Closed A Myrian and his bikka.

[Funestae Mortis]

Spring 6th - City of Ravok (Docks). Funestae approached the docks of Ravok, abandoning his stolen Water Glider at a hidden location outside the city's walls. Upon entering, he was positively at awe with the architecture of the city. It was his first time in any 'civilised' structure, and he mazed and the buildings, standing strong and beautiful, overlooking the winding system of long, calming canals. The dock itself was full of people, crowded round the many stalls and departing canal boats in the city. Feeling slightly uneasy making himself noticeable in this foreign town, he dismounted from his horse. He grasped the horse's reins tightly, and ensured that his valuables were out of sight and reach. The first stall Fuenstae approached was closed, the second selling armour. Wandering around, Fune seemed to notice the majority of citizens being human. 'Maybe just over a tenth are another race', he thought. Finally he found a stall selling the appropriates. It was a general purpose stall, selling many needed things but not specialising in anything in particular. Luckily for the Myrian the stall sold cloth and knives, the two things he needed most urgently. After he'd inquired the prices, he found himself paying the 5 Silver Mizas, 6 Copper Mizas for a small piece of cloth, a carving knife and a game knife. Moving on to the next stall, Fuenstae found himself before a decrepit old man. His hair was thin and white, and his beard, though much longer, the same texture. The debilitated human spoke quietly, "What can I get for you?" And although seemingly polite in nature, a strange hostility passed between them. The old man sold at his stall seasoning, and much needed seasoning at that. The seasons he provided were all individually priced. He worked out that he'd need exactly 1GM, 2SM and 6CM for 6oz of spices, including in them mint, parsley and juniper. He asked for the spices and extended his arm to drop the money on the counter. "Not enough", the man spoke. He hadn't even seen the amount the Myrian paid him. "But", started Funestae. "Not enough", replied the old man. Fune dropped another gold miza on the table infront of him. "Nearly there", the old man requested. By now Funestae was ready to eat him - despite his reasons not to. He ended up coughing up another gold miza, before being allowed to claim the spices. He scowled and left the stall - making a mental note to never again trust an old man. His journey wasn't over yet, he arrived finally at a stall low to the ground - where behind stood a short young man. He resembled a human in every way except for height in fact. Funestae discarded any discriminating thoughts about the man's size. He had his share of discrimination today. "Just some preservatives please, the small kit on your right if I may", with that the short man stretched up and got the preserving kit while Funestae fished around in his pocket for the 5 Gold Mizas. Upon handing the small person the money, he turned to place his acquired items into his saddlebags. He directed his horse to the front gates and mounted swiftly. Kicking the horse into action, he rode forward across the plains outside Ravok, and to the boat, where it laid untouched and stationary behind a large area of brush. He imagined the reaction of his accompaniment upon arrival back at the camp, and couldn't wait to tell his friends about the boat he'd found.