It was a strange group of humanoids who assembled at the edge of the market square. Although 'assembled' is rather the wrong word for such an agglomeration, suggesting as it does military precision and regimentation. It was more the coalescing of the like-minded in the face of the unpleasant reality of Market Day in Adeinia.
Market Day, a name which rings with hustle, bustle, and the loud cries of hawkers, was a touch more subdued than it might suggest. Instead of raucous cries and swirling colours, the sellers of the Adeinian market were drab, quiet, and downcast, eyes most often turned to the cobbles in front of their feet rather than the few buyers who wandered about. Their clothing was of fine cloth, but old, and the drabness came from dyes that had long since fled. There was a sort of artless grace to the patchwork which had been done to cover holes, but it was hardly the sort that would have once graced the Arhosan court.
Such rampant finery meant that the relative haute couture of the company was taken under consideration by a few of the more energetic inhabitants of the market. One was an old man, his stall spattered about with vegetables, none looking entirely fresh. Another was a young woman, making a desultory effort at haggling over a length of cloth and some thread. To them, at least, the group's arrival was noteworthy. To most of the others, the company was apparently hidden in the finest invisibility cloaks of the high magi.
The buildings which surrounded the market had apparently taken their character from those who resided within them: surly, decrepit, and long past their days of glory. Although some few did show the marks of lanterns in their windows, as well as other signs of habitation. Most, though, had little more than vacant windows, their shutters hanging loose like teeth in the mouth of a beggar, and one or two had collapsed entirely, the effort of staying erect too much for old and fragile bones.
It was quite the welcoming atmosphere to stride into.