Dubious Company

With the morning sun light filtering through the forest life is once again blown into the woodland market place. It is a crowded area where woodlanders and vermin alike come to buy and sell their goods. Beasts of all kinds, civilized and even tribal interact and socialize and barter. The smell of cooking meat is strong as is the scent of spices and perfumes.

Zeb has decided to set up a stand here, most of the time he is at Ferravale but he does come here once a week. He has many spices with him today as well as some sugar.

Ah, the market. Such a lively little spot in the lull of typical Mossflower activity. Of course the scattered forest villages and tribes throughout the woodland are often bustling as well, this place is special for bringing woodlanders and vermin together under the same stretched canvas, although the suspicious glances and jealous glares traded between the groups are not uncommon by any stretch of the imagination. One squirrel, dressed in a shirt and vest, carries a lute from stall to stall, caterwauling loudly. "I once knew a molemaid and her name was Nell.... She took me to her hole and my did it smellllll..."

Dylan cringes. At the risk of being accused of being a music hater the lizard scowls at the squirrel and his signing. It is much too early in the morning for people to be singing...or happy...or even awake. The beast gives a wide toothed yawn as he drinks down the remnants of his morning tea. It's hard to say what kind of lizard Dylan is, maybe even he doesn't know. Red scales with a scrawny yellow underbelly and wearing a wide brimmed hat.

The lizard can't believe he has sunk to this. Hiring himself out as a mercenary guard for the market. Against bandits. Well, the pay stinks but at least he isn't starving...

Zeb makes a face at the sound of the singing, well he doesn't call it singing at all but he stays quiet on the matter for now. He then speaks with a rat looking for some spices and the two work out a good price for what is bought.

"She told me that her pies were ever so sweet," the squirrel continues, strumming a few chords on his lute as he goes, wandering towards Zeb's stall, where he stops to serenade the marketgoers. "But when I did try it it caused me to weep!" Lute solo! His fingers move quickly on the fretboard, plucking out a quick tempo before launching back into the song. "Ohhhh OHHH the molemaid, the molemaid! The pie of the dusty molemaid!"

And that's about all the 'cultured' music Dylan can stand for one day, especially after a night filled with heavy drinking. "Careful with that lute boy, I am have tempted to kick you out for using it as a deadly weapon against my ears." The lizard strides over slowly. One paw resting on his hip the lizard peers out with blood shot eyes at the squirrel over the rim of his earthen mug of tea. "Can't you find somewhere else to mistral? Say the other side of mossflower?"

Zeb chuckles at the lizard's statement, the rat that was getting spices glares at the squirrel, but only walks off instead of stabing him as he rather not find trouble this morning. The spice merchant goes back to selling his spices, but does half listen to see what might happen.

"Good sir, if you have a request, it's customary to tip," Aidan replies with a glib grin. "Otherwise, my adoring public must be appeased! You can no less silence the minstrel's tongue than thou canst stop the artist's brush!" His speech takes on an almost mockingly formal cadence, dark eyes sparkling at his mummer's farce. Soft picking on the lute provide an apt atmospheric aural aura for his apropro articulation.

The lizard seems to groan. So this is what Dylan sounds like after he has had his morning coffee? It's actually been a while since the lizard had reason to be as chipper as this squirrel, and that only makes him angrier. It's as if each tug on the string, how ever soft is like atmospheric claws against a chalkboard. Briefly Dylan wonders if he has enough money left in his wallet after drinking last night to pay the bard to be quiet.

In the end the lizard decides to grunt and bear it, knowing full well that given enough time, anyone will give one ample reason to ram a sword into their gut. "I AM your public, and I'm adoring a moment of silence." The lizard remembers why he came this way in the first place, "You, Rat. Tea leaves? Did you have any?" The lizard says while tapping on his cup.

Zeb nods "I do carry tea as well, Mint..Green..White tea and Black tea. Whats your choice sir?"

"Just a mere penny, then, good sir, and your wish is my command." The squirrel, Aidan, of course, continues to pluck away. At the same time, he sidles closer to the stall, running a glance over the rat's wares from the corner of his eye.

Chud walks into the stall area; he's been here a few times before and he has a few coins to spend. The young otter looks around. Nice day out, he thinks to himself.

"Cheap tea." The lizard replies again. Passing a glance over the spice merchant's wares the lizard pats at his rather deflated coin purse. You would think merchants would pay better for their guards, but as Dylan's pappy used to say 'there were business beasts and then there were beasts in business.' And merchants knew how to stay in business, and that meant buying supplies low, even if that supply was security.

As the squirrel get's closer the lizard actually considers paying off the squirrel again. He also considers taking out the hold out dagger in the hilt of his long sword and stabbing him in the face but, as Dylan slowly grows more awake he realizes that this would be a tad over zealous. "Fine." The lizard tosses the squirrel a single coin for his silence.

Chud watches the interaction disinterestedly, scanning the stalls still. No need to get involved with the squirrel and lizard. He also has some things he wants to sell in his belt pouch but he feels that it wouldn't be prudent to take 'em out now.

"Much obliged," Aidan replies with a mischievous wink, taking the coin and sliding it inside his vest, nimble fingers ferreting out a hidden pouch strapped inside the garment. His payment safe inside, he turns dramatically away from the stall and walks towards a different one, but not before discretely slipping a pouch of one of the finer teas out from under the merchant's nose.

To which Dylan totally notices. Such blatant thievery can not go unpunished! IF only there was a guard here to stop it! Well, there was, but what they needed was a better paid guard. Which Dylan wasn't. Assuming that arresting someone for such a small bag of tea is much more trouble than its worth the lizard turns the other direction and wonders off. There are customers to glare at, some of which might even be wealthy enough to slip him a bribe rather than face the wrath of what ever laws Dylan can make up...after another mug of Tea.

here is where I left. Thank you for the rp all!