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in such a synthesis
Kiribel in the Casinean Empire
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It would be a lovely day in Oran - bright, breezy, pleasant temperature - if it wasn't for how angry the Grendel were.

Unfortunately, the remaining inhabitants of the once-bustling port city are mostly huddling indoors, cowed by the regular patrols sweeping the streets.

Down one of these narrow streets, between brightly painted row houses two or three stories high, half a dozen Grendel warriors are determinedly marching; heavily built orcs, mostly carrying bhuj with a curved sword as a sidearm, in somewhat mismatched armour and stolen finery - silk scarves, bangles, necklaces, and one of them loaded up more than the others with the finest jewellery.

They have their eyes out for trouble - and for potential targets - as someone appears just around the corner...

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Not, to be clear, in the sense of having been previously on another side of the corner. She just appears. She promptly falls on her sunset-silk-clad ass.

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The patrol rounds the corner, and doesn't look like they intend to stop; they expect the slightly oddly dressed Freeborn to scramble out of their way, ideally apologising profusely.

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Her companion helps her to her feet and pulls her to the side. No profuse apologies occur though.

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Ungrateful Freeborn rats. At least they got out of the way, and they don't look armed or causing trouble. The patrol continues on down the street.

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They are not making it easy to keep Kiri five feet away from them but he does his best.