Welcome to Gaia! ::

She glanced back. "Well, you're obviously not from around here. Artemisia West was this hocus from a couple indictions back in Strata. She grew up in the slums--had a bit of talent, couldn't really afford to get taught it proper by the wizards in the Glory like you're supposed to, though. But around her second indiction--maybe a little earlier, I don't know, the story is vague--anyways, she took up with this cult in the slums. They're still around as far as I know--they worship this weird god. Of passages, transitions, gateways. Stuff like that. The most important--the most powerful, according to their doctrine--is the transition from life to death.

Well, Artemisia West starts taking in whores for her cult. Finally, the bastards who are supposed to be running this city find out about it and decide to take her to trial--not that she needed it, half the city knew what she'd been doing. They sentenced her to exile, which is basically like a death sentence, 'cept you don't have to pay the executioner. Toss someone out here, they're dead before the week's over.

And that would've been the end of it except for what happens next. Shipments can't get in to Strata. Caravans run into freak sandstorms, ships can't get into the harbor 'cos of this storm that's going on twenty-four-seven, and half the city was an inch this side of starving even before this started up. But nobody living in the Glory wants to admit that some hocus is ******** with the weather, at least until it starts affecting them, and they don't want to believe that this's got all the marks of Artemisia West behind it. So they offer a reward for 'whosoever can bring an intact supply ship and/or caravan into Strata.'

And people know, saints knows they try. But no one can. Hell, half of the kids who run out there don't even come back. Until Jenrico Sun-Touched shows up. Kinda tall gangly kid--all blonde and tan, the type of thing the bourgeois ladies pay for. Skew-eyed--one blue, one yellow. Creepy as ********. He walks out of Strata one day, comes back in three with Artemisia West's head cradled in his arms like a baby and a cargo. A peach from Barton. They say that as soon as he drops her head, it turns into sand, but he gets the reward. Doesn't spend it on anything--just walks out of Strata and isn't seen again. Like, ever. And the sandstorms stop, and the storm goes away.

But a lot of people say--like one of my friends down in Thief's Lane, she's kind of an unofficial hocus, she does little stuff--she reckons it was just a whatsitcalled. Illusion. Thing. Sand wouldn't make a good anchor for it, so it'd disperse when it was shifted around."

She gave a little shrug. "Anyways. The popular opinion is that Artemisia West is still out here. No one knows how Jenrico Sun-Touched might've got her to stop, but however he did it, it'll probably come crashing down on all our heads one of these days." She blew out a sigh. "It's not real smart to trust a hocus, even the legal ones."

She grimaced. "Whoever made it, you can bet they ain't gonna be finding no friends among the water-merchants. It's an old story, anyways. Probl'y not much more than a grain of truth in it in all." Saiya glanced over, suspiciously. "What are you grinning about?"

She stopped in her tracks, turned around, looked at him blankly for a couple seconds. "You mean like a demon or somethin'?" she asked doubtfully, after a few seconds. "Ain't that little more than--"
Shut up, Saiya. He did the trick with the little ice-road, there ain't no reason he can't squoosh you out like that.
She closed her mouth. Then a thought struck her.
"So you're the one who made all this."

She raised one eyebrow. "Just a little. A lot of the bourgeois merchants make their living off've the water trade. Whaddaya think this is going to do to the market?" Saiya sighed. "Maybe if we're lucky, by the time we get there the market won't be in smoking shambles."

She raised one eyebrow. "Well, that will just be lovely, won't it? Except snow melts. So the government ain't gonna do nothing about it, no one knows how to do snow sculptures, considerin' we ain't had none to practice with for, oh, the last couple thousand years or so, and a bunch of scientists moving in ain't gonna help no one except the flashies."

Saiya turned around and kept walking. It wasn't surprising that he was so optimistic about the whole deal. He'd never been to Strata. And he was a snow demon thingie. This probably made him happy.

((Some time after Angara, and before DESTRUCTION...))

It had been an oddity that drew him here. After all, one did not usually spy a snowy wonderland in the middle of what SHOULD be a desert habitat. Flying overhead he'd seen it from afar, and decided to investigate and explore. He'd arrived not long after morning, and it was now early afternoon, and Ryugi was sitting on a makeshift chair, otherwise known as a rock.

He was near the Open Woodlands of Barthavos, very far East from where he'd originally landed. The desert ground was covered in snow, and Ryugi had gathered some wood for a small fire. He wasn't generally effected by freezing temperatures, but the fire made it feel more cozy, and lets face it, whats an adventurer's camp without a fire?

Ryugi was actually munching on some jerky he'd picked up a few days ago, and contemplating heading to Strata where he'd charter a boat to Latent. Once there, he'd visit Vargus and Ryudo before heading to the Stadium. It had been quite a while since he'd been there.

-THWAP-

And the snowball would hit Ryugi squarely in the back of the head.

Whoa! Hey! What the?

Ryugi stood up rubbing the back of his head, and turned to face the source of the snowball. Finding the snow dusted figure, his brow raised as he saw the individual packing another snowball.

...Can I help you?

...

There was a time when Ryugi might have tried to get more answers from this person before trying prepare himself for combat. But he had more than enough information to figure out what this man's intentions were, or at least enough to know that this man posed a possible threat...

The snowball was dodged by Ryugi leaning his head and body to the side slightly, as his right hand shot up to grip Ragnarok's handle in a similar ready position to the man in front of him.

Fair enough...

With that, Ryugi would shoot forward and swing Ragnarok across to try and hit the man in the side. Nothing fatal if it hit. Afterall, it was more of a blow that would test the waters...