.
Earth, a planet that looks far more advanced than it is compared to what it could be. Its estimated that humans only take up 40% of the population, but obviously nobody can be sure.

One place on Earth is far more of a business sector than the rest, many skyscrapers forming a brilliant skyline was probably one of the only attractive things about it. Its size had increased, with its borders stretching further as it became a much larger location for inter-planet trading.
The majority of the land was covered with housing, creating a very urban atmosphere in the many stations and outposts. The few open spaces that could be found were usually public buildings or stores as well as the considerably large guilds spread across the various areas of this place, South America.

The main export here was minerals, crystals to be exact. The many gems and shiny stones that humans could farm were very rarely found on other worlds it seemed, which meant for a lot of people they were working in mines or trying to trade what they find for a living.

Outside of the cities however, were grasslands. Not many, but some. Most stretching a couple miles and housing wildlife for hunting or farming. With a few forests left in protection covering some corners between the open lands. Many people who can get some of the correct equipment try their hand at hunting and selling from that to make a living, but many new creatures have come to inhabit earth so it is most certainly not an easy living.

At the centre of South America however, or near enough the centre, was the Corellius tower. It was a massive structure, thousands of levels and floors for all sorts of business and stores. It had underground levels and a massive area of space for storage. It was the tallest building on Earth, but not the biggest in general. At its peak, was the Council. The 20 leaders of trade, negotiations and enforment. Each unique, each opinionated. 10 of them were human, purposeful as could be guessed. The tenth, however, was almost never seen. The other 10 were made up of several different races, some were Corellians, some were Târuuns, some were of races that humans struggled to even pronounce or say.

However, this information is of importance as soon the Council will be gathered to a senate meeting. Discussing a majorly important superweapon still holding all of its power. The meeting takes place in two weeks.

Much business comes through and across Earth, many ships coming and going, lots of trades and lots of crimes. Though the law enforcement is now minimum, it still exists and it has entirely lethal methods for solving its problems. Ceramite armoured officers still patrol, many deaths still occur and many bodies litter the streets before being moved potentially days after..how the world changes now though, is anybody's guess.

Much business came through Earth, the faces of passerby travelers blending into a slew of commerce and corruption, their names and histories blurring into dimly-remembered tales, recalled over a few after-work beers by weary security and customs agents. They came, they saw, they did what they needed to, and they left again, going back to their home planets, wherever they were. After a long day of work, it was hard to tell, and even harder to give a damn.

But you could always tell if someone came from the deeper parts of space. One quick look at their rickety, outdated technology, their haphazardly cobbled together vessels, their cargo stores packed with memoirs of their homeworlds, and their apprehensive expressions, and you could instantly tell: this person's made a long journey, and they aren't ever going to return. Oh, they had their reasons: the pilgrims, the wanderers; the exiles, the fugitives, the refugees; all those with a purpose higher than business—they had their reasons.

The traveler named Abso was no exception to this, noted the customs officer. His ‘spaceship’ was nothing more than the required systems, hastily welded to a steel frame, and all embedded in a large crystal of ice—at least, that’s what the traveler said his spaceship was like. The customs officer couldn’t verify this because—apparently— his vessel had melted entering Earth’s atmosphere.

“Why ice?” the officer asked, to which Abso replied, hesitantly: “There’s a lot of it where I come from.”

The officer did, notice that it was unseasonably muggy that day, which Abso attributed to the arrival (and coincidental evaporation) of his vessel. Eager to escape the heat, the customs officer didn’t bother checking Abso’s claims, simply signing his approval on all of Abso’s forms. And just like that, Abso was now a visitor to Earth, the center of business, culture, politics, and the civilized universe. He turned around, gazing at the sky, straining to see the stars—of course, the sand-colored clouds of pollution made that impossible. And then, just like that, Abso left the customs station, his wings awkwardly flopping behind him.

He was a rather exotic one, the customs officer thought. His blue robe made him look more like a magician than an interstellar traveler—and a human magician, no less. The outer reaches always received outdated information—radio waves could only travel so fast, after all. But an information delay of two millennia? A delay to a time on Earth that didn’t even have space communication? And his race, too—not quite human, with the horns and tail of a Târuun—but not quite Târuun either. And the wings threw everything off—the man looked like a dragon! Something straight out of a fairy tale, thought the officer. At least it would make for an interesting story to tell after work. Maybe he should’ve asked if the man breathed fire, too, mused the officer.

***

The other thing that most (if not all) deep-space travelers had in common was that they all had secrets in their pasts—secrets that, too often, were the reason for their journey to Earth. And, again, Abso was no exception to this. Though he hid it poorly, he tried to hide his origins under a somewhat-human exterior, hoping to assimilate into Earth’s population as naturally as possible. It was…a disguise, of sorts, but more than just a costume—it was, to him, an entirely new identity. Let the past be past and let history be forgotten; let this new exterior tell a new story. This would make his mission easier, Abso once told himself, on the day when he had transformed into what he was today. “For Aleri,” he had said that day.

“For Aleri”, he said, when he came to Earth. “Your work is not yet done.”