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Post by NPC-Roster on Tue Dec 09, 2014 10:18 pm

Various Inn's, taverns, stands, shops, and buildings, stood in a ram-shackle square creating various narrow alley-was between the myriad cluster of structures. The scent of food and other various products was rife enough in the air to blend all the various scents into something quite unique if relatively unpleasant or pleasant depending on ones preferences.

Slaves were set on display in various podiums, and merchants, consumers, scoundrels, and aristocrats mingled near sailors and pirates who remained nearer the docks that lay just east of the square. A large port-cullis stood between thick stone walls that expanded around a large keep, which belonged to the "Steward" of the Market.

There were various guards situated along the walls, but they seemed to merely be guarding the keep, and left it up to the security hired by the merchants to maintain "security" unless it was necessary for them to get involved.

The Market-Square had something of everything to offer, but the more fantastic objects had dubious viability more often than not, and there was always a risk of neglect or poor quality in various products unless when went to only the highest quality shops and vendors. Commerce and opportunity were in abundance here to one with initiative.

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Re: Grand-Market-Square

Post by War Torn on Thu Dec 25, 2014 8:58 pm


-There was a distinct air in this rotten city. So much so it normally detracted or made wary travelers leave as quickly as possible. However in one such section of the city, amongst the slavers, amongst the rotting festives of corruption and illegal activity, there sat a man.

"Whose sister/daughter/girlfriend/wife do I have to fuck, and whose brother/boyfriend/husband/dad do I have to beat the fuck out of to get some rotten Vodka around here?"

Said the scoundrel known as Samhaine Bartholomew Grain. Currently he was situated on a stool in one of the Market squares outside bar, looking rather more bikerish then usual and also have an air of grumpiness about him. There was the usual completely black colored red eyed snake coiled about his arm and the servers about his drunken person (because despite being a heavy drinker, this time he 'let' himself get drunk) were increasingly getting frustrated, not realizing his demand for shitty Vodka was actually not a joke, and he was being serious. Expensive and higher ends tasted to fancy and pure, the near artificial cheep shit was the way to go for Sam! That said Sam grunted, cheeks flustered as he looked to one side of him then the other (each empty of people about three to four stools) over, grunting again and drinking the fancy shit he currently had in his glass holding back a gack as he did, practically slamming the glass down.

"I fucking hate December."

Not the Holidays, not the season, just the month of December. The prince of snakes huffed again and tapped his glass.

"Cheap. Shit. None of that fancy crap you've been given me. I dont give a fuck if you make me pay more I just hate the taste."

...And that was that. -
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