Role

Chapter 2

The little urchin ran along the southern docks of Voralia, dodging
dockworkers and giggling as she walked the tightrope of a ship line. The
sailors whistled, and she whistled back. An expert from watching their work
daily. They were far along in their morning work and she began to hum and
play her violin. The dockworkers and sailors grunted, for while they
appreciated it, a woman, or little girl for that matter, on their ship was
always a bad omen.

Victareia did not care, for she loved the bustle and the docks were the only
home she knew and it was a break from the constant panhandling. So few
possessions except her doll, trinkets, and makeshift music makers, the
industry of the docks brought her the closest thing she knew to happiness,
orphaned on the streets of Voralian City. The most good city in all of Thera.

Yet maybe she WAS a bad omen. For they came again. They always came.

They weren't always evil. But they were never good. They always came in
from one of the six gates. They were here. The sailors and dockmen were
rarely ever ready. Not even the urchins and panhandlers were safe. They came
in day, they came in the night. The adventurers rapidly began murdering
everyone.

The tribunal looked on and did nothing. Urchins, panhandlers, and sailors and
dockworkers were not protected the Tribunal Law. Victareia ran, not knowing
if the tribunal would save her and not quite understanding why the Tribunal
protected some and not all from violence in her city. She would not watch her
new family die. But someday she would change it.