"There! It should be working now!" A tall, relatively speaking, rat-like
furrikin named Thunkin, shouts over the noise of the engine he has been working
on. He waves the oily remains of a bush in his right paw. "Looks like this thing
clogged up the"

"Save yourself the chatter serf, and turn of the infernal racket.." The
customer, a female Viscanti Noblewoman, replies with a disdainful sneer, as
Thunkin swiftly switches of the engine. "I do not care for why the engine broke
down, just that it is fixed. It is fixed, is it not?"

"Uh... yeah. Yeah." Thunkin nods eagerly, before he dries some grime and oil on
his once blue overalls. "It should work perfectly."

"Very well." The Viscanti turns to her massive grey Orclach servant, who has
been holding her bag. He must be at least eight feet tall, with a build
reminiscent of a warrior, rather than a servant. He would appear quite comical
in his butler outfit, with white shirt, black trousers and white gloves, if his
size and stern expression wasn't so terrifying. "Well what're you waiting for?
Pay the serf so we can get out of this dirty pit."

"Yesss misss Dimpool." The Orclach takes a small pouch out of the bag, and with
his massive hand he digs out a few gold coins and drops them into Thunkin's paw.

"Good. Now take the engine and let us leave. Tata." The Viscanti, Dimple i'Xiia
waves a handkerchief in the air and waggles out of the workshop, followed by the
Orclach who carries the machine easily.

Thunkin is left staring after them, shaking his head. "These silly nobles. They
take themselves way too seriously." He flips one of the coins casually. "Seems
that the only thing that is on their minds is the race." A soft sigh escapes his
lips. "But I can't really blame them. I wish I could participate as well." A
frown passes his features as he turns around and walks back into the workshop.
He strokes the coins tenderly, before he knocks on the door to his manager. He
waits for the usual grunt, then opens the door. "Here boss. Payment from Mrs
Dimple i'Xiia."

His boss, a dwarf wearing brown overalls, with a long, bushy beard and deep
brown eyes. With a grunt he looks up from his paperwork and gives Thunkin a
swift nod. "Good. Put the money on the counter and pack your stuff."

"Eh?" Thunkin drops the coins on the desk. "What do you mean boss?"

"I mean git lost. Go back to your home in Estelbar. We're closing the shop.
You're fired. I'm going to work as a mechanic for the Arrow of Taint. You have
to make it on your own. Now goodbye."

Thunkin stares at his boss dumbstruck for a moment, before he shrugs and leaves
the room. Arguing wouldn't improve his situation. When you first have gotten a
taste of power in Magnagora, you become addicted. It was a law of nature, more
reliable than the insanity of Rocka's lead-singer Rockon. Thunkin has never
quite understood why they chose a geomancer as composer and lead-singer. Most
people can't understand a word of what he's singing, and even fewer would be
able to make any sense out of it, but the music is cool at least. Regardless it
was of little importance right now. Thunkin trudges up to his room above the
workshop and quickly packs his belongings. It ain't much, only a few clothes,
some tools, a small pouch of gold that contains his savings and a rock-stone, a
testament to Magnagoran naming creativity. He had no real idea how it worked,
and no real interest in knowing how either. Magic is almost as screwed up as the
bloodlines and family relations in the Magnagoran upper classes, and Thunkin is
far more interested in mechanical contraptions anyway. But they can somehow
record music and would play it directly into your mind when it was held. His
boss was given one as a souvenir when he fixed the stage lights during a
concert, but he found them too noisy and threw it in the trash. Thunkin barely
managed to secure it without being discovered, and since then he has kept it as
his only means of recreation. After packing his things and collecting his last
wage, Thunkin starts to walk through the smog-filled streets of Magnagora. He
keeps a watchful eye on his surroundings, without home or work he'd run the risk
of being dragged to the factories to work. Thunkin shudders at the thought. He'd
rather anger a demon than being dragged off to those pits. Still, aimlessly
wandering around here would get him nowhere fast. No, that isn't completely
true. It would get him in trouble pretty fast. Now sure, technically Magnagora
is his home... but with things being the way they are now, it is probably time
for him to head back to Estelbar. To sacrifice his dreams of power for safety.
Heh, lunacy for any born Magnagoran, but luckily for Thunkin, he wasn't born in
Magnagora. With a sigh of resolve, he walks to the gates of Magnagora, intent on
never looking back.

Things never really go as planned though. He has barely reached halfway to
Acknor when loud, boisterous yells rose from the village. Thunkin's ears perk
up, and he turns around with a frown. And sure enough. Already, a whole slew of
high ranked Magnagorans were rushing out in order to convince the orcs of Acknor
to follow the engine. Thunkin spat on the ground. These conflicts always ended
up as violent bloodfests, and he would not let himself be dragged into it.
Luckily, the group paid him no heed as they charged into the stink-infested
pigsty that is Acknor. With a slightly morbid chuckle, he stops for a moment and
closes his eyes, focusing on the threads of fate. After mere seconds, he opens
them again, to see the many threads sundered within Acknor. The sight is like
someone dropped a rabid cat in the tapestry. He would see at least one person
die a violent death each minute, and he enjoyed every moment of it. Yes,
watching and enjoying the deaths of others may be considered morbid, but Thunkin
didn't care. They'll be revived eventually anyway, thanks to the magic that
protects the villages during these revolts. Thunkin however, keeps on walking,
believing it to be none of his concern, until he reaches the entrance to the
village that is. A fight seems to have broken out at the entrance to the
village, though when Thunkin gets close enough to see, all that he can really
get a clear view of is a Lucidian Nihilist, accompanied by his demon. Thunkin
manages to make out the vague shapes of other beings there, but he can't get a
clear view, most likely due to some spell that makes them invisible. Thunkin is
just about to move on when a blast of cosmic fire from the Nihilist flares past
him. Thunkin gulps and stops for a moment, staring at the Lucidian, who seems to
mistake Thunkin for an enemy. The furrikin rat is just about to start explaining
how he isn't an enemy when the distorted images lash out towards the Nihilist.
Streams of bright light pour out from two barely visible palms and bathe the
unfortunate Lucidian in a shower of bright light. He screams in pain, but seems
to still be standing. With hatred burning in his eyes, he turns to one of the
illusory assailants and lets out another stream of cosmic flames. Thunkin
swallows and watches in amazement as beams of magic energy fly back and forth,
until finally "Hey kid. You better run". Thunkin looks around in confusion,
until his eyes lock onto a female Furrikin with halo and angelic wings who
stares intently at him. "This ain't gonna be pretty and I can't guarantee your
safety." As she speaks those words, a darkness seems to spread across the sky.
Thunkin looks up in the sky and is appalled to see a flaming meteor flying
towards this location. Being of above average intellect, the rat-furrikin wastes
no time running away from the area as swiftly as possible. He has barely gotten
out of the blast radius when the death of the Lucidian flashes before his eyes.
With a shudder, Thunkin picks up the pace, and this time he doesn't look back at
all.

After a long, exhausting walk, Thunkin finally arrives at Estelbar. An aura of
peace drifts gently over the fields of his birthplace. As usual, Thunkin thinks
to himself, seeing that the whole village has always been one of peace,
community and hard work. Nothing interesting, in other words, but at least he
wouldn't end up in slavery here. He walks across the grain fields where Furrikin
farmers work the earth. With slow steady motions, they tilt the earth, pull
weeds and sow seeds, and Thunkin wonders if perhaps slavery would be preferable.
But then the desire to live to his next birthday kicks in and the furrikin makes
his way to the barns in the north end of the village. After spending a few
minutes asking around, he finally manages to find Deb Roundmuffin. For, he
figures, of all the jobs in Estelbar, tending the cows should be the easiest.
Deb eagerly accepts Thunkin's offer to help out on the farm. She hands him a
bucket, instructions on where to work and sends him on his way. Thunkin nods and
starts to stroll towards the cows. With a content hum he pats one on the
stomach, places the bucket beneath the cow, and then starts to ponder the cow.
He looks at her front, her back, her sides, but eventually he has to give up.
Defeated, he turns to Deb who is standing close by and calls out. "Hey, excuse
me. Where is the button?"

When evening finally fell, Thunkin swore to himself that he would never, ever
drink or eat anything with milk in it. The others didn't seem bothered at all by
drinking the white liquid, but now that Thunkin knew that it wasn't acquired by
the push of a button, he felt nauseous. In the horizon, the sun slowly drifted
down and away, leaving the reign of the sky to the moon and the stars. Watching
the Celestial bodies always made Thunkin feel calm, and slowly the nausea and
thoughts of milk faded away to be replaced by more important thoughts such as
"why does the moon always spend 32 days on her phases?" and "what exactly is a
star?". He spends about thirty minutes like this, gazing at the stars, when
suddenly one catches his eye. The star seems to be moving. Moving and growing,
and Thunkin finds himself gazing at it for several moments until it becomes
clear that yes, it is moving, and yes it is growing larger. And at an alarming
rate. Thunkin gasps as the massive object flies towards him, and he desperately
runs for cover, in hopes that he won't have to suffer the same torment as the
Nihilist from earlier this day. However, the featureless plains have no place to
hide, and Thunkin is sent flying as the object crashes into the earth with a
loud "bang". The quake from the blast sends Thunkin sprawling on the ground in a
shower of earth and grass. Finally, the torrent seems to have stopped and
Thunkin stands up, delighted that he is still alive. He turns his head and looks
at what crashed behind him, and his mouth opens in surprise. It seems to be a
ship of sorts, like those used in the upcoming race. Thunkin hears the sound of
people shouting behind him, but he is closer and far more curious. He runs to
the ship in three short seconds and quickly scans it. His trained eye quickly
identify a chamber half ajar. He swiftly forces open the chamber and stares down
at the female furrikin pilot lying unconscious in the chair. "Oh dear..."
Thunkin utters to himself as he stares at the young girl. "Isn't that... yeah.
It's Emirie Winterfur."