07-28-2017, 09:39 AM
The metallic arch, a shimmering sheen of this ‘Omnillium’ stretched taut between the portal that would transport him to the city of Coruscant that the soldiers spoke of, the promise of blood and coin calling to him. A single copper coin, its surface embossed with the heraldry of the Dwarven under-kingdoms, was tossed into the iridescent portal. While he didn’t see any reason the soldiers might have to lure him into a trap, he had not survived so long by failing to verify his information. Satisfied by the distinct lack of sparks, acidic spray, or the sheer nothingness of annihilation, he set forth, stepping through the shining portal.
He closed his eyes briefly, the pure, blinding white light that infused his essence during the transport threatening to scorch his retinas. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of a new city, and-
The stench. It seared at his senses, burning alchemy, the cloying scent of humanity clumped and clustered into caves of steel. The hunter stumbled in shock, eyes tearing themselves open as he stared at his surroundings. Chariots of steel flew through a smog-choked sky, crowds of people dressed in muted blacks and greys moving with purpose through steel-plated streets lit by lightning trapped within glass bulbs, ivory-plated soldiers watching over the obedient masses. In all his years, he’d never seen so many people, not even at the morning mass at The Lady’s cathedrals, to say nothing of the thousand aromas vying for his attention, every distinct scent blending into an oppressive stench that sought to devour individuality.
Breathe. He stumbled to one side, his hauberk quieting the impact as he impacted against a railing, helmeted head snapping rapidly to the side to look down, down, down. Darkened structures rose beneath him, trapped in the shadow of the city, illuminated only by what seemed to be minute thunderstrikes, lighting up the back alleys and graffiti-caked corners. Sky-chariots set aflame by crimson klaxons flew through the darkness, men clad in rags clutching what seemed to be wands worth far more than anything else they possessed lit up by piercing light from the sky-craft, all-too briefly granted the chance to truly shine.
Vulre gasped, choking down the smog as he found familiar footing. Raiders, thugs, and gangers infested the underbelly of what would otherwise be a perfected machine, like intestinal parasites slowly but surely consuming the vitality of their host. Greed, corruption and desperation. As alien and strange as this world was, it was nonetheless still poisoned by the seemingly infinite avarice and ambition of humanity. Beneath his scratched and scraped helmet, a smile split across scarred lips. The have-nots would always seek to take from those that had, and he would be very well compensated to take it back.
But, of course, he’d hardly get his blood-money from standing around, ruminating on the nature of man. He breathed the poisoned air of this city of steel, his boots silent against the streets paved with iron. His lanky form slipped between the shadows, an indistinct blur lost against the busy streets as he sought out his latest prospective client.
He closed his eyes briefly, the pure, blinding white light that infused his essence during the transport threatening to scorch his retinas. His nostrils flared as he breathed in the scent of a new city, and-
The stench. It seared at his senses, burning alchemy, the cloying scent of humanity clumped and clustered into caves of steel. The hunter stumbled in shock, eyes tearing themselves open as he stared at his surroundings. Chariots of steel flew through a smog-choked sky, crowds of people dressed in muted blacks and greys moving with purpose through steel-plated streets lit by lightning trapped within glass bulbs, ivory-plated soldiers watching over the obedient masses. In all his years, he’d never seen so many people, not even at the morning mass at The Lady’s cathedrals, to say nothing of the thousand aromas vying for his attention, every distinct scent blending into an oppressive stench that sought to devour individuality.
Breathe. He stumbled to one side, his hauberk quieting the impact as he impacted against a railing, helmeted head snapping rapidly to the side to look down, down, down. Darkened structures rose beneath him, trapped in the shadow of the city, illuminated only by what seemed to be minute thunderstrikes, lighting up the back alleys and graffiti-caked corners. Sky-chariots set aflame by crimson klaxons flew through the darkness, men clad in rags clutching what seemed to be wands worth far more than anything else they possessed lit up by piercing light from the sky-craft, all-too briefly granted the chance to truly shine.
Vulre gasped, choking down the smog as he found familiar footing. Raiders, thugs, and gangers infested the underbelly of what would otherwise be a perfected machine, like intestinal parasites slowly but surely consuming the vitality of their host. Greed, corruption and desperation. As alien and strange as this world was, it was nonetheless still poisoned by the seemingly infinite avarice and ambition of humanity. Beneath his scratched and scraped helmet, a smile split across scarred lips. The have-nots would always seek to take from those that had, and he would be very well compensated to take it back.
But, of course, he’d hardly get his blood-money from standing around, ruminating on the nature of man. He breathed the poisoned air of this city of steel, his boots silent against the streets paved with iron. His lanky form slipped between the shadows, an indistinct blur lost against the busy streets as he sought out his latest prospective client.
Torcher of tomes, slayer of sorcerers, taker of ears, and flayer of men. Reasonable rates.