World-of-Svae

~Old Wounds
"Get them within the circle."  
A dark shadow descended upon the village as impenetrable black clouds rolled overhead, chittering screams echoing down across miles of open farmland while wagons full of the season's harvest trundled over the narrow bridge that led into town.  A fiery-feathered woman stood at the far end, symbols arrayed before her feet, protective runes emblazoned with her power.  The masterful weaver who had scratched them into the ground, a full month of his labor inscribing his magic into a circle around the village, was out there now, at the farthest farmhouse trying to help two elderly terata make it into town before the storm hit.
"But Rishara, you don't need to stay out here.  When those clouds come down--"
"I'll be fine.  Go."
Little Yanchu's ears drooped, and then he was gone.  He was dreadfully worried about his father, the weaver who--with her aid--had protected this place.  She

~The Misadventures of Lotz, pt. 2
As it turned out, the money Dart owed Lotz changed hands yet one more time.  The dice didn't like the little quaare that night, and Kallo didn't either when Lotz came back the next morning with no money to pay for the broken broom.  Lotz in turn didn't like the idea of giving up his axe until he could replace the broom, and so Kallo didn't like the idea of continuing to pay his unreliable employee.  The quaare—still not cutting a terribly intimidating figure despite the fearsome curve of his axe--was then thrown out on his ears and told by the incensed human never to come back again.  At the time, brushing the dust from his worn-out breaches, Lotz found he was quite alright with that idea.  Three hours later and beginning to feel the first pangs of hunger, he realized that losing his job was a bit more unfortunate than he had originally surmised.
This feeling was redoubled when--round a bend--he sa

~The Misadventures of Lotz, pt. 1
The sun was setting and as always the bustling streets began to quiet as everyone prepared to turn in for the night.  But, as was often the case, there were stragglers staying out later than was wise, off completing business better finished during the daylight hours.  One such straggler, a small slate-blue quaare named Lotz, was running through the food district in hopes of reaching his favorite dinner spot before it closed for the night.  He reached the door just as the waitress was reaching up to douse the front street lamp.
"Howya doing Tima?" he wheezed, grabbing his knees  and breathing hard as he reached the entrance--just in time--before the lamp signaled the end of their work day.  The waitress smiled warmly as always, nodding in welcome and beckoning him in.  He grinned with relief and followed her inside, taking a seat in the far corner where he thought he was least likely to be spot

~White Moon
I had not expected them to strike.  The village elder, a masked figure who had seen many, many winters, told us that his people were at war with their neighbors, the horned menace to the region called gareca.  He had mentioned a traveling warband, a mercenary troop led by an exiled noble.  I did not pay the warning much heed.  After all, I am Taryn, a Blade of the Emperor, of the gifted blood and sure hand.  I am a defender of the people and an extension of my liege's will.  There is no way that I--nor any member of my loyal escort--could be threatened by such news.  We are the finest warriors in the world, of that the emperor's creed leaves no doubt.  It is the third command on that sacred decree that the emperor's warriors must be unbeatable in combat.  Between me and my entourage of bodyguard soldiers, there could be no threat to us or this village.  If any miscreants arri