Aisha 'Ai' Abdul'la's Story

"The Change is upon us! Just heed my word!" Such a bold claim seemed to be lost somewhere between a debate about the worth of a dusty carpet and the squawking of exotic bird creatures, allegedly "baby cockatrices". Although the acolyte Aisha Abdul'la was aware that at such a great congregation of merchants would allow many from far and wide to come together and trade not only goods, but ideas, Aisha didn't make the connection that with all those people, there would be a lot of noise.

Aisha had thought that if she set up her little stand in the most populace area of the market, she could spread the principles of the Samariamian creed to the greatest amount of people. There she stood atop a box of wood, a sign in front of it in bold writing; The Change is Within You. Although that might have made her just a little bit taller, it, by no means, made her the biggest presence. Many seemed more preoccupied with bartering and peddling their wares. Sure, the merchants she traveled into town with, those of her clan, had warned her that people may not be so receptive to the 'ravings of a fanatic' while there's goods to be traded, but Aisha was undeterred, and remained undeterred.

After all, it's not the first time Aisha's preached before an uninterested crowd. You didn't attract the unthoughtful with theology, you attracted them with mysticism and bold statements. Aisha always seemed to get at least a few heads to turn with, 'The Change is upon us!' It was always important to create a sense of urgency, to create a sense of unease that made people more interested in what you were talking about, before you eased their troubled thoughts.

"Follow the principles of self-improvement and the metamorphosis of the soul, and I guarantee that even a life of eternal perdition will turn into paradise!"

Appearance was important as well. Aisha was wearing a bit more jewelry than she usually did, including a shiny golden necklace that hung from her neck and was highly visible over top her clothes. Aisha had borrowed it from her kin for the sake of this event. It gave her an air of importance, and it also sent a message; 'Self-improvement will make you rich'. As those she traveled wish told her, "All merchants follow the wealthy."

A few heads were looking her way now. Not the occupied merchants, of course, but some curious fellows who weren't hugely busy, and were probably looking for entertainment, decided to give an ear. It would likely be very difficult to hold their attention for long, but, as long as even one person becomes inspired, Aisha would consider her duty here a success.

"The clans of the desert have been guided along by superstition for far too long! We have all become drunk upon the promise of false hopes! That somewhere in the sands is the key to our salvation! But we have grown far from that original goal now, for we are living on the brink of a golden age! Look around you! Can you not see that we are already prospering? Haven't the spirits already been kind to us? Perhaps they have been generous, but it is us who have made use of nature's bounty to it's absolute fullest! You see, it is no longer necessary for us to loose more men to the sands!" Tell people what they want to hear. Have them saying 'yes, yes' and they'll be more likely to agree with anything you say.

"But—" Aisha had to catch her breath. She was really getting into it. Your faith becomes strongest when you scream it out loud and you don't care about who hears it, and goodness, does it ever fill you with a rush. "But it is not enough! For there is still strife in the world, and the clans remain divided! And while there is strife and inequality, there will continue to be suffering! But there is a way, a way in which we all can obtain eternal happiness!" She told them the real issues at stake. Now here comes the punchline, the clincher.

"And that, is through the path of self-metamorphosis! It is through the betterment of the self and the strengthening of the community! By following our creed, the Samariamus Creed, we may become better people, and create a better world ourselves! You see, the Change is not out there in the sands! It is within us, within us all! We must strive to accomplish with within all men! No soul, no matter how lost they may be, is incapable of accessing their inner Change! If we all follow this path, we can accomplish a new Utopia! For Utopia is not a place, but a people!"

Aisha was surprised that her voice wasn't cracking at this point. Surely, she would have gotten her point across. It was the same monologue she's used dozens of times before, but it never seemed to loose its power, despite it's formulaic nature. Still, although she managed to attract somewhat of an audience through the speech, they weren't paying as much attention to her. There appeared to be a big commotion, people yelling out and talking all at once. It seemed as if there was some sort of trouble brewing.

"What ills you?" Aisha called out. Then, at once, there was a great big yelling out as people seemed to split and make a clearing. One man was kicking at something, before backing off. There was a small creature hissing wildly, a Salamand, although Aisha didn't recognize the creature by name. It was carrying what appeared to be an expensive vase under its arm, seeming rather keen on keeping it. A man at the back of the crowd was shouting out, calling for the creature to give his vase back. Another person called out, "Somebody kill it!"

"Hold!" Aisha declared, raising her hand. Very gently, she got down from her pedestal and approached the creature, not trying to be threatening. It looked like it wanted to escape, but there were people everywhere. It hissed, and Aisha stopped and hushed it. Then, Aisha crouched before it and spoke gently, extending a hand, "Little one, if you would be so kind, please allow me to return that of which you hold back to it's proper owner. You will be rewarded graciously."

Now, that would have been pointless if the Salamand didn't understand what she said, but yet, the Salamand appeared to hesitate. Then, as if it was jinxed, it slowly approached Aisha, making low guttural noises, seeming somewhat wary. The crowd around them watched in awe, muttering to each other. It stopped right in front of her, holding the vase in front of it and staring up at her with those bulging yellow eyes. Aisha smiled.

Then, without warning, it dropped the vase on the ground and pounced at Aisha, clawing at the golden necklace around her neck. Aisha yelped and struggled, but, the creature's grubby little hands would just not let go. Pulling with all its weight, the slimy creature yanked the expensive necklace off of her neck, damaging it a little in the process. The Salamand then proceeded to dart of, cackling wildly, disappearing into the crowd.

Aisha called out, "Wait!" She got up onto her feet and began to push through the crowd, trying to find the little thief and her golden necklace. "Halt! Desist! Return that at once!"

Sören was used to the crowds of Dol-Duna, not that he liked them, and he was also used to the stares that he received. That was one of the reasons he insisted on wearing his horned helm and his cloak in public. Yes, it attracted attention, but it also inspired awe, sometimes even fear, and that was usually all he needed in order to make the crowds part before him and Duneyrr.

The wagon, loaded down with timber and skins, would soon be parked at the edge of one of the more popular areas in the village. Sören was a regular, but he never carried enough goods to permit an actual stall space, and so he simply parked his wagon, sold what few goods he had, then moved it. This usually took only a day or two, so he and Duneyrr had time to enjoy the rest of the festival. It was so different than the celebrations back in the Dead Forest, and there were people from all over, places Sören was sure he would never see. For now, all the northman got were a few glances, as he still had to navigate his way to his parking space.

"Looks a bit like a demon, don't he?" Someone said, their thick accent one Sören had never heard. "Bet it's all for show though. He's probably skinny as a starved sand worm under that get up, ya?"

"I don't know." Another voice, this one sounded younger, worried. "Maybe we should pick someone else."

"Why? Look at that wagon, and that horse! This guy has to have somethin' valuable!" The first man said.

"Duneyrr is not a horse." Sören replied in a low voice, like a rumble of thunder. He had spotted the two men by then, hiding in the shadows between two buildings. Their intentions were obvious, and Sören had come across such men before. Sometimes people come to big events like this, with little to their name, and pick of the weaker looking merchants. They murder them, hide their bodies away, then claim their wares as their own. "I suggest you listen to your young friend, and find another mark."

With his words, Sören turned to look down at the men. In the dark of his cloak, as he activated the runes on his arms, the soft blue glow caused his eyes to glow slightly as well. Once look at this and the two men exchanged a look, cursed Sören for a real demon, and fled hastily from the scene.

"Cowards." Sören mutters. Duneyrr noses his elbow and the northman sighs. "I know. There's no need for violence, not here of all places. Come on then, we're not far from-"

Sören had begun to walk as he spoke, but he stops again when something hits his lower leg. Looking down he finds a pair of stilted yellow-orange eyes staring back at him from a small red frame. Whatever this creature was, Sören had never seen one before. He didn't like it. Whatever it was, it held a gold necklace in it's grubby, clawed hands. For a moment the creature began to hiss at him, but Sören let his eyes glow again and the creature froze up completely, unable to do anything more than stare at him. A woman was shouting somewhere in the direction from which the creature had come. Reaching down, Sören holds his hand palm up, and after a moment's hesitation, the creature places the necklace in his hand, then turns and bolts, running down the street and into the alleyway where the two men had tried to threaten him moments ago.

"I've always hated gold." Sören says, straightening up, holding the necklace out as a woman approaches, looking frantic and out of breath. "Is this yours?"

Aisha gave out a sigh of relief when she saw the man holding her necklace, apparently having retrieved it. She smiled approached him, as he inquired, "Is this yours?"

"Why, yes, it's mine," Aisha confirmed, almost out of breath, "Bless you, sir, bless you." She accepted the necklace back from the man's thick hands and took a moment to look up at him and observe how truly intimidating he appeared. The man towered over her, with a great big clock covering the entirety of his appearance, which wouldn't have been unusual in the sun, but the great big antlers that stuck out of the man's made Aisha doubt his humanity for a split second. He was either the follower of some strange pagan belief, or he was one of the northmen. Probably leaning toward the latter, judging by his merchandise behind him and his... livestock? Mount? Or perhaps it was a companion. Aisha honestly didn't recognize the creature, although it seemed very goat-like, with branch-like horns.

The Northmen were very foreign to Aisha, but, she didn't think that made them savages or anything. Surely, they would be a civil people, just as this man was civil to her, even if he appeared intimidating at first. Perhaps they would be receptive to conversion? Aisha would have to consider such for the future.

"You are a man of great virtue," Aisha declared, "as you understand how kindness is the key to enrichment of the soul. I can only hope you continue on this path, and find further happiness and inner peace." Aisha examined the necklace, finding that she wouldn't be able to put it back on immediately. Hopefully those that she borrowed it from would forgive her, but giving it back in such a state would be unforgivable for an acolyte like herself. She would have to find a craftsman who was capable of repairing it. Perhaps the horned man could assist.

"Oh, good sir, I don't mean to ask too much of you, but, is it possible that you could direct me to a blacksmith or jeweler within the market? This thing requires repairs, and, I have to return it to somebody else."

Musa was in the middle of an exchange when she heard the older man call to what was, apparently, the center of the Salamand Escape. After a brief moment of pause to glance at the toppled cages, of which she noticed earlier, she smiled to her waiting customer and completed the exchange. She placed her new item in a large, decorated pot beside her before standing and gently crossing her arms while her eyes focused. The golden orbs were sweeping the area and taking into note everything that had changed while she was preoccupied with what she now knew as Salamands. Where the name came from, she had no idea.

The cart from which the things escaped was in the middle of being propped back up, the mess that the creatures made of the surrounding shops was nearly cleaned up, but now there was a big space, onlookers creating the edges, that contained her and a handful of other people. Colorful people for that matter, visual and character wise. Her intrest peaked at the sight of antlers on an extremely tall and cloaked figure. Quietly she reached up to touch the black horn of her own adornment. Next was the armored figure, who's gilded designs made her think of her own red tattoos. Then the pink haired woman, who's locks made her feel a familiar uneasyness. Back in Trenn, black was the hair color of 98% of her people. But finally her eyes found that pesky dancer girl from her clan. Her eyebrows fell a bit. So she pesters the traders to come along but then she's nowhere to be found when the tent needs to be setup and stays out of sight when trouble arises.

Finding a better outlet for her attention, Musa's head tipped to the side as the man gave his name. "Hm. Uncle Andle.." She murmurs under her breath. She had no relationship with the man whatsoever but his name seemed fitting. Reaching up, she adjusted her Buffalo Skull and stepped over to the edge of her tent, giving a nod that everything was indeed okay. "Items of minimal value were lost but the fiends were captured." She moved her hip in the direction of the dismayed, red-skinned triplets.

Thessir could hear the man talking to him. He could also hear the sounds of general commotion outside. His mind was not with those events at that time. He was enthralled with his work, examining the crystal for flaws. He was also looking at the shape, determining just how exactly the gem should be cut and fit. While useless now the gem held great potential. This was no mere taqa crystal.

Alas it seemed the general chaos outside was not going to let up. Sidling a strap of his bag off one of his shoulders he swung it over and set his tools along with the gem inside. With those packed away he downed what water was left and rose from his seat. He ventured over to the doorway, close enough to see but not close enough to be too exposed to the light.


From what he could see what commotion there had been was resolved. There were many eccentric figured talking including the one he had sort of spoken with at the bar. He listened in on what was being said, following the talking at he stood safely tucked away in the tolerable shade of the indoors. He gave a sigh, annoyed with the sun's habit of taking it's time going down.

"I shouldn't be awake." He spoke mostly to himself in a low mumble. His dark, tired eyes peered into the scene ahead. At this point he was just killing time until the sun left. The night was the real time for him. A time to search for some leads towards the ancient cities he's heard about in his time among the outlanders.

As soon as Sören laid eyes on the small woman he knew she was a religious person. Her clothing, combined simply with the air about her, and the way she spoke to him, made him think of the mystics of his own clan. In the spring they would remove their heavy fur and hide coats and cloaks in favor of lighter clothing, in brighter colors. They would build a great pyre, sacrifice a stag, and dance around, singing and chanting about the gods who sleep all around. Once the pyre died down they would retrieve the antlers of the stag and they would be broken down, and the best piece would be used to craft the handle for the blade which would be used for the next sacrifice.

Sören could almost smell the smoke of the pyre and had to shake his head a bit to clear his mind. Lowering his head a bit he listened to the young woman before him. When she claimed that he was a man of great virtue, he blushed slightly, but thankfully his cloak would hide this from anyone looking his way. It wouldn't do for people to see such a large figure displaying such emotions. Or so he had been raised to believe.

"I do not know if he is here this year, but I know of a metalsmith. He holds a stall near my own space, across the center of the village." As Sören says this, he turns to look in that direction, frowning when he finds that a crowd has formed there. Being so tall he is able to see over most of the heads, and catches a few glimpses of those small red creatures being dispatched in one form or another. The people have gathered around to watch, and within the clearing, which seems to already be dispersing, Sören can see several out of place figures. "It seems those tiny red creatures caused more of a disturbance than I thought them capable of." Turning back to face the woman he says, "In any case, I can lead you to where the metalsmith was last year. Perhaps he can help you."

Before Sören can say anything more, Duneyrr nudges him in the small of the back, beneath the back he carries, making sure to hit his body rather than the spear slung across his back. When Sören turns to look at the white stag, Duneyrr tilts his head, then opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue.

"Very well, we shall hurry along then." Turning back to the woman Sören explains, "Duneyrr is thirsty and would like a drink of water soon. If you would, please follow me."

With that the northman begins to lead his stag towards the gathering of people, hoping that they will be kind enough to part for him and his wagon. It is too big a craft to travel down any of the smaller side streets, and with Duneyrr thirsty he would like to move along without further incident.

Aisha nodded and followed the man, trailing by his side with her shorter strides. She asked, "Duneyrr, that's your animal, right? I'm, uh, not quite familiar with it's, erm, breed. Is it supposed to be your mount?" Judging from the man's size relative to the animal's stature, it didn't look like the sort of creature that could carry him, but, perhaps it had a secret strength to it. She would pause for an answer.

Aisha decided it was probably a good idea to make conversation. "Those creatures, indeed... I, I thought I could appeal to a benevolent side within them, but, I guess... I must be inexperienced, is all there is to it. If all people have a virtuous spirit within them, perhaps there's a possibility that animals carry the same trait. Good sir, do you think animals have souls?"

Aisha would purse her lips for a moment in thought, before deciding to introduce herself; "Oh, by the way, my name is Aisha Abdul'la, an acolyte of the Samariamus clan." She nodded, as if she were agreeing with herself.

"Duneyrr, that's right." Sören says, looking down at the woman. "He is a stag, and should I need to do so, yes, he can bare my weight, but I have not brought him along to be a mount. He pulls the wagon for me, yes, but he is my friend more than anything else." As the northman says this, the white stag nuzzles his shoulder a bit, and Sören reaches back to scratch between his antlers. "I have known him since the day I was born, and I would not willingly go anywhere without him."

Sören takes a moment to consider her next words, thinking it over carefully, glancing back at Duneyrr, then over to a stray dog wandering the streets looking for scraps. Across the way he spots a the tent of some trader, and he can see large cats nearby, and goats tending to themselves in another direction.

"Yes, I think that I do believe animals have souls, just as you or I do." Sören says finally, letting out a breath that mists in the air. The heat of the day is catching up to him now, and he activates his runes for just a moment to cool himself down once more. The woman, if she were walking close enough, might feel an aura of cold around the large man for a moment as he does this. "I am from Kalterle, a village in the Dead Forest to the north, and we believe that all living things have some type of soul, as do the seasons and the elements. We call them the vættir, the nature spirits. Some of them are wise, some are foolish. I think that maybe those red creatures are of the foolish sort, though they did not seem to be without some cunning."

In a lull of silence between the two of them, Sören began to speak, to introduce himself to the woman, but before he could do so she seemed to have the same idea.

"Well met, Aisha Abdul'la. I am Sören Ahlgren, heir..." He pauses then, trailing off. No, he was no longer an heir to anything. As the wise woman had said, he would never return to the Dead Forest now, so what was there for him to be the heir of? "No, I am just Sören Ahlgren, of clan Rotgevir now."

As he stood watching Thessir perked up upon someone speaking about needing a metal smith. He had an inherent interest in such matters as he often worked in shaping minerals. Reluctantly he emerged from the shaded doorway and approached the two as they attempted to navigate the group.

"You speak of metal, yes? Of working of the ore?" He peered out from under his big hat to get a better look at the two. The one man seemed to be adorned with horns similar to the beast which followed him. The woman was dressed in vibrant colors with many articles of jewelry upon her. From the looks of things it was a necklace of hers which had been damaged by the latest fuss.


"I do work of metal. Of the stone. An item of yours is damaged? I could repair it." He spoke to the woman specifically as he figured it was her issue first and foremost. This was not a particularly unusual situation for him as he traded for most of his supplies with wares earned through his expertise. If it came from the ground he could probably make something of it. Later on he was probably going to need supplies, in particular something to trade for the knowledge he sought.

Aisha nodded to Sören, but was caught slightly by surprise when a called out to them. He had a certain unorthodoxy about him, but nonetheless, he did make an offering. "Oh, well, if that is the case," Aisha pulled the golden necklace of hers out of her satchel and presented it to the hatted metalworker, "It's just a small fix that it needs. The connection here was torn," she pointed out the broken link.

"Are you capable of making a fix within the day? The night? Or, at least before the end of the Bizarre. It belongs to someone else, so... Oh, and, um, what sort of payment will it require? I've... got some medicinal powders, or..." Aisha thought for a second before pushing up her sleeve, revealing it to be almost entirely covered in beaded bracelets, which all were made of different materials. She pointed at a couple different ones. "This one's made of ebony, for strength, or, I'm pretty sure this one is real ivory, for perseverance. This shiny one is made of Old World 'nuts', for wisdom, oh, and this one is magnetic; it's meant to develop an inner balance within yourself. I've got more like these on the other arm, and in my satchel."

There was no denying that Aisha was very fond of the bracelets. Indeed, followers of the creed sold 'power items', or merchandise intended to appeal to the superstitious side of people. The idea behind them, besides further spreading awareness of the creed, was that in theory they would contain mystical power of their own. How? They were simply mystical because people believed they were mystical. For example, Aisha's bracelets were intended to give spiritual enhancements to those that wore them, such as granting them determination or dexterity or whatever 'enchantment' the bracelet held. Thus, in believing they have been granted mystical power, a person may become driven to live up to the aspect of themselves they want to improve. In that way, 'power items' like Aisha's bracelets truly did have an invisible mystical power, one that drove the soul on the path of self-improvement without realization. They will simply believe that the bracelets really did give them strength.

They certainly worked. Aisha herself could attest to that. She wore them all the time.

Sören could not recall ever meeting this man before. The way he spoke suggested that he was not from this area, but then again, due to the festival, Sören supposed that many people were from far away. For some reason though, the man struck him as odd, but not in a bad way. Besides, who was he to call anyone odd?

As Aisha spoke of her bracelets and showed them off to the man, Sören studied them. Some were made of wood, and he would almost bet that at least one of them was carved from wood from his homeland. He listened to her words, of how each one granted her some sort of enhancement, and again he was reminded of his clan. His spearhead was carved from the fang of a saber cat because it was believed that, made of such a material, the weapon would be stronger and sharper. Personally Sören took it all with a grain of salt, relying on what he knew of the materials in question.

This is when Duneyrr nudged Sören's shoulder once again, before taking a step forward, placing himself between Sören and Aisha. Lowering his head, the white stag nosed at a silver bracelet that the acolyte was wearing.

"How would you even wear that Duneyrr?" Sören asks his companion, petting his neck. With a sigh he then says to the others, "Once your business has concluded, I believe I will need to see about trading you something for one of those bracelets. Duneyrr insists on having one, it seems."

Thessir observed the break in the necklace, leaning in close to look it over with a careful eye. As he suspected the break happened in the cord between the clasp and the gold segment. This was an extremely easy fix to make. All he needed was a place to sit undisturbed.

He was leery of the beast the horned man had called a stag as he was with all creatures. Ungulates all unnerved him as he was most unused to being around them. Simply the way they moved and looked about was utterly strange to him. Needless to say he kept some distance from the creature and seemed visibly uncomfortable whenever it was close to him.


As the woman began listing off means of payment he listened, following the items she mentioned. Of all the items mentioned the Old World nuts were what caught his interest the most, a fact made evident from the moment his eyes locked with it. Were he to get his hands on those he would have a lot of time to spend drawing them out and writing down everything he could about them. Anything from the Old World was of great interest as unlike the other clans his people had no access to the technology of old. They had to develop their own technology and in that regard they did quite well for themselves.

As for the necklace he wanted the bracer but on the other hand he couldn't justify taking such a valuable item of hers for such a simple fix. It was difficult fighting the urge to relieve her of her valuable bracelet but he was not amoral enough to let greed of knowledge overcome his ethical standing as an alchemist.


"Old World nut bracelet is tempting. The necklace is an easy fix however. It should be done in few greater marks. I'll ask no exchange for it's repair. I'll only accept bracelet as gift if you are of choosing to give."

What was said is said, little going back on that now. He looked around, already setting the matter of fixing her necklace to mind, for a place he could work in both relative darkness and peace. His train of thought was interrupted however when a young man was caught fighting with the guards, causing a scene in the process. As if there wasn't enough trouble with the red lizard monsters earlier it seemed. The guards all called the man something odd, a wetlander. He had never heard of any such people in his travels.


While the guards held the man in shackles whilst people threw rotten produce at him Thessir was contemplating returning his mind back to the business at hand. There was also however the pull of curiosity. He had little idea of what the wetlands even were, let alone who this person was. It seemed rather unnecessary of people to harass the man even despite his antics. The whole ordeal only made him more curious as to just who this young foreigner was. He could only imagine he had a story to tell given his state.

"I wonder, just who could that be?..." He spoke, mostly talking to himself. He left the question to hang there just in case somebody might have an answer.

"No exchange?" Aisha tilted her head slightly, but then she broke into a smile. "Oh, how charitable, such is a virtue. I'm glad this year has brought so many virtuous people together... I'm sure you'd have use out of a bracelet anyway." Aisha nodded and watched as he left, but as he did, a couple thoughts came to Aisha's mind. Upon a sudden realization, Aisha called out, "Wait! Wait a moment, sir!" Aisha began to trail the man with her necklace, regardless of what Sören did.

Aisha had managed to catch up with him, but a scene had been breaking out that stopped the both of them in their tracks. Aisha watched it all play out, the lanky screaming out before being subdued. She hadn't quite caught everything that was being yelled out, but, it appeared the man was a Wetlander. From her teachings, she understood that her kin had mixed feelings about those foreign people. Indeed, they were particularly unliked by clanfolk, mainly for how they withheld their boundless supply of waters with their war machines. Although dispelling jealously was one of her Creed's values, so was dispelling greed. Sure, her teachings taught her that all clans should and will eventually come together to cooperate and invoke the golden era, but, there was much debate as to whether the Wetland folk were exempt from the Creed's principles, for they did not share the same plight as the Clans. How could the principles of the Creed possibly apply to those who live without suffering yet without virtue? Even if Wetlanders were human beings, could they be considered equals?

Aisha would have to ask her higher-ups another time. For now, she still had something to take care of. She approached the man of whom she was tracking and called out to him. "Sir, please! Wait a second! When can I expect the work will be finished? Where can I retrieve my necklace when finish? Also, um, how can I be sure that you, um... Even if you are kind, I would like some assurance that the work will be finished skillfully." And so she was sure that he wasn't just going to run off with her expensive golden bracelet, but it wasn't like Aisha was going to say that.

Ka'Wa looked over in terror at the group of assembled characters with a loud gulp.

"I don't know them," she said softly and looked somewhat embarrassed. "But if it'll help..."

A look of determination came over her face and she balled her hands up into fists. Striding over awkwardly to the group, she gave herself a small pep talk in the course of walking to them. I can do this, I can do this. Just tell them you need help. They're good people surely, they won't deny.

"Um, excuse me!" Ka'Wa said loudly, trying to attract the attention of the various people in front of her. "I need some help freeing the prisoner. Yes, he is a Wetlander, but there is no real crime he has committed! And not only that, but he says a threat is coming that he will tell more about if we free him!"

Dustin had already released the remaining Salamand with haste. The sun scorched enough already, he didn't need burns from the writhing bastard. With that handled, he was about to get acquainted with the rather odd assortment of characters in this particular spot of the Bazaar, however another commotion occurred just several strides away.

The Atzerii stared in confused and curious silence along with the others as the scene unfolded and they found out the man was a Wetlander. A Wetlander? This far east? What could that waterdog possibly want? Though a bit extreme, the crowd began to throw items at the stranger as if on cue until he was dragged away.

Figuring the situation has resolved itself, once again he was about to get acquainted until a girl whom he saw go over to the cage called over to them and said something about his innocence and releasing him. Dustin frowned.

"I'm not quite certain that's wise," he commented, folding his arms. The Atzerii easily stood just above six feet, providing him with a slight vantage point over the shambling crowds. Though it wasn't even close to that one fellow with... horns it looked like, he had seen other speaking to some overly dressed woman. "A man acts mad in the streets, resists getting locked up, then claims he's innocent? Nothing about that spells common sense."

Aisha turned her attention to the guard, who had seemingly called out to them. "I need some help freeing the prisoner. Yes, he is a Wetlander, but there is no real crime he has committed! And not only that, but he says a threat is coming that he will tell more about if we free him!" Aisha wasn't entirely sure if she wanted to get involved or not, but, her attention was drawn to one of the taller men, who voiced his opinion. "I'm not quite certain that's wise," he said, "A man acts mad in the streets, resists getting locked up, then claims he's innocent? Nothing about that spells common sense."

Aisha couldn't resist speaking up. "I... I differ!" What Aisha lacked in height, she made up for in her tone. She raised a hand in front of her, giving her the appearance as if she had some sort of divine authority. She explained, "Regardless of his origins or actions, all men deserve mercy. Without given a chance, no one will ever be able to rectify their ways. Those who are mad are merely lost souls in need of attention. If a man pleads himself innocent, then surely, he believes goodness is right and he is good. Please, give him a chance!"

Even if she wasn't sure how she felt about Wetlanders, Aisha was still firm in her belief that all could be converted to righteousness.

Bohdana jumped in surprise overhearing the conversation that was happening close by. She forgetfully dropped the golden idol in her pocket, thinking more about not getting into the trouble that she sensed was brewing if she stayed about this group of Wetlander sympathizers. It was clear to her now that she'd overstayed her curiosity. This situation was bordering into possible conflict and she wanted nothing to do with it.

The crowd consumed her. Boh's form drifted unnoticed through the rest of the bazaar as she went about the last of her errands....

"All I need to know is what kind of threat was he alluding to? Did he give any details at all?" Uluru asked curtly, glancing over at the Wetlander hanging in the wooden cage and mentally noting that he didn't exactly exude trustworthiness. "I don't particularly care whether he's guilty or not, I'm not particularly looking to break any laws in this town," he shook his head before stating jokingly, "Not before I visit the Nomads' tents anyway."

"My apologies miss, Duneyrr is tired and I believe he mistook your hair for a kind of flower that grows in our homeland in the spring." Sören says, tugging on one of the stags antlers to pull him away once he has released the woman's hair. "And he is not a horse, but a stag. I take it they are not a common sight here in Dol-Duna..."

He sounds a bit tired when he says this, which he is. People have been mistaking Duneyrr for something other than what he is all day now. Patting the stag on the neck he walks back to the wagon, rummages around in the back for a moment, then pulls out an apple and holds it out for Duneyrr, who takes a large bite and nuzzles Sören's hand. "Go on ahead Duneyrr, you know where we usually stay. I'll be there in a bit."

After taking another bite of the apple, leaving little more than the core in Sören's hand, Duneyrr eyes the woman's pink hair once more before lowering his head a little and trudging onward. The northman watches as the crowd parts for the stag and the wagon. For being an animal, Duneyrr was very intelligent, and Sören often saw him as a brother over anything else. Soon the wagon is lost around a corner and Sören turns his attention back to the crowd around him as another woman shouts at them, saying something about the wetlander and how he has important information he needs to share. If what she said was true, then someone should at least hear the fellow out. With a sigh he reaches up to rub the back of his head, causing his helm to shift and his antlers to sort of dance about on his head for a moment before he straightens his helm again and turns towards the direction of the commotion.

"Let's see what he has to say then." Sören says, cracking his neck as he looks down at the pink haired woman. "Excuse me, please. And again, I apologize about your hair."

The northman makes his way to the crowd and past the woman who had been yelling a moment ago. The day had been a long and tiring one, and he just wanted things to be simple for a time. No stopping to talk or correct people about what Duneyrr was. Sören made his way directly to the cage where the wetlander was being held and walked straight up to the man.

"You are the one they call the wetlander, yes?" Sören asks, eyes glowing a bit in the shadow of his cloak as he looks the man over. "You do not seem to pose a threat, so I do not see why these bars are needed. In any case, I have heard that you know of some danger coming to this land, is that true? If so I would hear those words from your lips." When Sören reaches out with his left hand there is a layer of frost over his flesh like a lattice work of lace, and when he touches the wood around the lock it spreads, causing the wood to freeze suddenly, weakening it after being exposed to so much heat for such a long time. "It is against the law to let you free, but that does not mean you could not find a way to escape."

When he pulls his hand away, the wood around the lock begins to dry and crack in the heat.

"It seems there are some who might help you in this village. I would suggest you wait until nightfall to try and leave your cage, but that is up to you. Until then, please, tell me of this threat."

"My mistake," Whisper spoke as she attempted to smooth down her horse-licked hair. She nearly felt bad watching the animal leave. Perhaps she could do with less hair if the poor animal really wanted it. She looked over the man in front of her, mildly surprised to see she didn't recognize him. Not that she knew many people, but she at least knew of them.

Curiosity got the better of her and she followed the antlered man, wondering if they were actually growing from his head. Sure, that would be unusual, but not unheard of in her travels. Rather than asking, she decided to observe the interaction to figure out what she could. From his words, the horse man seemed to know what this prisoner had done; something Whisper still wasn't sure about.

Content to watch, she leaned against a corner in a lazy manner.