Market Mayhem

{if Icarus dates == 1}"Shopping at the market sounds fun, let's do that." "Very well, allow me to don my armor." "You wear armor out and about in the town?" "A paladin needs to always be prepared to uphold their oath." You guess that that's that, then.{else}"Let's go to the market today." "Very well, allow me to don my armor." You sigh and shake your head, already knowing how the conversation will go if you choose to question it.{endif}

After ten minutes, Irina emerges in full plate mail, and the two of you walk towards the market. "I suppose market proximity is one advantage to living in the old town." "I have to wonder, aren't you ever concerned that someone's going to cook and book you?" She simply shrugs, "you just have to catch them and break their concentration." Fair enough, you suppose. Shortly, you two make your way to the market in the center of town: various shops line the central square, and within the square itself are various pop-up stalls selling arrays of assorted items; one stall near you is decorated with various spinning colorful ribbons, dangling in the wind; drawing your attention to the small wooden toys it sells. Yet another stall a bit further away sells various pastries, ranging from mango tarts to pineapple cakes, the smell of fresh-baked delicacies wafting its way to you from the oven a few feet behind said stall.

The two of you slowly peruse the various goods, basking in the atmosphere of the market and admiring the various wares, from dresses (albeit not very practical to adventure in) to various foods (from jerky to fish to pies) to all manner of assorted knick knacks and toys. In due time, the sun comes high over head and you two happen upon a stall selling freshly-seared chicken skewers, with chunks of chicken sandwiched between pieces of pineapple. Skewers in hand, you continue your way on your shopping date, once more soaking in the sights and sounds of the market square with Irina.

This continues until about half an hour later, you're shoved aside and nearly fall as a woman rushes past you — if it weren't for her welts, she would be rather attractive. A bit bewildered, you look around, and see about 100 feet away two burly men running towards both you and the girl, now about 20 feet from you. With mere moments to react, you can already see Irina's hand go for her sword.