Member
Shoopuf
Gunther
loco rococo
Birdboy
Vampiretwilight
iibread
FalkinPAAAWNCH
Sick Ducker
Bork
Bonesaw McGrawThe journey to Scardale Town was short, the human, half-elf, and dwarf walking for just shy of an hour and a half before reaching the outskirts of the capital. The snow on the ground was thinner and slippery much to the disdain of Ibdur who more than once had to catch himself from falling. Iliskra found herself in awe as the sea came into view in the near distance, glimmering in the high afternoon sun.
“It is beautiful…” Iliskra remarked with a raised pointer finger aimed at the distance, Leon and the dwarf having no comment which prompted Iliskra to embrace the silence again.
The capital cities’ towering stone walls were also in sight; scarred with deep cracks, scorch marks, and crumbled towers that looked like broken off teeth in an old misers’ mouth. Iliskra could hear the sounds of the city that drifted on the wind. Not the sound of idle prattle of sprawling masses, merchants hawking their wares on every street, and weary guards bellowing out. Rather it was the sound of blades striking, screams of pain and battle cries, and shouts of fear and commanding alike. Truly unlike anything Iliskra had heard coming from over a cities’ walls.
A sundered city indeed. Iliskra thought as she and her two companions neared the capital.
“So this is the great Scardale Town…” Ibdur mused cynically as he took in the sight of the ravaged capital. Uninterested in dealing with any guards or patrols Iliskra, Leon, and Ibdur had avoided the south road into the city and just passed through a gaping hole in the southern wall - on their way stepping over the putrid and fly-covered remains of what must have been three dozen men and women in a vile, sickening scene. Iliskra had wondered aloud who they were, Ibdur noting the lack of uniform among the dead who all looked to be fighters. There were no discarded banners or emblems in the blooded dirt and the fallen were equipped with everything from cheap hide cuirasses to full suits of steel plate. Most of their weapons were either broken or missing meaning that the scene had already been looted.
“Tis likely that they were rival gangs or mercenaries on opposite sides of a conflict.” Ibdur stated.
The corpses were still relatively fresh meaning that whatever had happened along the collapsed wall was recent which inspired the three to move along inside the city. That and the horrid odor of death that rose up from the site of battle. Within the confines of the city things were no more appealing to the eye. Sizable blood marks, ash piles, collapsed structures, and even long decayed bodies littered the wide streets and alleyways. Houses were in a mixture of states - some were all boarded up save for perhaps a single door or window, others dilapidated and falling in, and some were naught but burned out husks with all that remained being blackened posts and hunks of cracked wall.
“This place is… disastrous…” Iliskra said, the concern and disbelief creeping up in her voice.
“I have seen far worse,” Ibdur crossed his arms, “this city has fallen. I dare not even call it a city anymore… but a rats’ nest. Pray tell there are those here who can match my axes in battle. Tempus surely sent me here for a reason.”
Iliskra gave the street on which the three stood a hard looking over. Most of the nearby houses were destroyed, the alleyways blocked by rubble. There was no sign of life on this street, save for a pack of rats that came scurrying by along the chipped cobblestones and vultures that circled above. Iliskra curled her lip and looked at Leon, “According to Breck this is the thieves’ guild territory. Where would you say we should start in this hellshole?”
“It is beautiful…” Iliskra remarked with a raised pointer finger aimed at the distance, Leon and the dwarf having no comment which prompted Iliskra to embrace the silence again.
The capital cities’ towering stone walls were also in sight; scarred with deep cracks, scorch marks, and crumbled towers that looked like broken off teeth in an old misers’ mouth. Iliskra could hear the sounds of the city that drifted on the wind. Not the sound of idle prattle of sprawling masses, merchants hawking their wares on every street, and weary guards bellowing out. Rather it was the sound of blades striking, screams of pain and battle cries, and shouts of fear and commanding alike. Truly unlike anything Iliskra had heard coming from over a cities’ walls.
A sundered city indeed. Iliskra thought as she and her two companions neared the capital.
“So this is the great Scardale Town…” Ibdur mused cynically as he took in the sight of the ravaged capital. Uninterested in dealing with any guards or patrols Iliskra, Leon, and Ibdur had avoided the south road into the city and just passed through a gaping hole in the southern wall - on their way stepping over the putrid and fly-covered remains of what must have been three dozen men and women in a vile, sickening scene. Iliskra had wondered aloud who they were, Ibdur noting the lack of uniform among the dead who all looked to be fighters. There were no discarded banners or emblems in the blooded dirt and the fallen were equipped with everything from cheap hide cuirasses to full suits of steel plate. Most of their weapons were either broken or missing meaning that the scene had already been looted.
“Tis likely that they were rival gangs or mercenaries on opposite sides of a conflict.” Ibdur stated.
The corpses were still relatively fresh meaning that whatever had happened along the collapsed wall was recent which inspired the three to move along inside the city. That and the horrid odor of death that rose up from the site of battle. Within the confines of the city things were no more appealing to the eye. Sizable blood marks, ash piles, collapsed structures, and even long decayed bodies littered the wide streets and alleyways. Houses were in a mixture of states - some were all boarded up save for perhaps a single door or window, others dilapidated and falling in, and some were naught but burned out husks with all that remained being blackened posts and hunks of cracked wall.
“This place is… disastrous…” Iliskra said, the concern and disbelief creeping up in her voice.
“I have seen far worse,” Ibdur crossed his arms, “this city has fallen. I dare not even call it a city anymore… but a rats’ nest. Pray tell there are those here who can match my axes in battle. Tempus surely sent me here for a reason.”
Iliskra gave the street on which the three stood a hard looking over. Most of the nearby houses were destroyed, the alleyways blocked by rubble. There was no sign of life on this street, save for a pack of rats that came scurrying by along the chipped cobblestones and vultures that circled above. Iliskra curled her lip and looked at Leon, “According to Breck this is the thieves’ guild territory. Where would you say we should start in this hellshole?”