We Solemn Few

Chapter Eleven : The City of Oddities

Zenrin's eyes went wide as he stepped down a staircase of time weathered oak, the size of the common room unlike that he had seen. At least twice the size of the inn in Kluseth, many seats were occupied despite the hour, some conversing whilst others drank in silence, a good couple rolling dice or playing cards with varying piles of coin before them, seeming to have little care whether they won or lost. Even with all the hubbub he could still make out a layer of music that permeated it all, a small group of individuals situated on a barely raised platform in a corner playing melodies that had drunkards and sobered folk singing together. He did not recognize half the songs, and the ones he did were not sung with the same words he knew.

Part of him wanted to sink into the near-chaos of the establishment. To seat himself amongst a table of gamblers, or perhaps join those nearer to the music while chanting tunes such as the current one, which was supposedly called "The March of Dragon's Tooth." Just the say, though, was the urge to get as far away as possible. In a room so crowded he felt small, almost miniscule amongst a gathering whose size was nearly never seen in Kluseth. Scorn me, but less people were present for the Rites of the Oaks! So many people.

Instinctually, he ran his hand along the cold, odd surface of the orb-shaped object within his coat pocket. He was as sure as day that the shape was large enough to leave an outward impression upon the fabric, yet there was no such impression. No such suggestion an object of its size was in his possession in any sense. Another oddity, great. He shook his head. He did not want to think about it, not if he could get away with it for a brief time. Still, even as he headed for the exit, he couldn't help but run his gaze along the patrons. Many bore different dull colors of leathers or wools, with a woman or two wearing fine silks, though most seemed to be in the midst of their own conversations. What caught his eye, though, was the man who strummed the music. With eyes like sky and skin as pale as a cloud, he seemed to nearly be of the sky itself. So many oddities. He pushed through the inn's door.

His jaw nearly dropped when he exited the inn; the roads beneath his shoes were stone, though darker and smoother, and the streets were hardly empty. The roads wound off in many directions like an odd web, and alongside many were various carts or stands set up, many bearing boisterous signs and colorful paints to stand out amongst one another, the colors rolling through one another to create a beautiful trimming of sorts towards the roads bustle. People of all manners walked around and through one another, weaving together with an odd grace, purchases being made whilst other vendors called out with samples or proclamations of their product. Even as he began walking, he could help but peer towards one or another.

Some bore finer, larger carts than others, with more polished paneling and a scarce few even being lacquered. Ribbons waved in the wind above, and large banners hung from the top of their card whilst others stood on independent poles. Men and women alike bargained just as they sold. He did his best to maneuver through it all, though his shoulder bumped into another more often than another, and more than once was he cursed at, once even in a language that flowed rather elegantly, so much so that he didn't quite realize he had been cursed at. It was an effort not to stare when he realized his ears were much more sharply pointed than Veyha's. An elf! He kept forward.

Nearly halfway down a curving road - it was hardly much of a walk to that point, but the exhaustion of moving through the natural bustle made it quite a hassle - he was rather surprised to hear an odd voice calling. He stared around, curiously, almost beginning to head forth when the voice repeated itself. "You, boy with the white shock! C'mere!"

If curiosity alone hadn't let his attention be swayed, the odd accent the man spoke with did. Pushing through the people once more - he nearly tripped a woman wearing heels taller than he had ever seen, caught her, and profusely apologized - he made his way to a grassy patch alongside the rode of flowing stone, his eyes widening slightly as he took in the colors the man bore. A bright smile sat comfortably upon a face weathered slightly by time, graying hair nicely combed back to bear his ears, both of which were pierced! Hanging from each was a duo of interlinked rings, silver then gold, and a small silver necklace hung from his neck, hidden halfway under his dark vest. He seemed rather eager for some reason or another.