Pearls Before Swine (open)

Out of Character:

Open, PM before joining for plot plz

Seahold was a small dwarven port cut into northern rocky cliffs. The docks were within a cavernous opening in the clifface, hidden from wind and storm. It had started as a place for ships to come and hide from certain death on the jagged rocks but soon turned into small market for traders to bring goods to the dwarven communities of the mountains.

The docks were crowned with walkways and ramps, small sheds and warehouses for rent at the peak of the rise. Beyond, the rocks opened up to the town, where the houses and neighborhoods were shoved away from the storefronts and inns that wreathed the open-air market. Tents were constantly going up and coming down as the day went by and merchants sailed in and out of the cramped harbor, stopping only hours on their way to bigger markets.

Chunky vegetables and a thick sauce were spooned over still-steaming fish, and Morgan's stomach growled loudly as she watched her lunch plate up. As she parted with her coin and held out her hands to take the dish, an angry roar split the peaceful buzz of conversation. Both she and the cook jumped, the grill sizzling as sauce splattered on the piping hot surface.

"What on earth?" the dwarven chef asked, puzzled and Morgan shrugged. More yelling punctuated the air and the sparse crowd grew silent around them. With her food, Morgan wandered closer to the commotion. Craning on her toes to see over the heads of a few bystanders, she finally caught a glimpse over a shoulder.

An orc was leaning down, leering into a halfling merchant's face. The short man's eyes were saucers, sweat breaking on his brow as a massive fist clenched his shirt, drawing the cloth tight around his shoulders.

"YOU TELL ME NOW!" the orc bellowed, spittle flying from his tusks.

"I...I...I'm trrryyyiiiing!" the halfling whined. He looked like he would burst into tears at any moment. "I'm just saying there's no single r..recipe! It can be just whatever you want!"

Morgan caught the eye of a dwarf who'd also been watching with interest, like her. "What's this all about?" she asked in a low voice.

"Well," the dwarf answered, "the orc wants to know how to make a salad. He didn't like being told to be creative."