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3idolon
My explorer is: Kiliac
My map marker is:
I am searching for: Other
Optional for RPers:
I will be moving my map marker again today for the purpose of RP: No
My RP post:
Somewhere near dusk, Kiliac found the City of Bones.
The ‘city’ part was a misnomer, all things considered; it was more like a waystone, a side-of-the-road attraction that most paths in the Wasteland eventually found. It lay in a shallow valley between two hills, filling every inch of space to be found. Bones of every shape and size, from the tiniest ossicles to mammoth rib cages from eras past were littered haphazardly across the landscape, following the terrain’s natural contours and skirting a maze of tiny footpaths. Since the beginning of dragonkind, it had been a sort of graveyard, a comparatively safe final resting place.
Nowadays, it had become hallowed ground, sacred to the peoples of Plague.
Kiliac paused on the threshold, taking in the twisted vista before her. To any other dragon, of any other flight, the place would have seemed strange and cursed. Here, it was the exact opposite.
Kiliac stepped reverently into the City, her cart wheeling slowly on mismatched wheels behind her. The hills around her both magnified and muffled the sound her passage made, whispering strange echoes from hidden corners. Tall arcs of bone curved over the path, casting long shadows in the penumbral light.
She rounded a bend, eyes flitting between the bones. What she sought wasn’t there…it must have been moved deeper in.
So she trudged, alone, on narrow footpaths through the rambling graveyard, alert but at ease. Even the beasts of the earth respected the City as a hallowed place; she wouldn’t be troubled.
Near the end of the ossified maze she found what she was looking for.
The bones here were more structured, more uniform. They curved purposefully into shapes, becoming a sort of uniform chaos. A miscellany of items were scattered in the skeletal structures; clothes binned in rib-cages; jaws and skulls supporting old weapons and spare trinkets; coins glistening between cast-off claws.
The City of Bones was a repository and an exchange, a place to leave what was no longer needed and gain something new in return. It was a sort of sacred cycle that Kiliac had observed many times as a child. Her family frequented the place.
She pulled an unassuming canvas bag from her cart and set it down, pulling gently on the drawstring to reveal its contents for future visitors. Old books and clothes, a few chemist’s tools that had grown obsolete. In return she browsed the vast array of bits and bobs that others had discarded over the years. There wasn’t much for academic items, as such things were not in great need or want in the Wasteland. Weapons made frequent appearance, alongside mismatched armor.
Kiliac wasn’t keen on devices of violence, this time. She had left her own heavy weapons at home for a reason. Instead, she opted to take a few pieces of choice clothing that would suit long days of travel. Sturdy leggings and an artful wing cover would support her most strained muscles as she walked and flew, respectively. On a whim, she also took a clawguard. Self defense, after all, would likely become a necessity, and Kiliac wanted to be nothing if not prepared. Better safe than sorry, they always say!
Satisfied with the trade, Kiliac said a quick honor-oath under her breath and left the City of Bones, off to wander the plains beyond.
@Antigen - my interpretation of your prompt! I've had this idea in my head for a while now and it was great to have it take shape :)
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