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[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJxSYTRxkiQ[/youtube][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjyROIFCzbo[/youtube]
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[i]A chorus of gulls and clattering pans greets you as you near the market stalls of Port Verge. The tang of salt and sizzling oil hits first—rich with rum, garlic, and something faintly… tentacled. Smoke curls from a dented iron pan where a broad-shouldered half-orc works her craft like a battlefield.[/i]

[b]Mara “Ironpan” Kelis[/b], her tusks flashing in a scarred grin, flips a pan full of squid and root vegetables without even glancing down. The skillet hisses in protest, earning a hearty slap from its owner.

[color=teal][i]“Eat first, argue later!”[/i][/color] she bellows, her rough voice cutting through the market din. Every other word seems punctuated by a clang as she smacks the skillet on the counter for emphasis.

Behind her, a crooked [b]chalkboard menu[/b] lists dishes: [i]Seafarer’s Breakfast, Kraken-Kissed Stew, Dockhand’s Delight[/i]—each with smudges of chalk dust and the faint outline of a price long since haggled down.

[i]You catch a whiff of black-rum sauce and toasted flatbread, and your stomach growls in betrayal. Mara eyes you with the practiced squint of someone who’s seen too many sailors bluff hunger for coin.[/i]

The sea breeze tangles her hair, but her grin never falters. You could swear the skillet hums in approval as she turns back to the stove, flame licking higher than it should.

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