SoS B1 C7 X1: City of Graves
They left the fog behind, and traversed instead through broad, scrubby moors and winding foothills. It was an uneventful trip save for a single stop for Morkun and the Gearhearts to get out and power up one of the rail relays.
As the day approached noon dark clouds began to set in, bringing with them a shower and gusts of frigid breeze. Immuena and Allarah, both stuck with bloodstained, tattered clothes after the events to date, were given some reprieve by Mir, who had spent the morning cutting and stitching extra sheets into clothes. "Grab as much cloth as you can, once you have everything else," Synna said. "Mir can make us clothes and blankets, which will be helpful as we go further north.
Misha, the Gearheart from the Somnolent, called the leaders forth as the rail crested a hill. "I see Gorshi!"
A cup of hot tea was waiting for Allarah as she took her station in the engine cab and looked out of the window.
Gorshi was an assortment of moldering, spired buildings poured haphazardly into basin formed by the lowlands. Dense, stone walls rose up to prevent it from spilling out over the moors, and even then some of the excess had ran over the top and rolled out along riverbeds in the form of abandoned hamlets and ruined villages sprawling into the distance, all of of which possessed more gravestones than hearths, more tears than smiles.
Beyond Gorshi, rising up like the corpulence of a great beached whale with carcass bloated, burst, and picked clean, was the unmistakeable silhouette of a crashed floating palace like Lady Venistasia's Starcrest.
The road continued right on up to the main gate. A field of crucifixes, mausoleums, and tombstones guarded the gate, their inhabitants long decayed and prostrate on the grounds before them.
Allarah warmed her hands on the teacup, again wondering who brewed it. Turning her attention away from the warm cup was more difficult than it should have been. "We should check out the castle. If it has even a quarter of the amenities Starcrest had, we'll be in good shape. The city isn't the best place to be looking for anything if Vien serves as an example."
"I'd agree, but look!" Misha pointed out over the city, drawing their attention out. It took a moment for any of them to spot it against the clouds.
"Smoke," Morkun said, unsure if he was pleased or not by this revelation. Plumes of smoke rose above the skyline, dotting the city. What was more: it was coming from chimneys. "There's a population here."
"Well look at that..." she peered at the smoke. "Think we should say hello?"
Tskhan barged into the engine room. "Alarah what's going on?" he said looking around realizing nothing was eminently wrong, "The Trundler started to slow down."
Allarah waved him over to the window and pointed out the smoke. "There are people here."
"I may have become jaded from this journey but isn't that a good thing? There aren't any hostile factions on this planet, right?"
"Well, I'm not sure. These people could be anything for raiders to civilians. I'm not entirely sure how to proceed. If it's a predominantly human population, they may be more comfortable if a human is in charge, I'd imagine the situation would be the same if it were Sazashi, or Verin. Narissa, Morkun, would you be willing guise as leader in either situation if necessary?"
There was a chorus of bobbed heads and various noises and levels of agreement. Tyodor's face gave his opinion that Narissa was chosen over him, but he did not comment.
Allarah glanced over. "Tyodor, I'd also like you on standby if it isn't too much trouble. It's not guaranteed that the population will speak ubique. If they speak Russian predominantly, then you will have to take Narissa's place."
Look at that self-satisfied smirk.
The Trundler crept forward, engines growling as its many cars rolled down the gentle slope of the basin towards the gates of Gorshi. Mud churned under the treads, squelching and giving way to uneven ground beneath; the ride was rocky and uncomfortable, unpleasant after such a filling breakfast.
They passed into the expansive graveyard surrounding the city. From afar it was evident that there was a darkness over this place, a shadow of a different pallor than that over Vien. This shade was pestilent. Giant black bugs roamed through the graves and wiggled through holes in the mausoleum, a twisted cross of roach and scarab. One of the hamlets in the middle of it all showed evidence of a recent fire, and five corpses were chained to a pole in the middle of town, picked clean from the chest down by the insects.
So it is.
Further on.
They reached the field of crucifixes. Most were old and cracked, with their last inhabitants no more than bone fragments at the base, but as they got closer and closer they saw fresh corpses upon the wood. They might have been drawn to look into the gazes of each if not for a distraction up upon the city walls.
People.
A long, unbroken row of them. Armed with an assortment of projectile weapons. Some were modern, others were primitive, it was very much the artillery of a people making-do. Each of them was dressed the same: a black, mudded coat studded with bones and a black, tight-fitted hood like that of an executioner.
The Trundler stopped before the gate.
The gate opened.
A small platoon filed out.
Judging by their figures, there was a disparity of food within the city. Some were broad and muscular, wearing their strength with pride as bared arms and bared chests. Others were frail, so light they didn't even leave impressions in the thick slop of mud; they kept their heads down, their features entirely veiled by their robes.
At their fore was a massive, proud figure. His skin was ruddy-red-brown like clay, and he was the only person Allarah had seen in a while, save for Lev, who forced her to look up. His arms were bare, and his face was covered by a peaked hood with slits cut for his eyes.
He waited for them some fifty feet ahead of the Trundler.
Allarah put on the facade of her birth, standing taller, chin held high. She looked to Tyodor as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "So how should we proceed?" She asked, sounding detached, uninterested.
"You, me, Lev, Dmitry, Misha, Immuena, Tskhan, Ijin," he said after a moment of consideration. You all behind me as an envoy." He didn't sound as certain as he looked.
Allarah bowed her head in a dignified way and held Tyodor's eyes. "Understood, I'll collect them now." She leaned in close to his ear, whispering. "Mind how you handle this. I know you're aware of the situation. I'm not insinuating you're not or that you'll fuck up, I have faith your people chose you for a reason, but remember that if it breaks down to a fight Tskhan, Immuena, and I are not at our best." She pulled back a hair.
"I'll keep an eye on everything and let you know if I think they will attack. I have a feeling they'll aim for you first if you maintain that you are our leader. In the event that something should happen, I'll do what I can to ensure your safety Tyodor. Let's all make it back." Allarah looked at him reassuringly before bowing her head again, as if she'd taken more instruction. She looked back at Gorshi once more before leaving to collect the others.
The new envoy approached the platoon from Gorshi. Tyodor attempted to walk in careful, measured steps, but the mud sucking at his boots turned his swagger to a stagger. The others stayed close behind, with Lev directly at one shoulder and Dmitry at the other.
Just a few feet before the Gorshian giant, they stopped. Through the holes of his hood he scrutinized them, swaying his head this way and that to get new angles, new details.
Cracked, brown teeth like aged wood bared themselves under pitted lips as he addressed them.
"Outsiders..."
He took a moment to digest his own statement, as though unsure whether he should scorn or greet. He seemed to settle upon the former as he spit out the rest of his sentence. He spoke in a careful, if broken, meter. An attempt at poetry filtered through an addled mind.
"Lucius Crucius, Thrall of Mar. Comes't thou to trade or raid? Choose the latter..." he gestured around to all his warriors and added in a low growl "we'll not be swayed."
Tyodor didn't bat an eye in responding. "We come to rest our weary eyes, with trade of acts for beds to buy. Stow no dread in head for I, my allies would sooner harm a fly."
Lucius Crucius grunted and mulled over a response. As he turned away to lead them to the gate he pointed up at one of the crosses with a vandalized eye of the Somnolent. "You bear on neck the Liar's Eye, token saying 'I wish to die', beware your faith meets no ear, it's not very welcome here."
The away party was formed: Tyodor, Lev, Dmitry, Allarah, Immuena, Tskhan, Ijin, Em, Synna. The rest would remain behind and tend to the trundler.
"Do not worry about us," Morkun said. "This will give us time to restore the trundler's batteries to full, and I will see about poking around the nearby empty towns for supplies if the locals don't much mind. We'll put the antenna up, so you should be able to radio us."
They embarked.
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