Eulalios
2018-11-30, 03:02 PM
The sun rises over the mountains, burning pink and red against the undersides of the east-running storm clouds. The mud puddles of the grassy plain, and the many forks of the Brown River winding through the delta, reflect the glory of the sun.
The golden light of dawn casts and chases shadows in the streets of the Stonebuilt quarter, in the city Foam on the shallow hill just west of the delta. The stone buildings stand among stormwrack: bits and pieces of lesser structures, torn apart by the wind. Puddles stand on the cobble streets between the buildings, and on the footworn hollows of the marble steps. The streets of the Stonebuilt quarter are silent and frightened. At the top of the Stonebuilt, at the top of the hill, stands the Hall of Justice with its two dwarf guards holding halberds at the foot of the steps. The doors of the Hall are closed and bits of wreckage litter the steps. The guards stand wearily. A scattering of people, humans and elves, sit sprawled on the steps and gaze glassily down the hill.
From the steps of the Hall the people can see below the Stonebuilt, to the Salt Ward, which was built of wood. The buildings that were two and three or even four stories tall now lie flattened, stand mangled in pieces, scream out the terrible story of yesterday's storm. Bodies lie in the alleys of the Salt Ward. Many bodies, and boats, or pieces of boats, driven up into the town by the flood. Below the Salt are the wharfs, half-broken by waves. Nonetheless, dozens of boats float at anchor out in the harbor - miraculously, they rode out the storm. So too did many of the people of the city, both in the Stonebuilt and the Salt. So too did the birds of the streets, the pigeons and chickens and gulls. And now a rooster crows, and another and another now.
Mokk and Trebar rise from troubled weary sleep to face the day of wreckage.
The golden light of dawn casts and chases shadows in the streets of the Stonebuilt quarter, in the city Foam on the shallow hill just west of the delta. The stone buildings stand among stormwrack: bits and pieces of lesser structures, torn apart by the wind. Puddles stand on the cobble streets between the buildings, and on the footworn hollows of the marble steps. The streets of the Stonebuilt quarter are silent and frightened. At the top of the Stonebuilt, at the top of the hill, stands the Hall of Justice with its two dwarf guards holding halberds at the foot of the steps. The doors of the Hall are closed and bits of wreckage litter the steps. The guards stand wearily. A scattering of people, humans and elves, sit sprawled on the steps and gaze glassily down the hill.
From the steps of the Hall the people can see below the Stonebuilt, to the Salt Ward, which was built of wood. The buildings that were two and three or even four stories tall now lie flattened, stand mangled in pieces, scream out the terrible story of yesterday's storm. Bodies lie in the alleys of the Salt Ward. Many bodies, and boats, or pieces of boats, driven up into the town by the flood. Below the Salt are the wharfs, half-broken by waves. Nonetheless, dozens of boats float at anchor out in the harbor - miraculously, they rode out the storm. So too did many of the people of the city, both in the Stonebuilt and the Salt. So too did the birds of the streets, the pigeons and chickens and gulls. And now a rooster crows, and another and another now.
Mokk and Trebar rise from troubled weary sleep to face the day of wreckage.