Citadel Courtyard, Sultros
Kalea Region, 493 AV
The Sultros Courtyard Marketplace was always a busy place. It was where all the kingdom's local merchants, craftsmen and buskers converged in the name of commerce and free enterprise. Carts, wagons, stalls and tents made for a jungle of hawkers, vendors, shoppers and beggars. The hustle and bustle of any major metropolitan environment was enough to drive the unacquainted mad, but all the more so here in Sultros - where not only the locals but even the non-Isurian outlanders from distant lands came to buy, sell or barter their wares.
It would be here that a 20 year old Makaan would meet someone who would forever change her destiny.
The young one had been left alone to wander by her father, who went about indulging himself in the outlanders' wares and trades. The Hammer was everywhere, and it was relatively safe foe Isurians to go for strolls/walks. Family oriented as the society was, there was a great due respect between the Isur. An outlander who'd try to make away with an Isur probably wouldn't get that far either, at least not without getting a good "nudge", to put it very lightly, from the Citadel Hammer.
By now Makaan had been staring at an Isur carpenter working with a few wooden planks and a trusty mallet for a few minutes. At some point the husky craftsman stopped to give the young girl a smile before continuing, although Makaan didn't really notice. She was fascinated by how much softer wood was than metal ore or stone, that a nail, when hammered a few times would go right through it. The carpenter was putting together a small wooden cradle for a baby, and she looked on quietly - watching how he made the legs by just molding them into the right shape and density with his hands, and nailed them to the cradle itself by just gently striking with the mallet about two or three times.
Unconsciously she also clenched her fists and relaxed them as she looked on, as if instincts compelled her to imitate what almost felt natural. Her muscles tensed up and loosened in coordination with what she saw, like odd unconditioned reflexes to external sensations. By the time the carpenter was just adding the finishing touches and polishing his product, Makaan had already lost interest and moved on, looking for something else to watch.
She passed a few vendors, and even her dad as he tried to haggle with an Inarta for a bird cage before she stumbled into one of the strangest-looking bunch of people she had ever set her eyes on.
In front of her now was a stall run by these odd people wrapped in swaddling clothes adorned with precious rocks and shells. Yet under their hoods, she could see those aquamarine eyes of theirs. Like little drops of water, they glowed with the pristine beauty of Lake Sultros.
An old lady stood by a medium-sized cauldron that was piping hot and smelled of garlic and lentils. Every now and then scruffy looking characters would come around and, for a few silver mizas, they'd get a bowl of the stuff. Makaan was way too short to try and check out the contents, but from the smell she could tell it was good. She could feel the insides of her mouth begin to water with the scent, and her eyes took in the bright and colorful fabrics that decorated the stall.
"That's my mom", said a young voice behind her, in common Mizarian that had a very odd accent and slur to it. Makaan turned around to see a boy no taller than she was, and probably about the same age (in human equivalent that is, making him about ten years old). His skin was a golden tan, his nose sharp and his eyes of the same crystalline blue as his mother. His clothes wrapped around him like a blanket, and he wore sandals that looked like they were done by a blind amateur craftsman, at least by Isurian standards.
"What are you?", Makaan asked innocently and with a frown of curiosity on her face. Her common-speak was just as rough.
"My name is Havid. I'm from Yahebah." The names were sounding very odd and alien to her. "We came here from Eyktol yesterday."
"You don't look Isur. You arm isn't like mine", Makaan replied as she pulled her purple arm out.
"I am not Isur", Havid said in turn. "I'm Benshira. We speak Shiber."
"What's that?"
"We're the Sand People. Children of Yahal the Almighty."
"Is Yahal a deity? My elders say Izurdin is the Almighty."
Havid smiled. "As we say in Yahebah, to you your god, and to us ours. So your god gives your people your arms?" At his saying this Makaan proudly showed her first Gnosis mark. "It's because he loves us", she replied as she tucked it back under her robes.
"Yahal grants strength and focus to his people. Some of OUR elders say that his best followers have the strength of five men!" Makaan was taken aback by this. Five men? She couldn't even begin to understand how strong her grandfather was, what more that five times over? That was unimaginable.
"My name is Makaan."
Havid nodded. "Are you hungry, Makaan?"
"I....."
"Come! I'll get my mother to give you something!", the Benshira youth exclaimed as he grabbed her by her right hand and dragged her to the stall.
"But I..!"
Her protests went silent after a few minutes however, at least after Havid's mother graced the young Isur with some of her chowder. It was sour but spicy, like a curry except the Benshira's were thicker and has a stronger punch to them. "May Yahal bless you, child", the lady said with a smile as she watched the young Makaan drink from the bowl quietly. Then turning to her son she went "You've found a beautiful little Isur girl, Havid!" (In Shiber)
It wasn't long before her dad came looking for her and simply gave the Benshira family a nod as he took her hand and pulled her away. Havid and his mother smiled with the cordiality that was proper, but as all Isur her dad was a little awkward with outlanders and didn't really have anything to say.
"Those were Benshira folk", her father said with a chuckle as they walked back into and disappeared in the underground. "Did they tell you anything interesting?"
"Not really, papa. But their soup was good." Her father simply laughed. |
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by Makaan on August 1st, 2013, 5:01 am 
