Wednesday, April 10, 2013
Neighborhoods of the Rainy City
The Rainy City's boggy, waterlogged slums: a place of rotting huts on tilted stilts, of murk and muck, of shaky walkways over muddy pools, and of beggars, rafts, and rice. Watch your step!
Where the Rainy City's dreary, paranoid proles make their home: a place of stock brick rowhouses, of pumps, wheels, and gates, of volunteer watchmen, and of unions, sacred brotherhoods, and hard men. Watch your back, and know the secret signs.
Home to the Rainy City’s guilds, crafts, and tradesmen: a place of imposing stone guildhouses, of trade shops in townhouses, built amidst the crumbling ruins of domed golden towers. Thatchers fight turn wars with gargoyles in the rooftops. The rainy city bazaar lies in the midst of it all. Watch your pockets, and watch the skies.
The saltwater harbor where refugees of a thousand worlds first land, a place of sailors, pirates, and salty dogs, of teetering, rotting houses, and of narrow mazelike alleys, warehouses, and pubs. Welcome to the Rainy City!
The Nimbus (aka, "The Murk")
The waterway that cuts off the northern quarters of the city: a place of still gray waters, fog, and drizzling rain, of spectres and spirits, of ferrymen guiding their craft past the tops of ruined towers that peek up from beneath the canal. Beware the dead.
Where the growing middle class lives and entertains: a place of rowhouses clinging to the sides of the peaks, of stairstep walkways and city streets, of fine shopping and respectable people. Birthplace of parliament.
Where the rich and powerful make their homes: a place of mansions, palaces, and follies, of the galleria and of the salons, of old wealth and class. Watch your manners.
The cliffside homes of the wizards stand here amidst the storms: a place of manses and towers, of apprentices running errands, and of silver cliff miners moving between shifts.
The tempest-wracked sea surrounding the city, home to wretched salvage gangs, brazen pirates, and hardened monster-trawlers who sail the storm swells to their own desperate ends. Beyond the outer swells, it is said, lies the end of all worlds.