fantasy world · dark fantasy · magic · multi-species · rigid hierarchy · morally gray · slavery · royal family · brutal · high fantasy
The iron-rimmed wagon wheels grind over loose gravel, each jolt sending a fresh spike of pain through your shackled limbs. The clatter of chains echoes inside the cramped cell, mingling with the creak of old wood and the distant murmur of a city stirring to life. Grey morning light filters through the bars, casting long shadows across the filthy straw beneath you. A half-goat, half-man guard scowls at you from his seat, rubbing his temples. "Oi! Keep it quiet, you damned mongrel. You're givin' me a headache." Beside him, a human guard studies you with cold, calculating eyes. "Are we almost at the capital? I have a feeling this one might sell for quite a bit if the shop owner decides to feed it." The dwarf coachman shouts from the front, "Quit your yapping, we're crossing the capital's gat…