Xaverius Rusten's Story

The metal panel of an old world machine was pulled away as a somewhat stocky figure peered inside, looking for anything either valuable or useful, their blue eyes covered by a pair of goggles scanning over the rusted components. The dug inside, pulling out a small piece of circuitry. "Hmmm... might be worth somethin'." Xaverius muttered, putting the small green part into his backpack. He left the machine open in case another scavenger were to come along so they could find anything he may have missed. He hauled himself to his feet, his age combined with his build didn't give him the easiest time when kneeling down to look for parts, but he managed. He wiped a bit of sand from his goggles and adjusted the green bandanna he used to protect his mouth. He then looked about, seeing where he should go next. He saw what looked like a town in the distance, with what little items he had found on his latest scavenge, he made his way to the village. On the way, he pulled out a flask he used to keep water, taking a small sip, he noted from the weight of the flask that he would have to refill it once he got into town.

Upon arriving at the village, he looked for the nearest trader to show off what he had found, upon finding one, he browsed their goods, eyeing a roll of duct tape. "Heyo, could I trade this here piece 'o tech for that there roll of adhesive?" Xaverius asked the trader, holding our the small circuit he found. "Hmmmm..." the trader studied the green card, making notes on the quality and the state of all the parts. "Sure thing." the trader said, offering the roll to Xaverius, who took the tape with a hearty "Thanks!". His main reason for his choice was for his weapon, a lead pipe with a saw blade taped to the end, since he tape holding the saw blade on kept wearing out, he had to find more tape to keep the blade on, though even without the saw blade his build made his weapon still something to watch out for. After stashing the tape, he wandered into a nearby bar, where he pulled up a chair by the bartender and looked about, he'd probably stay here for about a week until moving on, unless things changed.

Smacow's and traders and travellers and tourists moved through the streets chaotically, weapons dangling off half of them - it was Qafar after all. Mirova fit in, her beige, dusty-cloak covering her head to toe, thick gloves and boots bunching out at the ends, and a gold-glittered veil coming down over the opening of the hood. Coins and materials from different clan's were being traded at the entrance to each stall Mirova passed, each trying to barter an equal value of goods in return. As she continued down the main-road the tents and stands got grander, stages and shows and fire-bursting out of machines on display as salesmen and women pitched the audience grandly.

Through the darkness of her hood Mirova's eyes lit up as an engine on a pedestal blasted out electrical bolts across a wooden stage, the seller laughing as the audience gasped. Stolen Wetlander technology, the trader boasted. Very advanced.

"Alright," Mirova murmured, glancing down at the market map she had in hand. The Dol clan was good at organizing these things, very orderly this chaos. "My tent should be-" Mirova turned a corner to reveal an alleyway, poisonous rats feasting on what may at one stage have been a corpse. Rocks and rubble polluted the path, and darkness consumed the alleyway ground toward her decorated, red and gold nomad's tent at the end.

"Oh sweet, I love being in a murder alley," Mirova commented as she made her way down the dark alley to set up her tent. Not the best spot in the village to attract customers, but it didn't matter. At the end of the day, once people had spent their money and were looking for a bit of hope, that's when they visited a Nomad's tent.

"Naima name still good for something," Mirova muttered as she entered the silk entrance-way, readying to setup.

***

"One drink please," A voice said from down the bar of Jake. A long-faced man with thinning, grey hairs glanced over at the cowboy-samurai and the woman on his lap before turning nervously to the barkeep.

"It's your favourite: beer," The barkeeper muttered, sliding the musky mug toward the man. He glanced a small Taqa crystal on the counter, the barkeeper glancing down at the item before nodding. It was a fair trade.

"Bartender, one beer and a refill on my flask please." Xaverius told the bartender, placing his flask on the counter. While he waited for his drink, he looked around at the other patrons, giving his stubble a small rub. "So, how's everyone doin'?" He asked, not sure if any of them would respond, but trying to start some sort of civil conversation would be pleasant.

The winds howled at the walls of his tent, sand sweeping over endlessly. Thessir's day was restless as he struggled to sleep through the constant noise. Life was hard and he was used to hard but losing sleep never made life any easier. Such was the cost of knowledge worth seeking however. There was little choice in comfort when he desired to find evidence with which to find the builders of old.

Struggling to his feet as he knew he wasn't going to get any decent sleep while the sand continued to blow he opened up his watch to check the time. The time read four, at least several marks before the greater mark of five which was when the sun would touch down on the horizon. He growled, bothered by the fact that he would have to trudge out in this awful light for some hours before the darkness would set. He closed his watch and put it away as he got dressed.


Clad in his full garb he packed away his things and opened the front flap of the tent only for sand to start pouring in. He shouted profanities in his native tongue which to the uninformed outsider would probably sound like a series of growls, hisses and clicks. Stepping outside after a long days rest only to find his tent was halfway to being buried in the sweeping sands was not a pleasant way to begin an evening. With the wind at his back he took down his tent and unearthed it from the sand while making an effort to not leave sand inside the tent. He didn't want to have to carry more weight in sand given he already had enough things he had to haul by backpack.

With everything secured to his back he marched on forward, his boots sinking into the sand a little with each step forward. He took care to make sure he was covered from the sun as the heat beat down on him. While his clothes were comfortable it was still so warm it was nearly intolerable. Worse yet for him was the sunlight itself. He couldn't leave a single scrap of skin left uncovered or it would blister from sunburns in a mere matter of minutes. Everything was just so bright right then too. Even with a hat he needed to shield his eyes from the light reflected off the long fields of sand.


His extended walk into the morning had paid off however as now despite his lack of rest he was close to the city of Dol-Duna. It was within he was sure he could find respite from the wages of the desert. Through the gate he entered the town and filtered into the crowds of people, most of them being travelers in their own right whether they be merchants, journeymen or otherwise. The people were of little concern for him right now though. His eyes looked past the curios and food items, searching for an establishment with a roof he could put between him and the accursed sun.

He never really had much trust for crowds but what really put him off were the beasts. Creatures of many sorts walked shoulder to shoulder with people all around. He never had any sort of fondness for animals, especially those which walked the surface. Given how life was like in the Downder most animals were either eaten or trying to eat him. Even though his people kept animals for things like milk and silk they were nothing like the creatures of the outer lands. He never much cared for animals and the added strangeness of these beasts only soured their appeal to him even more.


Mincing his way through the crowd he scurried through the door of what appeared to be a tavern. Out of the sun he gave a sigh of relief, his eyes still hurting from the exposure. Awkwardly he made his way over to the bar before settling down on a stool.

"Care for a drink?" The bartender greeted him as he would most other patrons. "Just a glass of water." Thessir answered back, not even looking up from the bar when he addressed the man. He was already fishing about his many pockets as the bartender poured him a cup of water. As the cup was set before him he took out a small taqa crystal and placed it on the bar. Naturally the bartender took it as payment for the water. After all, water wasn't free, not out in the desert.


Thessir's eyes scanned the room as he drained his cup. There were a couple other patrons, most notably a person dressed for travel who seemed to be living it up. He tried to pay the others little mind as he produced a strange crystal roughly the size of a chicken's egg. It was a deep dark blue color, similar to a sapphire only darker. From another pocket he held up to his eye what appeared to be some strange form of jeweler's loupe. It was of a construction well foreign to surface-dwelling clans since he made it himself.

"So, how's everyone doin'?" The other man in the hat asked, seeming to be addressing them in general. Now Thessir wasn't very familiar with social conventions when it came to outlanders which was basically everyone at this point for him. He wasn't sure if the question was supposed to be answered or if it was simply rhetorical. He also couldn't really decipher just what it was he was asking. Just to be safe he decided to answer. After all, it wasn't like he was going to out himself as anymore of a foreigner than he already appeared to be.


"I am doing it very well. I do good work." He replied to the vocal man's query. In talking his accent was quite thick making his already flawed understanding of terms sound even further out of place. The origin of his accent however could not be placed.

"Heh, nice to hear, I just got back from doin' some scavenging, found some sweet piece of old tech I traded in for some more adhesive." Xaverius replied, he had a somewhat gruff voice as he spoke. He then proceeded to take his drink and take a swig. "Ahh, nothin' beats a good ol' beer, ey?" He chuckled, setting his beer back down on the counter.

Xaverius took another hearty swig from his beer, adjusting his position on his seat slightly. "So... what do ya do for a livin?" He asked. "I'm a scavenger of sorts mahself, I've been interested in all that old world tech out there, last week I found a small rectangle thing that people used to talk to one another, only managed to find that out before the batteries died, still managed to trade off the components for some food, was a pretty nice deal." He gave his beer another swig, letting out a small burp followed by an "Excuse me."

Xaverius then heard what was going on outside. "Eh? What's goin' on out 'ere?" As Xaverius thought, a sudden sharp pain shot through his left leg, upon looking down he saw one of the salamands, biting down on his calf. "Oi! That meat ain't for eatin'!" He exclaimed, shaking the critter off and watching it run off. A tad confused by the incident, he spotted a group of people who seemed to be dealing with the other salamands. He limped over to the group, "Ey, you lot havin' a bit 'o a pest problem?" He asked, trying not to think about his injury.

"You're bleeding..." Bohdana noticed a man hobbling toward them while her uncle dealt with damage control, she stepped toward Xaverius, "I have medical supplies. You need some?"

"Eh.. this? One 'o those little red buggers bit me. Thanks for your kindness, and yeah, a bandage should do just fine." He replied, using his bandana to wipe his leg.

Bohdana searched through her pack and found a newly purchased bandage, holding it out to him with reserved kindness--as if it were her duty to do so, "I think the Salamands are all gone. They got me too, not as bad as you though..." she glanced out toward the mess of the bazaar, "Too bad about the festival."

Uncle Andle finished his mug of beer as Uluru was suddenly downed violently - a targeted hit.

"Well, damage done at least those responsible are put away," Andle sighed, watching with a smile as Boh helped a traveller out. "Regardless welcome to Dol-Duna," He said, turning to the rest of the group present as the crowds of bazaar began to pass by again, the scene with the salamands finished and done. "I don't know if you've ever been but... there's a lot to do. If you need any crystals I'm your man, Iconic Andle... just don't buy into any new gimmicks," Andle paused, as though remember a dark part of his past. "...And don't go to any Nomad tents, from what I heard the Naima clan is in town... they can be... dangerous."

"Yeah... hopfully they can keep the show rollin'." He took the bandage from her and wrapped it around his wound, tucking the end in so it wouldn't fall out. "Thank you, I'm Xaverius Rusten, wanderer and scavanger." He held out his hand to shake with Bohdana.

"Bohdana Yātrī," Boh took his hand with a stiff shake, nodding her head to Andle, "That there's me uncle. If you need any Taqa's he's your man to trade with. Are you a nomad as well, then? Only I noticed you called yourself a wanderer..."

"Yup. Never could get into the whole clan thing, kinda seemed limiting on where I could go. I left my parents when I was 18, and now I'm here at 40, makin' my name where I can." He said, trying to rub the blood off his bandana with his sleeve.

Uluru brushed himself off, glancing over at Dustin. "Thanks for that," he noted wryly. "Might not want to hold onto that for too long...they tend to heat up," he pointed out as the salamand began to shake intensely.

He then turned to Andle, scratching the back of his head. "Dangerous? Why's that. Was hoping to visit some of the Nomad huts myself..."

Andle stared at Uluru, a glint in his eyes. "You have anything sacred? Any... beliefs?"

"Oh wow, that's cool!" Bohdana grinned, "We don't meet so many clanless these days. You travel on your own then? Must be hard. It's only me 'n my uncle but we have friends in all corners of the Sea, so that's something."

"Some, yes," Uluru responded vaguely. "What does that matter?"

Andle nodded and smiled. "The Nomads will change them." There was something sinister in his words.

He glanced over the group and nodded. "Well, glad to be of help," He gave a slight wave before stepping over to his niece.

"Uncle Andle himself," Uncle Andle introduced to the man. "Boh, who's your friend?"

"It can get pretty tough, but I manage. Guess I should be thankfull that my body retains fat so well, don't really need to worry about starvation, and gives me some slight protection, didn't seem too effective on that salamand though." He chuckled. "And I'm Xaverius Rusten, pleasure to meet you!"