The Snapa-verse

"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.

After wandering the town for some time, Xaverius found himself back at the bar he was at some time ago. Deciding he may meet more people there, he headed inside, taking up a seat at the bar and looking about the interior, admiring the decor.

"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."

Thessir looked up at her, listening as she went on about the necklace. Plenty of questions, some of them odd.

"I spoke of the time, of few greater marks. Equal to or less than approximately three marks estimated. You receive repaired necklace at my location." He answered her first two questions as though he expected her to already of known such matters. Before he could answer her third question she broke away from the conversation as a woman spoke of freeing the wetlander.


While he was most interested in who he is and why he's come so far out the issue seemed to grow muddy with voices as various folks responded in a variety of ways. He wanted to help if only to sate his desire to know more but simply trying to talk over everyone seemed to be a fruitless expenditure of his effort. Instead he figured he'd tackle the other end of the issue, the people the man referred to as the Nomad Clan.

"Do you know of where the Nomad clan the man in the cage spoke of is? Their interest might be in this." He spoke to the woman who had approached them asking for help. It only seemed appropriate to Thessir to involve those the stranger had spoken of since he seemed so adamant on speaking with them. After all, what harm could that do?

Skullivan squinted in annoyance as Sören approached. "Yes, I am the one they call the Wetlander," He muttered, mimicking the man's speech. The northman seemed to pay little notice as he continued to speak, freezing the lock and the wooden bars around it with his touch. The Wetland Traitors eyes narrowed at the act - some sort of desert technology.

Skullivan stared at the man and then at a woman in black who stood a few metres away - pink hair, dressed in Black. It reminded him of a Wetland uniform. "So the girl sent you - the lady," Skullivan said, referring to Ka'Wa, and resting his body weight on the bars and nodding at the two. "Um thank you but we don't have until nightfall." The Wetlander blinked. "I told her a Leviathan Airship is coming. Soon. An hour, less. And me?" He jabbed himself in the chest with a finger. "I need to be out of this town, with my golden idol, and with the Naima Clan."

Ka looked uncomfortable and resisted the temptation to look down at her hands.

"He said something about an airship coming for him?" Ka frowned and pointed to the dune in the west Skullivan had pointed at. "From over there. I think he called it the leviathan and he said it would be here within the hour."

When another question was asked concerning the nomad clan, Ka's eyes widened and she scolded herself mentally for being smart enough to have asked about.

"I'm sorry but I didn't ask about the nomad clan he was seeking, " Ka said with a small bow.

"I don't know any members of the Naima clan, or anything about a golden idol. Nor do I know what lady you speak of. If you wish to find these things be my guest, I have done what I can for the time being. If you are in such a hurry to be out of this village by nightfall then I suggest you hurry." Sören did not like being mocked. Maybe he should have left the man in the cell, but what had been done was done.

Turning, he nearly runs into the woman with the pink hair before he takes a step to the side to start walking around her. "I am tired of this place already. I think a strong drink is in order, or as strong as this sandy place can muster up." Sören says as he walks past the woman. She intrigues him. Although he knew she had been following him, he could not hear her movements. Had she darker intentions he would mostly likely be pulling a dagger from his side...again.

Continuing on, Sören heads to the first tavern he sees. Upon entering he spots one of the men from before, who had been involved with the trouble caused by the red creatures he thought. Sören gives the man a nod of respect for whatever efforts he may have put forth before going up to the bar.

"Can I get you something?" the bartender asks as he walks over to Sören, only able to look the northman in the eye without having to look up once he has taken a seat.

"A mug of your strongest spirits, please." Sören says as he reaches into his cloak, into a pouch hanging from his belt, and takes out a taqa crystal. He places it on the bar and the man nods, jerking his hand away when he goes to touch the crystal. After hesitating a moment he takes it as payment and goes to pour the drink. In the meantime Sören pulls the hood of his cloak back carefully, revealing his dark hair and bright eyes. Reaching up, he takes his iron helm off and sets it before him on the counter just as the bartender returns with his drink. "My thanks."

"A mug for me as well." Xaverius grinned, placing a handful of bottle caps on the counter, he kept a small bag of these for trading, the small metal pieces had their uses, and were normally accepted whenever he traded them. The bartender counted them up and scooped them up and pours him a drink, setting it down on the counter. Xaverius picks up the mug and takes a swig, shuddering slightly at the strength of the drink. "Ahh, thanks!" he took another swig, getting more adjusted to the drink.

Whisper's eyes followed Antler Man's movements as he made for the door. Thus far, her curiosity had only increased by the strange display of stranger power. The prisoner on the other hand and hardly lived up to his legend. This didn't seem like a nefarious terrorist. He was nothing more than a scared man in a new place, that was familiar to Whisper.

Once Antlers turned his back, the pink haired woman turned her face back to the prisoner. Raising a finger to her lips in a shushing motion, her other hand dropped to the belt on her hip. Taking a small throwing knife from the set, she silently put it near the bars and backed away, following the other visitor out the door. The knife wasn't a very good long term weapon, but it was better than going unarmed.

Once she caught up with the subject of her curiosity, she leans against the counter. "You know, I've heard the Iron Bar has some great ale," She says as she studies his newly revealed face. Still, there was no recognition. "I'll buy you a drink if you tell me a secret."

"Enjoy. Thank you for your trade." Musa said absently, one ear on her customer and the other listening to the voices rising above the hum of the crowd. The first thing she heard was a woman announcing that she wanted to free the Wetlander turned prisoner. While a kind, yet illegal endeavor, it was foolish of her to yell out her intent in the middle of a large crowd. She could hear the sharp whispers among the other merchants and their buyers. Grabbing and donning her staff, she begins moving away from a blank space where a vase just was while leaving her tent to be handled by the rest of her party. She placed herself near a man with a curved sword. She was close enough to him to be labeled as a listener but far enough to not be associated with him.

Then, after listening to the last of the comments on the amored female's plans, she spoke up herself in a clear voice. "Even if anyone were to assist you, it would be foolish to. I'm sure that guard over there heard your plan when you shouted it for the whole Bizarre to hear. In fact, he's watching you with narrowed eyes. He's watching all of us." She waves her hand in the direction of said guard, of which her eyes were trained upon ever since mentioning him. After a bit, her gaze slid over those assembled before she would look to the girl in the center again, switching her weight onto one leg.

Sören looks at the odd coins, of that was even what they were, that the stranger who came up beside him placed on the bar. Whatever they were, the bartender seemed to accept them. He'd never seen their like before, but no matter. Sören had learned long ago that anything could be used as currency in Dol-Duna. Once he had traded a length of petrified red oak for a warm meal and a mug of ale.

Lifting his own mug he takes a long drink of the muddy colored spirit within. He had no idea what this particular liquor was, or what it was made from, but it would do. It was not as strong as that of his own clan though, so he had already decided that he would need more. When he looks over and sees the expression on the stranger's face, he offers a nod and raises his mug to the man before draining it and setting it back down on the counter.

"You know, I've heard the Iron Bar has some great ale," Sören turns to find the woman with pink hair leaning against the counter on his other side. "I'll buy you a drink if you tell me a secret."

"And what sort of secret might you be after?" The northman asks, weighing her offer in his mind. He had few Taqa crystals with him to spend here in the bar, and he knew the fellow would probably not want to trade the pelt of a bear for another round of drinks. Bear pelts were too warm to be worn down here in the desert proper.

Xaverius raised his mug back, taking another deep swig, finishing off the mug's contents. "Another my good man!" He exclaimed, placing another handful of bottle caps on the counter, the bartender took them and refiled his mug, from which he took another swig, this time his head swayed a bit, the effects of the alcohol already taking effect.

Whisper retrieved a small slip of folded paper from her pocket and slid it toward the bartender as he approached. "Honestly, all of them. It's what I do. Starting with a name would be good, though really that should just be common courtesy." Her voice was bored, belying the amount her lack of knowledge was annoying her.

Signaling that she would buy a round for the both of them and the guy at the end of the bar that looked like he was having a good time, she took off her hood. Hiding behind the shadows tended to make people nervous and that made people lie. She stared the stranger straight in the eye as the bartender unfolded the paper. It contained the name of the young man that broke into his establishment the previous week. Surely, it would be good for quite a few drinks.

As soon as the cup was set in front of her, she chugged the whole thing and put the mug back on the counter.

"Whoa! Like your style, miss!" Xaverius held his mug up at Whipser, chugging the whole mug. He shook slightly and let out a small belch, followed with an "Excuse me." He loosened his posture slightly, wiping the booze from his bearded mouth. "I'm Xaverius Rusten by the way, nice to meet you both!"

Whisper gave the man a wink and raised her refilled mug towards him.

He raised his refilled glass back, chugging it's contents in once swift motion, then setting it down on the counter, at the point his cheeks had flushed red from the alcohol.

The northman maintains eye contact with the woman until she breaks it as their drinks arrive. Looking away then he turns his attention to his own mug and takes a sip, grinning when he finds the bartender has refilled his with spirits rather than ale. "Sören Ahlgren, if you must know. I am of the Rotgevir clan. And yourself?"

He turns a bit in his seat so he can keep an eye on here. She was too quiet to be trusted in a blind spot, Sören had already decided. So far she seemed to be friendly enough, but that could all change very suddenly. He knew this all too well, as he assumed many strangers in strange lands would have some to know the same thing.

-meanwhile-

Duneyrr was growing bored of waiting around for Sören. His friend should have been there what seemed like an hour ago, though the stag knew good and well it had not really been that long. Still, Duneyrr had been alone long enough to find the space provided for the wagon, park the damnable thing, and headbutt a stranger who had tried to sneak into the wagon from the backside.

As with every time the northman had brought him to this desert village, there was a trough of water waiting for him at this space, and a barrel of scraps. Vegetables and fruits. Of course Duneyrr would prefer fresh food, and while the top layer did seem fresh, the lower down you went the worse the food would be. So, ignoring this, the stag walks around to the back of the wagon and nudges a barrel of apples until they fall over. Sören would be annoyed at having to clean this up, but no matter.

Tetra grimaced as another woman asked for help in freeing the Wetlander. She wasn't going to touch this with a ten foot pole. Especially now that it had been announced to the entire surrounding area that someone was planning a breakout. But before Tetra could point that out, someone else came along and said the exact same thing she had been thinking. Tetra immediately nodded and gestured towards the newcomer.

"She's right. And if he somehow manages to escape, even without your help, the guards will immediately suspect you and take you in for questioning," Tetra shuddered slightly. "And it wouldn't be a pretty interrogation, either." She didn't know what "airship" this Wetlander had supposedly told the woman about, but Tetra had a feeling it would be a good idea to get out of town relatively quickly. "I guess the Summer Bizarre will be ending a little early for me," she sighed wistfully before brushing her hair out of her face. "It probably isn't very safe here anymore for any of us."

Her face broke into a sly grin as he finally answered her. Whisper turns in her seat so she faces away from the bar and towards the bulk of the patrons. Sipping slowly from her cup, she replies, "I am called Whisper. I am Clanless as far as anyone here knows. Though I will admit that isn't true."

She looked out to the crowd, seeing who was drinking and who was following less savory pursuits. In the corner of her eye, she could watch her target, but she wasn't particularly worried. He'd been in much better positions to attack her previously.

Dustin was incredulous. They were aiding him in escaping, this was absolutely ridiculous. Either guards were incompetent or couldn't be arsed to do anything about it. This guy, this Wetlander, was causing a scene in the streets, throwing stuff around, and now was claiming this settlement was going to get destroyed? He should be questioned and held, not released.

He cast a glance at the individual beside him, voicing further common sense. The armored girl seemed to not do anything after that, but that tall horned man conversed with him. So did that black-clad girl. His own eyes narrowed in suspicion as they followed the cloaked female leave the cage and head to the bar nearby. He strode up to the cage to see what was done and hefted a deep sigh. What were they thinking?

Dustin decided he'd at least do something about it. He marched right into the building with the words The Iron Bar written over the door and began scanning the crowd. It wasn't difficult to pick out a black cloak at the bar. Who wears black in this heat? "Why'd you throw in the knife?" his gruff voice rang out right behind her.

"I'm a full on clanless myself." Xaverius said, taking another swig of alcohol. "Could never really get into the whole thing, so I just wander around."

The girl smiled at the red-faced giant, he was clearly getting a little tipsy at this point. Her reply was cut off though by a gruff man behind her. Whisper could hear him coming. Clearly angry, he nearly stomped through the bar. He stopped just short of running into her, but she didn't turn around.

His shouts were calling attention to the pair, but she leisurely turned around as if she wasn't buzzing on the inside. She cocked her head and replaced her sly grin, only those studying her very closely would be able to see the tense posture in her back. Her fingers twitched toward her dagger, but Whisper kept them firmly wrapped around the handle of her mug. She quickly finished her drink before replying, "He just wants his freedom. I can understand. I hope you can too."

Tightening her hand again, she flung the heavy glass toward his head. It stopped short of it's mark as he caught her wrist a fraction of an inch before impact.

Dustin tightened his hold on her wrist and held her back to the bar, face furious that she had even attempted to do, well, anything. He yanked her hood back to get a good look at her face then scoffed. "A Hellseherin. Why am I not surprised." He roughly released her with a slight shove to put some distance between them as he took a step back just in case she felt like being brave again. "Yes, we all have a thirst for freedom. But those who begin to affect the freedoms of others relinquish their own. He's a foreigner. And not the kind that us Qafarians are friendly with."

Sören said nothing for a moment, and instead focused on his drink. The woman, Whisper he now knew her to be called, and the other man, both claimed to be clanless. His people did not believe that was possible, all humans belonged to a clan, even if it were just their own blood family. Those ties could never be severed, even if you were the only member of your family left.

The alcohol was beginning to hit him a little, he could feel a slight buzz, and with that he started to say as much to his two new drinking companions, but thought it best to finish his drink first. Downing the contents of the mug he sighs and sets it down, but before he can say anything more a voice rings out from behind him. Sören turns around enough to catch sight of the man just as Whisper throws her cup at him. Groaning, Sören stands up, straightening to his full height, before looking the man in the eye and speaking.

"You say that one loses their right to freedom when they begin to interfere with the freedom of another? And that because he is not of this land it is right to lock him away in such a way?" Sören asks, letting his accent thicken a bit to show the man that he was clearly an outsider as well. "If I make a scene will I be locked up as well? Or my friend? Surely throwing her glass caused a scene as well, did it not? Maybe we should lock you up for walking into this bar and raising your voice to the patrons trying to enjoy themselves?" His eyes were glowing now with the power of his runes, his breath misting the air. He did not want a fight, not exactly, but he was ready for one. Though the alcohol might have been pushing him on a bit.

The pressure on Whisper's wrist was starting to get painful, but her face didn't seem to know it. She kept the same sly smirk on her face, "Well what do you expect a Hellseherin to do when confronted by an Atzerii brute?"

His shove, forced her back into the bar but she kept her head high. Partially because he was so much taller than her, but mostly due to her Clan pride. This time, she allowed her fingers to graze her thighs. Not quite on her weapons, but close enough to have them ready if he charged.

When Soren stood up, she wasn't sure who he was planning on aiding. His speech made him seem to be on her side, but that wasn't guaranteed.

"The poor man doesn't really seem to be a danger. At least let him fight like a man, not caged like an animal." She called to the giant. She kept glancing over to Soren's glowing runes, a little in awe a little in fear.