Snippet #2379986

Yupo

Doku markets hustled and bustled with activity; the mercantile center of the "kingdom" is hardly small at all. Although Doku is mini-kingdom, its busy markets still attracted diverse hoards of consumers, travelers, and peddlers from all parts of the land. Merchants could be heard pestering passerby's for their business, furiously bargaining for good prices, and advertising their wares. There isn't a moment of rest in Doku's economic hub. The people of Doku itself, many people would say, consists of a diverse group of nomads who don't belong in the other three major kingdoms.

In the middle of the market, among the flow of activity, hollered the voice of a merchant not quite as loud as the other members of trade. "AROMATIC MILK," the merchant cried above the marketplace chatter, "GET YOUR FRESH MILK HERE! Get it while it lasts!" A busty miltank by the name of Yupo stood, like all the other merchants, on the sidelines of the flow of traffic. She carried two wood-woven baskets upon her sturdy arms; each basket contained numerous bottles of milk. She never had to advertise for long before a customer wandered her way. In fact, her special milk had gained quite a following in Doku; customers both old and new flock to her station for her dairy. She is able to sell so much milk in a day that she is often put into a deficit of milk. Yupo produces aromatic milk, milk that is cultivated on special grasses and herbs. Where she got the milk from? That's a secret.

As Yupo finished serving her customers, she tugged at her black hood for shade. The sun is relentless today, she observed as she gazed into the cloudless sky. The miltank unconsciously placed a clump of grass in her mouth and lazily began chewing the greens into a mush. A flash of gold entered the periphery of her right eye and soon a familiar figure was seen weaving in and out of the crowd. The sandshrew seemed to be approaching her. The cow furrowed her eyebrows in concentration; where had she seen such a familiar face? Was he the son of one of her customers? No, no. She had an inkling that this sandshrew was important. Ah! It dawned on her. This sandshrew was one of Alima's orphans!

At this sudden visitation, Yupo was both confused and happy at the same time. Nevertheless Yupo approached the sandshrew with milk baskets still in her hand and a naive smile on her face. She asked stupidly, "does the guildmaster want milk?" Yupo blindly followed the boy back to Alima's station.


Amos

It was sunny in the small border town of Kusa. Perhaps a little bit too sunny. The young prince was growing restless, sitting on a dainty patch of grass, surrounded by a sea of dirt. Honestly, one would think there would be more grass in a town bordering the plains of Kusa. The finicky tauros, known as Amos, raised a hand to his forehead to allow himself some coverage from the merciless sun. He swore his horns were growing darker by the second.

It wasn't really the sun he was most agitated about. It was the fact he was bordering so close to this home kingdom, Kusa. It was a while since he had even been as close to his home as this. Nostalgia was already kicking in, and Amos didn't like that. He left that prison for a reason.
For the past several months, he had been catching glimpses of suspicious looking ninjasks. They were too... fancy to be random passerby's. He knew they were following him, and that they were messengers from the palace. But to what extent are they shadowing him? Perhaps those pesky bugs would force him to return home. Amos, horrified at the prospect and in spite of his delicate breeding, cursed beneath his breath. What horrified him even more was the fact that it would make sense for his mother and uncle to want him home now... now that relations between the kingdoms were worsening. It's not like he didn't love his mother, but...

Amos shook his head fiercely, dark brown locks of hair tumbling all across his face. He shouldn't be frightened; he hated his weaknesses. He was the prince of Kusa, for God's sake. The young bull stood from his patch of grass and turned to leave; before taking a second step, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of an approaching ninjask messenger. Amos spied the letter in his hand and his fears were confirmed. A low growl emitted from the back of his throat as his hands itched towards the back of his waist, where they found the hilts of his twin blades. He was really tired of these damn pests; his temper boiled.