Axelgear
General Wontwit
Relief is a rare commodity in the deserts of the South, making its presence much more sharply punctuated than its absence. Behind the heavy wooden door and black granite walls, carved into the volcanic ridge, Seven's home provides respite to the singed and sun-baked band who fled from the depths of the tunnels. Red pillars out front, with blue banners swaying against them in the sand-scouring breeze, make it easy to identify.
Inside, it is cool, and it is quiet. The sounds of the riot already faded that far from the bazaar, but now, it is utterly silent. Finally, there is a chance to stop and think.
The man in the blue robe is barely conscious when the journey begins, but he is far from it by the time he is bound to a chair in the storage room. Far from struggling, he is politely deferential. He cheerfully directs his captors to his weapons when they begin to take them, informing them of hidden blades and bandoliers of firedust charges. He has a smile continually on his lips. It's a little creepy.
The air is still, but still full of the lingering scent of burning firedust and blood.
Inside, it is cool, and it is quiet. The sounds of the riot already faded that far from the bazaar, but now, it is utterly silent. Finally, there is a chance to stop and think.
The man in the blue robe is barely conscious when the journey begins, but he is far from it by the time he is bound to a chair in the storage room. Far from struggling, he is politely deferential. He cheerfully directs his captors to his weapons when they begin to take them, informing them of hidden blades and bandoliers of firedust charges. He has a smile continually on his lips. It's a little creepy.
The air is still, but still full of the lingering scent of burning firedust and blood.