Ran’Garr

The iron-headed axe bounced off the chitinous scythe arms of the warrior insect with a loud clang but managed to shove one of the arms to the side. It would not have mattered much because Ran’Garr’s opponent closed up its defenses quickly but the Orc had prepared for this. He delivered a savage kick to the Yrg’s head. The attack could not damage the heavily armored dome, yet it was powerful enough to daze the creature for a few seconds. Ran’Garr’s off-hand already held an obsidian dagger by then. After a lightning fast feint with the axe he rammed the blade into the confused bug’s right compound eye with such force that his fist sank into the ruined socket. The Yrg shuddered violently from the terrible wound, screeching in a high-pitched tone. Abusing the creature’s momentary stun from the pain, the Orc captain let go of the dagger and shoved his own body under the bug’s forward segments, then heaved the insect upwards. The Yrg fell back, blocking the narrow tunnel it had entered through, denying any more warrior insects passage. Ran’Garr finished his helpless opponent off with a merciless two-handed axe blow to its softer underparts.

Sekethma

Vagrus Sekethma rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on the thin rows of letters written in a soldierly hand, strewn across the pages of the small, leather-bound book in front of her. Reading back your own words is so difficult sometimes. She sighed. No matter how many times I look, I won’t find anything more that would make this easier.Yet, she could not help herself. It was her way: every few days or so she poured over the pages of her diary to meditate on past choices and future challenges in the dim candlelight of her tent. This was in addition to the half hour or so she spent each day writing the actual entries. The last few weeks were especially demanding on the road, which called for even more reflection than usual. Why did I take the job? Her tired eyes wandered to the open flaps of the tent. Outside, night had already settled. Muffled noises could be heard from the beasts and guards of the comitatus, but generally, everything seemed quiet. She wondered if her people were up to the task ahead. Was it truly a great opportunity, or more an act of desperation? Is it possible to tell the difference?

Duro

Duro was walking along the trough, checking to see if all the beasts were drinking properly. Not taking clear water was one of the first indications of certain illnesses. Even though Duro was not the most experienced handler, he’s been picking up on beast lore fairly quickly since he left his distant homeland three years ago. These days he was working alongside Grea and the rest of the animal handlers with sufficient confidence. Suddenly he became aware of an Ifreanni emitting a low hissing sound as it lowered its head. The small frill at its neck was opening and closing slowly. Duro stepped carefully but decisively to the horse-sized lizard’s left and drew it away by the reins, leading it to the far end of the trough while cursing under his breath. He tied the mount to a post, watching the creature’s attitude and color change immediately; its scale hue became a lighter orange and it stopped stretching its frills.

Aru

'Is the world ending?' the boy asked in a breathless voice, looking solemnly at the horizon, where the elemental forces of some forgotten magic wreaked havoc just below the melancholy clouds. He was standing on his toes and holding the banister of the slowly moving cart. His eyes were fixed in total awe on the far-away arcane anomaly.

'Yours will be if you don’t shut it.' the squinting handler walking beside the cart growled. 'Now sit the fuck down, Seedy, else I’ll feed you to Elves the next time we make it to a city.'

'My name is Aru.' the boy said with mild conviction already eroding under the handler’s malevolent gaze, and added after a little hesitation: 'And Elves don’t eat people.'