The Artful Dodger
Marketplace
This open air marketplace is a veritable paradise for shoppers. Sights, sounds and smells assault the senses as soon as one sets foot in the Marketplace.
Unlike the rest of Umbar, this vast acreage set aside for merchants and commerce boasts two streets running parallel from North to South, both of them three times the width of a normal road that winds through Umbar. Another equally wide street running East to West bisects the two roads, creating a grid.
Flanking the roads and neatly lined are two story buildings, with shops on the ground level and living quarters on the upper level. Merchants from generations past have kept the tradition going, and here, people will find master craftsman and women hard at work, whether it be in jewelry making, bread baking, leatherworking or rugweaving.
In the center of the wide roads that criss cross the Marketplace are the small individual stands, tightly crammed together. Merchants who sell their goods in these stands tend to cater to the every day shoppers by selling fresh fruits, vegetables, breads, cheeses and meats, along with baubles, household goods, tools and cheap, ready-made clothes. Each stand is shaded with its own canopy, and often decorated with colorful and enticing banners and signs.
At the bottom of the social order of merchants are the peddlers who hawk their goods on carts, weaving through the throngs of shoppers, offering the best deal in the Marketplace.
In the center of the grid is a stage where slaves are auctioned. When the stage is not being used to sell slaves, local artists perform for the enjoyment of the shoppers.
The sky is clear and the stars shines brightly. The nighttime summer air is very hot and dry around you.
Obvious exits:
Paij Brother's Imports, Madame Fandango's, Slave Pen, and Square of Judgement
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Nighttime on Sunday, Day 26 of June.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 14:36:28 MDT on Thu Nov 19 2009.
IC year: 3048
The year has reached its hottest, and even now, when the sun has long since sunk below the western horizon, the night air is warm and stuffy. Beneath the gaze of the crescent moon, stones give up the last of the day's heat. Scarce wonder, with the daytime sun so fierce, that many of the haphazard booths making up Umbar's market are still open, hoping to entice late-night strollers to make a purchase.
Barjad is amongst those traversing the square unlike others, however, he does not stop to survey the displayed wares. One stall in particular, a leather-worker's, is given a wide berth, and as he passes it the man scowls, scarred face wrinkling in displeasure.
[Azradi(#20135)]
Two small figures stir deep within the shadows of an empty stall. A whisper and urge from one sends the smaller of the two to dart out into the marketplace proper. The dim torchlight of a hopeful merchant reveals a girl-child, perhaps five years of age. She runs up from behind the Corsair, passes him and then turns to face him, skipping sideways to match his pace.
"Honorable, Corsair!" she pipes in her high voice and holds out her tiny hand, palm up. "Please. Coin, please!"
She speaks in Westron, though heavily accented. She is a pretty child, and not so thin as to be starved. But her tattered gown and dust smudged face suggests a child of the streets.
From the shadows from whence she came emerges the other figure, keeping to the shadows as it edges closer to Corsair and gamine - moving as swiftly as it dares without betraying its presence.
Westron? It is surely the sound of the foreign tongue that causes Barjad's head to whip around - beggars are, after all, two-a-penny. And perhaps it is mere desire to speak a language that he knows that moves him to give answer: "I have none to spare." The words are swift and final, and there is little in his scarred features to suggest pity. His eyes narrow, though, and he adds, heavy brows drawing together in a frown, "You are not of Umbar."
His gaze flicks briefly to the shadows, as though sensing movement, but slides quickly away again, the motion dismissed as an alleycat, maybe. Or a rat, drawn by the scraps.
[Suniti(#17201)]
Suniti seems to be out on an independant errand now, a trio other seaward slaves in attendance. They are paused before one of the produce merchants, and the order? A lot of fruit from the looks of it! The two male slaves now carrying a large basket of it a piece. Suniti? She hands over the note from the Tower for the goods. No trusting her with money after all. And then she in turn starts to walk off to another place, one selling flour. Though it is taking her more near to Barjad and the beggar.
[Azradi(#20135)]
"Umbar. Umbar!" the girl repeats, her dark eyes kept firmly upon the Corsair towering above her. A few additional words in Haradaic follow, more fluently uttered than those in Westron were."The most blessed city the most prosperous city fortune smiles upon it!" She hesitates, perhaps fearing she has lost her audience and struggles again in Westron. "Great city. Corsair home. Please, Corsair, please. Coin?" She jabs her tiny hand out earnestly, distress contorting her childish features.
The shadowed figure emerges, a boy of perhaps eleven years. Seeking to stay out of the Corsair's peripheral vision, he approaches quietly - seeming to be nothing more than another person patronizing the evening market.
The interest that had sharpened Barjad's gaze fades at the girl-child's answer. "Rote-learned," he mutters in the Westron, his tone one of disgust. Then he switches to awkward Haradaic. "I do not give you coin. Go to the Citadel, if you wish bread. They have use for all." For one brief instant his cleft lips flare - best not to speculate on certain parts of the Citadel's usage.
Already he is turning away, the moment gone. The movement places his back to the shadowy figure.
Suniti's approach is noted, for his head dips to her in a jerked nod.
[Suniti(#17201)]
Suniti bows her head to the member of the tower, but says nothing else. Seems almost as though she is trying to avoid him as she turns up another aisle and takes a long way around the stalls, though it sees her emerging just on the other side a few moments later, still paying attention to what is happening. >re<
[Azradi(#20135)]
"Please, Corsair, please!" the girl insists, skipping sideways to face him once more - her dark eyes wide with appeal. "No Citadel. Eye blesses you, Heroes bless you. Please, coin!"
The girl notes the Corsair's shifting interest. A sideways glance takes in the slave girl and another glance the faded sash about her mark's waist. Her voice gains in strength as she begins her entreaties again, "Heroes bless glorious Seaward! Coin to honor the Heroes?"
From the pockets of his loose, tattered clothing the boy produces a small knife. With deft swiftness, he reaches gently to cut the cord that secures the lumpen pouch at Barjad's side...
Briefly, the right corner of Barjad's mouth pulls back as he sees Suniti dodging away. He does not attempt to follow her - perhaps he has no inclination to become one of her beasts of burden, given Eruphel herself has placed him in that role before. At the renewed sound of the child's piping voice he halts his steps, scowling. "Seaward takes those who join, those who wor-"
The words stop abruptly, and his left hand whips out, swift and strong as a mumakil's trunk, attempting to grab the wrist of the purse-snatcher the instant the tug at his belt is felt.
The pouch is strongly secured, perhaps more so than one would expect for a money-bag. The boy's knife does not free the pouch from Barjad's belt, but instead causes it to spill open, its contents tumbling out on to the ground. Those contents? Alas, not glittering coin but a cluster of round, smooth grey pebbles, each a little smaller than an egg.
[Suniti(#17201)]
Suniti's eyes go wide at what she sees the child doing, maternal instincts wincing as she gets an idea of what the poor child's fate may be. But it is too late to shout out a warning, she can only watch in horror, the 'beasts' that accompany her all doing their thing and remaining, but seeming rather surprised as well.
[Azradi(#20135)]
The boy is fast, but not quite fast enough. He is caught, not by the wrist, but by the hand - gripped firmly in grasp of the Corsair. He yells wordlessly, and pulls hard to free himself.
The girl, catching the fall of small objects from the corner of her eye, dives to the ground to grab at them greedily, nearly crawling in between the man's legs
Barjad's calloused hand maintains his grip, for all that the boy's twisting and pulling causes him to stagger. It seems that age has not yet sapped his strength. "The knife," he snaps toward the lad in Haradaic that is nasal, but carefully enough enunciated to be understandable. "You put down the knife. Now." He attempts to exert pressure on the hand he holds in order to reinforce the order.
The girl's scramblings are barely noticed until she fetches up against one leg. He gives a reflexive kick, not a hard one he merely seems to be trying to protect his personal space.
[Suniti(#17201)]
Suniti continues to stand there, watching as things play out. Seems that, perhaps, her goal might take her a bit more closely to that otherwise. Or she is just curious and taking the chance to get a short break. She looks to the others accompanying her, but they seem more apathetic in general than she is.
[Azradi(#20135)]
The boy seems to remember the small knife in his hand for the first time. He stabs at the man's hand with it, his intent seeming to be to make the man let go rather than inflict any serious harm. "Run, Johara, run!" he shouts to the girl in Haradaic. Then to the man, he switches to fluent Westron, "Let me go!"
"Rocks!" the girl shouts after her disappointing discovery. "Mas'ud..." she begins, then lets out a grunt as she is kicked away and comes to lay upon her side a short distance away from the scuffle.
A grunt escapes Barjad as the knife-blade makes contact, setting a thin line of blood welling up at his own wrist. Still he holds on doggedly, tenacious as any terrier worrying a rat. "
Briefly his gaze flicks to Suniti, and he barks out in her direction, "You. Do something with the girl." Throw her in jail? Buy her a pastry? He does not specify.
[Suniti(#17201)]
Suniti bows her head quickly in affirmation, but says nothing as she moves closer to the girl and touches her on the shoulder, grabbing it, but not hard. "Come now." She says to the child, trying to lead her away. "There is nothing that can be done now." She adds, more sadly, looking in sympathy, and a bit of disgust at the boy. His own stupidity.
[Azradi(#20135)]
The street-wise boy's face contorts into an expression of horrified dread, he pulls again half-heartedly and lets the knife drop to his hand, yet not quite released entirely. "Run, Johara!" he shouts again, glancing wildly in her direction.
The little girl Johara scrambles quickly to her feet - feeling the hand of Suniti fall upon her shoulder. She screams and tries to wrench it out of the woman's grasp to run away.
A trickle of blood starts to flow down Barjad's wrist toward his hand, slicking his grip. This time the boy's efforts, half-hearted though they may be, pay off and his hand slides free, clearly marked by red smears.
Barjad mutters something guttural that might be a curse, and shifts his other hand to put pressure on the cut before raising the shout. "
Then the girl's scream diverts his attention toward Suniti. "
[Suniti(#17201)]
Suniti nods to this and tries to hold on, her other arm going to grab her too. "You'll be ok. Just some food child." Though as for how scary Suniti is would be another question, given she isn't of Umbar. Maybe the girl will be afraid of her? The other slaves with Suniti cannot help though, not with their hands already full. "You'll be ok. Really."
[Azradi(#20135)]
For a moment, the boy seems surprised that he is free. A moment only and he is gone, running towards the shadows and away from the crowd as fast as he can. At least one has the wit enough to turn and follow him, a bored young man perhaps. The boy slips into the shadows of closed stalls, the other behind him several paces until both are hidden by sight..
Firmly caught, the little girl's struggles subside and she begins to wail. Tears stream down her contorted, flushed face giving in entirely to her sobbing in that way only children can do.
Barjad follow's the direction of the pursuit briefly, then he grunts. "Make her quiet. I will see you in Seaward," he tells Suniti, returning to the awkwardly phrased Haradaic of earlier, the slowness of the speech betraying his struggle with the Southron tongue.
Before he goes, he stoops to gather up the remainder of his scattered pebbles, which are clutched to him in his good hand when he leaves the scene. Clearly, one man's dirt is another man's treasure.
[Suniti(#17201)]
Again, only a nod is offered to Barjad's command. Then Suniti starts to hug the little girl, "Shh, shh." She says, trying to calm the girl now. "You won't be in trouble. I promise. He said it will just be to feed you, then you can go again." And then her voice lowers a bit as she whispers to the child. "It will be better if you don't chase after him for now anyways, you might give him away. And then he would be hurt."
[Azradi(#20135)]
The little girl squirms uncomfortably in Suniti's arms, but makes no further moves to run away. Her sobs do not subside until the slave suggestion appears to appeal to her childish sense of logic. She stares at the woman with wide eyes for a moment, then nods her small dark head. She tentatively offers her hand to the slave and hiccups, allowing the other to lead her away.
