Thozna had never mentioned Clan Buraq directly, but she had spoken of places similar to it. Huge cities carved out of rock or simply burrowed into the mountains themselves, spires built by slave labor or close to it for priests and kings with too much money and not enough love for their people. The major metropolises of Alwyne all blended together for her into one grim soup, places of inequity and sadness. It was natural for her to think like that, the boy supposed, because to her tell it, the cities she had grown up around had been breeding grounds for cruelty. The Ashvenkal did not encourage people to play nice with outsiders. While the free-roaming Gnoll packs and smaller fiefdoms at least engendered loyalty to one's kin, there was no such expectation under the rule of the Dragon-Sultans. His mother's casual treatment of evil always needled him, which was why he was so disappointed by what he had been told of the Dinnin. Thozna was many things, but a liar was not one of them, so when she mentioned that the Sun-Stricken (as she called them) were slavers who liked to kidnap those outside of their religion, it was a statement based in truth. This begged the question, why was the Caravan visiting them? Surely other routes could be taken that wouldn't force them to patronize slavers and fanatics? Thozna, seeing the quiet confusion on his face as they went about morning chores, answered unbidden. [color=CD853F]"Because profit comes before morals, assuming the Caravan could have morals ascribed to it. It's a big group of people from all over, [i]Rrakti[/i],you can't assume all of them care one way or the other about such things."[/color] Rrakti roughly translated to 'Little Man' in the common tongue, and it was both a pet name and a pointed reminder that by her standards, Ryt was an adult, and adults didn't have the time to bother themselves feeling bad about the injustices of the world. They looked out only for themselves and their loved ones; all others weren't a concern until they gave reason to be. If that was what being a man entailed Ryt would never be ready for it. He frowned, stubby tusks peeking out from his lower lip as he fed a spoonful of stew to Buford. [color=Forestgreen]"Maybe I'll buy a slave."[/color] the orcling said, half-mumbling the words. [color=Forestgreen]"Then since they're mine I can set them free."[/color] [color=CD853F]"You'd better start saving up then."[/color] Thozna snorted, making that classic hyena cackle. [color=CD853F]"You come offering your pocket change and they're liable to add you to their stock just for wasting their time."[/color] [color=Forestgreen]"I meant in the future."[/color] Thozna grunted, going back to stitching her blanket. The conversation was now tabled, and Ryt was left to think. ------------------------------------------ [center][h2][color=CD853F]Thozna Scrapblast-of-Norplain[/color][/h2][/center] [center]Intercepting Malleck ([@Enigmatik])[/center] After making sure their animals had enough water, Thozna gathered her things for the day, tucking her coins into a pouch and putting on her armor with the ever-present reliquary chained to it. She didn't expect to indulge in violence(even an old war beast like her would balk at turning a trip to the market into a bloodbath), but it was better to be safe than sorry. Most of her interactions with the Sun-Stricken were through the Ainok, and if the rest of the brethren were like those slippery runts then it was best to be ready for trickery. Don't let yourself be surrounded, don't eat or drink anything offered to you without your asking, keep your eye on anyone you don't know, and always assume that someone was looking to kick your legs out from under you, those were the rules Thozna lived by, and if any particularly entrepreneurial Dinny wanted to try and slap slave chains on her she'd see it coming a mile away. Ryt was not yet experienced enough to understand her paranoia, and all she could do was hope that this wasn't the trip where he learned. He was still so unsure of himself but growing into rebelliousness, rebelliousness that expressed itself as a need for separation. Thozna watched as her son left to explore independently, willing to trust him to keep himself safe. Meanwhile, she wanted to get her bearings. Ostensibly, her attention was on the herds of massive elephants as she sidled her way toward the gates, but her predator's senses were always quick to pick up sudden movements. Her ears twitched as she caught a glimpse of someone running back toward the Caravan. It was one of the dogs, and for a moment her hackles raised at the memories of cutting off scouts before they could warn their friends. But that had been a long time ago in a faraway region, the Norplain a distant concept swallowed up by the vast expanse of the Ashvenkal this deep into Dinnin territory. The Ainok wasn't an enemy, or even local to this particular hold. Instead it was one of her packmates, one she recognized by sight but not name. Thozna's great size belied just how fast she was, the Gnoll putting herself on a path to intercept the Ainok and falling in line behind him. [color=CD853F]"Pardon me, little hound."[/color] she said politely, matching his pace. [color=CD853F]"Would you let me follow your lead now? You have a better sense of what and what not to do than I."[/color] Her common speech was strangely accented, combining the guttural growls and laughs of her native tongue and a thousand other accents she had picked up during her travels. The end result was something curiously out of place but filled with an innate menace, much like Thozna herself. ------------------------------------------ [center][h2][color=Forestgreen]Ryt-kiltu-Sheepshead[/color][/h2][/center] [center]Sightseeing with Terilu and Gadri ([@Tortoise] and Enigmatik)[/center] It took Ryt less time to prepare than his mother because he wasn't layering himself in hot metal and thick hide. Even if he had such gear and the will to wear it the sun would have made it impossible to do so. He wasn't unused to sweating, having grown up on the farm, but living in a desert was distinctly unpalatable. He made sure to fill a pair of waterskins to the brim, one for him and one for Buford trailing behind him. He had no objective yet, no particular sight he wanted to see. This was entirely new ground for him, a foundling far removed from both his birthplace and where he had grown up, and he wanted to enjoy the experience. He wouldn't be able to do that knowing nothing about this place save for the presence of flesh markets, so when the rumbling voice of a stone-hewn invited those willing to accompany them Ryt took up the offer. He wasn't the first to get there, his little legs unable to beat out the wings of a bat. Buford, the chipper idiot that he was, was only dissuaded from snuffling at Terilu's leathery wings by Ryt stuffing his hand in the dog's face, keeping it there as they all passed through the gates. [color=Forestgreen]"Are all holds this big?"[/color]