. I'll eat my boots before I eat there!"

".. they are in need of a new cook? I should inquire with them immediately! These old bones need some solid employment - and many are those in need of good nourishment. Thanks, sonny, for the tip. Well, if you're all good... best be movin' on," and with that - and taking her pot of guano stew with her, the gobber continues onward. Places to go, people to forcefeed.

Mikilos frowns at Jame. "Someone did you a disservice. The Ox has some of the best food in the city." The elf sighs. "-And- some of the worst." He peers a moment after Mags. "For example, try to avoid any days she ends up working. But seriously, ask for Myrana. If she's working, will be good food. And good booze. Oxley's tend towards ale flavored piss, watered down."

Jame renews his mental vow never to set foot in the Ox ever, and to fight like his life depended on it if someone ever tries to drag him in. He peers at Mikilos and the mixed review, but looks unconvinced. "There's hundreds of places to eat. Why go someplace where I'll be taking my life into my hands?"

Ol' Mags gives a short little cackle, then keeps on going - offering stewy-bits to passerbys as she goes - and strangely enough, getting some takers. Thankfully, not so many she lingers. Or, for that matter, the smell. Which does. A little bit.

Ol' Mags has left.

Mikilos grins. "Answer's in the question. What's life without adventure? Though really, the spice soup is awesome." The elf frowns, thoughtfully. "Must be the owlbear grease..."

Constantin has arrived.

Jame is somehow not convinced by Mikilos's rave reviews. "Adventure? There's adventure and there's foolhardiness. But you're welcome to all the danger you like," he says weakly, straightening up finally, though he looks ... if not pale, then less well than he'd looked earlier. He's standing around with Mikilos and Garak, and Boshter is here, too, though he seems to have lost interest since Jame puked after being told what a goblin was selling for food.

Constantin saunters into the market, a wicker basket on his arm. He's buying up apples and pears, mostly, but no fruit is safe from his roving eye!

Mikilos shrugs. "If you don't care to go, it's your call. But really, even if you go in, you don't -have- to consume anything.... tough come to think of it, for most people the food is low on the list the dangers. The regulars tends to be a rowdy bunch. Slow learners, too, but anything still scabbed over they tend to recall."

Jame winces at Mikilos's description of the Ox, and says, "It sounds like the sort of place I might be called to help keep the peace, but not someplace I'd go for fun." Well, he's honest, at least. "I don't seek danger for the thrill of it, though I understand that many adventurers do." He can stand on his own now, so he thanks Garak, and makes for his lodgings. "Perhaps I will see you all around the city," he says.

Jame has disconnected.

As Jame departs, Boshter shrugs his shouldrs and then walks towards Mikilos. Uh oh.

Mikilos hesitates. Invisibility? Armor? A shield? With Boshter it's hard to tell what's the best course of action. "Erm... hello Boshter. What bring you out this way?"

"HELLO, MIKILOS," says Boshter. Loudly. Then he goes to sweep the poor elf into a GIANT HUG.

Constantin looks up in alarm. Boshter! He straightens up, primps a little -- maybe he likes hugs. And then an orange catches his eye and he starts haggling.

"Fweeeeee!" Mikilos saw it coming, but you're never really prepared for a Boshter Hug. The elf dangles, his toes just barely scraping the ground. "H-hello. Cccould you sssset me down, pleeease?" he manages to gasp from compressed lungs.

Garak emerges from where he had drifted off into the market at large. "Greetings," he nods to Constantin and then Boshter.

"Ha ha ha. Why would I want to do that?" Boshter does finally set Mikilos down after there's several spine popping sounds.

Constantin turns, smiling. "Greetings -- how do you do?" A pause. "Is that bear hug an Arnek Nar thing?"

Mikilos gasps, and slowly reinflates. His lungs, at least. His ribs may take a while longer. "Boshter. Wizard, remember? Squishy." He sighs, glancing to Constantin. "No. Well, sorta. Mostly it's a Boshter thing."

"Not THAT squishy. I am sure your back feels much better now!" Boshte then turns to COnstantin and then does in fact grab him and hug him too.

Garak chuckles. "Who knows, he may start a new tradition among the tribes."

Constantin urls just a little, then grins. "Squeeze!" His feet dangle in the air, kicking a bit.

Mikilos grumbles quietly that his back was just fine. Not too loudly though.

Constantin kicks his feet experimentally.

Eventually, Boshter goes to set COnstantin down. After the hug. "There you go!" Spine corrective hugs. Courtesy of Boshter.

Mikilos murmurs softly to Constantin. "Don't bother running. He's annyingly fast."

Constantin whacks Boshter on the shoulder, "Thank you!" He picks up his basket, and dimples at Mikilos. "Sometimes, it's just best to enjoy it."

Garak has disconnected.