Justice of Nature Prologue
Prologue to my story, of which the first two chapters are currently done. If the fact that they're humans annoys you, imagine they're red pandas. I like to do so, but it turns off more readers than it gains.
Prelude
"Better watch out Sen, Osstin was killed last night. We all know how much you loved that guy," joked her father, a tall man named Lort. He loved making jokes, especially horrible ones no one ever laughed at. "Same way as those other guys." "How can you be so heartless? Osstin was a gr-... a wond-...well he was a man! He didn't deserve to die, even if he wasn't a model citizen." "Sen, he was a drug dealing murderer. I'm not saying it was right that someone else murdered him, but let's be reasonable. The man was a monster," her mother, a short woman named Eris, argued gently. "At least he didn't suffer. Unlike his victims..." "I hope they exile the guy who did this," her daughter muttered. "People like that don't deserve to live..." Lort shot her a surprised look, "...in this nation." Lort just laughed, said it's a good thing she's an acolyte, rather than soldier, and went to go get his bow. He hunted for a living, mostly getting common game, like bucks, moose, and large soft skinned rhinos called "creves." "Remember to-" Eris started. "-Protect myself., I know dear. I didn't start hunting yesterday. Besides, I'll be in a group, and I doubt we'll run into more than one crefe, if that." "I just worry, mostly because of the killer on the loose." Sen left while they went through the morning ritual of worried wife, grumpy husband. Sen was tall and thin, unlike her parents, both short and slightly overweight. She had dark red hair, kept long and straight, with no adornments, although on formal occasions, she'd wear a leather head band with single feather. Sen was a shaman acolyte, one of the thirteen in her clan. She was better at Green magicks than all but two or three of the other acolytes, but terrible at Black, White and Blue. In fact, she took pride in lacking the ability to summon up Black or Blue mana. No one else was the slightest bit impressed. Red was her real element, though. 16-year-olds tend to be rebellious after all.
* * *
Kiin wiped his dirk off on Fren's cloak, staining a bit of the deep blue cloth purple. Fren didn't mind of course, corpses rarely do. The assassin blessed his latest kill's soul, and bowed his head. He sheathed his dirk, and fingered the hilt of his machete. Both blades made horrible weapons in case of combat. The dirk was short and made for slitting throats and stabbing hearts, not parrying swords, or blocking maces. The machete was too soft. It could slice through the thick bushes and thorns, but hitting even a dead tree forced a visit to the smith. Kiin was young, average height, and blond. His eyes were dark blue, although they could easily be mistaken for black. His mouth smiled often, but his eyes were ever-somber. He was happy on the outside, but deeply troubled. His sorrow came out only when he was doing Her work. The work of Aveh. "Come on out." Kiin commanded the shaking curtain. A young woman, no more than twenty-five, crawled out, sobbing. She screamed, and beat the floor. Kiin looked away, and said "...I'm sorry you had to be here for that. Can I ask you a favor, though?" She just kept sobbing. "Don't tell anyone it was me. That should be easy, right, since you don't know who I am?" She continued to cry. "Well, thanks. And again, sorry." The boy actually seemed regretful someone witnessed his crime. He apologized a third time. She ran out of the room, shouting for her servants. Kiin just laughed, sadly, and quietly. He stood there for a second, hesitating, not wanting to leave. He felt...connected, here. Fren's soul was still in transfer, his life not yet faded. The boy was highly religious, believing to be a soldier of Aveh, the high deity of Avenism. He truly disliked his job, but felt it was necessary, as Her bidding must be done. "I suppose I should go..." he muttered, dissapointed that the moment had to end, as he heard boots on the stairs. "Ah well...Tiger's time is soon." He climbed out the window, onto a ledge, and started climbing down his rope. It slowly withering under his touch. When the youth's feet reached the ground, it was barely still there, and it evaporated as he walked off. Every step away from the scene of his murder made him feel happier. Or at least, less solemn.