Market Recovery

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Tenebrae - Wednesday, November 27, 2013, 5:26 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.

Rhodes has arrived.

Benthus goes about the area, approaching people who are having a difficult time and offering the words of comfort.

Mikilos mutters absently to himself as he wanders along, a fair sized text in his hands. Several more texts, and a number of smaller journals, follow along behind the wizard, floating near eye level. Rhodes looks a bit tired, having needed to help with all the rites for the various people who died at the final fight of the Exorcism. But things have calmed down a bit, and the halfelf now spends time in the market in order to help resupply the temple, and his own personal stashes of the various things that clerics need.

Myrana has arrived.

Mikilos is wandering and muttering, texts and scrolls follwoing after him like a flock of well trained birds. Grumbeling, the wizard lets go of his latest reading, and sighs, looking around a moment before heading towards a pastry cart. Seems someone is in need of a break.

Benthus watches as a weeping mother take her toddler son in her arms as she seeks solace in the temple for the death of her husband. A man who has died defending the city from the monsters eerving the Azure queen. The paladin grieves, not for the dead, but for the leaving. For who will now provide for this family? Drawing a deep breath, he exhales slowly. He spots Mikilos and approaches him Without preamble, he starts the conversation. "It's never easy."

You paged Sophia with 'Not much. Little Rp just starting, a hint of panic for the holiday starting to set in. Nothing unexpected. :)'

Argos has arrived.

Mikilos mmms absently, fetching himself a strawberry filled treat, and waving a couple of papers back into his direct view. "Yes, well, it's to be expected of becuracery. Paper pushers have to make themselves look important somehow." The takes another bite, then blinks, turning to actually look at Benthus. "Wait, what? ....you weren't talking about filing forms, were you?"

Benthus smiles weakly but shakes his head and points at a mother and her child. "A family without a father isn't much of a family anymore."

Rhodes hears Benthus's words about a family without a father, and then sees the paladin's finger, point to the woman and her child. He pays for what he was negotating and then walks over to join the two. "There are many who have lost much during the past few days. There are many widows and orphans. Do we know if even the city will try to help them in their time of need? In their mourning?"

Mikilos mmms again, reaching over his shoulder to open the main pouch of his backpack, and claps sharply. There's a brief white tornado as papers flow into the pouch and disappear, clearing the air around the wizard. "I take your meaning, but disagree. Was barely reading when the forces of Altima left me the as the surviving male of the household. Yes, certainly it was a change, and a terrible blow. But the family endured. Though we were fortunate in having a number of aunts and cousins to assist." He nods to Rhodes. "Likely not the city proper, they've civil matters to attend. But the temples are doing what they can, despite recovering themselves, and are quite a few other organizations offering aid. By no means will it all be easy, but there is some help along the way."

Benthus wants to believe in what the mage is saying about help coming. He closes his eyes to dissociate himself from his sad thoughts and shifts his attention to those who are present. "Alexandria seems to be a city cursed."

Floating along just three feet off the street, a flying broom ambles along down through the marketplace at walking-pace, loaded down with two sets of bulging custom saddlebags and a sorceress who sits sidesaddle on it with one knee hitched up over the other and bundled up in a thick green coat, petticoats fluttering in the freezing wind where they fall with her skirts down one side around the toes of her boots. Her dark hair has been braided again and hangs down on either shoulder over the bulk of a heavy woolen scarf, and her hands are shoved into either sleeve-opening to bogart warmth.

A Loud belch heralds the arrival of a dwarf! Of course, this one is wearing a pair of goggles, a leather jacket, and an unusual backpack. he stumps his way through the crowd, but doesn't apologize for pushing his way through a smaller group. He stops at one strange stall and looks over a small sundial watch and laughs. "I 'ave a clock that works better than this at me 'ome." He does hold it up to the sun and shakes his head. "Decent metal though...." He then puts it down, gently for a dwarf, and trots his way further up the marketplace......after another guzzle from his tankard.

Rhodes nods to Benthus and his opinion on the curse. "It does, but it is probably what draws the adventurers here, that so much happens, and things just keep happening." He nods though to Mikilos. "Now that the rites of the dead are nearly over, comforting the living is the next task for the faithful of Verdama. But with so many dead, our resources are stretching thin." He opens his mouth to say something when he hears the belch, and eyes the dwarf that is passing by.

Benthus looks at the dwarf and adds to his previous thoughts, "..Still, visitors arrive daily. There is definitely something going on in this city."

Mikilos grins. "You mean blessed? Yes, trouble comes, and yes, people hurt. But there are so many who step up to face the troubles, to ease the suffering. Where else in the world could a single city have come together to perform such a ritual to banish the Blue Bitch? Where else could have held out long enough for the Ritual to be finished? Yes trouble comes, but typically the people just huddle down until trouble passes by. Alexandros grabs trouble by the collar and brings it down that it never moves on to harm others." Spying a familiar form, the elf raises a hand in greeting. "Hoy! Myrana! How are you?"

The Dwarf stops drinking for a moment as he literally looks up and around at the other people that he's wandered closer to. "What? You act like you've never seen a dwarf before!" He says this to Rhodes and closes the top to his tankard. It appears to be custom made for him, complete with a flip top lid to keep the rest of the contents inside. "Sounds like I walked into a perfectly good conversation, thoguh you might have to talk down to me a little bit." And he laughs at his own joke.

Rhodes nods to Mikilos. "A blessing and a curse. Curse that things happen, but blessing that such people who can defend this city are here. But speak to the widows and orphans and ask what side the fall on with that decision, especially when the grief is so fresh. People lash out when they are hurt, it's a natural reaction." He looks at the dwarf and shakes his head, "No, good dwarf, you are not the first I have ever seen. But that was one of the loudest belches I have heard come from your kind, and I did not realize the taverns had already reopened to be serving ale, or any alcohol."

Verna has arrived.

Benthus ponders if there is a drinking law in the city.

Mikilos snorts softly, but smiles. "The taverns never really close. Not all of them, not all at once. Part of why the city keeps going, is always some way or another to cope."

The broom slows as Myrana looks over her shoulder, hearing her name called out over the unusually subdued hubbub of the market square. "Oh-- evening, mister Mithralla," she greets with a wry smile, putting her hand down on the stick to turn it with a gesture and drift out of the way of a passing cart horse. Its at that moment that the dwarf belches and even Myrana looks slightly surprised. But aside from smiling in greeting she doesn't comment. "Evening, gentlemen," she adds, greeting the others she knows. "I'm... well, y'know. Business is good. The stove caved in when that blast hit the docks, so I'm freezing, but."

Benthus looks at Mikilos, "And alcoholic beverages is the answer? "

Benthus waves to Myrana.

Verna arrives from the bridge to the northeast. Her hood is down, and no large tome is currently in hand. Either is mildly unusual for those familiar. Her stride is somewhat more animated and energized than it was the last few days. Not that this was terribly surprising between events at the temple square and the many in need of guidance afterwards.

Mikilos shrugs to Benthus. "Alcohol is -an- answer, though seldom the best. But distinctly better than no answer at all." Frowning mildly, he nods to Myrana. "I hadn't heard. I'll come by later to take a look at the stove, see if there's anything I can do, if not to fix it, then at least to fashion some sort of work-around until can get a proper one installed."

"The taverns are always open to paying customers, lad. It seems like this place needed it though. Wha' 'appened 'ere?" The Dwarf says before looking to Myrana. "Yer stove exploded. Yer supposed ter use wood in a stove, not a fireball, lass." he then laughs a bit more, but looks back to Rhodes. "This be a dwarven Takard, Lad. I gots me ale yesterday! and I still be drinking it!"

Myrana can't help it; she has to raise a hand sharply to her mouth to stifle a laugh. Coughing to cover this, she clears her throat. "It was just the pressure wave, or whatever that was. I can get a new stove fitted--" she gives Mikilos a wry look. "If you keep offering to fix my building, I'm going to suspect you're up to something more than just currying favors for gunpowder."

Glancing at Benthus, she pauses... then clears her throat more delicately. "Mister Benthus, men are weak; my beer is strong. If they need to drink it, I won't refuse them, and you shouldn't be hard on them for doing it when so many died."

"A few shared beverages with share tales is one way that many honor fallen allies," Verna speaks up as she nears the pub, "and the city has mandated time for mourning and honoring those who journeyed on."

Benthus says, "Drowning your sorrows with spirited drinks doesn't make your troubles go away."

Mikilos frowns mildly. "Myrana, I -like- fixing things. It's something I enjoy, and am good at. And if it helps others as well, so much the better." Glancing to Benthus, he shrugs. "Utterly depends upon your troubles. If your trouble is your sorrows are in need of drowning, is just the thing. Very difficult to drown sorrows in milk."

Rhodes shrugs at the dwarf, not necessarily objecting. "I just didn't realize that things were still open even when everyone else was nearly hiding in their homes from the dangers of the past few days. But with the danger passed, some people have wanted to try and get life back to normal again, and can't blame them. But there are those who still mourn, those that weep for the ones they lost."

"If you say so," says Myrana to Mikilos, but its clear she didn't really suspect him of anything terribly shiesty. Perhaps (to her) bizzarre and unguessable, but that's wizards for you. "I have been cooking-- plenty of people with no kitchens of their own in the slums. Actually I've got some supplies here," she pats one of the bulging saddlebags that hangs off of the broomstick. It sways heavily and the broom drifts a few inches to the right, though it doesn't seem to perturb her and she sticks her bare hand back up into the other sleeve with a shudder.

Verna slows as she nears the others, Benthus' response drawing her focus. "Not every one who drinks is a drunkard, any more than any one with a weapon is a murderer," she notes before turning her eyes to everyone else. "I both mourn and would greatly appreciate strong drink."

The Dwarf chuckles a little bit. "Lad, There can be a time for mourning, if that be yer job, or you can celebrate their life and send them to the lady in style!" He then raises his tankard. "I prefer to drink their ale for them. They'll 'ave plenty of it in the afterlife. If they be a close friend, then I'll pour one out fer them." He then looks to Mikilos and Myrana. "As tall as you are, elf, I'm surprised you can FIT anywhere to fix anything." He then looks at the one with the broom. "Maybe you shouldn't use gunpowder to light fires." he then thinks. "How big of a stove you be using?" But it's Verna that draws his attention again! "Ah! Now there be someone sensibELLLLLLLCH!" He then blushes. "Excuse me."

Benthus nods to Verna, "That is true, Ma'am. But the context by which I seem to get from the discussion is that people are drinking themselves to stupor. And that certainly is not healthy."

Mikilos nods to Benthus. "Too much of anything is... well, too much. Be it drink or otherwise." He frowns mildly at Myrana. "...you really don't deal well with the winter, do you?"

Rhodes gives a nod to Verna, "Indeed, there are times when drinking is appropriate. I've just been charged with making sure I get these supplies back to the temple, then I might join in on some drinking when I am off duty," He smiles a bit.

Benthus shrugs, "I just think that there are better ways for someone to deal with their sadness than seeing the bottom of a bottle. Like being around friends and family."

Argos says, "Bah! You don't hang around Dwarves that much! if yer not drinkin' you're not havin' fun! Or dat's what me pap told me when I were little. If a member of our family passed away, we held a celebration in his honor, and a feast! That way he be sent to the lady in high spirits!" he then snorts. "Woops.""

Verna dips her head to the dwarf in acknowledgement, presumably of the comment, not the venting of gas. She then returns Rhodes' nod. "You should take the opportunity to celebrate life, in whatever fashion you desire. All should," she adds, more generally to all. "Is there a pub near that is comfortable" Verna asks this of Myrana, who appears to know of at least one establishment, heated or otherwise.

Benthus says, "There are several. But I think there is only one establishment that Lady Myrana is goin to advertise. And that would be the Ox strength tavern.""

"Mine isn't at all comfortable right now," says Myrana with a wry smile, shivvering on her broom, even bundled up as she is. "But tonight there'll be lentil stew at the Ox Strength, and I'll have my mulled apple scumble for folks at the docks." She brushes the hair from her face with numb fingers and shakes her head a little. "I used to be just fine with it. During the war, even. But now--" She shrugs. "I can handle the heat a great deal better though, so its just one of those weird things. Oh, the stove?" She considers, looking at Argos. "It's oh... about a three gallon pot belly stove. Burns coal or wood. Or did anyhow."

Myrana clears her throat and has the decency to look a little embarrassed at Benthus' accuracy.

Benthus knows and understands a thing or two about commerce.

Benthus dips his head to Myrana in a wordless gesture of you're welcome.

Mikilos mmmms thoughfully. Planning. "Well, it -is- the best bar in the city." He might be bias. Frowning again, he turns focus back to Myrana. "Are you remembering to wear warm shoes? Warm shoes make for a warm body, you know. Far too many slosh around on cold cobbles, then wonder why they're chilled."

Benthus shifts his thoughts on the coming winter and of the poor people who may no longer have the means to keep their homes warm.

Benthus sighs as he says, "Well, one good thing about alcohol is that it keeps you warm."

Mikilos mmms. "Fallicy. Alcohol thins the blood. You feel warmer, but actually freeze faster." Know-it-all-wizards, can't take them anywhere.

Rhodes smiles at Verna and nods, "Just doing a job for the temple. I am almost done here. Perhaps if you decide on an establishment to go to, I will return once I have taken things back to the temple and join all of you, in a celebration to those who gave their lives in defense of this grand city."

Myrana laughs. "I had this poor man nearly freeze to death after he took off his britches and we had to chase him out of the bar with brooms and sticks to prevent mass hysteria. He returned later sobered up and very apolog-- er." She realizes that these things are coming out of her mouth and coughs. "That is to say, we were glad to return his clothes with a minimum of fuss." She looks at her shoes.

Verna nods to Myrana. "I will visit when it is heated. It seems an interesting establishment to visit." She then notes, to no one in particular, while glancing around, "It is also a poison, and its effects easily remedied by alchemicals or magic." Verna carries one wherever she goes. She then spots the nearby Fernwood and gestures. "For now, this seems sufficient, and convenient. If any wish to join me, I would not object to living company. It would be a welcome reprieve." She then begins walking that way.

Mikilos looks at Myrana's shoes as well, since she didn't answer his question. He has lots of unanswered questions, but this one is easy enough to see an answer for.

Argos laughs heartily at Myrana. "Bah. If he felt he had to take his drawers, you should let him. If everyone's pointing and laughing at him afterwards, well that's his fault, innit?" He then shrugs a bit. "I think I could help you with yer stove ma'am. Dunno if a clockwork stove would work for a long time, but getting it to work should be a blast." He then laughs heartily and loudly at the last word.

Benthus quirks a brow, looks to the distant clouds and sighs, shaking his head and muttering silently to himself.

Myrana looks anxiously at Argos at that, laughing a little nervously. There is a dwarf cracking up about explosions. If it were a gnome everyone knows know how to react properly (rapidly increased distance). But Argos is, manifestly, way hairier than any gnome commonly seen in Alexandria. So she clears her throat diplomatically and says; "I would be most obliged; maybe you and mister Mithralla might consult one another on how to fix it? My feet are just fine!" She adds, giving Mithralla a look. "If you don't stop fussing over me I'll show up on your roof in the middle of the night and pour weasels down your chimney!"

Mikilos blinks innocently. "...I don't have a chimney." Because that's the issue here.

Benthus has a surprised expression on his face when Myrana talked about weasels and brings a finger up to get her attention and then slowly draws it back, his expression changing to something that says 'oh well'.

Argos looks up towards Mikilos and snorts at him. "Yer a chimney yerself, Elf. Of course, I don't think you know how to GET warm. Ever held up a flag, Elf? You look like a flagpole."

Verna has left.

Myrana's blue eyes narrow with the sort of evil-sorceress malignancy that Certain Gnomes Named Abrahil have waxed on about in regards to one of the latest popular dramas to hit the theatre district (Terrible Sorceress Alemedri's Various Villainous Voyages! part 1), and she says: "Well that's very inconvenient of you."

Myrana says, "He is tall. I think they do it on purpose."

Argos snerks. "Shoot 'im on da foot as he's as tall as the rest of us." He then pokes Benthus. "Cheer up, lad. Bein' sad all da time isn't worth it. Have fun and laugh every now and then...."

Myrana shifts, hitching one knee up over the other with a flash of skirts and a frozen grumbled 'bbbrrrrrh' where she sits atop the low-floating broom. Getting tired of having her freezing hands shoved into either sleeve opening of her coat, she sticks her arms out for a moment and flexes her fingers before crossing her arms and letting out a puff of clouded breath. Mikilos has been asking her if she has warm socks and offering to fix her stove along with Argos. Benthus is musing on ways to help the people affected by the recent exorcism. Rhodes and Verna had been speaking about getting a drink to toast the fallen. The Ox's heating stove was damaged by the blast at the docks.

Benthus looks at the dwarf pointedly. He just looks at him. He grimaces, biting down on his lower lip and draws a finger up in a warning gesture. He looks like he s about to say something, thoughts it over and exhales impotently. He then rolls his eyes and raises both his hands, shaking his head in frustration.

Mikilos snorts at the dwarf, but smiles. "I'll keep warm the same way I do most things. With magic. Fireball is a very useful spell, you know."

Argos laughs at Mikilos. "yeah. I can see it now. 'BOOOOOOM! WOOOOOOHAHAAAAHOOOOOOIIIIIEEEEEEE!' And you flying through the air, charred because of the explosion. yeah, keep REAL warm, elf."

Myrana laughs, rubbing her face with her hands.

Rhodes has left.

Myrana says, "I-- hehehe-- ahem."

Mikilos blinks innocently. "I said warm. 'Safe' is an entirely diffrent matter."

"Honestly, I'm glad fire has never been something I seem to have an affinity for," says Myrana, blowing on her hands. "Lightning is difficult enough as it is. I keep burning through coat after coat. The sleeves just start crumbling up." She sniffs archly. "And I've never started a fire on accident."

Myrana seems unusually proud of this,.

Which really just means she's /very nearly/ set fire to many many things.

Mikilos hehs, and gather his things. "I've worked with lightning a little, and agree it can be difficult. But for now, I really should be going. I'll stop by the OX later, and see what I can do to assist."