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Gothica_Puppet_Master Vice Captain
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 Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2008 6:03 pm
The city is small, little known, little visited, with very little protection for those who call it home. The surface city of Tirren, was little more then a small collection of huddeling houses. Built by all difforent hands, no one house resembled another, and though the people who lived here cared not for their neibors, and more frequently stole from them then assisted them, they had to build their houses close together. Any element of shade was better then the crackling heat which sent visable wripples across the surface of the hard red soil. Walking without shoes in the middle of the day meant certain burns.
This was the city of exiles, all of whome, for one reason or another, where unable to live in the safety of the underground. The surface was an unkind matren, it killed more often then it offered second chanses, but this group of people have grown to live with it in acceptence that their lives will not be as long as they would have had they been permitted to live within the caves. The air held a toxic flavor which all senced, and the heat was deadly.
Plot: The city's lifespand is short, and the quality of life is unforgiving. The goal, once orgonized, is to gather into a breaf alliance and sneek into the depths of the undercity, past the guards which search for these outcasts, and into the safety of the sub-district, or lower, for those who wish to continue.
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Posted: Wed Jun 25, 2008 9:32 pm
Seething lit the golden depths of the two intent eyes. The shade from the cropped lengths of pale blonde hair did little to stiffle the flow of sweat which found trails along the pale skinned brow and nose brim. The angular jaw was stiff, clenched in irritation.
The heat, the cursid heat. Even in the shade of this rock cope, the wripple of it which radiated from the soil was maddening. He drew a dusty palm across his brow with a resigned sigh; in retrospect, this was a relatively merciful day. There had been worse. There was always worse. The shade of his shelter was not only hot, but stiffling as well, however if he opened a few windows it might help. He had things to do anyway.
With a rustle of thin brown pants brushing at the knees he took a step forward, out of the shade, into the shock of sunscorch. He rarely flinched at it anymore. The exposure of the new red light shown deeply against his skin, which was surprisingly light considering the sun which should have tanned it. His draken blood defended from such things to a good degree. His torso and arm twined with the pale markings of scail tatooing. Built modist but solid, his exposed torso shown a dull grey in places; the powder of dust across his sweat damp skin. He would clean up when he got inside, not that it would help.
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Gothica_Puppet_Master Vice Captain
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