Aaron(South Korea)
“Have you got a license for that thing, Veritani scum?” a voice spat out roughly.
Startled, Ciana looked up, fear jabbing into her heart and hand immediately going to the knife hanging at her hip.
In front of her was a middle-aged man with a permanent scowl lining his face and a mop of sad graying hair topping his almost egg-like head. On his hip, visible, was the pommel of an ornate sword, shaped to be the splitting image of a bird’s head wreathed in flames: a Bonghwang, the sign of the King. “Well? Answer the question girl,” the man snarled, reaching towards his hip. “Do you have a license for that, that thing?”
Ciana raised up her hands in surrender, slowly picking herself up. The ball of fluff that had been resting on her legs scrambled down and hid behind her legs. “Yes, yes I do,” she replied calmly. “Does the representative of His Majesty wish to see some official documentation?”
The man’s scowl deepened, looking obviously disappointed. “No, I was just checking.” He whirled around and stalked away, blinding white and red uniform starkly contrasting against the grey bricks which made up most of the city. “You Veritani breed like cockroaches,” he muttered under his breath. “Know your place, stupid monster lovers.”
As soon as the man was out of earshot, Ciana’s polite face morphed into one of livid rage. “Son of a bitch,” she growled. The ball of fluff scurried in front of her, glowing a light blue. She scooped it up with both her hands. As she stroked the creature’s velvety soft fur, her angry expression disappeared, replaced with a knowing smirk. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her right hand. “Well, I do hope he has a way of getting that out of his uniform,” she grinned.
Two blocks away, the middle aged man narrowed his eyes. He was used to receiving glances, of course he was. He was a member of the City Guard. His sword and uniform was recognizable anywhere. Gazes of discomfort, fear, respect, admiration, these made sense. However, these glances were more… sympathetic than usual. Wait a damn second. What was that smell?
Eyes widening, he craned his neck, trying to look at his back.
Written on his uniform in disgusting green slime, smelling of the sewers was the word Dickwad.
The Royal Guard froze. He let out a low, rumbling growl. Veins popped out of the side of his head. “VERITANI SCUM! I WILL FIND YOU!”
Three blocks away, Ciana sprinted through the city’s many alleyways, the ball of fluff on her shoulder, now pulsating green. She heard a muffled scream. She grinned. “He sounds pretty mad, doesn’t he, Vivi?” The creature on her shoulder let out a purring noise. She picked up her pace. “I do hope he has an extra uniform… But again, I really don’t care.”
So the Veritani girl and her ball of fluff disappeared into the city.
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Title Sequence:
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Siim (Estonia)
While for most the day was ‘mildly unpleasant’ or ‘whadda’ya want?!’, Maru’s cut of it was like the gods – probably Raz – had hung a sack of manure right over his head, but the last straw was when–
Skkkrck! A loud ripping sound made him wince.
Maru slammed the keg on the table, watching helplessly as a drunk had stumbled out the door of the inn and tried to use the door curtain – the expensive door curtain – as a handrail. Now, Maru didn’t give a shit about the curtain, in fact, every time someone sent it flapping the resulting breeze carried in the stink of whoever had died on the streets of Serana on that particular day. No; shit man, he was the one getting a beating for it.
It started as a faint whiff of Taranian tobacco. Maru scrunched up his nose, waiting for the culprit to pass, but it only got stronger until they entered – a strong brawler and woman that carried herself as if she’d just politely declined a dinner invitation from the King himself on a whim.
Maru tried his best to smile. Other than him, the inn was empty – he was the man of the house. Responsible. No; the scapegoat. The woman walked right up to the counter, and Maru nearly gagged. To get a smoke that pungent it took some sort of witchcraft and all Maru knew was that witchcraft didn’t come cheap. In other words, these people were good for business, and if he offended them and Master found out, his goose would be cooked, chopped to pieces and fed to the dogs.
“You know where your Master is?” the woman asked in Veritani.
“Busy,” Maru replied, stumbling over the harsh word, “you what– … what do you want? To drink?”
The strangers exchanged a glance and the woman shook her head, blowing a smoke ring towards Maru, which sent him into a coughing fit. “You really think?” she asked in Kankoki, “that this is’s Veritani girl?”
Maru held a sleeve over his nose and tried to blink tears out of his eyes. “I’m not a girl,” he managed.
The woman hummed. “Excuse me for assumin’, then. Your late Master did love to call you a bitch.” She drew a long inhale from her pipe. “Thought you’d be a little older.”
Maru didn’t answer; all he could think was, fuck, they killed him, they finally killed him, and he wasn’t sure whether to throw his arms around the Lady or make a run for it.
The bodyguard spoke in a voice that resonated deep in the floor, “Gimme a glass of the Atlanti crap, the one you keep under wraps.”
Maru’s body moved mechanically as he walked into the kitchen and lifted a floorboard. The drink sizzled like water on a hot stone and his hand itched to grab the glass – no, the bottle – and down it in a single gulp. Touching nothing but the foot of the glass, he slid it over to the man, who downed the liquid siren song.
“Aye, that’s ours,” he said.
The Lady smiled. “Seems your Master was a thief to boot.”
“He’ll pay his debts at the gates,” Maru muttered.
“Indeed,” the Lady said, “may Surum piss on his soul. You, twat, are coming with me.”
Maru took a step back but was met with the cold mortar of the wall. One thing was for sure, he’d jump in a well before ending up in that whorehouse.
“The Veritani bares his teeth,” the woman noted. “Nab him.”
Even if Maru had tried to put up a fight, it would’ve been useless. He was resolved to walk out on his own, though the man still locked his forearm in a vice grip.
“I can’t leave my things,” he protested.
The Lady motioned with her hand and Maru was dragged out. Shit. This couldn’t have gone any worse. Someone had cursed him, that was it. The man suddenly stumbled, caught in the tattered curtain, and something bodily collided with them on the narrow street. All Maru could see was a green blur, but it barely registered. He rolled to his feet and ran without looking back.