Maxxob
The Overseer
The small village of Taeko, nestled in the eastern reaches of The Republic and precariously close to the contested border with the East Empire, lay beneath the gentle wash of twilight, its thatched roofs and narrow, winding paths wrapped in the soft glow of lanterns. It was a humble village, a place where the earth’s bounty and the toil of its beastkin inhabitants kept life simple, though often challenging. The architecture was modest yet charming, with wooden structures adorned by paper lanterns and bamboo fences. In this hour of celebration, Taeko’s typically quiet air was broken by the joyful voices and laughter of villagers who finally felt a fleeting peace.
A makeshift feast had been laid out, no grand banquet but an earnest display of hospitality: rice balls and fresh vegetables. The low but spirited notes of a bamboo flute added a lilting melody to the air as families and friends reunited, emotions spilling freely in embraces and tears. For now, fear had subsided, and hope had kindled in the hearts of Taeko’s people.
Yoshiro
At the edge of the gathering stood Yoshiro, the village elder. A wise, elderly goat beastkin with a thick gray beard and weary eyes, Yoshiro watched the joyous reunions with a warm, quiet smile. His hands rested on his simple wooden cane, scarred and knotted from years of hard use, while his bent back and wrinkled face told tales of decades spent enduring and leading. Tonight, however, the perpetual furrow of worry in his brow had softened, replaced by a rare glint of peace.
Yui
From the strange, metallic vehicle—the “car” the villagers still whispered about with a mix of curiosity and apprehension—Yui, a young wolf girl with bright amber eyes, bounded out. She spotted her parents instantly: a broad-shouldered wolf beastkin man with graying fur at his temples and a slender woman with soft, silver hair and kind eyes. For a heartbeat, they simply looked at each other across the short distance, as though needing to confirm it was real. Then Yui bolted forward, leaping into her mother’s arms, the force of her embrace nearly knocking the woman over.
The three of them held each other tightly, as if fearful that loosening their grasp would dissolve their reunion into a cruel dream. Yui buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, her small frame shuddering with the quiet sobs of relief. Her father, who was usually so stoic, brushed his large hand over her head, his own eyes gleaming with unshed tears. He exchanged a look with his wife, one that spoke of gratitude, love, and a promise to never let go again.
Around them, villagers paused to watch, their own eyes misting with shared joy. There was a collective understanding here—a bond deepened by the shared loss and hardship they had all experienced. Tonight, under the watchful stars and lanterns swaying in the breeze, Taeko was a place of healing and celebration.
