Oltak's Market - Fantasy Music for Inspiration 

Do you know youtube Channel specialized in storytelling ?

@@opa633 There are lots depending on the kind of story you want to hear. I'm sure Blue Turtle has ideas for the world.

@@opa633 I know serval who do Warhammer stories. Both official and fan-made.

@@Turnil321 thanks

I second the motion to nominate Blue Turtle for best music channel.

Yes! That's totally the vibe I get from this world!

Sigh, if only Miyazaki Sr did the Earthsea movie...

@@3dreamsequence It was still a pretty good movie. Just a wacky ending.

ohhhh, earth sea!

@@Prof_Griz i watched it once and it was strange and slow but like, i still really liked it? it did the job putting me into the atmosphere they were trying to create and i really want to watch it again

100%. May your creative journey be fruitful.

Thanks, I'm sure you have been through a lot of things as well. Everyone does right? haha But doesn't matter how hard or far your goals are, YOU WILL ACHIEVE THEM FOR SURE! You have a kind heart, it's empathetic, and it's very creative too, I believe in your potential! 💪

I'm screenshotting this! As a DM, this would help make my markets so much more alive!

This was wonderful! I could use one of those Tiara's 😅

This is beautifully written! i hope you write a second part to this!!

@@arushi3762 I’d love to! I’m so glad you want to hear more!

(Continued part 2) A loud gasp from the crowd at the next booth pulls you in. You peer over the sea of heads just as the vendor holds up a spindly black spider with bright purple stripes on its abdomen and joints. You recognize the spider's color and shape. It is a rare and deadly spider found in wooded areas. The spider skuttled over the vendors hand and down their arm in an attempt to escape. What in the world is this booth selling?! The vendor called out over the exclamations of the crowd, "You can set your calling code to just about anything you want it to be. It can be a hand gesture," The vendor tapped their thumb and pinky together, then thumb and index, then again thumb and pinky. The spider froze in its attempt to escape and then turned and marched back to the vendors open palm where it remained, unmoving. "It can be a tune or melody," The vendor whistled a few notes. A common, blue songbird fluttered onto the vendor's shoulder where it patiently waited, eyeing the crowd. "Or maybe even a set of words." The vendor quoted a line from a well-known children's fairytale. A brown and white jackrabbit jumped out of a woven basket onto the table where it laid down, splaying its limbs out as it made itself comfortable. The vendor continued on, "The type of disguise you need will entirely depend upon the number of spare keys you have. Spiders are one key," Using a single finger, the vendor stroked the back of the waiting spider. The spiders' limbs curled in under itself as the form shrank into a single skeleton key with a small spider-shaped charm dangling from a string. You notice the charm had the same color and markings the fully fleshed spider did. The vendor continued, "birds are up to five keys," The vendor gently removed the bird from their shoulder and held it out for the crowd to get a closer view of the transformation. The vendor stroked the spot between the bird's wings. It fluffed up its feathers and closed its eyes as its form changed. The feathers melted away to reveal a ring of keys that jangled as the vendor held them up. A little blue songbird charm glinted from the keyring. "Small animals can hold a maximum of fifteen," The vendor set down all the keys then picked up the jackrabbit, holding it close. With a stroke along its back, the jackrabbit changed shape, its fur dissolving into several keys strung together with twine. The vendor held up the string of keys that also had a brown and white jackrabbit charm. The vendor hurriedly gave their marketing pitch to the crowd, "Depending on how often you use it, the enchantment lasts about eight years, but we recommend changing it out every three to five years for security reasons. They do not need food or water to function." The vendor stroked each of the charms which caused the creatures to reform. The jackrabbit hopped back into the basket, the bird flew to a perch at the back of the booth, and the spider was set into a glass terrarium. "You can purchase now and set it up at home at any time by following a few simple steps. As an Oltak Market Special, we are offering a discount on our most popular bird models..." The vendor paused as someone in the crowd asked a question, then answered with a kind smile, "We used to offer plant and rock models, but we noticed most keys would rust due to being exposed to the elements." You make your way around the shoppers to the next booth and peer in. White yarn and fabrics lined the walls. You decide not to go in since you can get yarn practically anywhere. You are almost past the booth when you nearly get run over by a man hurriedly pulling a cart through the crowded street. You jump into an empty space between the booths to let the man pass. As you watch him go, hot, damp air blasts the back of your neck. You turn round and nearly fall backward with shock! A massive, snowy white beast glares at you with large black eyes. Four wicked looking horns crowned its head, each one ending in a dangerously sharp point. It stomped its hooves in warning. Should you run or back away slowly?! "Don't worry! She's friendly!" a tiny voice called out. You look around where the voice came from and see an equally tiny girl standing on a stool, brushing the thick locks of the beast's fur. "You just startled her is all." she says, jumping down from the stool and putting the brush into a pocket of her apron, "This is Zubee. I think she will forgive you IF you give her one of these." Out of another pocket, she holds up a sugar cube. You cautiously accept it, unsure of what to do under the watchful stare of Zubee. The little girl notices your hesitation and instructs you on how to feed Zubee (apparently, it was just like feeding a horse). Zubee accepted the sugar cube and happily munched on it. "I think she'll let you pet her now!" The little girl said excitedly. "Her favorite spot is here." and indicated a spot on Zubee's neck. You start petting the area and notice how unbelievably soft and luscious the hair is. Zubee's eyes droop. Encouraged by this, you start scratching the area. Zubee lazily stretches her neck out and leans into your scratches. Happy grunts rumble through the air. You keep scratching Zubee's neck as the little girl giggles and points out the ropes of drool forming in the corners of Zubee's mouth. Zubee steps closer to you for deeper scratches but she ends up pinning you to the side of the stall. You feel the raw strength of Zubee's muscle when she moves, and you start to panic as her massive weight presses down on you. "Here, Zubee!" The little girl says, distracting Zubee with another sugar cube. The weight lifts off you as she heads for the sugar cube, causing you to lose your balance and fall onto the straw covered floor. That's when you notice the armed guards. Three of them sat at the back of the stall, playing cards on a makeshift table while two more rested on cots. They all merely watched the scene, amused. Unless anything serious happened, this was probably going to be the highlight of their day. You pick yourself up and dust off the dirt and straw. The little girl appeared at your elbow, "Sorry about that! You're the only one so far today who figured out her favorite way to be petted!" She helped remove some straw you missed, "Did you notice how soft she is? We have a whole bunch of stuff we make with our herd's hair! Come and see!" She leads you through a small opening through the stall onto the booth that you had planned on skipping, but the softness of the hair has you thinking second thoughts. You're pretty sure your neighbor's grandmother knows how to knit... Inside are skeins of yarn, baskets of roving, and bolts of hand-woven fabric as well as ready-to-wear clothing. You reach out to touch a sweater when you hear a clatter behind you. Zubee had attempted to follow you into the booth but got her horns stuck on one of the displays, knocking it over which sent several balls of yarn tumbling onto the floor. "Zubee! NO!" the little girl cried and rushed to push Zubee's head back out of the booth. A woman who must be the little girl's mother called out, "Stay with her in the stall, dear! Remember, she gets lonely!" You begin helping the mother to pick up the balls of yarn. They were indeed as soft as Zubee. The woman thanks you for helping as you hand the yarn over one by one while she fixes the display. You notice an irridescent shimmer glinting off the yarn. You hold it closer to inspect it, turning it this way and that. With a smile, the mother explains that they are a fourth-generation business and her ancestors had found a secret process to bring out the hair's natural iridescence, and even a way to manipulate the colors so that some appeared more prominently than others. This year they had a large enough herd and supply to make it to this year's market. They have had many competitors attempt to steal their secrets and ruin the family business, sometimes even trying to steal the livestock outright, but the family always made it through. After chatting for a bit, the booth starts to fill with curious shoppers. The mother politely excuses herself from the conversation and begins assisting eager buyers. You aren't sure if you should buy something now or wait until you have seen everything before buying. After checking the price on a pair of ready-to-wear socks, you decide to see what else there is first. You thank the mother for her time, and head out of the booth, waving to Zubee and the little girl as you pass them by.

Gwin said she'd teach him the craft when he was stronger. "This fine work requires a steady hand," she'd said, "like the water on a still pond in summer." The wood had glowed under her, blooming into vines and flowers. "You're like a mountain spring, shifting unpredictably, now steady, now disturbed. You're growing, but your hands aren't sure enough." She'd blown the fine shavings off the surface of the still garden and looked up at him. She'd given him a reassuring smile that wrenched his heart. "Stay at the mill for now." Her words echo in his head as he approaches the carpenters' stalls. Slim, sturdy logs from the northern forests rest patiently in tall pyramids, with samples standing up on tables for craftsmen to inspect. His eyes slide over the fir he's been sent for, lingering on the cherry, the mahogany, the maple. He thinks about delicate birds flitting over the body of a mandolin. About grapes spilling down the side of a mirror. About waves crashing over a grandfather clock. He sighs and haggles for one hundred logs of young fir, as instructed. He'll mill them into boards for shutters, for baseboards, for shelving. Easy things, things people always need, things that work up fast. Things that always look the same. The shopkeeper starts helping him load the logs onto the cart. He looks back toward the cherry. The mahogany. The maple. He pauses, the logs on his shoulder. "You know what?" he says to the shopkeeper. "I think I'll carry them." "What, six at a time?" the woman laughs. "That would take you all day!" He looks at the summer sky, deep and calm like the surface of a pond. "That would be just fine," he says.

​@Izzie Gall it may have taken me a month to get to this, but honestly that's a really nice story for my silly little prompt I'm so happy to see this, thank you!

he has a comic on his Instagram. It's great!

lmao

Yes, Blue Turtle's content is incredible! It's also original. I've seen your inferior material you shamelessly stole from Blue Turtle.

Thx you for this source of inspiration :)