Emperor of Ansalon

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The great bazaar of Khuri-Khan remained as Ariakas had remembered it, a dense throng of humans and kender mingling with more occasional elves and even a rare minotaur or domesticated ogre. A maelstrom of noise surrounded him: persuasive, singsong arguments of merchants, loud cries of outrage from overcharged cus shy;tomers, background cacophonies from minstrels and flutists, even sporadic clangs of daggers against shields or gauntlets. Each sound added to the unique and ener shy;getic character of the grand marketplace.

The warrior strode among the teeming crowds, and those in his path intuitively stepped aside to give pas shy;sage. Perhaps it was his height that inspired fear-for he stood a handspan taller than most other men-or his bearing, which was erect and apparently imperturbable. Broad shoulders supported his solid neck, and his head rose like a lion's, his dark eyes studying the crowd from beneath a mane of long, windblown hair.

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