Snippet #2679549

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?"