The rope flopped uselessly in the dust near the animal's leg. The cow's only reaction was to look blankly at the disturbance before blithely moving away from it, clearly in no hurry. Nearby, the young furrikin Abel was beside himself with frustration.
"Newp," admonished a human who had been watching. He approached, lifting his own rope and neatly catching it about the cow's neck, giving it a tug to goad the beast closer. "Y'need to work on yer aim, son."
Abel crossed his arms, his bushy squirrel tail twitching irritably. "But, Pa," he protested, "I ain't never gonna be that good." And he added, "Ain't never gonna be that tall, neither."
The man's expression hardened slightly, and he crossed his arms, his end of the rope dropping to the ground. "Things ain't what they used to be, but we gots to make do," he chided. "I don't like bein' no fleshy nohow, but it's the law."
The law, indeed, mulled Abel. Ever since the day that the Magnagorans had come and promised riches and power to the villagers, things hadn't been the same. The citizens had agreed to the proposition, but the only change that they had seen so far was patrols of the most unsavory troops imaginable, and ridiculous production mandates, as well as the disappearance of those who failed to meet them. "I hate those laws!" the furrikin protested. "I wish that the Magnagorans would just g-" And he was silenced by the hand of his father over his muzzle.
"Quit'cher yappin', boy," snapped the father. "Y'all know that I get more work done this way. 'Less ya'd prefer me to stay like I was, never havin' any time for you an' the missus? No time t'teach you ropin' and huntin' and all that?" He lowered his voice and added, "Soons we get the chance, and we ain't under these laws no more, I'll get changed back."
It was a miracle at all that the man had any free time at all, but fortunately for many of the farmers even the Magnagorans realized that no amount of labor could hurry the rate at which crops grew. Many of the farmers were enjoying their rare (and likely brief) respite.
The swift silencing of his father, however, was not enough. One of the Ur'guard loomed over the pair, and seized the boy by the scruff of the neck, lifting him up. "What was that you said about the laws?" it hissed, hauling the youth up so that their eyes met.
Understandably, Abel was far too terrified by the orclach's visage to do anything but stammer uselessly. And understandably so - the soldier's armor bore the sort of intimidation that comes only from crudeness, being forged from what perhaps whatever metal had been lying about at the time of its creation. Uneven plates with jagged edges and haphazard spikes swathed the troop's body.. But what captured Abel's most immediate attention was the collection of notches on one of the shoulders - at least twelve.
"N-nothing," Abel finally gulped, and grunted as he was dropped in the dust. He chose to remain on the ground as he heard the scrape of a sword being drawn.
Everything seemed to slow for a time, and Abel was given what seemed to be quite a span to take in everything that was going on. The sun was especially hot, it seemed, as it had been since Magnagora had taken control of the village. Everything had a particular wrongness to it since then. From his lowly vantage point Abel took stock of the many small, sinister changes that had crept into the village. The heat of the sun. The slickness of the ground. The wariness of the animals. The chill in the night air. Abel covered his head with his paws and braced himself for a blow - which never came.
He had been told by one of the carpenters in the village that one typically doesn't feel the worst of pain until realizing that one was wounded. And as the horrid, wrenching fire shocked through his abdomen, he now knew that this was certainly the case. The serrated blade of the sword had been driven through his back, impaling his liver in a surely fatal blow.
But if it was fatal, then...

A sensation far more unwelcome than the pain overtook him as he felt his very soul being manipulated. He was faintly aware of a few things as the terrain rushed past - first, of his father charging the knight. His next impression was of an endless stretch of forest, then a mountain range, then a single, forbidding peak, and finally, a large, churning disc of golden flame, beyond which was only darkness. "Welcome to the Portal of Fate," hissed a woman's voice, and he turned - if such an action even applied to a soul - to see a hooded viscanti behind him. In her hands was a single dark stone, an item so abhorrent that it radiated unholiness, marking this woman as a Nihilist. She lifted the stone and Abel's soul jerked slightly with it. "Lord Baalphegar has charged me with bringing souls to our cause."
Abel was far too overcome with shock and horror to take stock of the situation, let alone say anything. His mind was still back home, with his father. Had his pa really attacked the knight? Did Pa know that Abel was still okay - sort of? Would Pa hear if Abel called? He barely registered the priestess' tirade about how Abel was caught firmly in the Dark Prince's threads. His attention was caught by the sudden motion of his soul through the Portal as it helplessly followed the symbol. The priestess who had thrown it sent Abel off with a cruel smirk.

Back in Estelbar, the knight and the farmer were locked in a grapple, the sword still jutting from the prone furrikin's form. The farmer gave a roar of anger and pounded his knee uselessly against the armored chest of the orclach. His brave attempt was met by a swift fist to the jaw, which sent him sprawling. The knight advanced.
Seeing no other course before him, the man set to calling for help. With mounting fear he watched as the soldier bent to his sword - and his fear turned to wrath as the soldier booted the furrikin corpse from the blade. Fury turned to surprise as a stone struck the orc in the head. And then another. And another. He turned to see a small group of villagers walking towards the corral. A few were furrikin, but many were human or taurian, having been forced to reincarnate to meet the labor demands. Clearly, they'd had enough.
The soldier was surprised as well, and he lifted his sword to a ready position, facing the rebels. The farmer, in a flash of inspiration, seized the cow's lead in both hands and gave a mighty pull, sending the beast stampeding towards the soldier's advancing reinforcements. The village revolt was on!

Years later, one would hardly be able to tell that such awful things had happened, judging by the peace that was Celest-ruled Estelbar. The farmers - all proudly furrikin, thank you very much - happily worked their fields on their own terms, and the troops that kept watch over the village were decidedly friendlier. Indeed, the only difference from the times before the Magnagoran rule was the simple stone memorial placed near the entrance to the village - a memorial to young Abel, whose soul even the heavenly Celestines had been unable to recall.
But in Magnagora, things were different. In Magnagora, the last few years had been spent preparing to crush the village once and for all. Indeed, a task force was already assembled to soften up the village's Celestian defenses. Three ninjakari were being addressed by their Sohei."Separate. Infiltrate." The orders came from a slinking illithoid, whose hands held a vicious chain. "The red vials contain crotamine, which you are to administer to key guards as detailed in the plans. The blue vials contain mantakaya, to be used on the villagers. And the black vials contain ibululu...to be used on the village leaders."
A few exchanged glances and sinister sneers were exchanged among the three monks. Naturally, two of them were illithoid, and led by a single viscanti to boot. Each of them had a fearsome barbed jakari chain coiled about their waists, just waiting to be brought out and put to fearsomely effective use. Each of them had been trained relentlessly in stealth, infiltration and sabotage. And each of them had been hand-picked by the Warlord himself for this specific task.
"These poisons are not to be used until a path is cleared for the Ur'guard to secure a holding area, and plant traps at the main village exit. Your mission is one of reconnaissance. If you are noticed, eliminate the witness quickly and quietly." The Sohei narrowed his eyes, and a psychic pulse throbbed through the heads of the trio. "If that happens, expect to be disciplined."
A mundane threat, perhaps even corny, but the three ninjas knew all too well that Ninjakari discipline was nothing to snicker about. A metallic clash resounded as the Sohei whipped his chain in the air, the signal to begin.

The rope easily slipped about the cow's neck as Abel's father lazily flicked it across the corral and eased the cow over. He sighed, still thinking of that fateful day that his son had been taken from him. The Celestine had only said that Abel's soul was the same as that of one who was alive, and that no resurrection was possible. With a twitch of his whiskers and a despondent swish of his bushy tail, the greying furrikin coaxed the cow out of the corral and towards the pasture, shaking off the haunting thoughts of his son. He had resigned himself long ago to his son's demise - no, disappearance - and could only hope that wherever the boy was, that he was happy and healthy.
A disgusting but familiar sound signaled a fresh clod of droppings from the cow behind him. Less familiar, but equally disgusting, was the sound of something sliding through it. He turned.
There was indeed a small line through the manure, that carried on for a few feet before tapering off. It was as if a wagon wheel had run over the pie, but surely not...
The farmer was only faintly aware of the black line that crossed his vision, and perhaps had the chance to register that it was no line, but the links of a chain, and that it had been thrown at him from behind - and was being pulled back to whence it came, and would coil round his neck as it did.
But the throw had gone too far, and the jakari dropped to the ground, causing the farmer only to trip and fall forward instead. He rolled onto his stomach, looked, and saw nothing. He rose to his feet and looked about - again, nothing. It was only the sharp pain at the back of his neck that confirmed that he had, in fact, not imagined the entire ordeal. His limbs stiffened and he quickly dropped to the ground.
He soon found himself hung upside-down from a tree at the outskirts of the village, his ankles agonizing from the barbs of the chain being used to hold him. The illithoid that had done the deed gave a final check to ensure that the farmer's gag was tightly secured, then nodded in satisfaction. "Trussed you up good," he sneered, taking the chance to infuriatingly slap the furrikin a few times across the cheeks. "Now you know how the cow feels." And with that the ninja seemed to vanish, stepping into the shade of an adjacent tree and then simply disappearing.
But this farmer, as the ninja had alluded, was an old hand at binding living things. And indeed, the chain around his ankles was hastily and unreliably secured. The hardest part of wiggling his way out of them was the fact that each movement caused a fresh splash of pain.
He dropped to the ground and quickly set off to inform the guards of the attack. But when he arrived in sight of the village, it seemed that most of the guards already knew, having found out about the intruders in much the same way he did: with a dart from the shadows. Many of them lie dead or simply incapacitated, and in the distance the dreaded banner of Magnagora could be seen over the camp of the attacking force, which was busy fighting off the remnants of the village's guards.
Sword banged against sword as the Paladin and the Ur'guard faced off. But the Paladin had the upper hand; she had two blades to her opponent's one, and after neatly parrying the krokani's clumsy swing she snaked her sword directly into his jugular. A bonecrusher's hammer arced towards her; she sidestepped and scored the first hit with a clip to the human's arm. With a swift twist of her wrist, her blade bit deeper, and a major artery was severed. Blood poured from the wound wildly as she kicked the tae'dae in the chest, sending him sprawling as she whirled to face her next opponent.
What she hadn't counted on was this one's weapon: A jakari chain that found its way around her arm and jerked it painfully. Though the barbs could not pierce her armor, the chain wrenched her arm in a way that rendered it useless. She was stunned briefly, not having seen this fighting style before, and the monk took advantage of her surprise to pound a booted heel upon her head, knocking her to the ground.
But here she had the advantage! With her free arm she stuck her sword through the monk's leg, causing him to give a satisfying scream as she pinned it to the ground. Lifting herself off the ground, she wrested her arm free of the chain.
But from the ground, the monk whirled his chain and flung it towards his opponent, wrapping it about her chest. "There is a certain method to snaring creatures," he snarled as he pulled himself up, the chain supporting the weight that his leg could not. "And I have studied it my entire life." His barbed fist crashed once more into the Paladin's head, and this time the mellitin poison took hold, causing the woman's limbs to tremble. He opened his fist into a palm and shoved it into the knight's face, sending her reeling. Her grip on the sword drew it out of his leg, and he almost-absently dumped some regeneration salve on the wound.
As she stumbled backwards, he gave his chain a hefty yank, sending the woman spinning wildly on her feet before she dropped heavily to the ground. He whirled his chain fiercely, building momentum for the final strike as the Paladin gasped for breath, her lungs and breastplate ruined. She staggered to her feet as the monk flung his chain at her - but unfortunately it fell flat onto the ground nearby. In his bravado the man had missed.
"Ya need t'work on that aim," admonished the farmer from behind as he slung his own rope at the monk. It found its way around the illithoid's neck, as it had done before for so many cows over the years. With a practiced yank, the illithoid was on the ground, with the Paladin looming over him. "Ya ain't so different from cows. 'Cept I might respect cattle."
And for the second time, Adel felt a sword piercing his torso. For the second time, his poor aim had cost him his life.