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Snippet #1855745

located in Nomad, a part of Nomad - Book One: War, one of the many universes on RPG.

Nomad

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Character Portrait: Tikitil Schritta
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Tikitil's face curved into a frown. It was quiet. Too quiet. A tavern was supposed to be full of jolly drunk people, and most everyone here seemed kind of sullen. That wouldn't do at all. Sullen drunks were for dumping in ponds, and nobody here needed to be dumped in a pond. A few people had filtered in since the soldiers had arrived- Laborers, mostly, a good portion crippled or otherwise made unsuitable for the draft or recruitment boards. Many looked at the soldiers with obvious dislike, and that could only lead to problems. What they needed was entertainment. And there was only one person who she could guess to go for for entertainment, and that was a bard. They had one of those, right? Had to be. Someone'd been singing before. But he didn't seem to be anywhere nearby. What a bother. Would she have to sing? That was a terrible idea, she had a voice like a squeaky door, or so she thought. And dancing wouldn't be a good idea either, or so her dad had warned her. What'd that leave?

Letting the drudgery go on, for one thing. No, never. Impossible. Boredom was heresy, or something. Yes. She'd start a conversation with someone, that's what she'd do. The captain and a few others were talking, but most of the squad... Brigade... Thing, were sitting around all asocial like. Unfortunately, Tikitil wasn't very good at introducing herself. Fortunately, she didn't let that stop her. She slipped off the bar stool, still carrying the glass of water she'd been given, plus a couple of spoons from the counter; All without noticing she had them. They vanished into her pocket while she looked for someone to bother, carefully walking over the tavern floor to avoid whacking someone with her wings.

Clatter. Smash. Evidently, not carefully enough. She'd turned to get around a table, just as a human male had set down his glass; Now it was on the floor, smashed to pieces when the tip of her wing had shoved it off. He blinked once, then turned, his eyes narrowing with anger. "You little bitch, look what you did!" He rose from his seat, and now the harpy saw just how big he was- A lumberjack, probably, one of the laborers fueling the the town. He walked with a heavy limp, his left leg twisted and mangled, but he still looked perfectly capable of snapping her in half like a twig.

Tikitil tried to protest that she didn't mean to, but she only was able to stammer, "I-I-I didn't... Didn't..." She stumbled backwards, her wings bumping against someone's back- She hoped it was someone from her squad, but didn't dare turn to look.

The lumberjack took another step forward, then stopped, noticing the insignia on her uniform. Normally, it would no doubt have shut the situation down, but this man was obviously passed the point where that would happen. The fact that a few others seemed to be backing him up- Three more men, one elf and two orcs, all glaring at her with scarcely disguised contempt- no doubt made him press on. "A soldier? Little girls shouldn't play with spears and swords. You lot are going to bring us to ruin. Take my friends away to die, leave us without any workers and more jobs to do than ever before, then come in here and act like you own the bloody place!" His hand twitched towards his jacket, where the hilt of something protruded- Probably a simple cutting knife for food. He didn't draw it, though. Not yet. "Clean up my beer, bird! You better damn well pay for it, too!"