Ash walked into Dorkan, through the nonhuman gate of course. The path was mud, and things worse than mud as well, in the shadow of the walls. The contents of a chamber pot joined the mess in front of him. The guards couldn’t be everywhere all the time, right? And it must be hard to bring to bring a work crew down here, all the inhuman smells spooking the horses, right? And cobblestones don’t last long under the tread of minotaurs and giants and suchlike, right? And it simply wouldn’t do to allow things like them to mingle with us humans; gods forbid, they might see themselves as equals. Ash sidestepped a rock that came sailing down. A high naga sauntered up to him, insofar as a creature whose main mode of locomotion was twelve feet of snakeflesh had a gait. Their scales were spotted brown with flecks of black, the customary spear, shield, and chainmail sant held in a bundle in a three-fingered hand.

“The weather here is strange, is it not?” they asked, a desert accent peeking through the hissing consonants. “I was not aware it rained stones on this world.” The thin line of Ash’s mouth jerked up at the corner. The naga’s angular, androgynous face slid into his field of view. “You’re not here for me, I hope?” Ash turned to face them, two scaley visages face to face, as it were.

“Only if you annoy me.” Their head jerked back in mock offense.

“You have quite the...venomous sense of humor.” The two of them shared a smirk, much to the ennui of the guards manning the gate. A bored looking Sergeant-at-Arms held up a clipboard, two younger guards standing behind him.

“Name and reason for entry.” he said, clearly wanting to be somewhere else, doing something else.

“Ash the Hunter, Class 188, Roki Keep. I’m walking up to the first notice board I find and grabbing the first contract I find. In and out, just stopping for fire” He jerked his head at the naga. “My friend here is accompanying me as an observer.”

“Pyth Kon, Clan Rosi. Scholar.” The Naga didn’t miss a beat. Two of the guards smirked.

“You a Hunter, then?” said one, with the arrogance that comes naturally to the immature with power. “Prove it.” Ash sighed, stretching his pupils wide, his gut doing somersaults as his field of view multiplied, giving the impression of traveling at massive speed even when standing completely still, his eyelids pulling back, black eyes stretching diagonally towards his temples. Every stitch on the guard’s clothing, every divot in his armor, every detail. Ash could see his skin flake off into dust.

“Satisfied?” Ash crossed his arms, making sure the guards saw all eight of his rings.

“Yes.” The eldest guard glared at his companions. “Your tolls, please” Ash took a Bronze and pressed it into the outstretched hand belonging to the sergeant, ignoring the other two, wrapping the man’s fingers around the coin. The guard gave an almost imperceptible wink, and the two entered Dorkan without further trouble.

“That was double the amount.” Pyth noted.

“It was.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Nonhumans can’t carry weapons. Hunters are the exception, but that’s not always followed.” Ash gestured to the naga’s things. “That’s good craftsmanship.” Pyth bowed their head in agreement. “There’s a very real chance it would get…’lost’”

“I see.”

Ash slid his arm through the strap on his quarterstaff, leaving it slung over his right shoulder. Pyth followed his lead, spear point just barely peeking over his shoulder, their large rectangular shield hiding both the spear and the bundle of mail underneath itself.

“There’s also the fact that they’d struggle to pour water out of a shoe with instructions on the heel. Whatever that sergent is earning, it’s not enough to deal with those idiots.”

“How charitable of you.”

They entered a square, and the two were enveloped in a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. Creatures of all shapes and sizes vying for position in the crowd. Swarms of fairies shot every each way like arrows in battle; a group perched themselves upon Ash’s shoulder, offering rumors, information for coin. He turned his gaze upward at the walls segregating the human and nonhuman districts, the keep where the Lord of Dorkan resided. He watched as a small high dragon, laden with cargo, launched itself into flight off the edge of the castle wall, it's escort of low dragons, straddled by their riders, following behind. Pyth followed his gaze.

“Are you truly only here for a contract?”

“Not exactly.” Ash looked at them. “You really a scholar?”

“Not exactly.” The Hunter nodded.

“I’ve got a friend, a merchant. Friendly with nonhumans. I’m heading his way.”

“A friend? You? I would not have guessed.”

“Oh, rack off.”