Chapter 1.2

As the two made their way from the port district, the Alf could only awe as she took in the site of the city around them with every road they traveled down and crossing they went through at each intersection or crossing point. Aside from almost feeling swallowed by the towering buildings – yet still never losing a clear view of the sky – she yet again spent her time taking in the numerous people around her. Despite having spent all her life until now in the much more homogenous forest cities of her homeland, she was at least aware of the numerous other kinds of people that populated their world, but she had so rarely seen them in person. But now they were seemingly just everywhere.

Much of the crowd were Dynoriaths, unsurprisingly considering since Laguna was one of such folk’s native regions on the continent. One would only expect most of the people to be such. More average in height, skin from pale to dark, duller hair colors of browns to reds, though some cases such as the Freelancer showed more exotic colors likely due to some traces of non-Dynor blood in their family line. It was commonplace enough. The Alf had long heard the phrase “No such thing as a typical Dynor” before, and it seemed to ring true with how varied the ones she saw in the crowd were.

And of course, though, there was far more kinds of people to be found within. The Alf spotted a few individuals bearing the same half-Alf traits as her guide here and there. And even mixed in, a few Alfs such as herself milling about. Some people towered over the crowd, be them the red-haired Vulcans of the northern end of the continent; the squat, hardy Dwarves; short Halflings or Gnomes darting between the crowd. And some more exotic peoples she had only ever read about yet never seen.

An Orc here and there, the occasional Beast-folk that ranged from feline or lupine in form, and even more. She even saw at least a few people bearing horns in the crowd, their skin tones far more exotic shades of crimson, with long tails swishing about as they walked.

“Even Kólasi? I’d always heard they’re hardly seen outside the Rubicon,” she said, her guide chuckling as he gave a nod.

“You can find a little bit of everything here in Clearharbor,” the Freelancer remarked, looking across the roads to the vehicles rumbling by, or upwards to the various creatures darting through the air alongside the sudden rumble of a suspended cable car. Some people were on balconies managing things or chatting with their neighbors. The sheer degree of activity was almost overwhelming to see.

“It’s all so… lively!” The Alf commented, the Freelancer chuckling again.

“You get used to it the longer you’re here. The commotion just becomes second nature to living in a place like this when you spend enough time in them.”

Suddenly from ahead of them, a commotion started heading their way, a shouting crowd amid the pedestrians, and uniformed officers at the head of it warding people off from passing a holographic line that had been formed in front of a building.

“Though it’s also not always peaceful,” the Freelancer noted, beginning to shoulder his way through the crowd. The Alf paused for a moment, then following her guide as he got closer to the line.

“Hold up there!” A tall, burly Orcish officer shouted as the Freelancer approached. “The area’s been blocked off for now, so you and your friend need to…”

“Relax, I’m a Freelancer,” said the half-Alf, drawing his deck and flashing its front as the screen flashed over to an identification card. “I’m authorized to help law enforcement at times like this. What’s going on?”

“Lemme see…” the officer squinted as he looked at the ID screen, blinking a few times as if he were surprised. “Freaking hell, an HR? What the hell are you doing wandering around town in the middle of the day?”

“Just got back from a job in Vanira, but that’s idle chatter for later. Details,” The Freelancer’s tone was direct and even a bit commanding. Clearly whatever system there was to all of this, he had something over the officer that let him act in such a way. As far as the Alf knew, Freelancers did hold a certain level of authority within the legal system.

Admittedly what she had heard was mostly the ways Freelancers could work outside of the law but that wasn’t incredibly concerning at the moment.

“We got word about some illegal smuggling comin’ out of this place,” the officer turned to the building, folding his arms. “From the reports, it’s some experimental Drake that came outta the Sorcerer’s College.”

“But every experiment done in the College is tightly controlled!” Said the Alf, “How would anything get smuggled out?”

“You’d be surprised what some people manage to sneak out under watchful eyes,” The officer remarked. “Apparently this Drake is holed up in the depths of the building. Guess whoever was running it through was fronting the thing through this place, only for the blasted thing to wake up. For now…”

The officer was cut off when the ground rumbled, part of the road before the building began to seize. With the scream of metal and the crack of asphalt, from the ground burst a draconic creature with a body of dull-silver scales above black skin, more like plating than proper scaling.

As the creature, a Drake, burst from the ground, it loosed a roar as its four trunk-like legs scrambled to dig into the road, its tail sweeping the street as it turned towards the crowd. Shrieking with another shrill roar, the Drake turned and leaped further down the road, clutching to the buildings as it bounded off.

“Gagh, damned by the Concepts!” The Officer cursed, grabbing his own Deck from his belt and raising it to his mouth.

“Leave the Drake to me,” said the Freelancer, tapping the officer on the arm, “Call people in to keep civilians safe, and set up wards across the streets here.”

“You’re gonna go after that thing yourself?!” The officer yelped.

“What do you think I just got done with?”

As he took off, the Freelancer drew the blade at his back, part of the sheathe sliding open to allow the full weapon to be drawn forth. The Alf didn’t quite recognize what kind of sword it was as the Freelancer gripped the curved handle, part of which wrapped around into a sizable knuckle guard before a trigger.

All she knew was that it was clearly a magitech weapon. Following the grip came a segment housing a metallic structure, the glow of an internal crystal rising as short exhaust ports from the structure flared with blue light. The blade that made up the rest of the weapon bore a single edge, the shape of the tool sleek and smooth, primarily black and highlighted in panels of white and edges of silver.

The Alf wouldn’t call it anything short of elegant in form.

“Wind to my side!” With a wave of the Freelancer’s free hand, swirls of air gathered around his legs. And the next step he took, the air burst outwards as he rocketed forwards, moving like a fierce gale after the Drake as it charged down the street.

“I’m going after it too!” The Alf slung her bag across her shoulder as she took off, pulling her folded staff out and flicking it out. The wooden rod snapped into place as the emerald atop it gleamed with light, bringing the full, gleaming silver tool to proper form as the blue, feather-shaped ornamentation cupping the gem shifted downwards to fully reveal the gem to the air. Spinning the staff around and taking a seat atop it as wind swirled across its haft, the tool lifted into the air, carrying the Alf along and after the Freelancer and his quarry.

“Who in the hell did we just run into?” The officer wondered, adjusting his cap as the rest of his unit scrambled again. “Gagh, whatever! Do what the Freelancer said and get wards up! We’ll get backup to make sure that Drake doesn’t do any more damage than it already has!”