“That dog is on two legs and is wearing a jacket.”

“Yes, it is cold this morning, but we are closer to the mountains so that is to be expected.”

“Not my point.”

Lark stared in wonder at the vaguely humanoid dog, walking on all four legs. It stopped, read a sign and then straightened to two legs and strolled into a medieval looking building before strolling out again. The creature's nose wiggled and the tail raked the air, back and forth, back and forth. But the energy was different, and the eyes! This creature was looking for something, or perhaps someone?

She pursed her lips, she didn’t know why she did it. Perhaps some compulsion for the need to investigate this unknown animal further.

The dog-man looked in her direction, ears perked and figure frozen like that of a pointer.

“What did you do that for?” Fallston moaned and edged in front of Lark, blocking her from view.

The Canite zoned in on their persons and directed its now wiggling body and frantic nose towards Fallston.

“I am sorry officer, my companion emitted a whistle, she did not know that sound signals a requirement for assistance from the City Watch.”

“She didn’t? How strange for a human in a city that holds the gap.”

“Indeed, Sir! I will educate her as we take our leave.”

“Did you know that I could fine you, human? Unnecessary calling of the City Watch is a serious offence.”

“I am sorry officer, please let me assure you”

Captain Fallston swooped, bending to whisper, Lark thought she heard something about a paid escort of a lowly nobles retarded daughter… Lark sighed, this was a new low.

The Canite looked at her dubiously, and Lark felt herself cross her eyes and giggle. The man-dog changed his tone and bent from his impressive height on two legs to level with her crossed eyes and patted his giant paw on her shoulder.

“You have an exciting day in the Big City, little Miss. May I suggest you tour the market and visit the stall called the Maple Shack, my wife works there and takes special care of every young pup. I will even send her a message and you can pick any treat, on me.”

“That is very kind of you sir!” Fallston exclaimed in a friendly and jovial tone, one Lark didn’t think him capable of making. He spun her around as she rolled her eyes, and marched her in the opposite direction of the Guard’s travel.

Fallston said nothing, but a chuckle that sounded like a horse mocking a fallen rider caused her to elbow him in the flank as his laugh turned light and good natured.

“Come, I need to get directions to the Obscuras and we need to re supply and find somewhere to sleep for the night. I know a good tavern that could solve at least two of our needs and possibly another one of mine.”

The walk to the tavern held untold wonder for Lark. Her head felt like an owls as she swivelled it around, craning to see a the city and it’s occupants for another second longer as her brain blossomed with creatures she could never have imagined. She saw humans, Centaurs and the vaguely humanoid dogs that Captain Fallston said were Canites, a prolific species in this land that commonly took positions in the City Watch due to their impressive hearing and scent tracking. Lark also saw Ampidophenians that resembled a colourful frog with massive globe like eyes and long graceful limbs with webbed fingers.

“Grung,” Fallston snorted, causing one of the froggy folk to stare pointedly at him and Lark and lick it’s eyeball with a whiplike tongue.

“Ewww,” Lark inched closer to the Centaur and awkwardly looked down at her shoes laces that seemed to answer her discomfort by unravelling in front of her eyes. She bent to tie them up, while Fallston waited impatiently for her, stomping his feet like a toddler.

“You don’t seem to like these Grung creatures as much as you liked the Canite. Is it a mammal thing?”

Fallston looked at her face, her eyes brimming with innocence and ignorance. The question was insulting, a canite could never be compared to a grung, like a centaur would not allow themselves to be compared to a human. To compare a centaur to a grung would always be a good reason to start a brawl and many tavern fights began this way.

“Let’s just stop in here and get a drink. It’s not the tavern that I had in mind but I think we need to have a quick conversation, in a place in a place that is loud enough to not be overheard.”

Lark looked at the shabby, mediaeval building. The sign by contrast appeared freshly painted and swung gently in the breeze. ‘The Copper Arrow,’ it read and a bulletin on the door read, ‘travelling clothes welcome’.

Inside, Lark immediately knew the place was rough, the acrid smell of body odour and musty smell of animal dander assailed her nostrils. Fallston led the way to a corner table and moved all but one of the chairs to give himself standing room while Lark climbed awkwardly into a tall stool. They were not even close to eye level, but they never were so Lark didn’t care to mention it.

A heavily busted dwarf woman came hurrying to the table, peering up at their faces like the height difference meant nothing at all.

“What’ll you have my dears” she boomed in a friendly voice that carried over the roar of the crowded bar.

“Frog Bog, an ale and whatever stew you have in the pot” Fallston ordered immediately, though no menus were ever given to them and Lark noticed none was on any other table.

“Fine, fine.” The dwarf hurried off, moving quickly with impressive agility in the tight space.

“It’s a skill, Fallston stated. Most barmaids, if not all, develop that skill within their first year or two. It allows them to move quickly without spilling food or drink. You see Lark, our world is built on Levels and Skills. One can get a better job, more income, and improve social standing. Everything, comes back to this lesson that I will tell you here and now. You must level up and gain skills to live. Talent and determination will not kill the monsters that come from the mountains and the undead that feast in the night, this world is built on survival of the strongest. You must level, or you will die.”