Member
teenangstlife
Obscene Symphony
Inertia
Supermaxx
Lyla
Lugubrious
mickilennial
Bartimaeus
Vec
LemonsThose that she saw, clad in armour and more impressive necklaces, seemed to be similar to her. Though, facts ended quickly after "wore the same necklace". She could only make random guesses that soothed her mind. Perhaps they too, had to endure the brusque words of the man behind the desk. Perhaps they managed to ask questions that made the brusque man act a little less rude. Though, it was meaningless to ponder such a thing.
A short glance to the alley let her witness the poor and downtrodden wasting away in their dark confines. Though, Ash quickly looked away from them and continued on. It sucked that they were in that state, but Ash was cold and uncaring to their plight.
With food on her mind, Ash waltz around the stalls. Each item seemed appealing to her. A bowl of noodles with any addition would be a hearty meal, but that would force her to stay to eat. While they certainty looked appealing, she couldn't afford to stay and do nothing but eat for too long. What did look appealing, however, were the kebabs. With a kebab, she could move around the festival and learn more about what was going on.
"Hello," she said as she walked up to the kebab vendor, "how much for one?"
The balding man fanned the flames with a leaf stiffened over a rudimentary wooden frame, looking up only once the androgynous otherworlder spoke up. He narrowed his one good eye for a moment, before turning back to fanning the fires that kept his oil hot.
“One silver,” came the curt response.
One silver seemed like a bit much for Ash. It was only a guess that she could make, but if the man at the desk had given her a total of ten silver to survive and adapt to Andeave, then she could only afford ten kebabs with her endowment. If she was to hunt monsters, she would need equipment. Unless she was expected to use a discarded branch or her meek, uncalloused hands as a weapon, that would mean that she would have to buy—or otherwise acquire—equipment. Equipment would, unless Altera had dire famines and great mines, be more expensive than a basic necessity. For the time being, she would just need to push for more information from the balding man.
“Why one silver? Seems rather expensive for something as simple to make as a kebab,” Ash asked, her words tinged with the slightest bit of venom.
While she spoke with confidence, she had absolutely zero knowledge on the finer points of kebab-making. For all she knew, making stick meat could have been the most difficult activity in the world. The rudimentary frame, however, made her think that making them was very forgiving. After all, it didn’t seem to require any precision.
The one eyed man turned up in her direction again, giving her a stink eye.
He didn’t give her any answer so Ash, realizing that her time would be wasted by this man, made an about-face. While she was hungry, there was no shortage of vendors. Even though she was starved, perhaps the next vendor down the road would be more interested in speaking.
Though, a brief thought flickered. What if it was one silver for a meal? She wouldn’t put it past the man at the desk to give them a paltry sum.
She began to walk to the next stall. Perhaps if she acted a bit more friendly?
The next stall she came across featured a dark-skinned woman who was carefully rotating a cute little pig over a fire. Every few seconds, oil dripping from the baby’s white flesh would fall into the flames, causing it to crackle and spit, but if the sparks bothered her, the woman didn’t show it. On the side of her stall were the prices: a whole hog for a silver, and then various increments of coppers for choice cuts.
Ash’s choice had paid off. This vendor seemed to be a much better person than the last. Her prices were on the stall and seemed reasonable, at least compared to Mr. One-Silver-Kebab. She read the menu, looking for the most affordable cut of meat. Though, her hunger got in the way. Rather than choose the tiny slice of ham for 3 copper, she chose a rather large slice of loin at 10 copper.
“Ah, ma’am,” she said in a polite tone, “could you convert a… silver coin?”
In all honesty, Ash had no idea how much a silver coin was compared to a copper coin. It just was safe to assume it was less.
Looking up from her roast, the stall owner tilted her head to the side slightly, dark curls spilling over her shoulders. Then, a spark of realization, before she nodded. “Sure thing, honey.”
And, heralded by the clinking and clanking of many coins jingling together, a pile of one hundred copper coins found itself presented before Ash, an amount great enough to attract a few snickers from others trawling for midnight snacks.
It only made sense for one silver coin to be worth a hundred copper coins. She asked for this. She would accept her fate. Out from her pouch, she took a single silver coin and placed it on the table, close to the stall owner. Then, she carefully separated the piles. Her finger slowly pushed ten copper coins back towards the stall owner and adjacent to the silver coin.
She then began to fill every pocket on her with coins. She grabbed a handful of coins, about 20, and placed them in her pouch. Then, she grabbed a handful of about 15 and shoved them into her left sock. She did the same for her right. She placed around 20 more in her left pant pocket, it luckily being large enough to hold the coins flat without bulging too much. The same for her right—filled with just enough coins. While she would have—and should have—used her undergarments as storage, the looks of strangers prevented her from shoving twenty coins into her skivvies. Luckily, her jacket had an extra pocket on the left breast. She placed the remaining twenty coins in it and looked directly at the stall owner. Her eyes were not of malice or embarrassment. In fact, this was possibly the strongest Ash had ever been. She was resolute and pure. While one would think she made a newbie mistake, she had the confidence of Hercules.
“Could I please get a large slice of loin?”
As Ash suited herself up with coins weighing down on every conceivable part of her body, a few more snickers resounded, but the stall owner herself seemed unbothered. “Smart moves till you get cut,” she said, twirling a thick butcher knife around. WIth a few quick cuts, she carved into one of the pigs in the back, passing the hunk of meat over the flames to warm it up a bit, before pulling out a sheet of oiled paper and handing it over.
“Here ya go, freshie. Best find a place for all those coins.”
Now in the possession of 99 coins and a slab of pork, Ash asked the woman one last question.
”Would there be a good place to deposit coins around here?”
A straight-faced reply shot out. “My stall.”
Ash was surprised by this statement. With such a straight-face the woman was making, she couldn’t exactly be sure if her stall was actually a place to deposit money. Of course, she could have just been joking to encourage more sales, but the possibility always remained.
”So, your stall is also a bank?” She said in actual confusion.
“No, that’s a joke. Bank’s closed at this hour, so you’ll just have to tough it out.”
”Ah, well, thank you anyways ma’am. You’ve been a great help to me and my,” Ash said, quickly glancing down, “my stomach.”
And with that, she left. Perhaps she should have got some food for Matteo and the others. Though, they weren’t exactly friends. They had to get their own food.
For now, Ash would try to reconvene with the others. She took a ravenous bite out of her pork. With a jingle and a jangle coming from her feet, she decided to go back the way she came. Her contemporaries couldn’t have got that far away, right? She wanted to get back to them rather quickly. After all, holding 30 coins in one’s sock wasn’t exactly a pleasant endeavor.
A short glance to the alley let her witness the poor and downtrodden wasting away in their dark confines. Though, Ash quickly looked away from them and continued on. It sucked that they were in that state, but Ash was cold and uncaring to their plight.
With food on her mind, Ash waltz around the stalls. Each item seemed appealing to her. A bowl of noodles with any addition would be a hearty meal, but that would force her to stay to eat. While they certainty looked appealing, she couldn't afford to stay and do nothing but eat for too long. What did look appealing, however, were the kebabs. With a kebab, she could move around the festival and learn more about what was going on.
"Hello," she said as she walked up to the kebab vendor, "how much for one?"
The balding man fanned the flames with a leaf stiffened over a rudimentary wooden frame, looking up only once the androgynous otherworlder spoke up. He narrowed his one good eye for a moment, before turning back to fanning the fires that kept his oil hot.
“One silver,” came the curt response.
One silver seemed like a bit much for Ash. It was only a guess that she could make, but if the man at the desk had given her a total of ten silver to survive and adapt to Andeave, then she could only afford ten kebabs with her endowment. If she was to hunt monsters, she would need equipment. Unless she was expected to use a discarded branch or her meek, uncalloused hands as a weapon, that would mean that she would have to buy—or otherwise acquire—equipment. Equipment would, unless Altera had dire famines and great mines, be more expensive than a basic necessity. For the time being, she would just need to push for more information from the balding man.
“Why one silver? Seems rather expensive for something as simple to make as a kebab,” Ash asked, her words tinged with the slightest bit of venom.
While she spoke with confidence, she had absolutely zero knowledge on the finer points of kebab-making. For all she knew, making stick meat could have been the most difficult activity in the world. The rudimentary frame, however, made her think that making them was very forgiving. After all, it didn’t seem to require any precision.
The one eyed man turned up in her direction again, giving her a stink eye.
He didn’t give her any answer so Ash, realizing that her time would be wasted by this man, made an about-face. While she was hungry, there was no shortage of vendors. Even though she was starved, perhaps the next vendor down the road would be more interested in speaking.
Though, a brief thought flickered. What if it was one silver for a meal? She wouldn’t put it past the man at the desk to give them a paltry sum.
She began to walk to the next stall. Perhaps if she acted a bit more friendly?
The next stall she came across featured a dark-skinned woman who was carefully rotating a cute little pig over a fire. Every few seconds, oil dripping from the baby’s white flesh would fall into the flames, causing it to crackle and spit, but if the sparks bothered her, the woman didn’t show it. On the side of her stall were the prices: a whole hog for a silver, and then various increments of coppers for choice cuts.
Ash’s choice had paid off. This vendor seemed to be a much better person than the last. Her prices were on the stall and seemed reasonable, at least compared to Mr. One-Silver-Kebab. She read the menu, looking for the most affordable cut of meat. Though, her hunger got in the way. Rather than choose the tiny slice of ham for 3 copper, she chose a rather large slice of loin at 10 copper.
“Ah, ma’am,” she said in a polite tone, “could you convert a… silver coin?”
In all honesty, Ash had no idea how much a silver coin was compared to a copper coin. It just was safe to assume it was less.
Looking up from her roast, the stall owner tilted her head to the side slightly, dark curls spilling over her shoulders. Then, a spark of realization, before she nodded. “Sure thing, honey.”
And, heralded by the clinking and clanking of many coins jingling together, a pile of one hundred copper coins found itself presented before Ash, an amount great enough to attract a few snickers from others trawling for midnight snacks.
It only made sense for one silver coin to be worth a hundred copper coins. She asked for this. She would accept her fate. Out from her pouch, she took a single silver coin and placed it on the table, close to the stall owner. Then, she carefully separated the piles. Her finger slowly pushed ten copper coins back towards the stall owner and adjacent to the silver coin.
She then began to fill every pocket on her with coins. She grabbed a handful of coins, about 20, and placed them in her pouch. Then, she grabbed a handful of about 15 and shoved them into her left sock. She did the same for her right. She placed around 20 more in her left pant pocket, it luckily being large enough to hold the coins flat without bulging too much. The same for her right—filled with just enough coins. While she would have—and should have—used her undergarments as storage, the looks of strangers prevented her from shoving twenty coins into her skivvies. Luckily, her jacket had an extra pocket on the left breast. She placed the remaining twenty coins in it and looked directly at the stall owner. Her eyes were not of malice or embarrassment. In fact, this was possibly the strongest Ash had ever been. She was resolute and pure. While one would think she made a newbie mistake, she had the confidence of Hercules.
“Could I please get a large slice of loin?”
As Ash suited herself up with coins weighing down on every conceivable part of her body, a few more snickers resounded, but the stall owner herself seemed unbothered. “Smart moves till you get cut,” she said, twirling a thick butcher knife around. WIth a few quick cuts, she carved into one of the pigs in the back, passing the hunk of meat over the flames to warm it up a bit, before pulling out a sheet of oiled paper and handing it over.
“Here ya go, freshie. Best find a place for all those coins.”
Now in the possession of 99 coins and a slab of pork, Ash asked the woman one last question.
”Would there be a good place to deposit coins around here?”
A straight-faced reply shot out. “My stall.”
Ash was surprised by this statement. With such a straight-face the woman was making, she couldn’t exactly be sure if her stall was actually a place to deposit money. Of course, she could have just been joking to encourage more sales, but the possibility always remained.
”So, your stall is also a bank?” She said in actual confusion.
“No, that’s a joke. Bank’s closed at this hour, so you’ll just have to tough it out.”
”Ah, well, thank you anyways ma’am. You’ve been a great help to me and my,” Ash said, quickly glancing down, “my stomach.”
And with that, she left. Perhaps she should have got some food for Matteo and the others. Though, they weren’t exactly friends. They had to get their own food.
For now, Ash would try to reconvene with the others. She took a ravenous bite out of her pork. With a jingle and a jangle coming from her feet, she decided to go back the way she came. Her contemporaries couldn’t have got that far away, right? She wanted to get back to them rather quickly. After all, holding 30 coins in one’s sock wasn’t exactly a pleasant endeavor.
