A covered bazaar with clay shingles and golden trim stands at the heart of a raised city square. Eight roads connect like spokes on a wagon wheel, each leading up into the market from a different cardinal direction. Six massive ornate pillars sculpted from granite hold the structure thirty feet above the gathered market. An array of goods, foreign and domestic, flood the stalls, ranging from local eggs, poultry, and ale to exotic wine, silk, and jewelry. Over the roaring of the crowd, you hear a merchant disagreeing with a potential purchaser on the value of sausages, while two philosophers squabble next to an impatient Fletcher who complains they are scaring away patrons. You smell a sweet aroma as a woman sprays samples of perfume on anyone passing by. – Submitted by jrichardsonprofile@gmail.com (Alias: Underbane Productions)