All your gold are belong to dwarf

[Eric Vonterkine]

In the crowded streets of the bazaar, a trio of dwarves moved like what they were: Intimidating, pint-sized alcoholics with a heritage as long as they were short. Nobody would ever describe them as such, however, for those with such a low intelligence quotient had been annihilated in spectacularly bloody manners. As the triplet of beards and clothing walked in a very action-esque manner through the street (hair blowing in the wind, slow-motion steps, perhaps a quick camera pan to the various weapons on them), the pick-wielder amongst them spat upon the cobblestone of the streets. "Piss poor work, this." He declared, prying up one of the stones with the tip of his pick. "The mortar's fallin' straight to hell!"

Tordek sighed as he nudged the stone back into place, moving through the marketplace with his companions. He'd pause at every oxen, carefully inspecting it. Lifting a hoof, comparing the width between the horns, testing aggressiveness with the odd tug of a nose ring. Each beast was thoroughly inspected, the dwarf searching the streets for a bovine worthy of him. Hopefully he would find it: If not, he would at least be able to find something applicable for what he wanted. "Ten gold!" He offered one man with a poor specimen, "Twenty!" He haggled another with something barely any better. Had these people no idea of what a good oxen was? He certainly hoped that there was at least one person in this market that could offer a good ox.

[Mutant_Lorenor]

Overseeing that section of the bazaar, a particularly lanky individual was observing the Dwarves with some amusement on his face. He had a bookish look to him and wore a tuxedo. His tie flowed with the wind, and his glasses hung low on a hawkish nose. Several guards from the Corone Armed Forces flanked the man and were prepared to apprehend the trouble-starters. However, the man in the tuxedo stopped them. "They are business dwarves. They are apparently interested in people's oxen. Hold here gentlemen, I will deal with them."

The hawkish man walked towards the dwarves for a moment and observed the individuals carefully. "Excuse me gentlemen but you seem to be confused as to where you are. This is the Bazaar. And in the Bazaar you haggle directly with merchants, not commoners." The man said. Then he began. "If you follow me I can show you grade-A Corone-stock Oxen that are superior to the stock that you've been inspecting on these common-folk. If you want to do business I offer trade and stock in various animals of burden. I can help you find a specimen if that's what you're looking for friends." The man waited for their response.

It was a typical sunny day in Corone. The Civil War marched on and those who were war profiteers haggled their businesses whilst back stabbing the local competition. It was a dangerous time for all.