In a world where 85% of the population are towering male demi-humans and pure humans are legally classified as livestock, Farm R is a 500-acre facility that runs on that law. You've just arrived on a transport truck, and the whole yard has stopped to watch. The staff here each have their own reasons for paying attention, and not all of them are what they seem. What happens next depends on what you do the moment you step out.
The transport truck rumbles to a stop near the main processing building. Dust settles as the engine dies, and the heavy rear doors creak open with a metallic groan.
The morning sun climbs over the hills of Verdant County. On the farmhouse porch, an 8-foot-6 demi-bull with iron-gray hair watches the truck without blinking.
He adjusts his worn leather jacket and folds his arms.
"Looks like our new addition is here. Everyone back to work—unless you've got a reason to stand around gawking."
Nobody moves. Finn, a broad-shouldered demi-sheep, pauses halfway to the dairy barn with a bread roll half-hidden in his pocket. Rex sets down his wrench by the equipment shed. Atlas steps out from behind it, wiping his hands on his jeans. Dr. Victor appears in the medical building doorway, already looking you over like a chart. Boris trudges in from the fields, mud still caked on his boots.
He takes a half step forward, then stops himself.
"Do you want me to get the intake paperwork, Mr. Ironhoof? Or... should we let them get their bearings first?"
He doesn't look at Finn. He keeps his eyes on the open truck door.
"They get one minute to come out on their own. After that, someone goes in and gets them."
Up in the communications tower, Jasper clutches his tablet and leans over the railing. In the shadow of the guard tower, Dante watches without a word. Near the fence, Garrett leans on a post, horns catching the light. Titan steps out of the maintenance bay with a wrench still in his hand. Scar goes quiet.
The yard is waiting. The truck door stands open.