Rahiq bint Raafe's Story

Putrid smell and a spinning blur of the cargo hold welcomed Rahiq back to the world of the living. Her first breath tasted like vomit and salt, and the cold was stifling her throat. Each and every passing day since boarding the ship had been harder for the woman, today was no exception. Rahiq pulled her flimsy cloak tightly around her, it was inadequate protection from Gar's bleak weather, but the only one she had.

Slowly regaining control of her vision and balance, Rahiq used the crates she hid between to stand. They had been all she had seen since she had fled Dhara and had been a blessing to her in each and every sense of the word. For Rahiq was a stowaway, who had in desperation to survive, had sneaked into the first ship with nothing but a waterskin to suckle on. The ship was a small merchant vessel carrying (to Gar) exotic fruits and wines, which for Rahiq served as a means of survival and reminder of her homeland. If the ship had carried anything else, it would have been likely she had died within the hull.

Rahiq picked a handful of prickly pears from the top crate, one by one and carefully removed the spines and outer skin before eating them. They were disgustingly sweet for a seasick person, but between the risk of throwing up again and starvation, Rahiq bore the taste. She had survived another day, but Rahiq certainly hoped the ship would roll into the docks of wherever it was going soon.

Rahiq's wish soon came true. Although late at night, there were still a few men at dock when the ship arrived in Davonport. It was her first time on a ship, and so she did not notice until Rahiq heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She ducked into her hiding place between the crates, but getting out of sight alone was not enough to save her.

“By the gods, what is that blasted stench?” Rahiq heard a man shout. “Ronald! Ronald we got one again.”

Rahiq riled up in fright; soon there would be two men after her and she was in no condition to fight or run. Her hand went for her knives and the other clamped around her forehead, trying to think clearly. She had to act before this Ronald came down. Rahiq looked around for anything to use... She found a prickly pear she'd not yet eaten on the ground next to her. She picked it up and lobbed it over the crates to the outer corner of the shiphold and quietly listened what the man would do next.

She was in luck, the man followed the bait. “Ronald, I found the bastard!” The man yelled, as Rahiq used his voice as a cover to get up without either hearing them. She listened to another set of footsteps; a short, quick pace. One that all too quickly passed by her hiding spot as well. Using this opportunity, Rahiq slipped between the boxes and made a break for the door. If she could get to it and lock it... She could escape.

However, the two men caught onto her quickly. “There he is, don't let him get away!” One yelled, only catching sight of the back of Rahiq's cloak. Both followed in pursuit, but Rahiq's balance was even worse than she'd anticipated. The running made her head spin, and she fell to the ground. She bit her lip in frustration, but also knowing that was her only way of escape. The blood was a sacrifice to the spirit inhabiting a mask she possessed, a bleak white skeleton mask that she'd strapped to her thigh. She put it on her face; the same moment she felt two callus-ridden hands pin her down.

“I got 'im, pops!” She heard a second voice, one she guessed could only belong to Ronald. Rahiq knew she had only one chance at this, as she lacked the physical strength to struggle out of Ronald's grip and so she squirmed a leg from underneath the cloak. Please work, Rahiq thought, please let fortune shift it's course in her favour for just this once...

“It's black! His skin, it's black!” Ronald cried aloud.

“It is ash, as I will turn yours to lest you unhand me!” An inhuman voice sounded from Rahiq's throat. The mask's magic twisted hers into a demonic growl, echoing within itself and haunting the hearts of common men.

“D-demon!” Ronald panicked, as Rahiq counted her blessings and slipped from the man's grip and got back on her feet. As long as she was wearing her cloak, they could not see her physique, and that and her morphed voice were the only cards Rahiq had to play. She managed to get up, but in her walk swayed like a drunken sailor; desperately reaching for anything solid to not fall over.

“Follow me and I will burn you to the bone.” The mask's voice threatened the two men, as Rahiq did her best to climb the stairs as quickly as possible. Most merchants knew little of cursed and magical artefact's, beside that they were worth good money. Rahiq should know, she had robbed enough of them. Even this little should invoke enough fear into the men for her to escape.

With the ample time she had bought, Rahiq managed to get above deck. The cold struck even harder in the open air; with no shelter from the wind. Unable to hold proper footing she stumbled and crawled her way across deck of the ship. She made it to the railing, before the late-night workers noticed her; her mantle's magic must had ran out. “Who are you!” One demanded, as he put down the cargo and walked up to Rahiq.

“I am-” Rahiq murmured, but noticed her mask's magic had quickly ran out. She threw a quick look at the man; who was easily two heads taller and buff to boot. She drew a knife and stuck it out threateningly. “Don't come closer.” She forced the words out of her throat, but she sounded weak and hoarse. The worker however, did not flinch at the sight of the weapon. In fact, he only came closer. Rahiq was driven into a corner... She considered running past the man, charging with her knife out; but her condition wouldn't allow either. There was no time to think and the muscle-head was only getting closer and she was inching back... Until she hit the railing off the boat.

“You're a stowaway, aren't you?” The man asked rhetorically. He reached out his arm to grab Rahiq's arm, but the Dharan woman would rather die than being captured now she'd made it across the seas. Using the last of her strength, she threw herself over the railing off the ship; expecting to hit the cold, hard ground within a split second. Instead; she found her fall broken by something soft but freezing cold; and her eyes staring into those of a young man sporting a lute and a pair of hazel eyes...

"We're going away to leave you now,
Hoorah, me boys, we're homeward bou-mff!"
By now Richter had moved onto his next shanty, no longer content to just whistle to himself, and was now singing at an audible mumble. Well, that was until something descended upon him from the sky, something fast-moving and heavy, something that also made a sound other than "THUD" when it collided with him. Richter suddenly found himself sprawled out on his back with a face full of snow, but he had been rather fortunate that the snow was there to cushion him, as the alternative was a face full of splinters from the pier. If he was on his back, he would have landed on his rucksack, and that would put his instruments in danger. Before even looking at what had plummeted down from the sky he looked to his sides to check his instruments. He could hear his flute rattling around in one piece in its case, but his lute had escaped from its case and into the snow. Fortunately, the only damage it had sustained seemed to be a couple of snapped strings, and Richter had spares. He only had some bread and his money in his rucksack; his money would be fine and he could live with squashed bread since it would taste exactly the same as it did when it was bread-shaped. Now that he knew his belongings were safe, he turned his attention to the rather heavy object that had fallen upon him. The heavy object appeared to be a person, a young woman with orange eyes that were staring right into his. It didn't take even Richter any time to figure out that she was from Dhara; nobody from anywhere else had as colourful hair or eyes or as dark a skin tone. Richter had never met a Dharan before, so he inspected her face, dumbfounded, for a couple of seconds before uttering a rather awkward "Um... Good evening?"

Once Richter had awkwardly shuffled out from beneath the young lady, he hurriedly returned his lute to its case. Just as Richter was about to enquire as to why this girl had descended from the sky, he heard the angry voice of a sailor from the nearest ship:
"Damn girl's disappeared! Somebody find her before she gets away!"
"I suggest you do just that." Richter recommended, grabbing the girl by her wrist, hauling her to her feet and leading her away from the pier and into the city; answers could wait.

Once Richter decided that he'd got the girl a safe distance away from the angry sailors, he pulled her aside into an alleyway and slouched back against one of the alley's walls.
"I... what... how?" Richter garbled, neither sober nor calm enough to form a proper question.

It took Rahiq more than just a few seconds to realise what had broken her fall. She struggled to get up, feeling more of the cold bite her skin. The boy she had landed on quickly stood up and grabbed her by the arm. The next thing she knew Rahiq was getting a surprise tour through the harbour's back alleys. Not stopping to think, Rahiq put all her strength in keeping up with her saviour, panting heavily and darting clumsily behind Richter until he finally slowed down.

Rahiq coughed and wheezed, as if her nausea hadn't been enough by itself. Everything spun before her eyes, and Rahiq had trouble discerning the boy's position because of it. “Cold.” She creaked, wrapping her arms around her chest. The flimsy cloak was still around, but she was clearly not dressed for the environment. “Cold. Hungry. Please.” Rahiq begged weakly, as if the sudden burst of adrenaline had shut off her ability to form coherent sentences. The boy, for whatever reason, had saved her from whatever the sailors had planned to do to her and with her condition getting worse by the second, Rahiq saw little choice but to ask whoever he was for help...

It seemed that Richter was not the only one unable to form coherent sentences. He could see why, though; the transition from the sweltering heat of Dhara to the bitter winter of Gar could not be an easy one. After all, he hadn't really gone through any ordeal (unless the beer glass chucked at him had somehow left him mentally scarred) and he wasn't speaking any more clearly than she was. In spite of the slight cold he was already feeling, he removed his own cloak and draped it over the young woman. While she already had a cloak, it was a rather feeble one that was made of material that looked more suitable for curtains than for cloaks. Next, he reached into his rucksack and removed a small, flattened roll of wholemeal bread which he handed to the girl.
"I know it's not much, but it's better than nothing." Richter apologised as he slung his rucksack over his shoulder again and took the girl by the wrist, "It should last you for a bit. Come on, I'll take you to an inn and get you a proper meal."

As tempted as Richter was to return to the sailors' tavern where he had just been performing in order to receive some more praise, he doubted that the girl, fragile as she was, would appreciate being surrounded by loud, drunken sailors. Instead, he brought her to a smaller, quieter establishment further into the city. It was a fairly standard inn; it was kept reasonably clean, there were people dotted around the pub quietly enjoying their drinks, and one clearly drunk man in the corner blubbing about something to his rather irate-looking drinking partner. Richter sat Rahiq down at a table along with his rucksack, and scuttled off to the bar.

Richter returned with a tray adorned with a loaf of bread, a bowl of vegetable soup and a pint glass filled with bitter for each him and the young lady. He removed his own meal from the tray and slid the tray and the other, identical meal across the table to the girl.
"So, I suppose asking your name would be a good way to start," Richter began after a swig of ale, "But I'm rather curious as to how you ended up plummeting from the sky onto me."

Rahiq was grateful for the extra layer, although somewhat shocked to see the stranger to give it up so easily. She quickly wrapped the cloak tightly around herself, blocking the ice-cold winds from licking her skin. When the bread followed, Rahiq gracelessly pulled it out of the boy's hands and tore through it like it was her first decent meal in weeks... Which it was. She couldn't push a sentence out of her throat, though, even one of gratitude. All that went through Rahiq's head was how she could survive... And the boy was helping her do just that.

When they entered the inn, the transition from cold to warm made Rahiq feel feverish. She held onto Richter to keep her balance, as they walked to a table and sat down. Rahiq fared better here, but the change and memory of the outside had caught her off-guard. It wasn't until the stranger returned with bread and soup that she started to come back to her senses. She savoured the strange flavour of her soup, as well as the heat... Although Rahiq drank it with so much vigour, it was a miracle she didn't burn her mouth.

"Rahiq bint Raafe." She answered the boy after she had half-finished the soup. "I jumped off a ship." Rahiq's answers were concise, not wasting many words before delving into her food again. She must had looked terribly, but at that point the girl felt no shame. Every bit of strength returning was a blessing, and thanks to her saviour she would be under the weather for a few days, instead of freezing to death. Still, there was a question that plagued her...

"Where am I?"

"Where am I?"
Richter burst out laughing at Rahiq's question, almost spewing soup across the table. As a result of struggling to keep the soup on the correct side of his mouth, he ended up gasping for air and gulping down ale in order to get rid of the burning in his throat. Once he had regained his composure and wiped the tears of mirth and burning pain from his eyes he looked back at Rahiq. She didn't look amused.

"You're serious?" Richter chortled as he tried to regain his composure, "How did you manage to unwittingly end up in a different country?" Richter almost wanted to make something ridiculous up as a joke, like that she was in the afterlife, but he doubted she'd buy it, "You're in Davonport in southern Gar. Or, if you want to be more specific, we're in a pub."

Richter dabbed his bread into the soup again a took another bite, hoping that Rahiq wouldn't be too disgruntled by the news. Perhaps she had meant to catch a ship to somewhere else? It seemed unlikely, but Richter couldn't think of a better explanation. Then again, Richter didn't think very hard.
"Well, since you've introduced yourself, I suppose I should do the same." Richter stated through half a mouthful of bread, "I'm Richter Thorne, a wandering bard. I'm just passing through the city, but you're lucky I'm doing it now, eh?" Richter took a moment to finish his mouthful before continuing, "Since you only just found out where you are, do you have any idea what you're going to do?"

"Don't you dare laugh." Rahiq muttered when the boy spit out his soup. Unfortunately she was not very threatening in her current state, or even loud enough for him to hear her. Rahiq had to swallow her pride for now, something that was made a little easier when she saw he couldn't handle eating and laughing at the same time. If Richter had paid attention, he could've seen a slight curl of Rahiq's lips.

So she had ended up in Dar of all places. The country whose merchants she had so frequently robbed blind on her home turf. Richter could just have been one of them, by the looks of him. It was strange to think that the kind of person Rahiq would normally prey on ended up her saviour. Rahiq studied him from beneath her brow, wondering if there was more to his actions than just lending a helping hand...

"There is something important that I need back." Rahiq answered Richter truthfully, although leaving the details shrouded in mystery. After all, she had no clue how she could reclaim her clan and it's rights all the way from the snowy city of Davonport. She wasn't even able to stand on her own two legs. It was humiliating, but Rahiq would try to see if she could rely on Richter a little longer. She didn't elaborate any further, choosing instead to eat in silence as she continued to study Richter. His eyes didn't wander, he hadn't touched her artefacts... Could this travelling bard be for real?

"Why did you help me?" Rahiq suddenly asked. "I'm no more than a troubled stranger in this country. I don't understand."

Richter was rather taken aback by Rahiq's question; it seemed almost as if she wasn't grateful or that she didn't want his help. However, the force with which she had wolfed down all the food he had given her said otherwise.
"Well, because you needed help." Richter answered rather plainly, "Was I to just leave you in the snow, with little protection from the elements or whoever was angrily shouting at you? You can barely stand, I couldn't just leave you there. But, if you need a better reason, then I suppose you could say I did it because if you do good things for other people, other people will do good things for you. And trust me on this, you need as many good things as possible when you're travelling with only just enough coin to keep yourself fed."

Once he had finished his food, Richter downed what remained of his ale and turned his eyes to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room; it was past eleven and approaching midnight. He rose from his chair with a yawn and stretched his arms once he had stood up.
"Well, I think it's time that I got some sleep." Richter stated to Rahiq as he pushed his chair under the table, and was about to turn and walk off before he quickly remembered that Rahiq had only just learned what country she was in, "I'm guessing you've got nowhere to stay, considering you hadn't a clue where you were until I told you. I'll let you share a room here with me, if you want. However, that's providing you're willing to sleep on the carpet; I can't afford a room with two beds."

Rahiq couldn't help but burst out in laughter. Truly, the people of this land were insane. Back in the desert, chances were that if you gave a weary traveler a drop of water, they would stab you and take all your belongings. Especially if you were of Rahiq's tribe, as her vividly coloured hair so easily betrayed. To her, Richter's selfless actions were akin a child's, not yet aware of the true nature of the world. It was naive, but rather cute at the same time.

Rahiq, after having almost choked herself, came to. “I suppose I should thank you,” She said, although she spoke those words carefully and restrained. Rahiq still wasn't quite sure what she could expect from her saviour. Reardless, Rahiq accepted Richter's offer for the room; she was in no position to turn him down and even a carpet was a better place to sleep than she'd had in what felt like years. She followed Richter to his room and curled up on the floor under his cloak. Shortly after the lights went off and Rahiq was left alone with her thoughts on what to do next... Where had she ended up...

Richter gave Rahiq a look that was a strange mixture of confusion and indignation, as he was completely at a loss as to why she would find his answer so hilarious, let alone even mildly amusing. Nevertheless, he simply remained silent, as his own outburst of mirth had left Rahiq in a similar state of annoyance.

Once Richter had paid for and gone to a room he plopped down onto his bed and kicked off his shoes. After all the excitement from his performance at the sailors' tavern he was more than ready to slump down and go to sleep, although it seemed Rahiq was even more ready; despite having only just entered the room she was already curled up on the carpet. Before he could go to sleep himself he had to replace the broken strings on his lute, which was hardly a quick task for an instrument with sixteen strings. Fortunately, not all of them had snapped, but Richter certainly enjoyed stringing his lute a lot less than he did playing it. After giving it a quick strum to ensure that all the strings were in tune, he played a quick scale on his flute to ensure that it hadn't been damaged; it was fine. Once he was finished with his instruments he pulled the quilt over himself and drifted off into a deep sleep.

Richter rather early in the morning, earlier than Rahiq at least. Although she was still fast asleep, she'd wake up eventually, so Richter decided that it would be fine to get in a little practise before she woke up. He retrieved his flute from its case and played a few scales as a warm up before moving onto a lengthy folk piece that usually served as backing for a singer telling the tale of Roland the Indomitable, a Garian hero who had supposedly fended off an invasion force of savages from the Boneshaper Mountains with a band of only 10 men. Of course, the story was almost entirely fabricated, but that didn't stop Richter from believing it. As he played he tapped his foot on the floorboards to keep time and to emulate a drum, something that would no doubt speed Rahiq's awakening.

Her body had needed the good's night rest quite badly, and Rahiq slept through the majority of Richter's practice session. When she finally opened her eyes, her vision was still blurry and somewhat spinning, but already she felt better than the day before. Save for the cold that had come around. Rahiq listened to Richter's epic, for a while but then she had to sneeze; alerting Richter of her waking.

"What's that song?" She asked, her voice still hoarse. Somehow, his singing of heroism seemed telling about Richter.

"What's that song?"
Richter's concentration was broken when Rahiq suddenly sneezed; he had assumed that she had been asleep as she had been lying on the floor with her eyes closed for the whole time. The surprise was enough for him to look down, causing him to blow straight into the flute, interrupting the song. He wondered how long she had been awake for, but it was nice that she had wanted to listen to his music.
"It is the Ballad of Roland the Indomitable." Richter replied, the tone of his voice making it quite evident that he wasn't going to just stop at answering the question, "It is the tale of one of Gar's greatest heroes, for Roland and his ten companions defended Gar from the savage Boneshaper Clan many years ago. They've never dared to come back into Gar since." Richter took a moment to return his flute to its case before realising that Rahiq, as a Dharan, probably had no idea what he was talking about, "The Boneshapers are a tribe of savages who inhabit the mountains to the south. They've committed every atrocity against the divines imaginable: twisting wildlife into mockeries of nature, making deals with dark spirits, murdering innocents and eating the corpses of those they don't drag back from beyond the grave with their foul necromancy. It's impossible to pass into Akhar by land because of those damnable monsters; they'll kill anyone who tries to pass through their mountains. In fact, I've heard rumours that Duke Emeric was murdered while trying to pass into Akhar recently and that the Boneshapers took everything he had on him. Apparently he was quite attached to foreign curiosities, Dharan ones in particular. Not that the Boneshapers will make any use of them, they'll probably just smash them since they're not made out of people."

Richter clipped his flute case back onto his rucksack and slipped his feet back into his boots, but he wasn't about to leave just yet.
"Do you know what you're going to do now?" Richter asked as he returned his attention to Rahiq, "You weren't doing very well before, and I doubt you'll do any better if you just go back without any idea of what you're doing."

“Go back?” Rahiq pronounced with a bitter smile, shaking her head. There wasn't much of a way to go back now. Setting foot in any Dharan harbour was taunting death itself, now that the league had taken control. Rahiq was lucky her head was still attached to her body...

Still, something piqued Rahiq's interest about Richter's tale. Not so much the folklore part of it, but the recent happening... “But he had Dharan possessions?” Rahiq wondered out loud. It was common practice in her country to sell their relics. Everyone did what they had to to stay alive, and artifacts always caught high bidders. “You mean to say there is an artifact of my people in the hands of those savages?” Rahiq asked, as a plan started brooding in her head. Her tribe might be killed on sight, but with enough power, she might be able to make a stand and if Rahiq knew something about power, it was that it laid dormant in artifacts...

“This Duke Emeric, is there a search effort for him?” Rahiq asked Richter, with a sparkle of hope in her eyes, “I know more about the artifacts than any other. I can be of great help. You have a sword and you need money, you should join me. If we find the duke, we can ask for a reward. If we find the artifact, I will find a way to reward you.”

Rahiq had likely underestimated the Boneshapers, but regardless it was a path forward. For the first time in days she was hopeful and rather than the broody, suspicious demeanour she had shown Richter exclusively from the second they met, she seemed a whole new woman now.

"Are you mad?" Richter asked incredulously, "How about we just go and punch a bear? It'll end in exactly the same way: we'll be brutally murdered and eaten. Sure, I have a sword, I can take a few bandits, but if it took Roland, a legendary hero, ten companions to fight off the Boneshapers, what chance do we have? Besides, the Duke's almost certainly dead by now, not to mention they've probably eaten most of him and done gods-know-what with the inedible parts. We wouldn't even be able to bring his corpse back!" Richter slung his rucksack and began to make his way towards the door, "You can feel free to dive head-first into this pit of spikes, but you'll be diving alone."

Just as Richter had his hand on the doorknob he began to consider what good might come of venturing into the Boneshaper mountains as opposed to picturing how horrifically he might die. If the duke did still happen to be alive he and Rahiq would probably receive their weight in gold for saving him. He'd be able to buy a horse and caravan and travel around with ease instead of having to walk continuously until he found a town. He hadn't a clue what he'd do with the rest of the money, but it would certainly be nice just to have it. Going into the Boneshaper Mountains and living to tell the tale would certainly make for a good song, perhaps one that would live on on the lips of bards for years to come. Even if Duke Emeric had been eaten, as was entirely probable, Rahiq said she'd reward Richter somehow. What if she really was a misplaced noble who could reward him with just as much gold as Duke Emeric? Of course, she could well just be the penniless waif she appeared to be, but Richter was prepared to take some chances.
"Right now you don't have a copper to your name," Richter began as he released his grip on the doorknob and turned back to face Rahiq, "How exactly do you intend to reward me?"

Rahiq barely even twitched at Richter's accusation of her being mad. “Let me explain you.” She grinned at Richter's question about the reward. She picked up her own cloak and threw it around her. The moment she did, her skin tone turned from a olive to a dark gray and her colourful hair turned nearly black.

“This cloak is an artifact. Artifacts contain djinni and borrow their power. They are the property of my country, but my country has lost it's pride. They sell artifacts to the highest bidder. Many foreigners come to my country, just for the business. This djinn in my cloak is weak, but the ones exported to the likes of a duke are stronger.” Rahiq explained, rapidly a plan formulated in her mind. She grabbed Richter by his shoulders and spoke with sweeping enthusiasm;

“Your people pay to hear you sing, yes? I am sure they would pay for magic tricks as well. You perform songs of others in bars, but what if your songs were performed in front of nobility? What if you had the proof of your adventures? They would shower you with gold. And if not... Just imagine the market price of the dead duke's artifact.”

Rahiq shook her head, making the most money out of anything was something that had been drilled into her from a young age. Although she did not know much about Gar itself, she knew about the ruling class. After all, they were the only Gar people that she'd ever met in her homeland, although usually at the tip of her blade. There were no limits to what you could learn about a man when threatened by death. And now she had learned something about Richter; he could be motivated by greed.

“Come, you must show me the way.”

Richter let out a startled yelp and sprung backwards into the door at the sight of Rahiq's artefact taking effect. He hadn't rescued some waylaid princess, he'd rescued a demon! Adding to Richter's worry was the sudden change in her voice; it was now deeper than his, not to mention considerably more gravelly. However, what she was saying didn't sound like she was threatening to devour his soul, she was just explaining Dharan magical artefacts to him. He flinched violently when she grabbed his shoulders, but she was still trying to coax him into joining her. It seemed almost like he was making a pact with a dark goddess. She did have a point however, even if her demonic voice almost concealed it. To be prestigious enough to play before nobility had been nothing but the stuff of dreams to him before this point, and Rahiq was suddenly offering to make it a reality. Of course, it would be incredibly dangerous, but danger made for great tales.

Richter drew back from Rahiq's grip and returned his hand to the doorknob, although he no longer planned to leave alone.
"It'll be a day or two of travelling, so we'll need to get some more money before we find this artefact." Richter explained, "I doubt anyone's going to want to watch you turn into..." Richter paused for a second to find a word, "That. You should just leave earning money to me for the time being. That is, providing you can't do any less terrifying tricks."

Richter lead Rahiq out of the inn and back out into the streets. It was no longer snowing, but the thick layer of snow remained over the city and the temperature had barely increased. Perhaps Rahiq would change her mind even before they even reached the border. Richter knew that the nearest settlement to the south was a village named Alcaire, so he removed his compass from his pocket and set off in the direction it told him was south. He wasn't just travelling any more, now he was on an adventure!

“Very well, I leave that to you.” Rahiq agreed with Richter. There would be a number of issues with Rahiq's method of earning money... At least while Richter could see her. Rahiq turned to her normal self, back to her natural voice, skin and hair. She looked at the cloak on her shoulders... Perhaps if she was able to dress better for the weather she could head out by herself to make some of that money...

“First things first.” Rahiq put forward; stopping as Richter stepped out of the inn. “I need a cloak.” She said, and simply walked back in. After all, just the artefact was an awfully thin layer to put between the cold and her skin. She had to sneeze again and her head felt warm, something she had thought to be a blessing but actually became quite a hassle. Rahiq searched around the room, and was fortunate enough to find a thick warm coat hanging over a chair. She waited a few seconds for the innkeeper to look the other way, then grabbed it and walked outside, following Richter.

“A drunkard took pity on me.” told him, anticipating a question, but quickly changed the subject. “Now what is the road we are taking? Are you sure you know the way?”

"A drunkard took pity on me. Now what is the road we are taking? Are you sure you know the way?"
"Of course I know the way!" Richter replied indignantly and not entirely truthfully, not even having doubts about how she had actually acquired her new cloak, "Our first stop will be a village named Alcaire, and we should reach it if we just follow the road south. Just follow me, I know exactly where we're going."

Richter led Rahiq towards the city's south-west gate, constantly turning around to make sure that she was still behind him, lest he lose her in the city's morning bustle. The children had once again returned to the streets and were once again hurling snowballs at one another, building snowmen and sledging down the city's steeper streets. Despite the fact that one stray snowball nearly struck Richter in the back of the head he couldn't help but smile as he watched them; they reminded him of his own childhood. While he'd grown up in the countryside he'd done exactly the same things; urban snow was no different from rural snow. He wondered what Rahiq would make of it; she'd probably never even seen snow before, let alone played in it.

It wasn't much longer after the duo was out of the city's gate that they were suddenly alone on the road. It was barely visible due to the coating of snow that smothered everything, but it was visible enough to follow. Richter strode down the path, whistling to himself as he went, happy to have a new goal in life other than going wherever the road took him.

However, Richter's confidence did not last. Eventually Richter looked back down to his feet, only to notice that the path was no longer at all visible. He tried kicking away snow to reveal it, but all he could find was grass and pebbles.
"Um," Richter began awkwardly as he swivelled around to face Rahiq, "You knew what I said earlier about know exactly where we're going? I... may have been wrong. We seem to have gone off the path. I know where we're meant to be, and where it is, and how to get there, but the snow got in the way. We're lost."
Richter slumped down onto the snow, crossed his legs, cradled his chin in his right hand, and stared off into the distance. Even if he was completely lost, at least the scenery was beautiful. Perhaps snow obscured everything, but it also made it much prettier.

That was when he began to wonder what Rahiq thought of the snow, again. Presumably she'd never been in a snowball fight, but there had to be a first time for everything, and he didn't just want to mope around while he was lost. So, he rolled up a snowball, stood up once again, and flung it at the back of Rahiq's head at full force.

Snow was truly alien to Rahiq. The only thing she knew about it was that she hated it. It was cold, like all of Gar. It seemed the children were just as those back in the Dharian cities, since the league had risen. Rahiq pulled the stolen coat tight, throwing the hood over her purple hair not to draw more attention than she needed to. Even if the port town had no qualms with her clan, Rahiq was instinctively wary of kids because they paid far more attention to by-passers than adults. Habits died hard, even if there was no reason to hold onto them.

Rahiq took more distance from Richter as she saw him heading into the fire-zone of a snowball fight. Throwing the snowballs at each other struck Rahiq as downright mean, but the kids seemed to be having fun. Gar was home to a strange people, Rahiq decided for herself, choosing to take long strides around the kids. This got her a number of strange looks that she had actually been trying to avoid.

As they walked out of the city, Rahiq plainly followed Richter. She was used to endless wastes of desert, relying on instinct, the sky and sense of direction to get around. She assumed it would be no different for Richter, but she had been wrong. "We are what?" She said, clear frustration in her voice, but unlike Richter she didn't sink to her knees in the snow. Rahiq didn't even know how to. "Where does the sun rise?" She asked, trying to estimate the time of day. If they could figure out what direction to head in at least, they might be more likely to find the next village.

Or at least, that was what Rahiq was trying, when she suddenly felt the impact of the snowball Richter threw. The surprise and cold caught her off-guard and she let out a short shriek, but she quickly brushed the snow off her face, resisting the urge to go for her blade. Her cheeks flustered and her nose started running again, but Rahiq's expression was grim-dark.

"What direction does the sun rise in Gar and what direction is the next village in?" She asked Richter, with audible restraint in her voice. Rahiq needed Richter for now, but she was having second thoughts about that now...