[IC] The Plague called Mankind.

[Flynn]

It was a new day. The sun was rising above the mountains and General Stormvahk could feel the sun rays shining through the walls of his tent. He looks up in the mirror and sees an old face, with a white braided beard. He let's out a sigh and strokes the beard. He never asked for this position, but his people also didn't ask for slavery. It seemed they just didn't have choice anymore. The time for being obedient was over.
He walks to his armor stand and slowly puts on his old armor. It still fits him like a glove, even after 30 years. Had it been that long already? Had he been fighting for freedom for that long? Another sigh escapes his mouth as he straps on the last piece of armor. The old dwarf turns to the exit of his tent, straightens his back... and walks outside into the sunlight.

The general is greeted by the sound of a drumming earth and the shouts of a dozen different races. He walks up to the platform close to his tent, and looks over nearly a three thousand heads of the races human called slaves. As soon as General Stormvahk opens his mouth, the crowd goes silent. Everyone wants to hear his words.
''People! For too long we have been obedient. Too long we have sit idle, watching our brethren and sisters being used by the humans! No more I tell you! No more! We, the Legion of the Free, will put an end to the human tyranny once and for all! And it will not be my doing, but yours! By all of you! For this is something we can not do alone and divided. Together, unified against one single enemy, no one can stop us! We shall see the lands of Merovah free where we, elves, dwarves, orcs, beastman, and all other races can live free and will do so forever!!!'' The dwarf raises his fist in the air. The gesture is followed by the cheering and drum beats of sticks hitting the earth. For just this once... almost every race was united. General Stormvahk looks over his army, content, and retreats to his tent. His work for today was done.

---

It was a new day. Gnorlin jumps the tree and stretches his back. It wasn't the most comfortable place to spend the night, but you just didn't have that much choice when it came to stalking your prey. He cracks his neck and assorts the items on his belt. He looks around and takes a quick sprint to the nearest house, not ten meters away. His target hadn't left the building yet, which meant he had spend the night here. Well, a brothel was a favorite place for man to pass out. Especially if it came to humans. Although it was early, they should already be open. Let's take the direct approach for once.

Gnorlin enters the brothel, to be greeted by the strong odor of sweat and perfume. He walks up to the counter and climbs on one of the stools. He's greeted by a young lady with at least 3 layers of make-up. ''I hope you're not as tiny down there as you are in general.'' she says while eyeing the gnome in black up and down. Gnorlin let's out a snicker and drops a small purse on the counter. ''The human Orvink Bekker. I take it he's upstairs?'' The woman gives a quick nod and shoves the purse behind the counter. ''Good. This will be our little secret then, right?'' He gives her a nod and jumps off the stool. He makes his way upstairs and draws his dagger. He let's out a sigh and kicks open the door of Orvink's room. ''All in the days work of an assassin...''

[ReaptheMusic]

The Half Orc woman sat on a trees branch, one leg propped up on the branch as she played the flute to pass the time. A small talent her mother had pushed for her to learn, one her father had condoned as a bit useless. Though she had caught him one night while she was practicing, listening to its shrill tunes while holding her mothers hands. Ah, how she missed them... Beside her layed her upright quiver and satchel, along with her pack. Her bow and a single arrow lay in her lap. Wrathia was not one to stay out in the open. Today, however, she had a purpose.

Beneath her passed a stage coach carrying her prize today. Mm, it wasn't often she took these sort of jobs but it did rake in good money. She waited for the stage coach's horses to run by before hooking her knees on the trees branches and swinging upside down. Her white hair taking with the gravity as she did. She drew out her bow and pulled the arrow back on the string. From this upside down position, she could see right through the stage coaches back window, a specific lady in waiting sitting opposite of it looking quite frazzled as she pulled her skirts back down; a mistress to the local lord. Wrathia looked down the sights of the arrow...

And Fired.

Straight on, dead center of the mistress's forehead and she slumped foreward. Meanwhile the driver remained oblivious, and continued on his merry way down the path. Wrathia, her abdominals flexing, pulled herself back upright on her tree branch, pulled a paper out and made a checkmark next to the name of the woman she had killed. She smirked as she looked at the paper, her eyes burning with a mild hatred that was steadily growing in size. "The Tender-Flesh is nothing but filth." She murmured.

Wrathia dropped from the branches and began her walk back to her home cottage that had once been raided by the Filth who molested the diversity of a population. She would claim her prize money later.

[AoStar]

Adrian was not human. He had known this as a truth for most of his life. He had known that humans were powerless, yet clever creatures, whom forced his people into another land and enslaved them for the good of their own species. He had known he was not like them, in fact, had to hide from them, and he had known that it was because of them that he could never leave Elliot's house. What he did not know was what made humans so different, or what made them want to be away from other creatures. What made humans despise him? Why did they torture and mistreat his brethren? Most importantly, what could he do about it?

Only ten years of age at that time, the small elf pondered these things from his hiding space under a large tree. This large tree wasn't surrounded by many other large trees, but the dirty robes he wore allowed him a bit of camouflage. The sun was high in the sky, its rays peeking in through the green leaves of the tree and leaving stripes of light across the young elf's body. Adrian could smell the food of the humans, feeling his mouth water, and he chewed his tongue to distract himself from the hunger. A pale hand with thin fingers reached up to touch the pointed tip of his right ear, as he noticed that his brown hair had grown even longer than before, now to his shoulders with shaggy bangs falling into his face. He needed this long hair to hide his ears whenever he was spotted. Elliot had said it was crucial.

He brushed his bangs back away from his forehead, wanting a clear vision of the world around him. It wouldn't be long until Elliot was to return, and Adrian wanted to absorb all he could before he was once again trapped. As he watched a rare, dancing, blue butterfly glide awkwardly through the air, he became unaware of his surroundings, and a young adventurer came upon him.

"Hey there!" he greeted loudly.

Adrian nearly jumped out of his skin. His neck snapped around to find who may have discovered him so quickly, and his brown eyes met with a pair of sparkling blue ones. The human boy stood tall, which made Adrian believe he was a bit older than himself, and his blond waves of hair fell to a length almost as long as the elf's. His robes were a bright, clean brown, and he held a toothy grin on his face. As long he played it cool, Adrian could make it out of here safely, couldn't he? "Oh! Hello. What are you doing here all by yourself?"

"I could ask you the same thing," the boy replied, in a strange, foreign accent. "What ya doing here all by your lonesome? You don't got friends?" His eyes twinkled playfully and he leaned against the tree.

Adrian looked away, with a frown on his face. It hurt, because it was true. He had one friend, but she was a slave, so it didn't count. Besides, everyone else he had known was human, and elves couldn't be friends with humans. "I got friends," the ten-year-old replied, unknowingly somewhat micmicking the human boy's accent. "Actually, my friends are waiting for me, so I got to go." With a grunt, the elf got to his feet, but as he went to pass by the human, the other boy grabbed him by the arm.

"You don't got a name, stranger?" he asked.

"It's Adrian," Adrian mumbled hesitantly.

"Well then," the boy released him and smiled. "My name's Alekus, and I've just come here from the northern part of Merovah. I have to go aswell, but I hope to see you again, Adrian. Next time, we meet as friends." With a wink, he bounded away as quickly and as silently as he had came.

[Illogical Jim]

Sir Benjamin Broadshield, Knight of renown, son and brother of Lords, and warrior without equal, sat hunched over a pitiful little fire clutching a pan of bacon, beside a ruinous tower. His shield, the broken manacles on a field of green, was hanging from a nearby tree. Tradition was difficult to break. Even though he was fleeing manhunters down south, he felt obligated to announce his presence to passers-by. Chivalry demanded it. Not that he was terribly upset about it. He was near the border now, and this northern land was sparsely settled- and more importantly, it was sparsely patrolled. He had seen neither hide nor hair of a soldier- or a bounty hunter- in what felt like an eternity, and the watchtower he had taken refuge in must have been abandoned for quite some time. In truth, he did not like it much. But a great storm rolled through a few nights ago, and forced his hand. In the end it seemed to serve well enough. The roof worked, at least, though the place was draftier than any castle he'd ever been in. He had limited himself to the first level of the structure- the stairwell looked fragile, and he did not trust the upper level.

His fellow Merovahns certainly did not seem to be very worried about the possibility of an invasion from the North, to leave a perfectly good watchtower unlooked after. They would see the error, soon enough, the Knight reasoned. The thought lifted his spirits. He began to whistle whilst turning the strips of bacon with a fork. Within a few moments, he found himself softly singing, too. Shifting the bacon from the pan to a little tin plate alongside a hunk of stale black bread, he began to nibble on what passed for his breakfast. In days gone by, he had feasted among Kings and high Lords, on capon and quail and eel, fine pastries and cakes, sausages, light, flaky fish, and bread of every description. Oh, and the wine. Oh, yes, the wine. If only he had some now, instead of the mug of foul-tasting water he currently enjoyed. He knew he should not complain, knowing that many- non-humans, in particular- would have jumped at the opportunity to partake of his paltry meal.

As he ate, he scanned the horizon. The tower in which he was currently making camp sat at a crossroads. A beaten old road went north and south, hills in one direction and lowland in the other, and a better maintained route ran east to west. About one hundred yards away was a little stream, its course dotted here and there by copses of trees. otherwise, there was little to report. He could see nothing of interest, and thus, was not much worried about defending himself. His armor was inside, protected from the elements, and his horse Alexander was tied to the same tree that his shield was hanging from. His sword and dagger were at his belt, and, in a pinch, that would be enough. He did not likely make much of a sight without his full kit, but his reputation ran before him, and seemed to scare off most novice challengers.

Currently he wore a leather jerkin, a simple tunic, and leather trousers. His left eye was covered by a round patch of black cloth, held in place by a band of cloth running across the back of his head. Oddly enough, he was barefoot. After breakfast, he decided, he would bathe in the stream, gather his belongings, and begin the last leg of his journey. Soon, he would join Stormvahk and his army. With victory, mayhap, he could return home- and perhaps take his brother's Lordship? Only time could tell. A smile came to Benjamin's lips, and he whistled again.

[Lionheart]

It was evening over the city, the time for food and drink to be shared and celebration and good company to be reveled in. A tavern called the Silver Lotus is a popular place on this night, many patrons were drinking and enjoying the evening. Among the patrons were a group who sat apart, taking residence in the corner. This group was celebrating as well, celebrating a job well done.

Yes, Jeremiah Cross smiled as he toasted with his friends. Though they weren't any closer to abolishing slavery they were at least making money for when the time came. Smuggling wasn't exactly the best business but it paid well.

One of his companions, Gregory, let out a contented sigh as he laid back, resting his feet on the table. “Today was good, a relatively easy job with a large payout. Couldn't ask for a better blessing.” At that another companion chimed in. “blegh, not more of your religious babble please.” Catherine was her name. “Hey! I'll believe what I want, just because you don't doesn't mean I should hide my faith.” The man responded. “Don't mean you need to flaunt it either.” At that point Jeremy had had enough. “Alright settle down you two, we're celebrating remember? Let's just enjoy ourselves.” That seemed to placate his companions, at least for a time.

After a few hours of drinking and sharing in each other's company Gregory and Catherine were both headed to bed, looking at Jeremy expecting him to do the same. “I think I'll stay down here awhile longer, go on have a good rest, I'll see you in the morning.” And with that, the hunter was left to reflect on the day's events, and to plan what was to come.

[ReaptheMusic]

Singing as she walked, the half orc womans eyes rested, leaving only a slits worth open to gaze in front of her. She knew the Woods of Diin like the back of her hand, as all orcish kind were expected to. Her sensitive nose picked up familiar traces of trees... and grass... and.. parchment. Gently, her eyes opened further to gaze upon a slip of parchment on the wood of the tree beside her. Another bounty. With a sigh, one both happy and exasperated at the idea of more work, Wrathia tore it down from where it hung.
The bounty was for a large sum of money. So much money in fact, that it would finally give her enough to purchase her mother and father back from their owners. With a grin, Wrathia noted it was for a human.

Sir Benjamim Broadshield. Wanted dead, or alive.

[LittleRedPanda]

The day was already half gone, the sun now high in the sky. Yet, here her owners were, just now sitting down to breakfast. It was disgusting. She sighed. It was her job to wait on them hand and foot. During the meals she simply waited on them. When they needed nothing, she was expected to wait patiently in the corner and not speak unless spoken to. Which is what she was doing now. The smallish half harpy stood in a corner, dressed in dark brown robes that hung off her slender frame almost obscenely. Her wings were smashed up against her back and bound with harsh and itchy white bindings. She was not allowed to ever unfold her wings. It was rough, but she managed. She'd learned to sleep on her stomach. Sleeping on her crushed wings was extremely painful.

For the first several months she'd tried so hard to get away from her owners. She'd resisted the binding and often escaped out windows when no one was looking. Eventually they'd find her, drag her back, and beat her. They beat her even if she didn't run. And slowly, over the years that fighting spirit had been stolen away. She sighed again. However this time, she'd made a mistake and done it loudly. "Soren do you mind?!" The oldest daughter of the family turned around to glare at her. What was her name again? Constantine. Yes. That was it. Constantine was the oldest daughter of the family. She was now 21 and still unwed. Probably because her nose was crooked and hooked like a beak. Ryiah bowed slightly to the older girl, keeping her eyes on the ground. "Sorry Miss, Won't happen again. I promise." Constantine narrowed her beady eyes at the girl. "That's right it won't. Otherwise I'll have daddy take you out back and whip you something awful." The rest of the children snickered.

"Soren," Ryiah looked up to see Constantine's "daddy" speaking to her. "Yes sir?" she shuddered slightly at the sound of the master's voice. He was a horridly, fat man with four chins and a stench of mold about him. "Sing us a song, girl" She nodded. They forever wanted her to sing to them. I suppose it made sense. She did inherit her mother's harpy voice. Most people found it lovely. She took a deep breath, searching her brain for a song. She settled on one that she often sung to herself late at night. Her mother had taught it to her. She opened her mouth and started singing.

"Where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules to fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white night, upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and turn
And dream of what I need.
I need a hero.
I'm holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night.
He's gotta be strong. He's gotta be fast.
And he's gotta be larger than life-"

"Stop! Stop!" The master stood up so quickly his chair flew back against the wall with a crash. Ryiah jumped and almost bumped into the wall herself. The man walked over to her, grabbing her chin roughly. "What kind of crap do you think you're singing about? Freedom?" He laughed, and roughly pushed her back against the wall. The children all watched with varying stages of malicious glee on their faces. They loved it when their father hit the slave girl. "P-Please sir, I was only trying to-" She was silenced by a blow to her jaw. "I don't give a damn!" The master roared at her. "Get out of here, you pathetic, sniveling girl. Go to market and buy our groceries. You'll be getting no supper of your own tonight." With that the man swept out of the room, the children following him. Ryiah stood up, wiping blood from her lip. She knew she better do what he said. She ran into the kitchen, picking up the large basket, small coin pouch, and the list of groceries and headed into town towards the market. Maybe if she was lucky she could smuggle herself a small piece of bread or cheese tonight. She shook her head as she walked. She hated that family. She only hoped one day she'd be rid of them.