The Anfauglir Desert had a really bad reputation. Known for its dessicating winds and inhospitable terrain, no sane person would think of it as a good place. Only those known for less savoury ways of life, those on the run from someone, or something, or those who were well on their way out of their mind would find the place comforting.

Rask likely fell into the latter of three categories, as he fondly called the desert home.

Lounging in the shade of a lone palm tree at one of the ridiculously few oasises, and the one he called home, Rask was a cat with cream. He had cool water, a cool breeze wafting in from the ocean with the scent of salt on it, and shade (a remarkable thing in such a God forsaken place) from the large ferns and small trees that spouted up around the spring-fed pool.

The Sidewinder himself was laying on the beach, staring at the cloudless sky, his headdress discarded and his hair blown askew in the powdery sand. His right hand rested on his hairy stomach, scratching idly, his left fully extended with a bottle of rum half empty in his hand. His legs were crossed at the ankles, his light desert-style kilt soaked from the swim he had already taken. Not far from the prone, smiling form of the Half-Gaurim was the smoldering remains of a campfire, and a couple fish, no bigger than one's hand, caught fresh from the oasis and cooked up quickly, making the skin crispy and the inside warm and juicy. The bones of one were discarded, but the other two had barely been picked at. They could be dried and turned into rations, if drunken hunger didn't kick in.

Rask smiled, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his bare chest. It was a fine change from the cold dampness of Estolad and Lómëdor, and lo and behold, there was still rum in Anfauglir. That's two points Anfauglir, one point Lómëdor for those that want to see it Rask's way. In fact, Sidewinder wouldn't have been too suprised to find others seeking warmer weather for the season. It was only natural after all.

He sighed and sat up, looking at the slowly emptying bottle, and the other two full ones next to the fire. He'd be good for a while likely, unless he had guests, but they were few and far between in the desert. Rask looked around scanning the horizon for any signs of life, and taking another pull from his bottle.

A fire elemental walked easily through the desert wasteland. He looked up at the beating sun and felt the heat, which he was not really phased by being one who was at a high temperature himself. He streached his arms and continued walking, his shoes protected his feet from the seering sand. He yawned and felt a hot wind blowing, sand rippled off of the many dunes. He soon saw an oasis up ahead and decided to stop. Although he was immune to heat his brain could still fry if he was not carefull. He walked up to the oasis and saw a man under the tree. "Hail friend, to whom do I have the honor of adressing?" he asked with a wave.

The fire elemental looked around at the oasis, it was small but adaquite. Probably enough to hold a person for a day or so, but not too safe when it came to sand storms though those were far and few here as were humans, and human appearances. He waited for the mans answer as he saw the bottles of rum, not understanding how someone could drink such things.

The rather non-descript figure, wandering through the desert alone, seemingly without water or food would've usually made the rather alert (and slightly paranoid) Sidewinder suspicious. Rum, however, had an interesting effect on folk when consumed rapidly in large quantity under the blazing sun.

So squinting through bleary eyes, and leaning forward to better hear and see the approaching figure. "M'namesh Shidewinder!" He called out, probably louder than he needed to. "W'don'tcha c'mon over'n'shi-"

Rask stopped and wrinkled his nose, listening to his slurred speech. Offering someone a spot to sit down had nearly become vulgar. He furrowed his brow and tried again.

"There'sh'a nishe patch'o shade o'er there t'shi-"

He grumbled and took another pull off of the bottle, pointing to the shaded spot with the neck.

"Y'can shi- Gah!! Y'c'n'take'a sheat o'er'there!"

Rask took another hard pull off of the bottle, the rum drizzling down his scruffy facial hair and over his bare, brozened chest. The troubled expression on his face was rapidly replaced with a benevolent, drunken smile, and he scratched at his chin thoughtfully.

"Sh'who're you'anywaysh?" Rask asked, following it with a growling belch, still scratching away at his jaw. "'N'whatcha doin'out in t'desert wit'out food'n'water'n'such?"

The figure on the ground squinted at Zard, the fire elemental could tell the man was drunk. "M'namesh Shidewinder!" the man said almost yelling even though Zard was only five feet away. "W'don'tcha c'mon over'n'shi-" the man began with some apparent difficulty. Dang. This man is definatly drunk. I have no clue why people get that drunk. he thought. The man pointed to the shade, "There'sh'a nishe patch'o shade o'er there t'shi-" he said attempting the invite again.

By then Zard realized that he was inviting him to sit down in the shade. "Y'can shi- Gah!! Y'c'n'take'a sheat o'er'there!" he said finally getting the invitation to sit out. Zard could not help but smirk at the man but he held in a laugh. His smirking was rude enough even though the man is drunk. Sh'who're you'anywaysh?" the man asked as Zard sat nearby. "'N'whatcha doin'out in t'desert wit'out food'n'water'n'such?" Zard watched as the man stroked his chin as if he was deep in thought. Zard smiled. "Zard is the name friend. As for what I am doing out here I guess I am just out for a stroll. But...I guess it does sound strange that I am outdoors with out something to drink. But I am a fire elemental, so the heat does not bother me and it is hard for me to get tired in the desert. So I am just at home here in the desert then anywhere else." he said sitting down cross-legged in front of Sidewinder.

Rask took it all in, ears open and scratching his slightly hairy chest. He lounged back against the tree in what he thought was a comfortable position, not knowing the complaints he'd later utter in a hungover state about the pain in his back. He took another long drink off of the bottle of rum and smiled. "Well I'poshe tha'sh undershtandable t'en. If y're a'Firefly, which y're'n'such."

The profoundness of his own statements never really ceased to amaze the one called Sidewinder. Especially after drinking obscene amounts of alcohol. He was rather certain, somewhere deep down inside, that he'd make a good ambassador or diplomat, a politician even. Yup, that'd be the life. Fine food, lots of travel, good wine, women lined u-

A loud belch distrupted his thoughts and Rask wrinkled his nose and yawned. The bottle looked a little empty, and in a moment of drunken clarity, Rask finished the rest of the rum, tossed the bottle away, and pulled himself up the fern and onto his feet.

With considerable difficulty.

The sand kept sliding out from under him, and he couldn't seem to keep a solid grip on the fern. He slid a couple times, cussing in a drunken, slurred manner before finally establish a wobbly footing on the hot sand. "There w'go." He said, staggering towards the cooked fish and pulling a bit off. He popped it in his mouth and chewed, gesturing to the rest. "Y'er welcome t'shome if y'd like." He called to Zard. "'n some rum too."

He stooped to grab another bottle, and in a sort of drunken grace, wrapped his hand around the neck before falling forward into a roll, and back up onto his feet again. The agile half-Gaurim looked around with wide eyes, clutching the bottle to his chest. Typically the world didn't flip over like that, and it had caught him off guard.