Frederick
A gremlin, but like, a tall one?
<p>
<strong>The People of the Six Cities</strong>
</p>
<p>
</p>
<p>
Were they not once proud men? They must have been. The People of the Six Cities linger in the ruins of their homes. It might have been fondness, had they been sentimental. No, the People do not care about what once was: They keep no name or record of their land, but merely ascertain that it is, at least, their home right now. They don’t speak much anyways. They looked like humans. Once. If the People of the Six Cities are not protected from their own hearts, one could assume that this is the true appearance of a human. If so, humans are very odd-looking creatures. The People are small, no larger than human children, with long spindly appendages. They no longer walk upright as they once did, although they try. Their legs bend like goats do, in a few too many places: Less civilised perhaps, but it works well on the rocky terrain of the Outlands. Far better. Their skin is black like cinders, tough like hide. It no longer sweats. Their eyes are human…ish. More eyelids. Longer lashes. Slightly better peripheral vision. But they can still see the colour red. Where once was lips and noses and chins are the first makings of a snout. In a few hundred years they may start to look like dogs, but not quite yet. The People of the Six Cities were once proud men, although they have lost most of their incentive for it. What remains of their vanity are their hands: They may be clawed, but they have retained their thumbs. The defining trait of humanity, and what tells them that they are not monsters, not just humans but the humans who are true to their own hearts.
</p>
<strong>The People of the Six Cities</strong>
</p>
<p>
</p>
<p>
Were they not once proud men? They must have been. The People of the Six Cities linger in the ruins of their homes. It might have been fondness, had they been sentimental. No, the People do not care about what once was: They keep no name or record of their land, but merely ascertain that it is, at least, their home right now. They don’t speak much anyways. They looked like humans. Once. If the People of the Six Cities are not protected from their own hearts, one could assume that this is the true appearance of a human. If so, humans are very odd-looking creatures. The People are small, no larger than human children, with long spindly appendages. They no longer walk upright as they once did, although they try. Their legs bend like goats do, in a few too many places: Less civilised perhaps, but it works well on the rocky terrain of the Outlands. Far better. Their skin is black like cinders, tough like hide. It no longer sweats. Their eyes are human…ish. More eyelids. Longer lashes. Slightly better peripheral vision. But they can still see the colour red. Where once was lips and noses and chins are the first makings of a snout. In a few hundred years they may start to look like dogs, but not quite yet. The People of the Six Cities were once proud men, although they have lost most of their incentive for it. What remains of their vanity are their hands: They may be clawed, but they have retained their thumbs. The defining trait of humanity, and what tells them that they are not monsters, not just humans but the humans who are true to their own hearts.
</p>
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