Current Weather: The sun is beating down relentlessly, heating the cobblestones of the city and making to be a basically normal day in New Haven.
The city of New Haven; it was supposed to be a grand new beginning for the world after small tribes found one another and joined in friendship. That was close to one hundred years ago. It remains the largest city that anyone in these parts knows of, but it's not exactly the happiest place of all.
The areas that were supposed to represent the prestige of this world were run down now, hideouts for local bandits and conmen. The library was ruined, along with a local museum hosting old hunks of metal which no one knew about, but everyone pretended to.
The cobblestone streets were beginning to crack and fade under the relentless desert sun, and in some places they were pried loose from the ground and cast aside carelessly, broken or crumbling under everyday traffic.
At the center everything was a town square of sorts. A fountain sat in the middle of the open area, long since dried up, fresh water almost a memory around these parts, save for your daily ration. Sitting on a bench that was shaded by the large anthro-lion sculpture that represented one of the city's founders, was a short, lithe creature.
A fennec fox to be exact. Her fur was a sandy color, with her underbelly being slightly lighter than her main fur color. She was no more than four feet and five inches when she stood and a large tank-top covered her torso. It was mostly made of a brown material, with random squares of orange and yellow cloth sewn in to hold it together. Covering her legs were a pair of brown shorts. She wore no shoes, her feet long since becoming used to the harsh climate that she lived in day to day. Her long blond hair was swept up in a ponytail that bobbed playfully when she moved. Atop her head she also wore a pair of rose colored aviator type goggles. A small leather pouch was attached to her brown belt that swelled at the bottom, doubtlessly holding marbles that were the current accepted form of currency within the city.
She sat in the shade of the early morning, and watched the hustle and bustle of the streets begin. The sandy vixen hugged her legs close to her body and she pondered how she could make a profit off of the local law enforcement’s crack-down on all the illegal activity that had taken New Haven by storm so recently. Perhaps she could strike a deal with one of the fleeing criminals, exchanging her precious 'creations' for food, shelter, or protection.
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The western side of New Haven. In the desert sun, the place shimmered with the tantalizing mirage of water that would fade to the crackled cobblestones and barren sandstone when approached. Local crime had been thriving in the underground of the large desert city, despite the efforts of enforcers set to handle such matters. Somewhere here, in the ghetto of a ruined building that once housed city residents, a single figure stepped to the doorway, gazing out at the sweltering heat of the daylight beyond the stone frame. This place had recently been where a local gang met; most of them were now gone.
It was a kangaroo. Tall and with the hardened body of someone adapted to fights, he was covered in a dark smoky fur that faded to black on the backs of ears, arms, tail. He wore plain black pants of the stitch-work most common amongst the residents that covered powerful hind legs and a loose fitting shirt of the same color, suitable to the relentless desert heat. Across his waist, the dark-furred kangaroo had a battered and dusty belt which housed a gleaming dagger with a wicked serrated edge. Pausing in the crumbled doorway of the old building, the kangaroo shrugged his shoulders and stepped completely into the daylight. Across his broad back, an equally battered knapsack hung from one shoulder, containing the supply of marbles he possessed as well as his true treasure; an old antique of a revolver wrapped in a piece of frayed cloth, lovingly tended from the wear and tear of the ages as well as the diminutive supply of bullets he had salvaged. Lank, dark hair fell into deep brown eyes, distilled ever so slightly by the pace he set, booted feet kicking at the loose cobbles as he walked.
It was time to move on; he knew this. The locals were catching on to the schemes of the underground crime lords, and several factions had begun to disperse already and flee the city. The kangaroo had decided it was time he left New Haven, too, to seek out what he may; he had a look that just screamed 'mercenary.' Not the most helpful thing in the world, when law enforcement was becoming ever more brutal with the criminals caught.
The kangaroo paused to brush the hair from his brown eyes. Ahead, the makeshift town square with its dilapidated sandstone fountain stood. No one was paying too much attention it seemed; it looked safe enough to venture into. Slipping through the crowds, the kangaroo approached the fountain where he leaned for a minute, to gather his thoughts and ponder where he should go after leaving New Haven.
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Just past the fountain and its central stream of traffic, another figure was making her way from shadow to shadow. She was trying to reach the outskirts of town quietly but reaching near 5.7 in height, it was near impossible to brush off the unwanted looks. The only comfort she held was the fact that her head, as well as the rest of her body was cloaked in deep blushing red. Thou the thick heat was making her near faint, she dared not take it off here. A long handcrafted staff lay strapped to her back, the only form of weapon the strange femme seemed to hold and none too dangerous as well. It was worn smooth by use with strange deeply cut inscriptions down its sides. She stopped, watching a few people sidestep her presence with downed gazes. It hurt but it was nothing new to her, who really could trust a healer who'd gone against her oath of killing? She reached for a flask on her hip, showing just the bare hints of a silver muzzle and a few too many teeth as she tipped her head up for a sip. Replacing the thing, the few marbles she held made little noise, nestled in a pouch beside.
To be blunt, her kind were hard to be found, the remaining clans scattering to the four winds. She was of lupine origin but anthro in all qualities, her people had lost the power to shapeshift well before her time. She was wolf and woman in a strange mix of both and did not often lose herself to the cold darkness of her wilder instincts. No matter how fallen she had become, she still carried with her a strange power and knowledge of herbs.
It was with a soft flexing of a heavily bandaged hand that she sighed and her eyes ventured inward once more, surveying the city with pale blue eyes. Quietly, she wondered if it would be a better idea to ask for the quickest way out then trying to find one on her own.
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Since the founding of the city of Newhaven their military had been based on a strong offence, and what stronger an offence then a swift strong winged steed for the sharpened pointy stick flinging soldier. Bird X was as quick as he was agile on the battle field, dodging virtually every sharpened stick that was hurled at him. Two by two the massive bird would snatch the enemy in his massive talons and before they could scream, drop them on their own men in a crushing collision.
But this was the past, two weeks ago Bird X and his rider had been on a basic scouting of the area when they came across a small camp merely a mile outside of the city walls.
“Let’s go in for a better look," his rider had said, like he had hundreds of times before. And Bird X obeyed like he had hundreds of times before. As they closed in, Bird X’s handler began launching the pointed sticks onto families of the poor and ragged settlement. This was a knew routine, and Bird X became conflicted. He believed in the military, he believed in offence, but he did not believe in the killing of defenseless civilians.
He had blacked out after that, now today he was sentenced to die for the death of his rider. Accused of ripping him limb from limb and dropping the pieces at his scheduled lookout post on the east side of the city.
“It is time," booms a deep voice the thick cell doors slam open loudly. A large rope net was cast over the chestnut colored bird. From behind the intertwined threads of the net the sharp bird eyes watch a Minotaur, huge horns protruding from his head. From what Bird X could see, the massive anthro bull was about the same size as he. All 7' of the minotaur stood in chiseled muscles, holding the rope that dragged the brown hawk down the muggy hall and into a large open space. The execution stage. Bird X could hear the agonizing calls down the hallway, determined not to become one of them the hawk can not help but smirk. ‘Stupid oaf,' he thinks to himself as he easily snaps the rope net between his sharp and powerful beak.
As the unsuspecting Minotaur drags the warrior bird through the shade of the hallway and into the opened arena, X knows this is his chance. Still he waits, watching the minotaur’s bare back, patient eyes waiting for him to turn around so he might have the pleasure of watching the bull’s face twist in agony as he feels death’s cold talon grip.
The rope is dropped and the minotaur turns, ready to slay the traitor bird. Bird X quickly breaks through the remaining rope, flapping his wings with one powerful movement and sending a whipping gust of wind scattering the dust where he once stood. Without hesitation he wraps his sharpened militant claws around the strong beast’s horns. Confused by the powerful and unnerving sight, the executioner has just barely enough time to raise his eyes upwards, seeing only a flash of dark purple tipped feathers before X jerks to the right, snapping the strong minotaur’s neck with precision.
The loud crunching pop of the thick necked brute’s spine alerted the two guards that had been standing by the hallway entrance. Bird X, fully aware of their positions twists upside down and 180’s it towards the two as they hesitantly raise their weapons. A mistake. The hazel and grape hued bird grabs each in a different talon, digging the thick and sword sharp claws into the soft flesh and tendons between their neck and shoulder. Making a sharp turn he releases the two who plummet screaming into the crowd. With a deep angry screech he tore through the tattered cotton veil that attempted to provide shade over the crowd. He knew he had nothing left in this city and that he couldn’t stay any longer. So he sets out over the city walls, leaving with everything he came with; nothing but his tattered aviator scarf.
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In Central New Haven, a figure danced, beads of sweat dripping slowly down her face. Peering out at the crowd beneath strands of dangling brown hair, the cat's eyes narrowed. Twirling around, she grinned as her full skirt twirled with her. With a low bow, she stretched out a paw for marbles, her sparkling green eyes wide and innocent. Sweeping around the crowd, she prodded passers with her paw, receiving but two marbles for her dancing. Running a paw through her light orange fur, she sighed dejectedly, but looked up with a strange twinkle in her eyes. Dashing into the streets, the feline passed many, all of whom were relieved of their marble pouches. Giggling gleefully, she tucked them in the belt of her shorts under the skirt she wore. With a wide smile, she took off.
As an orphaned child, Kalea was forced to learn the art of pick-pocketing. Her nimble fingers went unnoticed by all, giving her an immediate advantage. Her dancing and acrobatics gained more marbles. The marbles she stole, though, were hardly enough for her clothes, meals, and protection. Her clothes were always the same: tight, white tank top with tan shorts covered by a long, colorful skirt. Long, brown hair was swept out of her face with a headband. Standing at 5 feet, she was often unnoticed, but her loud mouth and temper gained the attention she wanted.
Kalea ran from Central New Haven, her fingers playing with a marble. Dodging and weaving through crowds, she made her way to the outskirts of the city. Strange machinery lay in the sand, obstructing the path. Kalea slowed, padding to a certain piece of metal. The piece was huge and dome-like. Glancing around her, the cat lifted up a part of the metal and squirmed inside. Placing her day's earnings beside her, she curled up and fell asleep.
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