40th of Fall, 512AV
Razkar had discovered that Riverfall was a city that demanded fitness from those that lived there. The Sea of Grass and the beaches surrounding it were as flat as it got; aside from that was a warren - no, a labyrinth - of alleyways, roads, buildings and levels that were best navigated with a well-made pair of shoes, not a horse. The second tier especially, carved into the cliff overlooking the Suvan Sea, was an endlessly complicated maze. Easy to get lost in, even for lifelong citizens.
But if you wanted the best, you had to work at it.
Explaining why the Myrian was traipsing through the narrow alleyways and staircases making up most of the second tier. Store and shops selling every kind of service trooped past him. Fortune telling, weapons sharpening and making, tailors, tanners, furriers, jewelers, artisans of all kind, lawyers, accountants and professions Razkar didn't even know the words for.
He'd already confused a barber for a temple to Myri. Well, who else would have bowls of blood in their windows?!
But he persevered, following the instructions given to him. A left, two rights... then four streets up... and... next to the apothecary...
Razkar stopped in front of the storefront and sighed.
"Finally." Then he leaned a little closer, brow furrowing as he read the foreign scribble emblazoned above the door. "River... fall... Ink..."
This was the place he'd heard about. He'd asked ten times who was most skilled with the ink when it came to skin, and nine times, he got the same name. He gathered his cloak closer to him and walked through the entrance. Herrlock Ethu was waiting for him.
Razkar had discovered that Riverfall was a city that demanded fitness from those that lived there. The Sea of Grass and the beaches surrounding it were as flat as it got; aside from that was a warren - no, a labyrinth - of alleyways, roads, buildings and levels that were best navigated with a well-made pair of shoes, not a horse. The second tier especially, carved into the cliff overlooking the Suvan Sea, was an endlessly complicated maze. Easy to get lost in, even for lifelong citizens.
But if you wanted the best, you had to work at it.
Explaining why the Myrian was traipsing through the narrow alleyways and staircases making up most of the second tier. Store and shops selling every kind of service trooped past him. Fortune telling, weapons sharpening and making, tailors, tanners, furriers, jewelers, artisans of all kind, lawyers, accountants and professions Razkar didn't even know the words for.
He'd already confused a barber for a temple to Myri. Well, who else would have bowls of blood in their windows?!
But he persevered, following the instructions given to him. A left, two rights... then four streets up... and... next to the apothecary...
Razkar stopped in front of the storefront and sighed.
"Finally." Then he leaned a little closer, brow furrowing as he read the foreign scribble emblazoned above the door. "River... fall... Ink..."
This was the place he'd heard about. He'd asked ten times who was most skilled with the ink when it came to skin, and nine times, he got the same name. He gathered his cloak closer to him and walked through the entrance. Herrlock Ethu was waiting for him.