An Old Legend

I walked down the soaked roads of the quiet city. It was late morning, shortly before the sun reached its zenith, not that anyone could tell. The ever-present clouds killed any hope anyone may have had to see the light of the sun. From the time the sun came up to the time it set again, one would be hard pressed to discern the time given ambient light alone. I had long given up on anything more than knowing when the night started and stopped, which was one of the only clear indications of the passing of time. Nights were brutal, with the only light being provided by the occasional candle-lit lantern on the side of road, the light from which was hardly noticeable due to the light fog that seemed to descend every night. Sometimes, it felt as though a god of darkness had descended upon us, enveloping us in an endless night, where the sun became a scant memory.

Rain skipped off the rooftops, forming two small streams down either side of the road. Small puddles highlighted the unevenness and disrepair of the roads, a consistent pattern of that city, along with all the cities out at the fringes. Disorder and disrepair were common; as long as things still worked, no one felt the need to fix them.

Most of the buildings along the street were shops and various forms of entertainment. These had mostly been abandoned by this point, not that there was much activity before the evacuation order. The city, despite being inhabited by thousands of people at its peak, could be easily described as a dead city. Most people spent their time hunting or in buildings doing something to pass the time. No one was wealthy. Everyone lived hunt to hunt, using the rewards to buy entertainment and hunting when the money ran out again. They'd also spend money on keeping their equipment in decent condition, but past a certain point, most people gradually stopped caring. If an axe or sword broke, a gun didn't fire, or some other tool failed in some catastrophic way, the worst that could happen was death. This outcome wasn't unwelcome, especially by the older hunters.

I chose to spend my time hunting. My purpose for being there was to do that. There was no purpose to that purpose. I'd spend time in bars to catch up on events and find out where beasts had reached the closest to the city. In hindsight, I'm not entirely sure why I was there. I had no desire to build wealth and move back closer to the real cities. Perhaps it was fate that led me there.

I chose not to evacuate immediately. The fort was close to a two days' journey from the city, so I figured I could leave early the next morning and either head to Aarkile, as was suggested, or wander out in the forests and plains for a while. The creatures that crawled out of the void all converged on population centers, which often left the uninhabited areas relatively safe. People still preferred to live in cities though, as there was always the chance something may wander across them. This didn't particularly worry me, although there was always the chance that something especially strong appeared in the oppressiveness of the night.

I was walking towards the Forge. I always felt that it was a good idea to keep track of what weapons were in stock. If nothing else, I could have them look at my current weapons and check for any damage. There wasn't anything significant, but small damage can and will multiply if left unchecked, and considering I was never lacking in funds, getting some small stuff repaired wasn't a big deal.

My weapons of choice were a mace, a short sword, and a small, one-handed shotgun. Different creatures required different methods of attack, but most things bled and those that didn't could be broken. The shotgun likely couldn't make it through the hide of anything, but it could still knock something over or interrupt it if caught off guard. The shot was made of stone and it was impossible to put enough powder in to make it deadly without it also breaking the user's wrist when shot. I found it important to stick to these small weapons, rather than some people who preferred a great sword or great hammer. Not only were they heavy and nearly impossible to conceal, one misstep in a fight could lead to death due to the lack of speed and recovery. Additionally, having multiple weapons allowed me to continue fighting in the event that one breaks.

After a few minutes of walking, I came upon the Forge. It was a heavily fortified building, with thick stone walls and roof made of metal, an incredibly rare sight to see in any city. The investment was worth it though, as the building and the few people allowed to stay inside it had survived multiple overruns over the course of the city's history. This was something common to other cities as well. The Forges were backed by some higher power, although none of the people in these fringe cities knew who or what that power may be, not even the people that worked the Forges, all of whom came from larger cities. The front of the forge had a small wooden vestibule for patrons to hang their coats and cloaks in. It also served the purpose of keeping the weather out of the building, as the main doors were made of stone similar in thickness to the walls, which were kept open permanently, as they were nearly impossible to move. The only time they would be closed, and subsequently barred from the inside, was in the event of beast wave. 

I walked into the small wooden growth off the building and stripped myself of my now soaked cloak, then stepped into the unusually cozy warmth and light of the Forge.