The Bazaar is a circus of colour, noise, scents, and sights. Along its vast length, shops, tents, vendors, and peddlers collide with haphazard grace to form a massive, shrill mess of wares and men. Here, common men and blue-blooded nobles mix in a strange collision of worlds. All wares are sold here, from the common wheats and fruits to glorious multicoloured birds and spices that come from places many don’t even believe exist. There are few legitimate items in Tazlure that cannot be bought at the Happenstance Bazaar, if one has the time to search through the riot for them, and the coin to pay for it when found.
The morningtide had been so beautiful to start his adventures with, however the tide had changed now. The sun stood at its peak height high above in the clear sky, though strangely it was much more benevolent then it had been while rising to attain the height. Nonetheless, Damon Ryot was no wiser, every passing flicker merely stalled his imminent goals, the young achadhiel was more determined then ever, some may have called it a point of desperation, but he kept his cool. Portraying an outward appearance of calm, his face was shifted to a temporary expression of solemnity, which was no longer hidden under the dusty dark brown cloak. He still wore it though, to hide the sword he was carrying around his waist.
What am I to do? Nowhere to go, no place to stay. By Dominicus, I'm clueless. He thought, yet with a smile adorning his face. Like said, desperation would be just before his ascent to insanity, which was still a long way off.
Damon had no idea where he was presently, but from all the activity, as well as the throng of people moving up and down; shouting over the top of their voices. There were stalls, shops, tents, and vendors set up everywhere, though aligned perfectly, it could hinder movement greatly as one had to squeeze through the gaps here and there, taken the number of people around that was no easy to task.
A market of some kind. He thought to himself, silently appraising all items he could see that were put on sale. Much bigger then the one at home. That being even an understatement, the marketsquare back at his home comprised of only a few old women selling food items; thrown in the occasional traveler passing through and you had a very clear picture of it.
The young man recalled that one of the men by the city gates had told him about a bazaar, the name which eluded momentarily. Not that it mattered; he was in no hurry to begin business, having nothing to sell or any money to buy as of now. He was feeling kind of hungry though, but knew there was no way then to buy some. Damon was too proud to even ask for money, and stealing never even occurred in the naive young man's thoughts. He resigned to his fate, which was of course only temporary, as soon as he'd get a hold of someone who could tutor him in magick, he'd be a step closer to his goals.
After some time, he got tired of walking around aimlessly, deciding it was best to stop for a moment and rest before leaving the bazaar area. He sat down on a lone bench next to a small shop, unadorned and inconspicuous, which suited him just fine. He'd been fighting to force himself through the crowd that swarmed out on the streets, and was in no hurry to get elbows stuck in his mouth or get another whiff of that so pleasant odour of Roque's citizens. No, he was alright sitting here, thinking his next line of action in seclusion.
