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"Mantese style lizard on a stick!  Delicacy of the distant east!  Spicy or mild, perfect for all, man, woman, or child!.."
"Camchek chocolate, a flavour for every pallet!  Impress your lover--or lover-to-be--with a surprise giftbox of our sweetest treats!  Make your mum proud with a box of Mama Camchek's Mother's Delight!  For the adventurous among you, the monsters, or the downright weird, try our new flavours, Mantese style lizard, motor oil, and slug!.."
"You there!  Yes, you sir!  You look like you're in need of a weapon as deadly as it is fine!  Got a duel next Tuesday?  Impress your opponent in his last moments on earth with this state of the art Kalshek Mark III sidearm, beautiful polished cinderwood grip, capable of firing a grand total three foe-falling bullets just as quickly as you can pull the trigger!  Nagging spouse?  Solve problems at home with the newest Macar-Kin fusil, imported directly from the southlands!  Looking for something a bit more exotic?  Now on sale a piece of incredible rarity, a true-and-genuine Mounier deathray!.."

Such were but a few of the highlights that comprised the raucous chorus of streetside salesmen that sang their slogans daily in Verinzio's Great Market district, each voice just loud enough to be heard over the veritable storm of customers, window shoppers, and passerbys.  A massive mixmash of man and monster and machine, each carrying their own goals and destinations as they moved to and between the streetside shops, a chaotic mass constantly flowing in every direction over the worn stone streets, a stream of faces and feet that would continue to flow just so long as peddlers peddled their wares in this spot.  It seemed that for every individual drop--person--that trickled from this place, another would trickle in, so that the sea of faces would never completely dissipate.  Each visage was unique, ranging from the normal to the extraordinary, including the pretty and grotesque, and coming in every shape and size and even colour.  Any and every expression imaginable, and perhaps a few quite difficult to comprehend, was displayed, so that this market-sea seemed a living spectrum, an ever-functioning testament to the variety of civilization and the world as a whole.

Or course, even among this writhing beast of variability, there were a few faces that carried an impact beyond their simple presence in the crowd, faces which although now blended with the waves upon waves of faces would be remembered in times to come.  Shifting through the crowd with a startling smoothness, almost as if uninhibited by the mass pressing around her, a feline bearing the fur colouration of the eastern Siamese, eyes, a strange luminous blue, completely aware as she moved down the street, a mysterious satchel in hand, and the star denoting a a devout Missionary decorating her right breast.  But a few paces away an eclectic trio of upright canines produced music.  A flashy androgynous jackal bearing black fur leading them with feminine vocals that seemed to carry surprisingly well over the clamour of the market.  Supporting this singer was a second darkly coloured jackal,  her expressionless face and empty eyes belying the skillful and soulful way in which she played her violin, key ever turning in her back.  And yet again both were supported by a black lab as he energetically strummed his guitar, producing a smooth and pleasant melody despite the missing finger on his right hand.  The final pair of faces passed once more but a few steps aft the others, a border collie, ears perked to the music, laughed at the unheard comment of the tall one-eared hare moving with him.

I saw each of these faces, and knew them then as people would know them in years to come.