Location: Southern Outskirts – Elfaris District, Two Hours After Sunrise
The air was thick with fog and fear.
It clung to the alleys like a ghost, curling between broken gutters and shuttered windows. Boots thudded in the mud, rifles clanked against armored chests, and cold voices barked commands that echoed like death.
"Pull them out one by one!""Check under floorboards—basements—gut every wall if you have to!""Wagons five and six are full. Start loading seven!"
Down crooked Fieldstone Street, human soldiers marched in a line—grim, methodical, their uniforms wet with mist and soot.
They dragged out mothers still clutching their children, fathers who could barely stand, elders too dazed to speak. Screams rose. Infants cried. Mud soaked through thin shoes as dozens were herded toward the waiting wagons.
Behind a cracked window, Ordur waited.
An ox-kin in his forties, broad-shouldered, breathing hard. Blood ran from his temple down his cheek, staining the fur on his jaw. His coat was torn. A blacksmith's hammer rested in both hands, knuckles white.
His daughter—small, maybe ten—trembled behind him.
"Papa… don't…" she whispered.
He didn't turn. He just stared out the window.
His wife had already been taken—beaten, screaming, tossed into chains. His son too.
And now they were coming back for her.
Footsteps scraped on the wooden steps outside. Voices murmured.
"We missed a room.""Basement's too shallow—they're still in there."
Ordur inhaled slowly. Steam curled from his lips.
Then—crash.
The door burst open.
He moved without hesitation.
CRACK!
The hammer smashed down on the first soldier's skull, splitting it open like a melon. Blood sprayed across the doorframe.
"HOSTILE—IN THE BUILDING!"
Another soldier raised his rifle.
Too slow.
Ordur lunged forward, gripping him by the throat and slamming him into the wall so hard the boards splintered. The man gasped, dropped his weapon, and crumpled.
Crack!A third soldier fired. The shot punched into Ordur's shoulder. He grunted, staggered—but didn't fall.
He reached out, ripped a wooden plank from the wall, and swung it like a battering ram, catching the gunman across the face and sending him tumbling down the stairs with a scream.
"I won't go quietly!" Ordur roared, voice deep and broken. "This is MY HOME!"
More boots thundered through the hallway. Five soldiers stormed inside.
Bang! A shot hit his thigh.Bang! Another struck near his ribs.
He dropped to one knee, breathing hard—blood soaking through his shirt.
Still, he stood.
He lifted the hammer again and brought it down on a helmet, shattering it like a shell. Another soldier screamed. Another rifle fired.
Ordur staggered back, body shaking. He turned, slowly.
His daughter stood in the corner, frozen, eyes wide.
He met her gaze.
"Run," he mouthed. "Find Mama. Run."
Then came the final volley.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
Five bullets tore through his chest.
The hammer fell.
Ordur crashed forward into the wooden table. It broke beneath him. Blood spread across the floor like ink.
His daughter screamed.
Outside – Muddy Street
His wife—already shackled, her face bruised—thrashed violently as she heard the gunshots.
"ORDUR!!" she screamed. "ORDUR—NO!!"
She kicked at the soldiers, biting and clawing like a caged animal. One guard struck her in the side with a rifle butt. Another pinned her arms down and forced her to lie flat on the wagon bed, chains rattling.
Her cries echoed into the gray sky.
The wagon rolled forward.
Her daughter, breathless and wild-eyed, ran down the alley seconds later—only to see the tail end of the caravan disappearing into fog.
Elsewhere – Rooftops
Two teenage fox-kin siblings darted across the steep slate rooftops, their bare feet slipping on frost-slick tiles. Smoke coiled in the wind. Bells rang in the distance—the evacuation alarm.
"There! Northeast ridge!" a soldier shouted.
Below, three riflemen raised their weapons.
One dropped to a knee.
Crack! The bullet slammed into a chimney edge—stone exploded near the girl's head. She ducked, eyes wide.
A second shot tore a chunk from the rooftop just behind them.
"Jump!" the brother shouted.
They leapt from the roof onto the collapsed barn. The wood groaned beneath their weight, splinters flying. Another shot whistled past them.
"Don't stop! Don't stop!" the sister screamed, yanking his arm.
A final round fired—Crack!
It missed.
They vanished into the trees behind the farm wall, breath fogging, hands slick with blood and dirt.
"Get the dogs!" a soldier yelled from the alley. "Track 'em!"
Beneath an Old Bakery – Tunnels
In a crawlspace just wide enough to move, a mole-kin mother pulled herself forward through roots and dirt. Her three children followed, hands on her back.
"Stay close. Stay quiet. Don't speak," she whispered.
Above them, the floorboards creaked.
Then—
"Collapse it."
BOOM.
A grenade went off at the tunnel mouth. The entrance caved in. Dust and roots collapsed around them.
"Back! Back!"
The youngest child sobbed.
Above: "Light it. Smoke the hole."
A flare was tossed through the rubble.
Thick smoke rolled in, filling the crawlspace like water in a drowning room.
They kept crawling.
Choking.
Dragging themselves into deeper dark.
Near the Camps – Barbed Fences
Hundreds of demi-humans stood behind freshly built fences. The air stank of manure, blood, and fear. No roofs. Just mud, barbed wire, and rifles.
A goat-kin teenager broke from the group, sprinting toward the edge.
"SHE'S RUNNING!"
Crack!
A single shot dropped her in the mud. Blood seeped from her chest. She twitched once. Then went still.
No one screamed.
Not anymore.
They had learned.
Watchtower – Officer Erich
From above, a lone figure stood at the edge of a watchtower.
Officer Erich.
He gripped the frozen railing, staring down at the death parade below—wagons dragging families, babies carried in sacks, elders coughing up blood. He saw a man kneel and kiss his daughter's forehead before being chained to another line.
No protests. No curses. Just tired resignation.
Below, a commander's voice barked over the square:
"Anyone resisting gets one warning. After that—shoot to kill. No exceptions. We don't have time for mercy."
Erich didn't answer.
He stared at the cracked stone roads. The smashed windows. The stains in the snow.
Then he turned.
And walked down the tower without saying a word.