by Nayt on Sun Feb 01, 2009 11:54 pm
Xibtrae had really tried to sound as nice as she could. It was actually somewhat difficult for her to sound stern when she didn't feel threatened. She was simply a very soft-spoken woman, but she had gotten her point across well, at least. Had she known that he was a bit offended, she'd been apologetic.
Months ago, the city of Preznok had seen its worst days. Prior to that one fateful day in this city where the nation's collapse began, it was, as many considered, the pinnacle of civilization. Their architecture (Germanic Renaissance!) was unique to their nation alone, with very few influences from outside cultures regardless of the fact that they were, for all intents and purposes, a nation that survived solely off of trade alone. If they didn't put out a good product, there wouldn't be enough money in their economy, and people would starve. So they sold well, they populated well, and the massive city of Preznok, the capital of Greoul, slowly edged itself into the top ten populated cities on the planet.
It lacked the technological merits of places like Meridian or the more nature friendly Artegran, except one thing: a sewer system. The pipe systems weren't complex, but there were people who made a good living in the sewers making sure there was no water back-flow and that waste didn't clog any of it. They were massive sewers under a well decorated and beautiful town, horrid smelling sewers that may very well have saved hundreds to thousands.
But now, more than half of it was laid to waste--this once great, thriving city devoid of a massive chunk of its population, most of which had to fend for themselves after they somehow survived the horrors of a single week that decapitated the nation. High rise apartments and cathedrals and multi-story homes crumbled and lay in halves across the street, physically impossible to clean up as is, and portions of streets were collapsed where the sewers beneath gave way, a tremendous feat, all things considered. The fires were gone, but the rubble remained, and most tall structures were in the worst of shapes, except one: a single tower of insurmountable height still standing and unharmed in any way, set towards the right side of the city, and capable of being used to any extent.
The cobblestone streets they walked were torn up and filled with potholes and rubble from nearby collapsed structures, as if a war had broken out. The only difference was that they hadn't stood a fighting chance, and a good part of the damage to the city was from their own broken weaponry.
Upon seeing this, Xibtrae felt a strange pang in her heart. This world was no better off than her world was. Was it only a matter of time? And in her state, was there even anything she could do? Truthfully, Xibtrae didn't know what plagued this world, but if the threat was the same . . .
She didn't answer the point guard's question, refraining to look forward anymore. When Garv said that there was civilization, she didn't expect this to be it--she didn't expect it to remind her of home in the worst ways. So, Xibtrae had shifted to lean her forehead upon the back of Garv's shoulder, staring at his shoulder-blade rather than the men before them or the rest of the city. Was this how all places in this small universe were doomed to become? Rubble and ruin, littered with death and decay?
Nonetheless, Garv and Xibtrae both didn't know the chance that she might even be confused with one of the creatures that caused the woes of this city . . .