"In a world where there is little to no hope the citizens of the supposed last habitable city left look to their government for guidance. "Don't venture beyond the walls of Zion!" they say. "It's not safe!" they say. Well, that's true actually. Down there the environment is less than hospitable. I mean an irradiated landscapes, unbreathable air, and a mist that almost seems to consume life itself isn't quite what I would call a holiday and the monsters always keep thing interesting."
The shady figure kicked a little pebble with his boot. The external steel tip clinked as it sent the pebble skipping down the crowded street. "But sometimes I prefer the outside to being up here on the inside. Sometimes I'd almost think that it was safer out there. I mean for example "To question the authority of the elders is heresy and is here by punishable by death." The elders really love that rule you know. To them another dead body is just another addition to the cities compost piles.
He shook his head and brushed past an old woman in rags. He could feel her hand slip into his black trench coat pocket. Even though the pockets where deep she managed to grab a rag which inside laid a stone. He quickly pulled his seemingly over sized pistol out from under his black trench coat and put it to the back of her head. "Ma'am?" She turned and held it out to the old man. He extended his hand allowing her to sheepishly drop it into his hand. "Thanks."
He slipped it back into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin that caught the light seemingly from every direction. He flipped it toward the lady who caught it shocked. "Have a nice day." He gave a slight bow and walked away.
The slums where always a depressing place to be. Everyone scrounging around in the dirt just trying to make it another day. They had it the worst out of the community. The system's broken as flip. It goes elders, nobles, higher class, servants, peasants, and then there's the trash that's below the peasants. Those people belong in the slums.
Where was I...? Oh yes, the punishable by death part. So this fella right here, the one trudging down this ally way. Yeah, he's a convict. He goes beyond the walls to find the treasures of a world long past. Claimed by the fog few dare deal with the risks. let along the risk of displeasing the elders, but we all need to survive somehow, and and often times putting lives on the line, whether they be ours or others, seems to be the best way to do that. Almost hypocritical if you ask me. The convict turned down an ally way. Steam came from a few ruptured pipes. After taking a few more turns he found himself in a large entry way to a small plaza. It wasn't to hard to see who was open for business. The black market seemed to be the safest way to sell most of the goods he would find.
He walked up to one of the booths and pulled out to stone. "How much will you give me for this one Jon?" He pulled out the stone wrapped in cloth and unwrapped it, holding it out for the shop keep to see. They started to barter and argue over a price, but little did they know they were soon going to have to run for their lives once again.
Concepts for the world below the mountain.
Concepts for the monsters in the mist.
Concepts for the city.
Compost
Convict/Scavenger
@CandiBarr@RangingWolf
The shady figure kicked a little pebble with his boot. The external steel tip clinked as it sent the pebble skipping down the crowded street. "But sometimes I prefer the outside to being up here on the inside. Sometimes I'd almost think that it was safer out there. I mean for example "To question the authority of the elders is heresy and is here by punishable by death." The elders really love that rule you know. To them another dead body is just another addition to the cities compost piles.
He shook his head and brushed past an old woman in rags. He could feel her hand slip into his black trench coat pocket. Even though the pockets where deep she managed to grab a rag which inside laid a stone. He quickly pulled his seemingly over sized pistol out from under his black trench coat and put it to the back of her head. "Ma'am?" She turned and held it out to the old man. He extended his hand allowing her to sheepishly drop it into his hand. "Thanks."
He slipped it back into his pocket and pulled out a silver coin that caught the light seemingly from every direction. He flipped it toward the lady who caught it shocked. "Have a nice day." He gave a slight bow and walked away.
The slums where always a depressing place to be. Everyone scrounging around in the dirt just trying to make it another day. They had it the worst out of the community. The system's broken as flip. It goes elders, nobles, higher class, servants, peasants, and then there's the trash that's below the peasants. Those people belong in the slums.
Where was I...? Oh yes, the punishable by death part. So this fella right here, the one trudging down this ally way. Yeah, he's a convict. He goes beyond the walls to find the treasures of a world long past. Claimed by the fog few dare deal with the risks. let along the risk of displeasing the elders, but we all need to survive somehow, and and often times putting lives on the line, whether they be ours or others, seems to be the best way to do that. Almost hypocritical if you ask me. The convict turned down an ally way. Steam came from a few ruptured pipes. After taking a few more turns he found himself in a large entry way to a small plaza. It wasn't to hard to see who was open for business. The black market seemed to be the safest way to sell most of the goods he would find.
He walked up to one of the booths and pulled out to stone. "How much will you give me for this one Jon?" He pulled out the stone wrapped in cloth and unwrapped it, holding it out for the shop keep to see. They started to barter and argue over a price, but little did they know they were soon going to have to run for their lives once again.
Concepts for the world below the mountain.
Concepts for the monsters in the mist.
Concepts for the city.
Compost
Convict/Scavenger
@CandiBarr@RangingWolf