Her spirit greater than most, that you'll see,
One day by her all peoples will walk free.
-prophecy of the duskbringer
11 years ago, Capital city of Nolusberg...
"Mamwe, tell me the story of the furry people please," begged Guppy as she squirmed and bounced on her bed beneath the blanket.
"They are not called furry people Guppy, their race's name is Calgaree, and there's not going to be a story unless you stop bouncing on your bed like that and lie still!"
An abrupt lack of bouncing abounded through the previously boisterous room. Esmeralda fought to keep a straight face as she gazed upon an anxious little face looking up at her.
Esmeralda lost and smiled in reassurance, and saw it mirrored with a gap tooth grin.
She settled herself on the edge of the mid sized bed, collected her thoughts, and then began.
"A long time ago—",
"How long ago mamwe?" interrupted Guppy.
Esmeralda frowned slightly but answered her daughter's question.
"Well let's see, this year you're 6 and the year is 4982 Alto Draconis, it happened in 3371 A.D. So it would have been 1611 years ago."
"What's Alto Draconis mean?" queried Guppy as she tilted her head to the side in confusion.
Esmeralda explained further, "It means since the Great Dragon Empire was founded, it is a commonly accepted calendar measure—"
"What—"
Guppy was silenced by Esmeralda's finger on her lips.
"That's quite enough questions from you young lady, at this rate we will never be done with them. How about you quiet down and let me tell the story."
Guppy nodded silently, not willing to risk her story time any further.
Esmeralda's rich story voice reverberated through the room as she began once more.
"Sixteen hundred and eleven years ago, there lived a rare half-elf called Galafel. She belonged to the Order of the Open Door, a group of inquisitive misfits that sought to plumb the depths of magic.
Galafel was a brilliant mage and researcher of magic, but a tragic accident at a young age left her unable to bear children, which to elves are the greatest treasure in the world.
Some say her obsession with having a child drove her mad, others say she heard voices and at times behaved like a different person.
But all accounts agree on one thing, Galafel did something marvelous, something thought impossible. She did what no other mortal had done before or since.
She created a new life, not from any biological seeding, but through magic.
And she did this not once, not twice, but thrice. And into the world three new races sprung forth.
First were the Calgaree, quick of wit and dexterous of limb, but possessing little physical or magical might. Instead they excelled in clerical, mercantile, or accounting matters.
Their form resembled the mythical mako, but in humanoid shape. Standing on their rear paws they were a full head shorter than the average human.
They further differed with their hands, which though humanoid, had four double jointed and slender fingers on each appendage.
Rounding them off was their fur, which came in a variety of shades, making them as colorful as their often cheerful personalities.
Second were the Orcs, thick of limb, body and mind, these muscle brained creatures were born as natural soldiers.
Their instincts led them to fight and grow strong, triumphing over their foes in martial valour. However their lives were short by design, and in return they bred at a speed like no other sentient species, able to restore decimated populations in only a few years given sufficient food. Soon their brawny ash-grey bodies were seen on every battlefield.
Last were Galafel's elite. Worgen some called them, Lycans they named themselves. With the ability to shift between human, wolf and warwolf forms they dominated any single combat and could even dominate entire squads of enemies.
Yet their blessings did not end in form and ferocity, they also boasted intelligence and longevity greater than men. For these many traits they were envied and feared as Galafel's abominations, no matter how few there were.
For no species like to think of themselves as inferior...
All three races served and revered Galafel as a mother, and for a time she was content.
But the greed of humans knew no bounds, they pressured, tricked, and trapped Galafel's children, and for centuries used them as slaves.
The exploitation continued until one day the three beastkin races seized an opportunity. They revolted with the Sons of Brass in the Third Great War, whose conflict swiftly grew to encompass every corner of the continent.
Many died on all sides as the war dragged on in a senseless slaughter, and a stalemate set in.
Then, something new came to be. During the Third Great War, a new faction arose from both the disgruntled members of both the Pure Magic Faction, Sorcerers of great power, and the Pure Tech Faction, anti-magic engineers led by the Sons of Brass.
This new alliance of enlightened individuals fused the best of both magic and science and called it Magitech.
They then sought to use this new-found power to end the century and a half long war that had already ravaged Terrapia and all the races that dwelt therein.
The Calgaree and Lycans realised their potential and broke away from their previous alliances, joining the Magitech faction shortly after their formation. For they saw in them neither the oppression of their former masters, nor the fanaticism and rage of the Sons of Brass.
In time their choice proved correct as the Magitech faction showed itself to be overpoweringly strong. Ending the war and crushing both sides in a short seven years Magitech reigned supreme.
And after the Third Great War ended, the Calgaree and Lycans were both rewarded for their loyalty.
The new rulers allowed the Lycans their wish, which was to retreat from the world into the frozen northern wastelands and find peace in solitude.
The Calgaree choose to serve the new rulers not as slaves, but as an equal race. Binding their race in a symbiotic relationship with mankind.
To prove their commitment to this accord, and bury any previous resentments they vowed to become vegetarians, foregoing their previous consumption of the flesh from beast and man alike. This last agreement was amended slightly to allow the consumption of rodents a thousand years later.
But the Orcs, the Orcs were seen as dangerous and wild, their feats on the battlefield were fresh in everyone's minds.
They were seen as too great a threat to let go or be freed from control, lest their lust for power and dominion, coupled with their insane population growth, would overthrow the nations and peoples made so fragile by the protracted war.
And so, they were one and all, enslaved.
To keep them thus, each orc was fitted with a magitech collar of insidious design. The collar drew on an orcs inherent mana as fuel to power its functions. It allowed a holder of a licensed magitech key to be registered in the collar and locked in as the orc's master.
The collar could inflict pain via nerve stimulation if the masters wished it, even at great distance could a mighty orc be laid low.
And, if this collar were ever to be removed without the proper procedures, the orcs life would be abruptly, and painfully ended.
By these restrictions, the powers that be sought to forever cripple the Orc threat...
Esmeralda paused, looking down at the shaking, sobbing bundle of blankets that was her daughter..
She teased back the blankets and wrapped Guppy up in a warm embrace, stroking her hair and back in soothing rhythms.
"What's wrong my little Guppy?" She gently asked.
"Are Orcs- really that scary- and bad mamwe? They always just- looked sad- and tired to me." Guppy hiccupped along.
Esmeralda kissed her daughter on the forehead, and embraced her tightly.
"You are right my lovely little girl, you see the truth so many these days cannot. The Orcs are people, like us. Some may do bad things, but most are good. They've just had some very bad luck."
Guppy stilled and Esmeralda could almost hear the gears whirling in her little head.
The girl looked at her mother then, and solemnly pronounced her judgement, "Well when I grow up, I'm going to free them all and make them happy!"
This earned her a big hug from Esmeralda and another kiss on the forehead, to little Gupalagia, it was enough.
......................
Present day, 4993 A.D. Sixth day of the first week of Fall…
Guppy shook her head at the fond memories that briefly rose from seeing the many races mingling in the market square as they passed.
She smiled sadly at her previous foolishness.
'How can I save 30 million slaves when I can barely look after my family of three? And by Tikka's fiery beard, why am I so distracted by my memories today of all days?'.
Guppy refocused, and hurried over the sturdy wooden bridge she and Kyle travelled every morn and evening, pulling Kyle impatiently behind her.
She paused briefly at the far end to show their engraved work permits to the familiar guards at the district gate, the iron permits gleaming dully in the morning light.
Her familiarity with the guards stemmed primarily from two things.
First, she was one of a small group who worked in a district where they did not live, thus necessitating a special pass and daily checking of it by the guards.
Second, on her first day she had slipped while running over the bridge and fell screaming into the river, eliciting chortles from the gate guards as they fished her out.
The event left a firm impression on them and with little to do in their day but gossip, soon all the regular guards knew her by name, or as they sometimes called her, the drowning apprentice.
"Mornin Guppy, you best hurry if you aren't to be late." the gate guard advised in passing.
Guppy nodded in response and took off running again once they were through the checkpoint.
Once through the gate they had entered the craftsman district, and the sights and smells abruptly changed.
Everywhere one looked they would see shops opening, and materials of wood, brass, and many others more exotic in the process of being shaped with a passion towards whatever artistry and image their crafters could envision.
The smells wafting over were just as diverse, and as the siblings jogged along Guppy smelled the tanneries, pungent as ever, as well as the smitheries' charcoal fires, burning to smelt copper and tin to brass.
She even caught the whiff of powdered gems being added to a metallic mix somewhere. A viable, if expensive way of increasing mana conductivity in an item over the usual conductive fluid. However a favorable side effect of using the crushed gem made the item glitter in the light.
'Probably something for a noble.' thought Guppy, 'they do so like their products as gaudy as possible.'
Finally, the two arrived at their destination, a smithery run by the preeminent crafter of the city, John Mithrilsmith. The same John who had at first refused to believe Esmeralda four years ago. But, when shown proof of Kyle's talent, he had gruffly promised to accept him as a core disciple once he turned fourteen.
The man had been true to his word, though Esmeralda was no longer around to see it.
Feeling a little guilty about appropriating the jam for herself, Guppy put both cheese wedges into Kyle's paper wrapper with his bread and shoved it into his hands.
She then looked him over, dusted some lint off his shoulder, and reminded him to take a break and eat lunch when the first afternoon bell rang. She then pushed him towards the entrance and bowed to Master John who waited there.
"You're late," the towering man brusquely said, "get here earlier tomorrow."
Guppy sighed, her eyes still facing down. She knew he had a good heart, but by Tikka's teeth, she wished he could speak a little more kindly towards others.
Guppy kept her respectful position until both males had disappeared through the shop's entrance, then she straightened back up and took off once more in another direction.
A few minutes later, she arrived at her own workplace, with a reddened face and quite out of breath from her exertions.
A rickety old workshop lay before her, the whole ramshackle building looked like it could fall over at any time, so many, varied, and untrustworthy looking were the additions to it.
Everyone walking along the road gave the shop a wide berth, and rightly so, only the desperate and experienced could enter and exit without cursings or thrown spanners following their hasty retreat.
Guppy took a moment to catch her breath and neaten her disheveled hair and dress. She took pride in keeping at least a modicum of a professional appearance.
Though she might wear plain and sturdy clothes, it was no excuse for looking like a disinterred hobo.
Taking a fortifying breath, and now more presentable, Guppy marched through the shop's mouth, and immediately ducked.