Snippet #2769399

"Tarnation," White Hat grumbled, sitting on the steps of Kalipher street. It was a long, winding stairway carved out of stone, up to the religious temple blocks of Cobran. He'd only been there four days but he was already getting acquainted with the sights and sound of the accursed city. Bells rang from behind White Hat's White Hat. Cobran allowed every religion the Rock had in it's walls. Something unheard of outside of the Horenor. After all, in most villages there was a majority. In most villages the wrong god got you killed.

But this wasn't most villages, White Hat reflected as he snickered under his hat. This was Cobran. Where everything was seemingly perfect. Suddenly he spotted someone at the base of Kalipher street, marching through the lantern city. "Hey, you. Lahwman," White Hat said, raising up and begging a light sprint down the steps. He rounded the corner to find himself face to face with Tackel, who, judging by the basket in his arms, had more luck shopping than he had. He'd seen him around the new arrival cave, in his tent, eating, but hadn't said much. Of course that was before the group he came in with vanished a night ago.

"They left ya' behind, didn't they?" White Hat grinned at the tall muscle-lad. "They up and abandoned this place. But you ain't become one of them yet, have ya?" White Hat squinted. "You've not drank the juice."