Thundra walked through the crowd carefully, dodging playing children there, and ducking from things being moved here, while the trading scene was fun and charged with energy, it could also be dangerous. People with no faces lurked in the corners, barters with harmful ways of purswasion looking to buy something valuble for a cheap price sat waiting and looking for the perfect item to buy or sell.

Today Thundra was only in need of a magic carpet, she wanted to be able to fly when she was a human too, not just when she was in her thunderbird form. And she knew that if you wanted something special, this was the only place you could get it.

Thundra wore a sheer blue cloak that had stars engraved so that her face could be hidden from any unwanted lookers, but the stars and moon symbolizing her job as that intune with the stars and time.

A booth in the middle of it all had just what she needed, flying carpets, Thundra pushed through the crowd to get to it quickly. When she got there she noticed that some were rolled up and leaned against the walls of the both, some were hovering in mid-air, others on the floor.

The barter stood up from his desk and approached Thundra. "Well come m'lady of the stars. What can I do for you?" The barter looked to be arabian, tall, thin, but in his early 30's.

"I'm looking for a carpet, which one is for me?" She asked looking at all the beatifuly patterent carpets.

"The only way you will know is when I tell them to wake up, the one that comes alive for you is yours. And your such a pretty lady that I'm sure they all will. But I must say you must pay in advance." The man said adding a bite to his comment. How did thundra know thats how it really went.

Thundra sighed and handed over the gold coins. "Its yours."

The man looked pleased. He put his fingers to his mouth and let out a loud whistle. One carpet, a red, purple, blue and gold one perked up and flew over to her and arround her a few times before flying low as if for her to get on.

"The carpets yours." Said the barter.

Thundra smiled, the carpet was lovely, its fring sparkled gold, it had a blue back ground with purple and red patterns over it, the patter looked like it was made for royalty. She was about to get on when she heard another customer behind her, this made her stop and turn.

((Hi there. :arr: ))

There was something to be said for the way a smithy soothed one's soul and embraced one's spirit in order to lift it from the depths of despair. Sometimes monotony was a good thing. The heat of the forge filled the smithy's front room - one of two that existed within the small building deep in the very core of Onodolond's trading market (which comprised most of the mountain-bordering city) - as the coals glowed red, giving the dark room an odd light in places. The shifting shadows were parted by light only where the outside world peered in through the open door of the smithy and where the glowing forge burned away the darkness that was so familiar to the aging dwarf. But he was far from old. He still had many centuries of life and strength bound within his abundant muscles.

For nineteen years, Gautrif Valkendale had worked the smithy in Ondolond, one of six that produced various objects of equally varying values and uses throughout the trading post. His was by far the best, or so he'd been told by a number of regular customers over the years, and it was probably because the rest of the smiths in Ondolond were humans. Oh, he had nothing against people of other races; he just typically found human-wrought metal objects to be of inferior quality to that of dwarf-made weapons, armour, and so forth - and apparently, so he wasn't the only one of that opinion. All in all, he'd had very good business over the years.

For the last three years, though, Gautrif had also traded weapons, armour, helms, and other such things to a local merchant who sold magic carpets, scrying equipment, and other such magical objects. The thread he got in return was very valuable, or so he was told, and he usually traded that to a lady down the street in the direction opposite that which Gautrif walked to get the to magic carpet merchant. He got quite a decent supply of meat out of the deal. From his understanding, the old woman would then turn that thread into carpets that she would then sell to the merchant, who in turn sold it to his customers. He had no idea where the merchant got the thread or where the old woman got the food, but he didn't particularly care; it was a living, and a good living at that. It was good business.

"What'll it be today, Gautrif?" the merchant asked the dwarf as he approached him with a large, clinking sack over his bare right shoulder.

Gautrif wore no shirt, for the cold of the outdoors was a welcome relief from the heat of the forge that he worked all day (and often well into the night). His hair and beard blew in the wind that whistled through Ondolond constantly, but he hardly seemed to notice. He glanced at the woman on the carpet but said nothing as he walked past her and dropped heavily his burlap parcel. He stepped back to let the merchant open it up and check out the contents, as was his custom.

"All in good order, I see. Let me get that thread for you. Oh, would you mind - ?"

"Not at all," the dwarf replied.

He heaved up the burlap sack filled with hammers, helms, breastplates, gauntlets, leg armour, and other such things like it was only a minor annoyance and followed the merchant. He set it down again and took up a much smaller sack that held a great deal of thread. He inspected it very carefully to make sure it was all in good order. Then he straightened up and hoisted the bag over his shoulder as he had the other one, though with an obvious amount of ease compared to the first sack.

"Dorna will be happy to get this," the dwarf said to the merchant.

"I'll just bet she will," the merchant said with a smile.

((OOC: Mind if I join?))

Kling. Kling.

The faint sound of bells made its way down the street of Ondolond, coming from the center of a small crowd of people. At the center of the crowd, a young woman turned, the fabric of her skirt sailing about her as she completed her graceful pirouette. The bells tied to the edges of her skirt and to the fringes of her dancing costume rang each time she moved, filling the area around her with the sound of bells. Her small audience applauded as she executed another graceful movement, her brown hair cascading around her shoulders as she moved.

Amani closed her eyes, drowning out the sight of the audience around her as she immersed herself in the familiar movements. She danced to her own tune, moved to a rhythm that only she could hear. In her mind, she could still hear Karam's playing as she danced, and ten years from that day, she still moved to that silent beat. Silence...that seemed to have been her life as of late. Her friend's voice had been silenced forever because of her, and it had been her vow since then to never speak again...

With one final turn, she ended the dance, bowing gracefully towards her audience before straightening up and smiling at them. She watched as some of them moved forward to deposit coins inside the small container she had placed in front of her. She turned away from them for the moment, bending down to pick up her cloak and slipping the fabric over her costume. Her dancing costume was sewn by her best friend Malika, who insisted that Amani should show off what she had. She had been reluctant to wear it in the first place, but Malika had been insistent, and Amani eventually relented. She had to admit that it drew crowds easily, but it was less than what she would feel comfortable wearing for a day around the city. She had left the rest of her things at the inn though, so her cloak would have to do for now.

Once she had adjusted the cloak, she bent down towards the jar and picked it up. Amani peered inside, a smile on her face. She could see a lot of Ondolond's green tokens, as well as a lot of the silver coins that she didn't bother to identify yet. She could also make out a few of the gold coins from Estolad and Lomedor. She knew that dancing in Ondolond would be good for business. It looked like Malika wasn't kidding when she spoke about the city's wealth. Amani capped the jar, placing it inside the secret pocket Malika had sewn into her cloak. She began to make her way down the street, heading towards the inn. As she walked, she allowed herself to think about how pleased her friend would be to see the money she had collected. It was certainly a lot more than she could get from Angband, with less of the constant element of danger too.

In hindsight, she probably should have been looking where she was going. When she took another step, she felt herself bump into something...no, someone. The bells on her costume underneath her cloak all began tinkling at once, and a slight blush of embarrassment appeared on her face as she looked up at the person she had bumped into. It was a girl with brown hair and green eyes that looked like she was just about to get onto a magic carpet. Her cheeks darkened to a deeper red as she reached into the pocket of her cloak and pulled out paper and a quill. It was only after she had both in her hand when she realized she had not brought any ink. Her cheeks darkened to a deeper shade of red as she looked up at the girl, silently mouthing the word 'sorry'.

The bustling patrons of the city moved about through it like it was nothing. For most of them, Ondolond was nothing new. Probably sixty percent of the population of Odolond was made up of residents, the other forty percent being visitors. Almost all of that forty percent consisted of merchants, peddlers, gleemen, and customers of one kind or another. Whatever remained was unimportant, though guards and peasants seemed to be among them. By midday, the streets were packed and it was extremely noisy. In short, dwarfs weren't a typical site unless they were in town for trading.

Gautrif was an oddity. He lived and worked in the city. His smithy was just across the way and a few buildings down from where the stall he was presently at was situated. It had a small room in the back with a single bed, a chest, a three-drawer bureau, a large tub, and a washbasin that he used both for his hands and for his clothes. He lived a simple life; that's the way he liked things, after all: simple. He liked the sounds of dwarfs mining underground, but he was more suited to the forge than he was to mining because of his great strength.

Gautrif moved through the city's tightly packed crowds easily enough, though, pushing his way through and somehow managing to avoid being crushed by a cart here or an oversized man there. It wasn't long before he was at the old woman's place and was pounding on the door. She opened after a moment and smiled warmly when she saw the dwarf. Inviting him him, she stepped back to allow him to pass. He went over to her favorite chair and set the bag down beside it. He stepped back to allow her to examine the contents.

When she was satisfied, Gautrif waited for her to retreive the usual supply of meat. The old woman stored snow and ice in a couple of tubs she had in the back so that she could keep the meat longer. It was a novel idea, but it worked well enough and Gautrif most certainly couldn't complain about the quality of the meals.

Dorna herself was actually quite well off, though she wasn't a noble. She had been a merchant's wife in her younger days, but she was now a widow and lived by herself. She was aways happy to get visits from Gautrif and often jokingly remarked that she could have done well as a dwarf had she been a bit shorter. Indeed, the woman had lived a hard life that had built up a lot of muscle in her five-foot-seven frame. She was stocky and, though not exactly physically imposing, a very tough woman. This, of course, often deterred thieves. It didn't always, but most of the time it did and she handed the ones that got up the nerve to try to rob her with a crossbow and her dead husband's old poleaxe. Needless to say, Gautrif liked her style; she was quite amusing sometimes. Not much of a talker, but that only added to her charm in Gautrif's opinion. If he'd been human like she was, he might have married her; it certainly could have benefitted them both. Then again, who was to say that a human and a dwarf couldn't marry? But Gautrif saw her as a human friend, though, not as one he wanted to marry. When he married, it would be a dwarf; no ifs, ands, or buts about that at all.

After a few minutes, the old woman's surprising strength allowed her to drag out a small crate filled with meat. She made the crates from scrap wood and sold them to local merchants from whom she bought the scrap wood for cheap; it was a good business. Such was the way of many locals within Ondolond. Hell, they were probably all connected by business in some manner or another. It was only the outsiders in the town that made things interesting enough for people to comment on; for most - like Gautrif, though a dwarf living in the city (as mentioned before) was a rarity - it was just a way of life.

Gautrif inspected the meat. There were a lot of fat slabs of beef and a good number of pork chops, along with plenty of bacon - a month's worth, it would seem - and a small supply of spiced sausage. Gautrif had, of course, taken a hint from Dorna and dug a hole off to the side of his room. He had a trap door over it and refilled it on a regular basis with ice and snow. Thus, this meat would last for some time.

He thanked Dorna as he put the lid back on the crate. Then he picked it up and walked out, Dorna holding the door for him and closing it when he'd left. Once again, he made his slow way through the crowd and ended up back at the stall relatively quickly. It had been about twenty minutes, though, by the time he got back. He thus missed the little dance and the meeting of the two girls. He headed back to his own place to put the meat away.

His own little room was rather quiet despite the noise of the outside. He stored the meat well enough, spending the better part of ten minutes doing so, and then set the crate off to one side. He'd burn it later for firewood, something he did quite often; Dorna didn't mind as the crate was part of the purchase right along with the meat. Gautrif then headed back into the main room and got the forge going to start work once again. He'd already eaten, so now he was fully ready to start filling orders...