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As Marc finished the repairs of the roof of the house he started to wonder what caused the dragon to appear and what was the point of the dragon appearing
"it don't make sense"
"what was the point of that dragon appearing?" he asked the man that helped him

Glenn wiped his hands on his pants and shook his head slowly. "I dunno. You think someone made it happen? Like.. with magic?" He'd been rolling it around in his mind and it was really the only thing he could think of.

"Did ya see it in the beginning? It was really little and then got bigger and bigger. I mean.. I've never seen a dragon 'fore, but nothing just grows like that... that fast. Not naturally."

He sighed, not really expecting Marc to have answers. "You just here for the festival?" he asked, belatedly, realizing he'd been thinking about the dragon the whole time and didn't even know the man's name. "I'm Glenn, by the way."

" my name is Marc Houston" he replied to Glenn
"I came to the festival to see what it was like"
"so do you live here or what?" Marc asked

With her head clear and empty of the strange monologue that had fortold the unfortunate events, Fyonae could easily concentrate on aiding the village. When she was finally able to speak with Captain she stood before him and wiped a weary arm over her brow. Her pretty green dress was smudged and a bit torn in places, but she didn't seem to care. Instead her hues were filled with concern for her family as she listened to the Captain's response. It was less than assuring, but she'd take what she could get.

With a soft sigh she shook her head slowly, reaching up to tug on her braid gently for a moment. "These beasts ha' not been seen before by me or my clan, though we do live near the mountain. The largest things that roam there we thought to be only the golden furred mountain bears, and while they are fearsome indeed, there isna a way they compare to a dragon."

After a long pause, in which Fyonae turned to glance behind her at the village, shifting to a shadier spot to stand so she wasn't in partial sunlight. As the sun sank, it cast longer shadows, and she had to take care not to let her own be spotted.

"Please let the Lord know I am at his disposal should he need my assistance.." she finally said, turning back to the Captain, her gaze finding his and giving him a nod. "Though it might'nt be much, I will do what I can."

"Of course, of course," the captain responded to Fyonae's explanation that she and her people would have little to no information on such a beast as the dragon. "...They are so ancient. We shall have to research manuscripts to know anything. Would you or anyone among your people be an able and willing guide among the rocks and caves of the mountain?" His manner and tone were neither threatening nor demanding; he was simply pondering over possibilities.
_____

As the sun begins to lower, many of the villagers and guests gather once again into the square. Auralia is one of many who bring a dish or two of food to ensure that all will be provided for. Several families also bring a spare blanket or two to be used by those left without a place to stay.

"Yeah, down that way," he pointed. "With my Aunt Dotta. She's got a real nice place up 'gainst the Mourn. I better go check on 'er and make sure nothin' got burnt up there. See ya 'round, ok?"

Glenn made his way home and found Dotta in quite a tizzy, though the little homestead had not been damaged by the dragon. "Glenn! I'm glad you're back! Build up that fire please, then go chop us some more wood. Gotta get this bread made so we can take it down there this evening. Those poor folks down there will all be needin' to eat and so much of the food from today was ruined. I sure hope there's a good harvest this summer. The larder's gonna be empty soon at this rate..." She continued on for awhile like this and Glenn chimed in with an occasional 'yeah', or nod of agreement.

Eventually, she loaded a basket with the bread and bade Glenn to take it back to the square. He was tired from the already long and eventful day, but nodded agreeably. Perhaps he'd see that copper-haired beauty again, he thought wistfully.

Sliding a hand up and through some of the now tangled ends of her coppery hair, Fyonae considered the Captain's question a moment. "I would be 'appy to guide up there as well as I can, I know the forest paths fairly well between here an' the base of the mountain, and up the slopes a'way as well. The hunters of my clan know their way 'round the mount better than I, for it is a more dangerous place than the forest floor, what with rocks atumble, or snows that could bury a man alive higher up. Especially with spring melt off." She bit her bottom lip. "They might 'elp.. since the danger is posed to all, but usually they like to stay outta other people's business." She said the last bit with an apologetic tone coloring her brogue a bit.

Fyonae herself was more personable than many in ber clan who were, to say the least, reclusive. She enjoyed being around people, despite the danger of her nature being found out, perhaps even because of it. She loved excitement, and the tedium of the forest, however beautiful, could become tiresome. Market day was a fresh jaunt in her otherwise routine life.

After the conversation with the Lord's man, Fyonae would wander toward the square, her own stomach beginning to remind her she'd not eaten for most the day, the various tasks keeping her busy. When she drifted into the square she glanced around before taking a seat near where she'd seen Glenn handing out some fresh bread. She gave him a tired smile and tucked a strand of hair behind an ear as she settled to eat some of the bread, meat, amd vegetables that were up for offer. Chewing slowly, she gave a nod of appreciation, the bread was good!

"You must 'ha been back to yer farm by now.." she ventured to speak to Glenn. "Did it fare okay? Or did the dragon burn it as well?" Her brow wrinkled with concern as she waited his answer.

"Hey... 'ey... mountain lady..."
Thirgud's slurred words were meant to be a whisper but instead exited his mouth with such volume that they startled several townsfolk who had stopped to inspect the burly man in the stocks. He had been sitting there for hours,his crippled hand awkwardly handcuffed to his right hand and his thick legs barely contained in the splintery wooden device. He had been lucky enough to lean against a table set up in the square and to the onlookers he seemed to have been asleep when his green eyes suddenly flashed beneath his mane of scraggly hair.

"Oi... Copper top..." He growled, causing the small circle of onlookers to immediately disperse, joining the larger crowd gathered at in the square. With the small group gone it became readily apparent he was calling out Fyonae though his scratchy voice struggled to pierce the cacophony of voices in the town. He tried to wave his hand only to have manacle's edge dig deep into his wrist at the sudden movement.

Fresh blood mingled with the dried blood around the manacles, a testament to the struggle he must have put up trying to free himself earlier. His one hand was gloved and strangely curled in on itself while the other was large and calloused from work. Both hands ran up into thick muscular arms covered in dirt that matched his shirt. Certain portions of his tattered shirt showed that it had once been white but the years had been as unkind to it as they had been to its owner staining it a sickly dark brown. His thick greasy hair hung over his face, mixing well with his poorly maintained beard. It just barely caressed the tops of his broad shoulders, but did not reach his large round gut his crippled hand rested on. Through the curly hairs two vibrant green eyes shined, studying Fyonae.

The locals likely recognized him as Thirgud, a beggar and a drunk, who had hurt himself in his former life as a smith in some distant city. His reputation as a blacksmith preceded him years back and he found no place to peddle his malformed wares. Since then he had been forbidden from using the town's forges and had only survived by doing odd jobs for townsfolk or through the charity of others.

And now for some reason he desperately wanted to talk to Fyonae. The townsfolk would know he had never been a lecherous man, his vices lying drinks and brawls, but no one really knew him enough to trust his intentions for the woman. Most simply turned away from him, silently praying the guards would quiet him down soon.

"You... redhead... mountain lass... someone grab her..." He grumbled frustrated by his inability to get her attention.

Jack had gotten into Aspenlee the night before, unaware of the festivities that would be busying the small town. He was still sleeping soundly in the Inn when the dragon made a mess of it's roof. He had drank rather heavily the night before and nearly slept through the whole thing. He would have too, if not for a smoldering hunk of roofing that fell onto his chest and startled him awake with a, "YAHHH!".

It had burned a hole right through his billowy, white shirt, even singed off a couple hairs before he frantically brushed it off. Once he established that what had happened was indeed real life and not a dream, he threw on his pants and accessories, splashed cool water on his scraggly face from a basin, and drank it too. He was used to the poison and the morning after was no stranger to him. The hole in his shirt would prove a problem though and he clutched at the exposed, burned skin at his chest. After a moment of thought, he turned his hood around to the front, the loose fabric draping below his chin now instead of at his back. He looked like a fool, but it was better than the alternative! He made his way out of the lodge to see the goings-on he had missed.

Everyone was clamoring about a dragon when he stepped outside, frazzled and frightened. Blue blazes! A dragon? Jack had his walloping share of strange, though dragons were a dangerous sort. You didn't hear a pleasant story about a dragon.

He watched as people started helping those who got it worse than their neighbor and eventually he started to help, in the Inn. He ran provisions to this house and that, leading a few families to the Inn if their houses were too far destroyed. He ended up giving up his room for one of them, the last available space in the building. He waved off their thanks with a hand and a smile before he left to find a seamstress or the like. He might have had a chance if he hadn't continued getting stopped by people in need. Finding himself unable to turn down the chance to help them, Jack did them favors and only hoped karma would serve him later. The good kind of karma this time.

After a couple hours of manual labor and, admittedly, a lot of just shooting the breeze with the townsfolk, Jack's stomach was yelling at him. He bid farewell to the last person he was with, an elderly man, after having just explained to him why he was wearing so much clothing. And why his hood was on backwards. 'Hangover cure,' Jack had said to him in a matter-of-fact way.

The well-postured lad was making his way back to the square to find a meal when an older man, Thirgud, started grumbling about some broad. He didn't know who to search for until he heard 'copper top' and he pointedly looked to the woman he had seen earlier, helping at the Inn. She was a petite thing, dressed in a grubby green dress, topped with a mess of red tangles. Jack could see why the man would want her attention, but you didn't just go and yell at them like that! He made his way past the drunk- I've been there, my friend -and strode to where the ruddy woman was; to where the food was. He had noted the man's dour affairs, yet he minded his business on that matter, just as the general public seemed to.

"That man seems to want your attention, m'lady." Jack told Fyonae in a gentlemanly way, if he did think so himself.

He asked Glenn for a plate of whatever he was doling out and thanked him for his generosity, having sweat on his own brow from aiding others. Everyone was helping everyone- Well, nearly -in this time of need and Jack couldn't help but grow attached to this little town. Whatever brought him here, he was almost thankful they had given an order for no one to leave. Though how long would that last...

Now he stood, eating from his meager plate with his hood on his chest like an idiot, waiting to see the interaction between this fiery headed lass and this large, influenced man.

"You must 'ha been back to yer farm by now. Did it fare okay? Or did the dragon burn it as well?"

Now that the adrenaline from the day's events was worn off, Glenn blushed red again when Fyonae came to speak with him, though he was glad that she did.

"Naw..." he said, trying to straighten himself up, then ran a hand over the back of his neck. "Lucky for Aunt Dotta, it dinnit go that way." But then he furrowed his brow and echoed back some of Dotta's concerns, "Might be a rough spring though with all the dragon destroyed. Gonna be months yet before the new crops are ready and now with extra people to feed..."

He let the statement trail off, not intending to imply Fyonae and the other visitors were going to be a burden on the peasants here, but did so non the less.

"That man seems to want your attention, m'lady."

Glenn frowned as the other newcomer stole her attention away. m'lady... Glenn's crimson blush deepened a little... was this lass he'd tried to steal a kiss from an honest to goodness Lady? If so, he was lucky HE wasn't in the stocks right now beside Thirgud.

He glanced over at the once-blacksmith. Dotta let Thirgud do a few of the easier chores on the homestead once in awhile ... things she or Roxi probably could have managed ... in exchange for a meal or two. Men needed to keep some dignity, she'd say. But how the man always seemed to acquire enough coin to be drunk so often was a mystery to Glenn.

"He's a drunk," Glenn warned Fyonae as he handed over a the last bit of the bread to Jack. "Prolly ask ya to get 'im a pint."

While her attention was on the young man she'd met before all chaos broke lose, Fyonae's light hazel green eyes brightened with interest and concern. Her Da had always taught her to be keen on listening, on learning, on seeing people truly. It was the only way to work toward peace with folk rather than living on assumptions. A soft smile tilted her lips upward as she noticed the blush rising on Glenn's cheeks, guessing at the reason but keeping her interaction with him as if she hadn't noticed, normal-like. Because of her focus on Glenn, the slurred calls of the drunken man not far away escaped her notice, for what purpose could he have with her?

Before Fyonae could give answer to Glenn, another young man's voice at her shoulder caused her face to tilt to the side and up, the flash of green in her eyes meeting a pair of similar hazel ones, which seemed to be trained on her in curiosity. As his words registered, Fyonae stood gracefully, a few crumbs of bread falling from her once pretty green dress, and looked toward the man indicated, an eyebrow sliding a fraction upward.

At Glenn's warning, Fyonae turned a warm smile to him and gave a nod. "Thanks for the heads up." She didn't know the town'speople all that well, because she only spent market days here for the most part. Better that most of them didn't get to her know her much either. Safer that way. Before moving toward the unkempt man chained to the stockade, Fyonae turned to address the one who'd grabbed her attention. "And thank you..." she said with a questioning lilt to her voice, wondering at his name so she could properly interact, even as her eyes flit up and down his frame, taking in his odd choice of clothing with a mental note.

But, curiosity tugged at her, and with a half smile sent to the young man at her side, she stepped lightly toward the stockade, moving around the various gatherings of folk as they ate the food offered, taking note of Auralia as she passed by the woman on her way, and offering a soft touch on the shoulder and a smile of thanks for the food. Finally, she stopped a length away from drunk, her hands toying with the skirt of her dress as she looked him over, taking note of the blood around his wrists, the straggly hair. Did the man have no family? Sadness flitted over Fyonae's face before brightening again to a smile, this one a bit forced though her tones were kind and questioning.

"Ye want 'ta have a word with me?" Even as she spoke her mind fiddled with figuring out what reason the man could have with wanting her attention. None came forward, leaving her a bit confused, but more intrigued, which sent the glimmer to her eyes. What had put him in the stocks? Was it mere drink? So much interaction with others in the past day, had Fyonae slightly on edge due to her constant struggle to hide her shadow, and the danger now presented to her clan. The stress would tell in only subtle signs in the waynshe held her shoulders, and the tiniest of creases in her forehead as she waited to hear what the man before her had to say. Was it just her, or did it seem all the world had stopped to watch? A spectacle was the last thing she needed.

Beneath his messy hair Thirgud's eyes followed her every move as she gradually made her way towards him. He seemed annoyed by the time she took to speak to the others. Once she was as close as she seemed willing to get he offered a fake smile of his own, showcasing some crooked, yet surprisingly clean teeth. "Hello ma'am, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt what I'm sure was a riveting conversation with Dotta's nephew." He said, flashing his smile at Glenn in the distance.

He glanced around at the others in the square and sighed. "Gathered in the center of town like pigs to the slaughter..." He grumbled before turning his attention to Fyonae again. "I'll get to the point, I've seen you mountain people selling all sorts of stuff here, some of it made from a tough black substance called obsidian." He eyed her for a moment seeming to notice something at her feet before cautiously continuing. "Its hard as sin and with proper working it should be sharp enough to make an arrow that can pierce that damn lizard's heart. Instead of the useless iron things that just scratched the things scales without even causing it to bleed."

He rattled his chains a little. "The bloody guards shoved me in here after I broke one of their noses trying to leave this backwater town to find some of the stuff. Now I'm stuck here waiting for that thing to return and murder us all rather than helping to vanquish the beast..." He growled, eyeing the nearby guards with contempt. "Its gonna be tough but if you can talk some sense into the guards and help me get some obsidian we might make it through the next attack."

"You mountain people"

A flicker of something - frustration? Annoyance? Passed over Fyonae's face for a moment as she stood, eyeing Thirgud. It was as usual, she and her people were often viewed as some other breed of human. Perhaps they were, and she couldn't deny even her own people held themselves as different. It was something she wondered about often. If her people sought peace so much, why couldn't they try harder to incorporate themselves with others?

"You never know a person's true intentions, Yona my sweet." Her mother's voice slid into her mind, clear as the lake and she had to swallow back sudden tears which threatened her. Nay she didn't need those here of all places. She knew why her people stayed away, she just didn't know if she agreed with them. And speaking of intentions... Fyonae cleared her throat softly, eyeing Thirgud. Whether or not his intention in wanting free of his bonds was to craft a weapon, it was a good enough reason for her, his idea valid as any she'd thought of yet.

After biting her lower lip she gave a nod. "My people collect obsidian, an' I am sure there are pieces with them that could be of use. I do not 'ave any wares, obsidian or otherwise with me now, I am sorry ta say, for your idea has merit. It is strong indeed, is obsidian..." she drifted off, thinking of the blades hidden in her staff, the one her father had passed down, the dark blades ridged and sharper than many knives, hard and glinting. She had left home, for so many people travelled to the festival she'd not wanted it stolen, and, as she knew there'd be dancing, she hadn't planned on wearing it at all times. A soft curse slipped through her lips and she absentmindedly lifted a hand to run through her copper locks, the strands catching what dusky light remained.

"I will see what I can do... though..." She eyed Thirgud again, doubtful of his ability to craft any sort of weapon in his state, "Per'aps the craftin' should be left to those who's 'ands 'ave not been roughed by manacles." Her gaze softened as she watched the man, thinking that with such danger at large, no one should be locked and unable to defend themselves, but then, she didn't know what mischeif the man usually got into.

After waiting a moment for any response he might have, she would lift her chin to glance around for the captain she'd spoken to earlier, her gaze moving over Glenn, Auralia, and the young man wearing his clothes backwards. Perhaps they could be taught to craft obsidian blades. Perhaps they already knew? Weariness pulled at her, and she took a deep breath. Before she turned away to head to look for the Captain, she glanced back at the ragged man. "What is your name, so that I can tell the Lord's man whos idea I am bringing?

"Thirgud's the name and don't worry about my state, I've forgotten more about smithing than the jackasses in town ever bothered to learn..." He paused a moment, his anger seeming to ebb away. "Your names Fyonae, right? Thanks for the help, lass." The kinder words seemed to stick in his throat a moment. Clearly he had grown accustomed to spouting cynicism and cruelty during his years in the drink.

When Fyonae had hinted for his introduction he gave it, finishing her sentence with 'Jack' and layering it with a polite smile.

"And you?"

When she (presumably) answered him, he would repeat her name before complimenting it's beauty. Then he would painfully note the odd expression she gave him before she turned away, looking down to remember that he had turned his hood around to hide the hole in his white shirt. Ack.

Ah well, he thought, taking another bite of his bread. It wasn't THAT weird.

He watched Fyonae split the crowd, his lingering smile fading when she seemed to run into an old friend, Auralia, before reaching the scraggly man. His mouthful almost fell right out as he stared with awestruck, unwavering eyes. She was a gorgeous sight, holding a grace Jack was sure she didn't know she had in such attire. An air of nobility almost, though maybe he was only seeing what he expected of such a vision. Blonde hair, blue eyes, the works. What could he say? The man had a type.

He blinked himself back to planet earth and his hazel eyes found the red head again, seeing she made it to the man. He couldn't hear what they were saying and had lost interest anyway, looking to the blonde before peering over to Glenn.

"Hey, lad." Jack took a couple steps closer to the man so they could hear in the bustle around them. "Do you know that blonde lass, there?"

He pointed with his bread hand, a finger coming off the grip to show him. He assumed him and Fyonae knew each other from the way they were speaking, so maybe they all did! The large man seemed to know about people in this town none-the-less, even the drunk.

"What is her story?"

Glenn watched Fyonae head toward Thirgud, keeping one eye on their interaction even though he could not hear their conversation or the snide comment the blacksmith made. Though he managed to tear his attention away as Jack came beside him.

"Hmmm?" he asked, looking toward where Jack was pointing. "Oh, Auralia. She and her Pa came here not too long ago. Can't remember where she said they came from before..." Glenn said to Jack, either not noticing the backwards garment or simply not giving it a second thought. "Maybe she didn't say." He frowned, trying to recall, then gave it up.

"Just met her right before the dragon showed up," he added. "Did ya see it happen? The dragon, I mean. Was just a itty bitty lizard and then suddenly it kept growin'. Like magic..." It had to have been, he thought. But why?