TheWanderers' Lair

The afternoon sun hangs steadily over the marketplace. Its indifferent beams reach down upon the shops, turning once moist meats dry and tough, and great wheels of cheese into molded puddles. Even the sweet tea-cakes, fanned persistently throughout the worst of the heat, melt into sugary piles in the shade of the booths. Dragons line the dusty streets on all sides, calling out to passersby in hopes that their services and wares can be peddled before days end. Care to give them some business?