Post by Stage on Mar 3, 2018 22:14:31 GMT
Though the city of Sund was experiencing a chill caused by the cold winds whipping between Lake Sullen and Serene, its citizens and tourists did not seek shelter. If anything, they seemed to embrace the cold. Men produced and showed off heavy coats made from the fur of bears and wolves they had personally (or at least claimed to have personally) killed. Women floated about like ghosts in long winter cloaks of purest white derived from sea bird or, if they were especially wealthy, czorol plumage. In much thinner clothes, young girls lined the doors, windows, and even balconies of at least one building on each street. Many held art or sweets, but their dress and mannerisms made it clear what they were truly advertising. Other buildings were decorated by enormous depictions of needles or delicately crafted hands, signifying they sold another form of psychical pleasure, and inns and taverns stretched endlessly in all directions.
In such a loud, busy place, it was hard to raise heads. One visitor, however, succeeded in droves. Towering over eight feet tall, this visitor was not human or even human-like, but a wolfish creature with a stub of a tail and a narrow snout rather than a flat face. It wore even less clothes than the young women draped over balcony railings and windowsills, but this only revealed coarse fur and taunt muscles, not scandalous skin. Its only article of clothing was a simple chest piece of layered leather that wrapped around its broad torso as armor. An enormous sword with a golden hilt was strapped to this chest piece. Despite the creature's enormity, the blade's tip hovered lower over the ground. If the sword was stood straight up, it would likely be almost as tall as the creature itself.
Though the creature's amber eyes scanned the buildings and signs it walked past closely, it ignored the people. The opposite could not be said. Some people, visors from London or elsewhere, gasped or backed away at the sight of it. It was their first time seeing a varul, one of the wolf-like being that lived in the black forest to the northeast. Among those who had seen them before, the reactions varied. Some, most of them dark-haired and wiry, sneered or called insults. These were the people of Noraage, the world of the varuls. Other, fair and built broadly, stared in amused. One particularly bold man with platinum hair had loudly asked a companion if it would make a good coat. These were Lexians, the citizens of a western empire that, not trained to mistrust varuls since birth like Noraageans, had a history of taking advantage of them during their shared time on Lemuria.
Ignoring both Noraageans and Lexians, the varul stopped as it found what it had been looking for: the smallest building on the oldest street in Sund. A small, simple sign above its entrance read, "The Cloak & Dagger Tavern."
"<Better be a good job to make me come to this mud hole,>" it muttered to itself. The words meant nothing to the surroundings humans, not of their languages, but its voice, though exceedingly deep and gruff, was female.
Ragnhild, the bounty hunter known as the Hound, pushed open the door with a growl and ducked inside to meet her latest client...
In such a loud, busy place, it was hard to raise heads. One visitor, however, succeeded in droves. Towering over eight feet tall, this visitor was not human or even human-like, but a wolfish creature with a stub of a tail and a narrow snout rather than a flat face. It wore even less clothes than the young women draped over balcony railings and windowsills, but this only revealed coarse fur and taunt muscles, not scandalous skin. Its only article of clothing was a simple chest piece of layered leather that wrapped around its broad torso as armor. An enormous sword with a golden hilt was strapped to this chest piece. Despite the creature's enormity, the blade's tip hovered lower over the ground. If the sword was stood straight up, it would likely be almost as tall as the creature itself.
Though the creature's amber eyes scanned the buildings and signs it walked past closely, it ignored the people. The opposite could not be said. Some people, visors from London or elsewhere, gasped or backed away at the sight of it. It was their first time seeing a varul, one of the wolf-like being that lived in the black forest to the northeast. Among those who had seen them before, the reactions varied. Some, most of them dark-haired and wiry, sneered or called insults. These were the people of Noraage, the world of the varuls. Other, fair and built broadly, stared in amused. One particularly bold man with platinum hair had loudly asked a companion if it would make a good coat. These were Lexians, the citizens of a western empire that, not trained to mistrust varuls since birth like Noraageans, had a history of taking advantage of them during their shared time on Lemuria.
Ignoring both Noraageans and Lexians, the varul stopped as it found what it had been looking for: the smallest building on the oldest street in Sund. A small, simple sign above its entrance read, "The Cloak & Dagger Tavern."
"<Better be a good job to make me come to this mud hole,>" it muttered to itself. The words meant nothing to the surroundings humans, not of their languages, but its voice, though exceedingly deep and gruff, was female.
Ragnhild, the bounty hunter known as the Hound, pushed open the door with a growl and ducked inside to meet her latest client...