- Messages
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- Character Biography
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Amroe
This was a city of desperation. A city of prosperity. A city of misery.
A city of industry.
Smoke seemed to hang within the air, the thick and acrid emission of dozens upon dozens of what the locals dubbed 'Factories". Amroe was the first of it's kind in this world, the first to have created something that would manufacture en masse. Dozens of buildings had been raised, created, crafted and fueled by coal fires to produce everything from Swords to cart wheels.
Most homes were those all around the world. Thatched roofs, white walls, beams of wood. Built eons ago and maintained by the hand of a skilled craftsmen. Yet they stood among the smog, within the clouds of industry. The Factories that raised between these buildings were horrid awful things. Straight lines, massive smoke stacks, and great billowing towers of flame.
Laborers within the factories did not work as Master Craftsmen and blacksmiths, but as men on the line.
The people of Amroe were not creative artists, they were not respected men of a craft. They were the downtrodden masses that produced weapons made for goblins and goods idealized by Kobolds. The industry of this city did not support those armies of quality, but they who opposed them. Everything here was made with twelve of it's kind, and a blade found in Vel Anir would easily snap it in two.
Yet that did not matter.
Not in the least.
Amroe was a city run by Titans, men, women, and families to cultivated wealth on a scale that most could not imagines. Collectives who cared not for quality, but quantity.
It was within those straights of inequality that Isaac wandered. His arms filled with the fluffy form of his cat; Teekle.
A loud meow echeod from the creatures throat. "I know I know. I don't like it any more than you do. My lungs feel like they're made of lead. Doesn't matter though. We know he was here, so we keep looking."
Another meow escaped Teekle's throat, but Isaac only shook his head. The sass not warranting a response.
This was a city of desperation. A city of prosperity. A city of misery.
A city of industry.
Smoke seemed to hang within the air, the thick and acrid emission of dozens upon dozens of what the locals dubbed 'Factories". Amroe was the first of it's kind in this world, the first to have created something that would manufacture en masse. Dozens of buildings had been raised, created, crafted and fueled by coal fires to produce everything from Swords to cart wheels.
Most homes were those all around the world. Thatched roofs, white walls, beams of wood. Built eons ago and maintained by the hand of a skilled craftsmen. Yet they stood among the smog, within the clouds of industry. The Factories that raised between these buildings were horrid awful things. Straight lines, massive smoke stacks, and great billowing towers of flame.
Laborers within the factories did not work as Master Craftsmen and blacksmiths, but as men on the line.
The people of Amroe were not creative artists, they were not respected men of a craft. They were the downtrodden masses that produced weapons made for goblins and goods idealized by Kobolds. The industry of this city did not support those armies of quality, but they who opposed them. Everything here was made with twelve of it's kind, and a blade found in Vel Anir would easily snap it in two.
Yet that did not matter.
Not in the least.
Amroe was a city run by Titans, men, women, and families to cultivated wealth on a scale that most could not imagines. Collectives who cared not for quality, but quantity.
It was within those straights of inequality that Isaac wandered. His arms filled with the fluffy form of his cat; Teekle.
A loud meow echeod from the creatures throat. "I know I know. I don't like it any more than you do. My lungs feel like they're made of lead. Doesn't matter though. We know he was here, so we keep looking."
Another meow escaped Teekle's throat, but Isaac only shook his head. The sass not warranting a response.