“Alright! Everyone, front and center!!” I groaned at the thought of having to actually get up. My bedroll was so warm, and the outside world was so cold and unforgiving. Why couldn’t I just sleep a few more minutes? “Varria!” The quartermaster yelled, “Get your ass in gear!” I groaned again but finally managed to get up and clear my eyesight enough to get a better view of the place I’d gotten so used to call home. In truth the building that the humans had set up for people like me was nothing more than a large shack, simply a few planks of wood held together by a few by more than questionably placed screws and bolts. I got up and immediately started to dress in clothes that prejudiced people wouldn’t find offensive, i.e. their style clothes.
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I’m one of both the rarest and most hated races in all of the entire world. Hooray! Okay, let me rephrase that, just the continent of Ratoros, considering the fact that no one has actually explored outside of our small, or rather large area we’ve got. I read somewhere in a book that Ratoros is something like five million miles or something along those lines. Still, that’s five million miles of land filled to the brim with people who just hate me, not the beast races, not the murderers who go and kill their loved ones without a second thought, but me. Terrific. I managed to get the outfit under control enough so that I could join the others. I stood in the line, shoulder-to-shoulder with other people my age, the Quartermaster walking down the line as if we were his squad of soldiers and he was preparing us for a long term war, walking down the line with his typical sneer, his armor clanking around, his sword scabbard nearly touching the floor, his hand on the jeweled pommel. He inspected us for almost thirty minutes before finally nodding and telling us that we were adequate enough. Of course I had to wait for everyone else to leave, else I risked getting beaten up by two or three of the others. When I finally managed to leave, I went straight to the only other place I felt safe: Crimson Rouge Resthouse, the place that I had been assigned to work. Also the home of …show more content…
She placed it in the rack just below the counter and leaned over it, looking at the empty mess hall of the Crimson Rouge. She sighed. “Looks like it’ll be a slow day.” She looked outside through the open door, “Not many people showing up.” I shrugged. “Isn’t it a good break from all the hustle that goes on every day?” Vestele chuckled. “I guess. Been awhile since I haven’t had a good day where I could do other things.” She looked around a bit more before going back upstairs for a split second before coming back with a leather-bound book, it’s cover looking rather worn and beaten up. I leaned over as Vestele put it on the counter and opened it up to get a better look, “What is that?” “It’s a sketchbook. I had one day hoped to be an artist, but I run the Crimson Rouge instead. They didn’t have much need for an artist back in Titan as there were plenty of them, but I had always been curious if I could draw or
I’m one of both the rarest and most hated races in all of the entire world. Hooray! Okay, let me rephrase that, just the continent of Ratoros, considering the fact that no one has actually explored outside of our small, or rather large area we’ve got. I read somewhere in a book that Ratoros is something like five million miles or something along those lines. Still, that’s five million miles of land filled to the brim with people who just hate me, not the beast races, not the murderers who go and kill their loved ones without a second thought, but me. Terrific. I managed to get the outfit under control enough so that I could join the others. I stood in the line, shoulder-to-shoulder with other people my age, the Quartermaster walking down the line as if we were his squad of soldiers and he was preparing us for a long term war, walking down the line with his typical sneer, his armor clanking around, his sword scabbard nearly touching the floor, his hand on the jeweled pommel. He inspected us for almost thirty minutes before finally nodding and telling us that we were adequate enough. Of course I had to wait for everyone else to leave, else I risked getting beaten up by two or three of the others. When I finally managed to leave, I went straight to the only other place I felt safe: Crimson Rouge Resthouse, the place that I had been assigned to work. Also the home of …show more content…
She placed it in the rack just below the counter and leaned over it, looking at the empty mess hall of the Crimson Rouge. She sighed. “Looks like it’ll be a slow day.” She looked outside through the open door, “Not many people showing up.” I shrugged. “Isn’t it a good break from all the hustle that goes on every day?” Vestele chuckled. “I guess. Been awhile since I haven’t had a good day where I could do other things.” She looked around a bit more before going back upstairs for a split second before coming back with a leather-bound book, it’s cover looking rather worn and beaten up. I leaned over as Vestele put it on the counter and opened it up to get a better look, “What is that?” “It’s a sketchbook. I had one day hoped to be an artist, but I run the Crimson Rouge instead. They didn’t have much need for an artist back in Titan as there were plenty of them, but I had always been curious if I could draw or