The angry woman was indeed eye-catching; certainly some would consider her pretty, but it's more her outfit that draws the eye. A light violet bouse with puffed shoulders leads down to bloomed pantaloons and high boots, their white suede now a brownish-grey from dust. Atop her head is a wide-brimmed cocked hat, adorned with a long plume; a tome that looks like it might weigh as much as she does rests at her right hip. Completin the ensemble is an amulet in the shape of a two-toned face, half white, half black. Were it not for some of hte other foreigners, including several tall Ulfens besides our own Nestor, this woman might be the most obvious foreigner ever seen in Wati, it seems. After storming past Salimah without a second glance, she met with three others, two men and a woman who by their looks and garb, were apparently Osiriani. After a brief conversation, they dispersed, as the others who had received their maps were doing.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>The Sunburst market is, conveniently enough, right at hand; the auction was held at its southern end, in front of the Golden Lake where the sacred white crocodiles of the gran mausoleum swim. To the north is the city's other major temple, the Sanctum of Silver and Gold, where the faithful of Abadar pray and perform services for the city. The market itself stands amid dozens of tall painted sandstone columns, open to the bright sky. merchants ply everything from mundane wares as bread and crockery, to art and fine clothing, and even a scattering of magical items and poisons - "for the rodents, of course!" Amid the color and noise of the market stands one column that no one presses their shops close to - here, withered hands dangle from hemp cords.<br/><br/><hr/><br/>Not every adventuring group is staying at the Tooth and Hookah, and at the moment a number of them are doing the same as the rest of the hand of the Divine; exploring hte markets, or going about their business in other ways. The inn is thus quiet, its shade a welcome change from the constant heat of the summer. It seems almost a market in its own, several small tables covered in folded silks, tinware, cutlery, and a few selling weapons (what a grand idea in a bar!) crowded near the entrance. Scattered around the inside are several low tables, each surrounded by a number of crescent-shaped cushions, and topped with a shisha pipe. The actual bar itself is in the northwest corner, manned by a jovial-seeming man with a scarred nose and watery eyes; Farhaan, who is known to have been inside the Necropolis once or twice himself.