(no subject)
Yeah, I'm starting from where I left off...
And in true NaNoWriMo tradition, going for pure word count at the expense of quality. That means long, lurid descriptions of every rock, tree, and cobblestone. And possibly not the greatest readability.
A twinge of regret flickered through Vellurium's stomach. He had been close friends - no, more than friends - with Lady Fyllian's brother. He'd made this walk several times before, over the years of their friendship. But he had not gone back in the ten years since Falon's death.
He walked off the wharf into the warehouse district. The wealthy areas of the city of Rohyr were inland, near the folded hills that marked most of the island. As the land got lower, so did the economic fortunes of the residents. The wharves and warehouses may have been the engine of Rohyr's economic growth, but you couldn't tell it from their dilapidated appearance. The wealth came in here and went elsewhere.
The main thoroughfare narrowed here, and Vellurium felt the cobblestones grow rougher underfoot. Close to the docks, the roads at least were maintained, because they were needed for wagon traffic. But here, just beyond the immediate loading area, there was little need for such practicalities. Freight was loaded and unloaded from the warehouses only; very few heavy goods actually traveled inland to the meager farmsteads in the interior, and only light luxury items to the wealthy families in the city proper.
A steady stream of merchants still poured out of the city center, each carrying exotic wares destined for points far east. Most had a load of servants to help them with their goods. Sometimes the servants were themselves quite well-dressed; othertimes, the merchants showed all the trappings of wealth and the workers none.
But mixed in were a large crowd of urchins, beggars, and other dispossessed. Some undoubtably formed the day labor for the piers, working to load and unload the ships and get them ready for sailing. Others were unemployed, and stayed here because they had no other place to go. Rohyr had scant other industry besides trade and shipping, so those that controlled the trade controlled the money. Everyone else was left behind.
A group of urchins stood by the curb, playing a game with a pebble-stuffed leather sack that they kicked around in a circle...
And in true NaNoWriMo tradition, going for pure word count at the expense of quality. That means long, lurid descriptions of every rock, tree, and cobblestone. And possibly not the greatest readability.
A twinge of regret flickered through Vellurium's stomach. He had been close friends - no, more than friends - with Lady Fyllian's brother. He'd made this walk several times before, over the years of their friendship. But he had not gone back in the ten years since Falon's death.
He walked off the wharf into the warehouse district. The wealthy areas of the city of Rohyr were inland, near the folded hills that marked most of the island. As the land got lower, so did the economic fortunes of the residents. The wharves and warehouses may have been the engine of Rohyr's economic growth, but you couldn't tell it from their dilapidated appearance. The wealth came in here and went elsewhere.
The main thoroughfare narrowed here, and Vellurium felt the cobblestones grow rougher underfoot. Close to the docks, the roads at least were maintained, because they were needed for wagon traffic. But here, just beyond the immediate loading area, there was little need for such practicalities. Freight was loaded and unloaded from the warehouses only; very few heavy goods actually traveled inland to the meager farmsteads in the interior, and only light luxury items to the wealthy families in the city proper.
A steady stream of merchants still poured out of the city center, each carrying exotic wares destined for points far east. Most had a load of servants to help them with their goods. Sometimes the servants were themselves quite well-dressed; othertimes, the merchants showed all the trappings of wealth and the workers none.
But mixed in were a large crowd of urchins, beggars, and other dispossessed. Some undoubtably formed the day labor for the piers, working to load and unload the ships and get them ready for sailing. Others were unemployed, and stayed here because they had no other place to go. Rohyr had scant other industry besides trade and shipping, so those that controlled the trade controlled the money. Everyone else was left behind.
A group of urchins stood by the curb, playing a game with a pebble-stuffed leather sack that they kicked around in a circle...