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Nhim has been making her way south from Nebraska-she'd rather head north towards her preferred climate, truth be told...but she also knows that food is more likely to be plentiful-not to mention easier to catch-towards the south, and right now, her stomach is the most pressing matter on her mind. Of course, there's still matter of finding a cave or the like that she can't get stuck in to make into a lair, and then outfitting it with a new hoard. For now, though? It's all about food.

She peers down at the landscape, her ears pricking forward as she spots an group of cattle wandering along. The dragon goes into a dive and easily slams into one as the rest of the herd flees, then, after a moment of covering her kill with her wings and looking around-old habits die hard-begins to eat. Despite being a ravenous giant carnivore, she'd actually welcome company. She hasn't run into many things that talk thus far.

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Oliver's face twitches at the hated word.

"I am no wizard," he says with strange intensity.

He recalls that this is simply an innocent mistake a moment later, and adds in a more normal tone, "I am a Godsworn. I apologize for bearing you such ill news. This land is ever-surprising and ever-disturbing."

Oliver-speak for 'it's totally screwed, yo'.

Nhim blinks at the tone, then nods, actually looking pleased. "Ah-some sort of paladin, then? Or that would be the equivalent in my world, at least." She looks around again, her frills lowering. "So I've been told."

"Ah, perhaps?" There's never been a real need for the word 'paladin' in their society. "Our supernatural abilities come from the blessing of the Lord.

"Before we continue with this conversation - do you know of the Cooper residence?"

Nhim nods, still pleased-look, something that sounds halfway familiar. "You are a paladin, then, of a sort." Her head tilts at the question. "No. What is it? Some kind of outpost, I assume?"

"We are in the midst of rebuilding civilization there," Oliver tells her. "It is being converted back to a farm so that we might grow our own food. Many people and beings from different world have taken up residence there.

"The owner herself, Lucy Cooper, is a woman that can become a dragon."

Nhim blinks, her ears going up in surprise. "Really? I've seen it done a mere handful of times, and only by powerful magic users. I think I ought to visit it then, just for that...though I don't know how long I'll stay. It seems as if this entire area would make for poor territory."

Regarding shapeshifting magic users, watch Oliver valiantly not ask 'were they demons?'. It was a truly heroic effort that will sadly go unremarked.

"And I cannot say we have enough food for you if you stayed a permanent resident," Oliver adds. "What sort of territory do you prefer?"

"Food isn't an issue-I'm still quite capable of hunting." She looks thoughtful as she peers around. "Preferably somewhere colder-my old territory was covered in snow and ice year-round. But my main issue is that this land is too flat."

"Ah - here there are no updrafts," Oliver notes.

Although it certainly didn't give her much trouble earlier.

"There aren't any caves," she says, shaking her head. "No places to perch, much less to rebuild a hoard. If I started collecting here, everything would likely vanish in a matter of days."

"A hoard?"

This could become worrying, but Oliver gives no indication of such. They've had enough miscommunication for one day.

"A hoard," she says, nodding. "A collection of my things-all dragons have one. Generally, it's made of treasure we've found or been given, but it can have other things as well-my mother was fond of collecting rocks. And in the north, we collected hides or rugs as well, to sleep on."

"There were some polar bears near the Cooper farm, if you are seeking some more hides. I myself know something of skinning animals."

Oliver is all about her obtaining a hoard that isn't of people's valuable possessions.

Just point her to the nearest semi-destroyed art gallery or museum and she'll be happy as a clam.

"Really?" she asks. "I'll have to find some form of payment, then. Will you take meat?"

Oliver can't imagine bear meat is very tasty. Not that this dampens the friendly expression on his face any.

"I am forbidden to accept payment for my services."

Hey, the settlers liked it just fine! (That, or the Little House books lied to the mun.)

"Odd," Nhim says, blinking. "So you don't practice any sort of trade? It's quite useful."

Oliver prefers his venison and rabbit, just the same.

He shrugs, expression amiable. "Trade is for men of the mortal world; service is for men who look to the immortal."

"If you insist," she says with a shrug, grunting a bit at the movement. The dragon adjusts her wings, swinging her head around to nose at her shoulder.

Oliver is wondering where they might find some rugs.

"Does your world have a name?"

"The land where I come from is Adesia. The world itself has no name; it is simply...the world."

"My world is the same.

"My land is the isle of Fremmanland. What little countryside is left is quite beautiful - many more hills than here, and much greener due to all the rain."

Beautiful in a rainy way, apparently.

"Mine, as I said, is made of snow and ice-and rock. But the lands to the south are far greener-there are even jungles in the far south." She blinks at him. "What happened to your countryside?"

Oliver frowns. "Progress. Hills have been blasted open in search of coal to run ships and trains. Entire forests leveled to create houses in Cardin city that are little better than slums. Mills belch foul smoke into the air that turns the very rain itself brown."

Nhim isn't sure what a train, but along with everything else, it sounds bad. "And your magic can't fix things, or at least lessen the damage somewhat?"

"Oh, we do what we can," Oliver hastens to add. "We fight the symptoms of the industrial age; we tend to the diseases of those who seek us, and I myself patrol fields in order to assure their fertility. However, the church can do little to interfere when matters of economy and politics are concerned."