![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wayfarers_lodgeTwo-Stick-Lightning was becoming more and more agitated as they grew closer to the Empire. The cities they had been through were dazzling with their size and diversity, yet the people were so... small. So unmatched to the fierce and deadly world they had been part of. How did they even survive out here?
And yet, Chaosti promised her that they weren't at the capital yet, which was ridiculous- the last city had six hundred people in it. Six hundred people! That was more people than had been at the Great Moot of the Plains. More than lived in the Spider Elves' city. How could that not be the capital, with so many people?
She shook her head with frustration, and concentrated, dropping into the familiar trance that let her see the next caravan ahead on the road.
She blinked, shook her head, and cast the spell again, growling with anger as she did. No, that couldn't be right, she thought, some manner of ward or abjuration must be interfering, or some area of magic disruption.
After all, the next gathering of people ahead couldn't be ninety thousand people. That number didn't even exist in anything but a theoretical sense. If it did, she'd be able to see it over the next...
The caravan stopped at the crest of the hill, and Two-Stick's jaw dropped. Along the plateau, as far as the eye could see, stretched buildings and walls and people- So many accursed people!- living and contradicting everything she'd been brought to believe.
The knowledge crashed down on her like the rain that haunted her dreams. Chaosti had been right about the numbers they faced, and as such, they were doomed. How could they stand against so very many people? If even half of them stood to fight, that was still over a hundred bodies to each one they could provide. How could they even begin to hope to win?
She spoke of her fear to her friends, and they looked at her, not really understanding the enormity of her words. Only Chaosti met her eyes, his mouth grim with the truth he had known since the beginning. He pointed out beyond the city.
Beyond the massive press of architecture and the filth of the sentient races of the world, there glittered something chilling. The city backed all the way onto the River that they fought, and the River ran all the way to the horizon.
Two-Stick-Lightning should have been afraid at that point. Any sane person would have been. But instead of fear, the white hot anger of Lightning crashed through her. How dare it? How dare it hide behind this wall of flesh that it didn't even understand or value? How DARE it wash through these people, dumbing them down, making them the slaves of the ceaseless city that had been built upon it?
She fell silent as they came to the great gates, the anger swirling around her like stormclouds, her cloak and strange colouring marking her as something unknown, something strange, and that unknown was something to be feared.
As they walked through the city, she smiled with no humour. Even if they did lose, she could do nothing but fight them anymore, not after this, not after the proof that the River didn't care for its people, and would take any measure to rise and destroy them all once more.
And yet, Chaosti promised her that they weren't at the capital yet, which was ridiculous- the last city had six hundred people in it. Six hundred people! That was more people than had been at the Great Moot of the Plains. More than lived in the Spider Elves' city. How could that not be the capital, with so many people?
She shook her head with frustration, and concentrated, dropping into the familiar trance that let her see the next caravan ahead on the road.
She blinked, shook her head, and cast the spell again, growling with anger as she did. No, that couldn't be right, she thought, some manner of ward or abjuration must be interfering, or some area of magic disruption.
After all, the next gathering of people ahead couldn't be ninety thousand people. That number didn't even exist in anything but a theoretical sense. If it did, she'd be able to see it over the next...
The caravan stopped at the crest of the hill, and Two-Stick's jaw dropped. Along the plateau, as far as the eye could see, stretched buildings and walls and people- So many accursed people!- living and contradicting everything she'd been brought to believe.
The knowledge crashed down on her like the rain that haunted her dreams. Chaosti had been right about the numbers they faced, and as such, they were doomed. How could they stand against so very many people? If even half of them stood to fight, that was still over a hundred bodies to each one they could provide. How could they even begin to hope to win?
She spoke of her fear to her friends, and they looked at her, not really understanding the enormity of her words. Only Chaosti met her eyes, his mouth grim with the truth he had known since the beginning. He pointed out beyond the city.
Beyond the massive press of architecture and the filth of the sentient races of the world, there glittered something chilling. The city backed all the way onto the River that they fought, and the River ran all the way to the horizon.
Two-Stick-Lightning should have been afraid at that point. Any sane person would have been. But instead of fear, the white hot anger of Lightning crashed through her. How dare it? How dare it hide behind this wall of flesh that it didn't even understand or value? How DARE it wash through these people, dumbing them down, making them the slaves of the ceaseless city that had been built upon it?
She fell silent as they came to the great gates, the anger swirling around her like stormclouds, her cloak and strange colouring marking her as something unknown, something strange, and that unknown was something to be feared.
As they walked through the city, she smiled with no humour. Even if they did lose, she could do nothing but fight them anymore, not after this, not after the proof that the River didn't care for its people, and would take any measure to rise and destroy them all once more.
