Smoke on the Road (open)

[Smoke]

"He very well might without someone to look after his welfare. If he's as well trained as you say then it'd be a waste to see those talents destroyed though. Of course, if he were that well trained then I have a hard time believing that he'd be as fresh as he seems now." Smoke's voice was not without its derisive elements as he commented back towards Myscha, but it followed closer to a unhappy acceptance that Garvan probably wasn't a complete and utter perfect idiot. Well... No one is perfect after all.

A lightning flash lit up the front of the cave, thunder peeling bare seconds later as Smoke heard the lone traveler respond. For the most part, the disguised fire drake agreed with this statement. He let out a long sigh. He'd grown tired of watching the young ones make all the wrong choices long ago, and yet he couldn't stop. Only hide himself away on an island before coming out for a look every few decades or so.

"Yeah.... Too bad it's the unwise who are remembered the most." As he spoke, Smoke began to fiddle with a two inch wide leather band around his wrist which had silver links embedded into it. It really wasn't as spectacular as he preferred, especially after being out in the wild for... Ohh... this trinket had been with him for at least two years now. It's unusual nature had caught his eye enough for him to hang onto it though.

His eyes lazily tracked the stranger over towards the back of the cave, taking note of where he was walking. That'd be where he caught his dinner earlier. Probably would be some remnants of the blood near to where he dumped the carcass when he was finished.... He hadn't quite figured out how to explain that yet, but he supposed it depended on whether anyone thought to ask him anything about it.

"Locke. I'm known as Smoke." That was all the greeting he cared to give at present. He was beginning to get a little tired of how these people treated him as the owner of the cave one minute, and watched him like a suspicious house guest the next.

Another flash of lightning lit the cave entrance and revealed the silhouette of a man entering against the dark black storm clouds outside. He pushed himself to his feet a few steps away, hands on hips, as the newcomer came in. The newcomer seemed to be a part of the caravan taking shelter here. From the way he spoke to Myscha, he was probably their missing leader.

"...Hmm.... Your Garvan seems to treat everyone he meets as though they were his mortal enemy. I take it he doesn't want anyone around. For some reason." Smoke drawled out the words slowly, watching and waiting for the tells in this humans behavior habits.

[Charlotte]

Charlotte nodded, listening to Smoke as he elaborated on what the young woman relayed about Garvan. While she didn’t necessarily see the aggressive man as being trained by the way he acted, Charlotte saw the way he held his blade, the potential for intelligence which Garvan seemed to just throw to the wayside. It frustrated Charlotte. Garvan had been afforded a loving family, education, and a stable life, but here he was, acting like a cornered dog towards these strangers instead of a smart man who isn’t ruled by his blade.

As Locke and Smoke continued back and forth about the leader of the caravan, Charlotte’s focus was drawn towards the mouth of the cave. She’d been conversing and cavorting all day, so she was content with being given a few moments to just be quiet and outside of the conversation. Even though the storm was dangerous to be out in the middle of, Charlotte found it calming to watch from their position of safety in the cave. She didn’t know what tomorrow would hold, but if the scouting group – including Ryker – didn’t make it back, Charlotte would have to make sure the group would make it to their destination or leave them in Garvan’s incapable hands.

With a strike of lightning illuminating the cave, a third stranger’s silhouette suddenly appeared. Charlotte pulled herself up quickly, knowing full well she would have to handle this new arrival. As soon as she saw the light blue hair revealed from underneath his hood, Charlotte recognized none other than the lone Ryker walking into the cave. She moved to meet him, with Smoke following close behind. It was only fitting, considering the man seemed to have a lot to say, even if he didn’t speak to other people often.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to find us,” Charlotte responded, crossing her arms. She was a bit frustrated that he hadn’t had to deal with the group all day and night, not to mention diffuse a handful of situations, most of them courtesy of Garvan. And here was Ryker, to swoop in and save the day, coming to check in on them. There was definitely a bit of jealousy simmering inside of Charlotte, so used to being the enigmatic personality of the group, only to be toed out by some miner.

Still, Ryker did seem to care about the group’s wellbeing, Charlotte couldn’t deny that. She chuckled when Ryker asked about Garvan, even more so when Smoke beat her to the punch. “You know Garvan, Ryker, jumping at any opportunity to be the hero.” Charlotte’s eyes looked over to the carts for a moment before focusing back on the tall man in front of her. “He didn’t take too kindly to these two staying with us for the night, but I talked him down. I had to tell him to lie down, so he should be over there with the rest of the men.”

Garvan-ed out, Charlotte changed the subject. “Where are Lorcan and Maddox? Are they alright?” She really wanted to ask about the state of the road ahead of them, but she didn’t know how much Ryker would want to reveal about their destination in front of strangers. Everyone had been unusually flighty when talking about where they were going with others, so Charlotte thought it only fair to follow suit.

[Locke]

Locke looked up as another figure entered. Human. Apparently, the figure held some authority in the group. Interesting. Maybe he'd be a better leader than the Garvan man. The newcomer looked unpleasantly wet, too, which made Locke smile slightly. He was nearly dry himself. The rain wasn't much more than an inconvenience. But it helped the earth live, which was critical. The earth gave life to all, so it was of the utmost importance that the earth was preserved.

Taking a rock from the cavern floor, Locke quickly and discreetly crushed it into many manageable pieces before taking a sharp-looking, worn piece of metal from his satchel. Using the tool, the manakete began to sculpt a small miniature of the burly man. As he worked, occasionally glancing up at the figure for inspiration, the manakete softly began to hum a song his mother sang to him, dating back from before the Scouring. It was a lyrical melody, used by dragons to bond and communicate at gatherings. It was a song of peace and harmony, and its melodic contours seemed to float and soar, creating an eerie and memorable tune.

The manakete spit on the rock carving, shining it with his robe hem and then setting it aside as he crafted one of the friendly woman. Continuing his humming, Locke worked quickly and efficiently until two finished sculptures sat before him on the ground. They were by no means spectacularly beautiful, as they were made from common rock in the span of minutes, but they were realistic and freestanding in all dimensions.

Standing up, Locke moved over to Smoke and Myscha, placing a figure in front of each of them wordlessly before moving over to his 'nest' and curling in again. He would watch and wait, and maybe sleep later. That was his way. Words were not necessary here. Idly, he picked up his tools and began to carve one more figure. This one was no person; it seemed to be a shapeless blob at the moment. But the manakete's fingers moved delicately and familiarly over the stone, not needing anything from their owner but his patience. The figure would spring soon from the rock, lifelike and impeccably crafted.

[Saturos Prox]

Saturos didn't look very surprised upon hearing the reports of Garvan's bad attitude. The man did have a major penchant for aggression and wasn't afraid to swing a sword at anyone that might look at him funny. It was a bit annoying, but the Etrurian could work with it. Angry and suspicious people could be just as easy to manipulate as their calmer counterparts if you knew how to work with it.

"Yeah, that sounds like Garvan, alright," said the teal-haired man, dropping his backpack on the ground with a squishy thud before sitting himself down on a nearby rock. He stretched out his legs and rubbed his thighs. The long hike through the bad terrain had made them more than a bit sore. "But I can't exactly blame him. Sure, he's abrasive, but these mountains can be dangerous, and for more reasons than bad weather." He took the chance to eye the brown-haired man and the green-haired man, as if to say that he didn't entirely disagree that finding two men alone out in the mountains wasn't even a bit suspicious. "Besides, we're all having it a bit rough right now, what with the terrible weather and all." Saturos bent over and began vigorously rubbing his hair with his hands, attempting to dry and fluff it out as best he could. As he stared at the ground, he took a moment to analyze the situation. The gruffer looking man didn't strike the Etrurian as incredibly personable, but he didn't seem like much of a threat. Sure, he looked like he could be a threat if he so chose, but Saturos didn't get the feeling that he was about to snap somebody's neck or anything like that. No, Garvan had that role down pat. But the other man, he was...

Saturos looked up just in time to see the green-haired man put two small stone figures down in front of Myscha and the large man. The operative posing as a miner couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that slightly bizarre sight. Yeah, he was a bit weird. He held himself like he didn't spend a lot of time around people, didn't talk, and made stone sculptures of people he had just met out in the middle of nowhere. That, and Saturos could still see signs of water on his clothing, which instantly made the teal-haired swordsman suspicious given the sight he had seen back on the road. But one couldn't jump to conclusions.

"They're taking shelter way up ahead," replied Saturos as Myscha inquired of the location of their two companions. "The bridge is out, so we looked for another way around the gorge. We found an alternate route, but on our way back the storm started to get bad and Lorcan twisted his ankle in the mud so we took shelter in a nearby cave. I came back to get you guys."

[Charlotte]

What in the world is Locke doing? As Ryker shook out his soaked hair, the lanky, green-haired man walked over to the threesome for just a moment. He offered no words or addition to the conversation, simply placing two roughly hewn miniatures in front of both Smoke and Charlotte. The blonde looked down, an eyebrow raised as she realized that the one in front of her was... Charlotte. It took Charlotte a moment to process what was going on, before a delayed response finally escaped her. “Ah… thanks.”

Once Locke moved back to his corner, Charlotte shifted her attention back to Ryker. She knew she could have been a bit more judicious with allowing Smoke and Locke to stay with them, but Charlotte reasoned keeping watch over them while they stayed with them was safer than assuming they would steer clear and falter to Garvan’s threats. Besides, it didn’t take too much to keep an eye on these two. Smoke just seemed to make sure you knew he was there, anyways, and Locke... well, at least he mostly kept to himself.

“Well, we won’t be going anywhere for at least a few hours,” Charlotte motioned dejectedly towards the raging storm outside. “The men deserve a few hours of rest anyways,” she added, her voice a bit more playful now as she smiled, “Especially after waiting half the day for you to show up.”

“Anyways,” Charlotte said, “I’m making camp with our two lone travelers here. Smoke,” she waved at the burly leathered man next to her, “was already in the cave when we got here and…” Charlotte looked back at the other stranger, who was still bent over whatever he was carving now. “That’s Locke. I think everyone else is pretty much turned in for the night.”

[Smoke]

Smoke didn't pay much attention to Locke after their brief introduction. He was more interested in the larger band of humans up here in "his" hills. He didn't actually lay claim to the land up here, but if there was no one else that would, then he'd at least take it as his for as long as he was present. He claimed only a few places hidden further up in the mountains, his favorite hunting grounds in the mountain vale, and the ground that shuddered under his footsteps. Right now though, the ground was not quaking under him. He wasn't about to transform so it would start.... There was something about the moss head though.

A soft sound began to filter through the attention that Smoke was giving to the caravaneers. One that the fire drake couldn't quite put a finger on. At first. Old memories were stirred up by it, and it could be hard to think clearly with such memories flying around.... It was something important. Something from Arcadia. It was a song for celebrating harmony and prosperity. One used for bringing a gathering to focus on like issues... He'd heard it before long ago. Smoke's demeanor shifted a little, as he realized that their visitor was not just a simple traveler. He had knowledge that was far from common. Draconic knowledge, for the song was meant for his native language.

The dark haired man caught himself staring at the robed traveler's activities. It looked as though he was working on something. He watched as Locke came over and deposited a couple of small figurines in front of Myscha and himself, stooping low to pick it up for inspection. The blond haired woman seemed puzzled by it, but made no major comments on it. Smoke turned the figure around in his hand, studying it intently. It was of rough material, and that made it less than what it could be, but the detail and accuracy were impressive.

"Locke, was it?... Hmmm..., you are a man of the unexpected. Making things out of earth, even as you sing to it. Did you learn that trick yourself?"

"It is unfortunate that such a powerful storm should strike during your journey. Your carts will prove far more difficult to move, I think, with the ground as muddy as the rain will leave it." Smoke said, commenting towards Ryker and Myscha.

"I suppose you could consider it a test for your journey though, eh? One that you must prove you are superior to on the way to your shrine." Now he was poking fun. Something dragons could be notoriously good at, if the majority of people still believed in them, at least. He could think of no particular shrines in this area of the mountains, and it would be much easier to simply sail around the islands to get to the more habitable area, where there were likely to be more locations of interest. Of course, something could have cropped up that he missed in the last couple of decades. He didn't make it a habit to keep track of every little scurrying shortlife around.

"Myscha has been a gracious... guest, I suppose, in your absence. Are you Ryker?" He'd heard the name bandied about a bit. Mostly from that noisome Garvan. He was such a sore that he was night impossible to ignore.

[Locke]

Locke felt another pulse emanate from his stone. His spirit was clearly warning him of something. Something to do with water. There was danger nearby, in the earth all around. Dangerous earth?

The large man was speaking to him. The manakete cocked his head as the question was posed. Did he learn it himself? How did the man understand that he was singing to the earth? Could this man know of the dragons?

Regardless of the danger to his person from this potential enemy, Locke felt it necessary to warn the group of the hazard outside.

"Do not leave."

The manakete turned back to his carving for a few minutes, working in silence before producing a final figurine. It had begun as a recreation of the Earth Sanctuary in Nabata, but upon seeing the danger the large man posed, Locke determined a test to see whether he was... of his own kind.

Placing a perfect replica of the Nabatan shrine on the floor in front of Smoke, Locke smiled slightly. If the dragon recognized the building, he would no doubt react. Even if he didn't know it, he would most likely pick it up to examine the work. And on the bottom were four words in the language of dragons... "Can you read this?"

Locke stood up, moving to the mouth of the cave and looking out briefly before returning to the three others and standing near them. He spoke cautiously, choosing his words with care. "There is dangerous ground surrounding these parts. The rain will no doubt have exacerbated this problem. If your carts' weight puts enough pressure on the weak ground, you will be swallowed by the earth."

[Saturos Prox]

“Well, better than having them awake and complaining,” muttered the Etrurian as he finished drying out his hair. Myscha confirmed what he had already concluded based on the wetness, or dryness, of the two men’s respective clothing. “Nice to meet you two.” He shot a quick gaze at Smoke, the big one, and Locke, the odd one. Lone travelers were always suspicious out this way, but then again so was he, although no-one in the crew knew it. Whatever. Neither of them seemed a threat.

"Yeah, that's me," confirmed Saturos in regards to Smoke’s question, sitting up straight on his rocky perch. "I'm assuming since you know my name, Myscha has already mentioned me, yes?" He shook his head, then slyly glanced over at Garvan's sleeping form. "Or was it Garvan? I can't imagine that he remained completely silent in regards to my tardiness." The swordsman-miner sighed, then began removing his boots. Nothing was worse than soggy footwear, and it didn’t help that they were full of mud too, so once the soggy leather shoes were off his feet, he got up and held them out into the rain. It wasn’t like they could get any wetter than they already were, and he wasn’t about to let them dry caked in mud.

After his footwear was suitably cleaned, Saturos walked back over to Locke, Myscha, and Smoke.
“So what brings a couple of lone travelers all the way out here?” he asked, placing his boots neatly on the ground next to his impromptu chair. He also slipped off his also wet coat and laid it flat next to the boots. Then, with his wettest articles of clothing removed, Saturos sat on his chair and began unfastening one of the two swords that hung at his side. While the shorter, more slender of the two blades was enchanted, and thus didn’t require the maintenance, the zanbato he carried needed to be dried, oiled, and polished like any other sword to make sure it didn’t rust.

[Smoke]

Smoke's demeanor shifted a bit, when his mention of the journey that Myscha had mentioned earlier went by unheeded. He may have lost his touch in dealing with people somewhat over the years. In general though, he still expected some sort of attention be paid to the things he said. Having no response to it whatsover raised his ire, though he refrained from actually acting on his whims. Only wild animals acted purely on instinct, without first considering the outcomes, after all.

Locke had suddenly become far more interesting to him, even as Ryker spoke.

Smoke picked up the statuette, and held it up to examine it closer. It was a building he knew well, he realized as he looked at it, though he hadn't seen it for centuries. He had wandered long on his journey. It was a perfect recreation of the Dragon Shrine kept in Arcadia, someplace he'd seen often in his youth. It held his gaze mesmerized for a moment. It wasn't the clearly precise detail work that had been done on the small model that was holding his attention, and it certainly wasn't the dull colored earth that it was made of. The memories it stirred were ancient though. Staring and waiting was his way of allowing the dust to settle from the musty corner of his mind that had been disturbed. Arcadia....

He slowly turned it over till he could see the bottom, and noticed the words on it. Yes. He could read them. One of what must only be a handful of people outside of the desert oasis that could. And this man before him could as well. Smoke tapped his finger idly against the statuette as he considered briefly. Hide what he was, or greet the traveler from afar? Did he care about the others witnessing this meeting?

"That's interesting. You're very good at this Locke. I don't suppose you'd be interested in trying it with some other materials, would you?"

[Charlotte]

“Well it’s lucky for us that we found your cave, isn’t it?” Charlotte smirked, her reply to Smoke’s statement coming in lieu of anything from Ryker as he focused on his blade. Considering Charlotte only carried her daggers with her, which were tucked away when the storm hit, she had no need to carefully pour over her blades like Ryker did. She knew the care a true blade took, though, so she wasn’t surprised when the man shifted the majority of his focus to ensuring his blade didn’t rust.

Charlotte chuckled as Smoke made a pass at her poor excuse for a reason to be up here. “So it seems. Hopefully St. Elimine will be pleased by our perseverance.” Hmm, as the conversation progressed it appeared these travelers were becoming more concerned with themselves and one another than Charlotte and Ryker, Smoke so much so that he had ignored Ryker’s greeting and two questions entirely. The lack of acknowledgement irked Charlotte, but she tried to keep in mind that people like this tended to not approach conversations the way she did. Subtleties were generally lost on them, and so was idle banter, it seemed.

But Charlotte knew enough to fill in the blanks for the teal haired man. As he’d taken a seat only a few feet from where Charlotte had laid out her bedroll, she reclaimed her position on it, sitting with her back to the cave wall yet again while she began unlacing and loosening her boots. “From what I gathered Smoke lives up in these mountains, Ryker. A veritable mountain man, it seems. Claimed he knows these hills and valleys better than any guide.” Ryker would make of that what he would, but it was better than no answer at all.

Though Charlotte addressed Ryker, her bright blue eyes were focused on Smoke and Locke, both of whom were becoming stranger by the passing moment. As the burlier of the two picked up the new carving, he had turned it over, his eyes flitting to and fro very quickly as if they were glancing over some sort of words. Instantly Charlotte tried to analyze what she was seeing. Were they passing messages between one another? Locke had warned all of them of the treacherous conditions outside – somewhat obvious, to be sure, but was it merely to distract them from whatever message he was trying to relay to Smoke? Charlotte wasn’t sure what, but something was going on. She intended to discover what it was.

“We appreciate that warning, Locke; we don’t have the most knowledge of the area, all things considered.” Charlotte was looking gain some sort of knowledge about the spindly man, though it would likely have to be inferred from whatever his responses would be. She paused for a moment, tugging at a particularly tight lace on her left boot before being able to slip the tall leather shoes from her leg.

“Are you from the area like our friend Smoke here? Or do you just travel through these parts a fair amount?” She of course used the term friend lightly, as it seemed with every passing moment the man was becoming a bit less friendly. Now that their group was largely asleep, no threat was posed to these strangers in sheer numbers, which was likely why attitudes were slowing shifting.

[Locke]

"Am I... No, no. I come from Nabata. I am here in the Western Isles for the first time in my life. As for the warning, do not thank me. Any traveler who is in tune with their environment should be able to tell when conditions get too dangerous. If you test the ground before moving your wagons onto it, you should hopefully be all right."

The travelers had begun to strike Locke as disorganized and ill-equipped. That bothered him, and so the manakete turned away, hiding his condescension and scorn well. Not everyone could tell what the earth was doing, that much was to be given to them. But common sense dictated that a company of wagons should not move in a driving storm over unfamiliar terrain. If Ryker was their leader, Locke worried for the group. So far, neither Ryker nor Garvan had shown him the necessary mindset to lead.

Turning away, Locke watched the other dragon examine his work. There, there was no doubt. Smoke had looked at his message. From his reaction, it was impossible to tell exactly what he was thinking... His eyes were not revealing, and neither was his posture. That was disappointing. But what could his question mean?

"I can carve you whatever you would like out of earthen materials. Dirt, clay, stone, mineral... It matters not. However, I cannot craft things like a smith can, of course. I am no smith. What did you have in mind?"

Locke was still puzzled. What would Smoke be wanting carved? Locke was wary. What was he up to...?

[Saturos Prox]

Saturos gave Smoke a blank look as Myscha mentioned the larger man’s alpine occupation. A mountain man, hmm? An interesting choice in lifestyle, and ironically one that the swordsman himself had posed as for quite some time. It had been fun while it lasted, as he had largely switched gears since Aidan’s rebellion came into full swing, but the Etrurian didn’t see the long term value in it. Sure, he could understand why some would want to leave the hustle and bustle of the civilized world behind and return to mankind’s roots in nature, but frankly nature was boring to Saturos. It didn’t have the subtle intricacies and minutiae that human society did, and there was something about observing and manipulating people that tickled the Etrurian’s fancy unlike anything he could find out in the wild. People could be fascinating, exciting, and sometimes even unpredictable, but out in the middle of nowhere all you ever really found was brutes and animals, neither of which really provided much mental stimulation to the undercover operative.

“Explains the tiny attention span,” Saturos muttered to himself and Myscha, returning to his sword with a wry smile on his face. He ran his oiling cloth up and down the sword’s smooth, steel blade. Poke fun as he would, the Etrurian had to admit the green-haired man’s stonework was impressive, if not a bit bizarre. Clearly Smoke thought so as well, or else he wouldn’t look so completely absorbed by the artwork.

But Saturos would leave the strangers to their crafts. For one reason or another he didn’t find it quite as fascinating as Myscha and Smoke did, perhaps in part because he didn’t get one made of him, and figured his thoughts would be better spent figuring out how they were going to proceed through the mountains tomorrow after the storm, hopefully, died down. The ground had been difficult and dangerous enough to cross alone on foot, but with wagons? Even with the storm fizzled out, the band of miners would have to worry about mudslides, falling rocks, and loose trees as they continued onwards. The Etrurian sighed as he imagined the potential arguing and bickering that would crop up from the men as they reached points of challenge. This really wasn’t the kind of trip he wanted to be on right now.

Though he had decided to focus on his weapon, the swordsman’s attention was once again grabbed by some of the words that had just come from Locke’s lips. Nabata? So he wasn’t from around here. What brought a desert man of the south out into a middle of nowhere place like this?

“Is that a point of pride for Nabatans?” Saturos asked, his head titled curiously. “Being in tune with your environment?” Truthfully if the Etrurian operative had any gaps in his general knowledge, it would be knowledge of Nabata and the people that inhabited it. A largely dry and uninhabited land, it really didn’t come up all the much in his line of work. “I know I’ve had more than one Sacaen try to explain the values of listening to the world around me. I can't say I've ever been very good at it.”

[Smoke]

The roar of the rain outside was still competing with the thunder crashes for its monopoly on which could keep the most noise rolling at any given time. Part of him was regretting not being out in it now. The storms of the Western Isles were one of the few things that could truly remind him of the feel of being alive. Only when surrounded by danger, strife, and destruction could he recall the power that had once been the birthright of his people. The occasional hunting trip through the wilds or the sea could not compare with what experiencing this squall would give him.... Oh well. These travelers needed his attention as well, and far be it from him to ignore attention to others on his whims and fancies.

Smoke stayed silent on the matter of listening to your environment. He'd listened at one time. The heat waves coming off the sand dunes back in Nabata had whispered to him, demonstrating lessons for his later life. They'd shown him to take care, or find himself overwhelmed by problems that he wandered into. They'd shown him how continuous attack could sap the will to fight on out of even the most stalwart. It had shown him that to all things, there was a time appointed to die. Even if he couldn't hear the elements speak in quite the same way as some of his kin, he had learned to listen. In Ostia, he had felt the power of the fire below rumbling in the deep. There was good fire under Ostia. It was no wonder that many good smiths of the humans made their home there. Ostia was renowned for its knights and their combat prowess as well. Even if unaware of it, the fires there had seemed to have had an effect on the citizens.

Back to the conversation at hand, yes. With Locke being from Nabata, all the signs were pointing to his being from Arcadia. And his talent with the stone was leading Smoke to figure that the lone traveler was an earth dragon. And not the most cautious from the sounds of things. The big man rubbed his jaw in thought for a moment as he wondered over how old Locke could be. Of the top of his head, he didn't recognize the name. Of course, it it were Smoke, he would have picked an assumed name to act under. Locke was only an identifier, and he couldn't know for certain that it was a true name without asking.

"I was simply wondering.... If you can do this with stone, what could you achieve with something made of gold. After all, people clamor after the stuff. I've seen some go mad with lust for the stuff. They throw away lives and fortunes just to get a little bit of" Though the black dragon didn't look directly over to the caravan of travelers and their leaders gathered in the cave, he still bent a significant piece of his attention their way. He was interested in how they'd react. What they would do. And, what they would not do.

"If we're speaking of Sacaens though, I have little to say on the matter. Generally, the people of the plains know better than to make trouble with their neighbors. I can't say as much for those who live here."

[Charlotte]

Finally able to tug her other tall boot from her leg, Charlotte silently listened to the three men speaking with one another. Their conversation was an interesting one, considering it seemed they all had different reasons for conversing with one another. The young woman partook in a similar conversation with Ryker the day previous, so she recognized his questions to Smoke to be the same inquisitive inquiries that had come her way during their private lunch. So far, though, Smoke seemed to have no interest in even entertaining these inquiries, still masticating on his words and coming across somewhat rude considering the circumstances.

But did he mean to be? He seemed to be fairly civil towards the other traveler, though it could just be some sort of a shared respect for a lifestyle people like Charlotte and – to some extent – Ryker couldn’t understand. She assumed this to be where part of his aloof and curt responses to Ryker came from, but was that really all? It seemed whatever first impression they as a group had left was not to the large man’s standards. Maybe part of that was from Garvan, which Charlotte could understand, but the two of them had been nothing but polite (well, Charlotte had at least). What else was bringing about this kind of response?

“Can you blame them, though?” Charlotte decided to inject her own opinion, gold and money a topic Charlotte was more than experienced with. “Not all can live like you two do,” Charlotte motioned with her hand towards the two lone travelers. “Civilization’s been built up on the stuff, and even though some people can still barter, year by year more people prefer dealing with coin. Makes it hard for those who used to survive on just trading their goods or services when their services now aren’t worth as much as they used to be.” Charlotte started unbuckling her belts and laying them out, the leathers still damp from the storm. “Coin isn’t always as fair to us as it should be.” The metal buckles clinking against each other and the stone ground, Charlotte stripped off her second leather belt which was slung across her chest and laid it next to the first.

[Locke]

"Pride? I suppose it could be seen as an object of pride, but for us, it is merely our way of life. We learn to watch the environment. To feel it, to become one with it. And in doing so, we are strong. Imagine the power you have if you can lead your enemies into traps the earth had set for you. Imagine, Ryker. Can you see its use? I need no weapon... For the earth is my weapon."

Listening to the woman, Locke shook his head vehemently at the sheer folly of her statement.

"Yes, I can blame them. The slaughter of many over such a worthless material... It is naught but a waste of life. Gold only is valued because you made it so. What intrinsic use does it have? It's too weak and malleable for weapons or armor. It would be discarded in favor of the meanest stone by any worthy architect and builder. Gold is worthless. And yet you search for it, you mine for it, you rip and tear and rend the earth for it. You kill for it. It is a despicable situation."

Staring at the humans, Locke's eyes glimmered with anger and condescension. He hated humans' obsession with such a worthless mineral. It made him sick.