Personal System Calendar: Year 00015, Day 1-28, Month VI: The Imperium
Imperial Calendar: Year 6859, 1st to 28th day of the 6th Month
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The Beastmen Refugees
Days in the village went on as usual, but with the addition of the newly arrived Beastfolk. The journey to get here had taken five days, since they'd had to slow their march considerably. Injuries aside, the Beastfolk were already physically and mentally exhausted. They kept moving forward only because Chief Tamba and Chief Gagar had managed to convince the other seven clan chiefs leading them that the village, despite being predominantly ruled by humans, was somewhere unlike anything they'd find in most kingdoms, a place where diversity wasn't just tolerated and where no one was discriminated against for the species they'd been born into.
What made the village different was that it was more tolerant and accepting of those who had joined them recently. It was diverse in its own right, home to people from all walks of life, but it also coexisted with three species: Humans, Beastfolk, and Dwarves, with humans making up the majority of the population and dwarves the fewest in number.
Although it was true that the village was more accepting than most, it was also no secret that it existed as an anomaly, not just in its way of life, but in the very place it had been built. Being racially discriminated against would be the least of their worries here, though most already had some vague idea why that was. So, as usual, they'd also had to give a fair warning to everyone, whether they will be staying permanently, temporarily, or simply passing through as visitors or merchants.
A reality check for people's expectations was often better than letting them arrive with some wild imagination of the place as a fantasy world, when it was, in fact, a place ruled by one's own struggle for survival against a forest so unforgiving that no one in the last thousand years had ever managed to achieve the same results here. What made this village an anomaly was because they had accomplished something beyond what most could imagine, but not in a way most humans or other species would recognize as their own kind of victory. That wasn't the way of the forest. Here, it was the beasts who ruled, not humans, and if you wanted to live here, you played by their rules. That is what make the village more special.
Though Beastmen carried semblances of other beasts within them, they weren't considered barbaric, wild, or domesticated beasts themselves. They were considered sentient, on par with humans. That said, it was also true that some humans, in the distant past, had treated them otherwise. Part of the reason was that humans had continued pushing toward progress, while the Beastfolk had largely remained loyal to their own traditions and culture. Their technology had stayed much the same for generations, though in recent times a few groups and individuals, Banog Kotoko among them, had begun innovating for the betterment of their clans, often clashing with more traditionalist voices. The Lokoroko Clan as a whole, in particular, had taken up greenhouse-making, something unusual and practically unheard of among Beastfolk.
Speaking of beasts themselves, that didn't mean they weren't sentient in their own right, of course; if anything, they were probably the most sophisticated beings to walk the world of Centuury before humans and other bipedal creatures had ever arrived. They'd already ruled over countless continents, not just within Arkanus.
You could say the beasts had held onto their own traditions for as long as they'd existed, making them creatures that had never quite moved past what had been passed down to them, unlike the Beastmen, who were now beginning to change, little by little. The beasts had their own communities and territories, just like the ones found here in the great forests where such beasts had ruled for countless generations. They were also probably the most well-known beasts to carry this kind of sophistication, so much so that they'd become the standard against which any sentient, intelligent beast was measured. While it was true some beasts had remained wild in nature, others had gained real sophistication over time. This comparison, between beasts native to the great forests and those found elsewhere, had long been debated across every scholastic tradition, human and otherwise.
What scholars had found was that beasts raised within the forests had developed far more powerfully than those found outside them. Take a Grimfang Wolf, for example, compared to a Greyund Wolf found beyond the great forests: though they shared the same lineage, the Grimfang had evolved into something far more sophisticated, bigger, and more powerful, while the Greyund remained smaller by comparison. Diet played a role in that difference, but so did the density of mana within the forests themselves, untouched as they'd been for thousands of years. Scholars across generations had agreed on this much: beasts of the great forests were also far more adept at using mana and magic than those found outside, and the use of mana and magic had long been associated with higher intelligence overall. Their understanding, and the purity with which the beasts of the great forests wielded it, ran deeper than what humans and other species grasped about the mana around them, the elements, and what humans had famously come to define as magic, the practice of shaping mana and channeling it into one's innate elemental birthright. That understanding, which had started with the beasts themselves, spread across species over time, evolving further as other peoples added their own knowledge and traditions, passed down through generations in songs, stories, and culture.
In summary, the fascination surrounding beasts of the great forests, their sentience, their intelligence, their sophistication, their own kingdoms, and their use of magic, which is considered purer than that of other species, had all led to one conclusion: they had become the standard for what an intelligent, sentient beast was. That wasn't to say beasts from outside the forests were somehow lesser, but on paper, at least, they were undeniably weaker than their counterparts within it.
Those were just some of the facts, and the Beastfolk refugees from the east now understood exactly the position they were in, which meant they too carried some fear of the beasts native to the great forests. It wasn't only humans who held that irrational fear. Beastfolk, generally, found it far easier to communicate with actual beasts than most other species did, and yet even they weren't immune to unease upon learning what they were walking into. That fear alone had caused real delays in how quickly they were willing to proceed.
Still, it was thanks to the efforts of the two chiefs of Maya Village, along with Tamba's brothers, Rakatan especially, the more diplomatically inclined and charismatic of the three brothers, that they were finally convinced. Rakatan had strategically brought along members of the Support Group and their healers, showcasing the physical condition of Beastfolk who had already settled within the village, how well they were treated, and how some had even integrated into human society, living harmoniously alongside them.
He didn't just tell them with words alone, either. He showed them, through physically verified evidence. He'd brought along a Kotoko elder who'd made the journey to Maya Village two winters prior, half-starved and missing an arm from an old skirmish, and had the man stand before the seven clan chiefs so they could see for themselves how well he'd recovered, how steady he stood now, how his coat had regained its color and shine after months of proper food and rest. It was one thing to hear a promise of good treatment. It was another to see it standing right in front of you, breathing evidence rather than an unverifiable story.
He also explained that the village's predominantly human leadership understood not every Beastfolk could have their needs accommodated within the broader community. That was why a separate zone had been set aside just for them, ruled by his own brother as chief and represented on the human Elder Council. He framed it as a special administrative zone, meant for Beastfolk who wished to preserve their own culture, tradition, and way of life, living somewhat apart from the rest of the village. Even so, he explained, they remained part of the village as a whole. They were supported, not left estranged, invited to festivities and celebrations, with human healers regularly sent to check on their well-being, and patrols maintained throughout the zone, including its palisade walls. He added that, unlike what most Beastmen had been taught to expect about human greed and their hunger for power and resources, this particular human village was different.
It respected nature, something the Beastfolk valued deeply, and it functioned as a shared community working together toward common goals. All of these traits sounded almost too good to be true to the newcomers, closer to fairy tale than fact. But Rakatan spoke with such conviction and sincerity that the new chiefs could feel the weight of it, and the story, however unbelievable, began to seem more credible simply for how he told it.
In the end, they were convinced, and unanimously decided to give it a chance. They marched onward, exhausted as they were, resting every few hours out of necessity. As time passed, their trust in the human healers only grew, the sincerity of the care they witnessed making Rakatan's claims feel more and more grounded. Everyone found themselves wondering just how true his words could really be. But there was only one way to know for certain: to see the village for themselves.
They finally arrived on the fifth day, greeted not just by massive curtain walls, but by an atmosphere that felt woven into the land itself rather than set apart from it.
As the gates opened, they saw an image entirely unlike the human world they'd imagined. Here, everything seemed deeply intertwined with the natural environment, every piece of brick, stone, dirt, tree, and patch of grass fitting together as though carefully considered from the start. Vines climbed along parts of the outer wall that looked deliberately left for them, not neglect but part of its design. Even the paths beneath their feet curved around old-growth roots instead of cutting through them, like whoever built this place had asked the land's permission first.
Though they were initially greeted by the village's military infrastructure, and that of the Empire, at the entrance, further in they found a village bursting with color and life, vibrant in a way that went beyond simple greenery. It was almost overwhelming to the senses on anyone's first arrival, the smell of cooking fires mixing with fresh-cut lumber and something sweet drifting from a bakery somewhere out of sight, the sound of children's laughter carrying over hammers striking wood in the distance. Deeper still, they were met by people who carried themselves like leaders of the village, welcoming them with warmth, empathy, and compassion in their eyes.
That was when they realized Rakatan had told them the truth all along. More villagers came to greet them as they passed, some pausing only briefly before returning to their own errands, offering food along the way. It was oddly precise, too. The villagers seemed to know instinctively who preferred meat and who preferred plant-based food, and even seemed to gauge the right portions without needing to ask. It was a small thing, but a surprising one, they'd never been treated this way before, not even in their own homes. They even caught sight of dwarves, a rare thing to witness even within human cities, let alone for the first time. One greeted them cheerfully, offering a drink, before trotting off again on its short legs.
After all that sensory overload, layered on top of their exhaustion and lingering shock, they were finally led toward Zone 3, the place they'd heard so much about. Passing through another gated section, they found themselves somewhere different entirely. It wasn't that they hadn't seen Beastfolk before entering, they'd passed plenty near Zone 2's main gates, but here, everyone around them was Beastfolk, with no mixing at all. The homes reminded them of their own designs, each clan's style distinct, yet clearly following similar principles to what they'd grown up with.
They could tell this was unmistakably a Beastmen area, if nothing else by the scent of it. But they also noticed humans among the builders here, helping construct Beastmen-style homes. The designs were rough, Rakatan explained, because that was simply how the village's builders worked in Zone 3: functional, livable, but left unfinished on purpose, so the Beastmen could shape the final look themselves. He also explained that since their arrival had come somewhat unexpectedly, with no clear count of their numbers beforehand, these homes had only just been built in the days leading up to their arrival.
The village had halted its other construction projects entirely to support the effort. Rakatan and Tamba explained that although additional human-style homes had also been built recently and stood ready to accommodate them, the village remained cautious, understanding that not every refugee would necessarily want to integrate. For those who did, the village would also walk them through the process of applying for permanent village residency. But that could wait. For now, the priority was simply helping them find their footing before asking any of the harder questions.
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Eight Days at Sea
Elsewhere on the Great Central-Western River of Arkanus, five more days had silently passed, bringing the total to eight days since they'd left the shores of Kirka Village's port. So far, the wind had stayed favorable, keeping their progress steady, and they hadn't encountered anything unusual navigating the river.
But that was all about to change. They were about to face their first encounter with the famed river pirates, and it was not just any group either. This particular one was especially notorious, a vicious, infamous band known for more than simple theft. They didn't just take what they raided, they made sure no one was allowed to surrender peacefully, drawing out their victims' suffering while they enjoyed the spoils afterwards. Worse still, they weren't a single crew but an entire clan of pirates who had banded together to form their own Pirate Enclave, something like a small kingdom built entirely around piracy. They were known as the Badjaw Coyotes.
Their ships were mostly fast and agile vessels: schooners, sloops, and brigantines. This particular group numbered five ships per squad: one brigantine serving as its bruiser flagship, two sloops, and two supporting schooners, with roughly five such squads in total across their Pirate Enclave, amounting to 5 brigantines, 10 sloops, and 10 schooners altogether. They specialized in hunting large, unprotected ships traveling alone, much like the GMV Skipper. What made them especially dangerous was their unpredictability, they could strike in busy waters surrounded by other traffic just as easily as in stretches with no other ships at all.
Their primary tactic was a pack ambush, lying in wait in spots where they couldn't easily be seen. It would start with a single ship, either trailing or pursuing a target, before more appeared the longer the chase went on. This was possible because the river wasn't uniform water from bank to bank, there were occasional landmasses and jagged rock formations scattered throughout. Not livable, most of them, but more than capable of hiding a small ship. The pirates used these formations to stage their ambushes.
They called this tactic the River Coyote Pack Tactics. The basic idea worked like this: sloops scouted ahead and located targets. Schooners moved in to cut off escape routes and harass the target directly. Brigantines closed in last for the decisive boarding action, specialized to carry rams along their bow. If a targeted ship refused to stop, the brigantine would ram it outright, regardless of whether that meant losing the cargo to the riverbed instead of collecting it as plunder or ransom. That alone said enough about how vicious the Badjaw Coyotes truly were.
The Flag of the Badjaw Coyotes
A black banner bearing the ivory skull of a coyote with exaggerated fangs, its eye sockets glowing crimson beneath a blood-red crescent moon. Two crossed cutlasses rest behind the skull, while three crimson claw marks slash across the lower half of the flag, symbolizing the pirate pack's favored tactic of surrounding prey with multiple ships before closing in for the kill. To merchants, the sight of the banner is said to be the last warning before the river itself becomes a hunting ground.
On the misty early morning of the ninth day, a thick fog settled over the entire river, dropping visibility drastically. The kind of fog that swallowed sound as much as sight, muffling the usual creak of rigging and slap of water against the hull until the whole ship felt like it was moving through something half-real. Captain Skippy ordered the crew to slow their speed, since this stretch of river was notorious for its rock formations. The ship's security team grew visibly more alert, spreading out to cover as much visible area as they could manage, while August and the rest of Talon stayed back, functioning as the ship's hidden layer of security, one no potential attacker would know to expect.
They pressed forward carefully, leaving most of the maneuvering to Captain Skippy, relying heavily on his experience and knowledge of the area's layout. He gave precise orders to the crew, asking the right questions at the right moments to help them navigate more safely. It was the kind of coordination you rarely saw outside of a crew this seasoned, one that had clearly weathered plenty of hardship together. Their trust in each other ran deep, not just from the length of time they'd spent together, but through the countless bonds and experiences they'd shared. From what August had gathered speaking with the crew, even the youngest seaman aboard had served with the ship for five years, a telling sign of how few incidents they'd had, given how long it had been since they'd last needed to bring on new hands.
An hour into their cautious approach, trouble finally arrived. A smaller ship sat waiting ahead, its flag unclear in the fog, though its size and build resembled a sloop. Ships like that weren't always tied to piracy, but the crew had learned caution around similarly built vessels regardless, since more often than not, they weren't simple fishing boats. Vessels like this typically measured 18 to 25 meters in length.
With visibility this poor, caution was the only option, and the security team stayed on high alert. The ship flew no flag and appeared anchored near a cluster of large rock formations, the kind smaller ships often used for shelter during poor weather, which made this look, at first glance, like nothing unusual. Ships with less experienced captains often did the same thing when visibility dropped or storms threatened. But it was also exactly the kind of behavior pirates relied on to blend in.
Unbeknownst to the GMV Skipper, more Coyote ships were already closing in around them. It would have gone entirely unnoticed, if not for August and the rest of Talon aboard, particularly August himself, whose sensitivity to murderous intent aimed his way told him there was more than just the one ship waiting ahead.
Skippy had already told the crew and their guests beforehand that he had a bad feeling about what lay ahead. It seemed his instincts were right to trust. The captain's gut feeling was never wrong. Their first river battle was about to begin.
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Pirate Ship Specifications
| Ship Type | Length | Beam (Width) | Draft | Displacement | Crew Complement | Marines/Boarders | Cargo |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| Sloop | 60–85 ft (18–26 m) | 18–24 ft (5.5–7.3 m) | 7–10 ft (2.1–3 m) | 70–150 tons | 30–60 | 10–20 | 30–80 tons |
| Brigantine | 80–120 ft (24–37 m) | 22–32 ft (6.7–9.8 m) | 9–13 ft (2.7–4 m) | 150–350 tons | 70–120 | 20–40 | 100–250 tons |
| Schooner | 70–110 ft (21–34 m) | 20–28 ft (6.1–8.5 m) | 8–12 ft (2.4–3.7 m) | 100–250 tons | 20–50 | 10–20 | 80–180 tons |
Typical Pirate Armament & Role
- Sloop — 30–60 crew. Best for scouting, pursuit, and quick raids.
- Brigantine — 70–120 crew. Main fighting and boarding ship of a pirate fleet.
- Schooner — 20–50 crew. Used for smuggling, reconnaissance, and coastal operations.
Example Pirate Squadron
- Flagship: 1 Brigantine (100 crew)
- Raiders: 2 Sloops (45 crew each)
- Support: 2 Schooners (35 crew each)