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The slow trek back to this ones cabin only settled the reality of his ships condition. Holes in the hull armor covered by hastily bolted on sheets of metal, temporary repairs that had become a permanent fixture, granted he was well aware the mechanic is capable of better.

Buuuut it’s hard to fix up the old girl when it’s a choice between mandatory repairs and food, or cosmetic patching. Seemed this region of the world was always ready to throw some new horror at those who traveled through it. Be it in the skies, or upon the ground. Numareia wasn’t a horrid place, just her inhabitants weren’t the friendliest of creatures.

The plains and foothills were a patchwork of barbarian tribal lands, ‘cursed’ mounds the size of small mountains, and in some places a moor where strange prismatic fluids bubbled to the surface in shallow pools. The region was haunted by wandering metal constructs the barbarians spoke of like ghosts of the old world — and most of the things were not of the friendly nature, the skies the home of pirates. Still there were bastions of civilization!

However this one was well aware that the concept of civilization and law tended to be more of a wistful thought once one left the gates, or the watchful eye of the cities defense works… Provided it had any.

It was a lonely existence, scraping by on what one had, hoping for a better tomorrow while staring down a harsh today. But who knew what was around the corner right? Technological marvels buried in ancient caverns and mounds, magic, riches, power! … Probably best to just keep flying cargo and oddballs.

Upvotes at import: 17 | Stars at import: 15
Posted previously at: 2017-07-03T03:15:18 | Posted previously by: Lamplight