Dragon Media

On the streets of Allanak, the dust-choked streets of Allanak, the tired and weary streets of Allanak, the wind blows along the worn stones and it sighs as it passes the line of beggars outside Drov’s Temple, rags tied about their faces.  It sighs as it coils around the tower of Whira, which stretches up to the sky, highest point in the Elementalist Quarter, it whimpers as it passes through the Templar’s Gate and the heads surrounding it, their eyes watching the soldiers march back and forth along the blackened pavement.

And there in Allanak, on Drov’s Street, it brushes over the pavestones, each sixth one marked with the sign of Drov, the ripples indicating shadows, and it stirs the leaves of the perpetually dying plants there, which grow in clay urns along the sides of the street, their leaves ithered and yellowed since the day they first let them uncurl. When it comes to the end of the street, it circles the jamb of the tall, clay-brick house there, moving upward to stir the curtains of a second story window where, on the day of this story, there stood a girl. Not a remarkable girl, dark of hair and eye like most of the citizenry of Allanak, and with skin browned by the rays of Suk-Krath, although her features were not unpleasing to the eye, (more…)

On the streets of Allanak, the dust-choked streets of Allanak, the tired and weary streets of Allanak, the wind blows along the worn stones and it sighs as it passes the line of beggars outside Drov’s Temple, rags tied about their faces.  It sighs as it coils around the tower of Whira, which stretches up to the sky, highest point in the Elementalist Quarter, it whimpers as it passes through the Templar’s Gate and the heads surrounding it, their eyes watching the soldiers march back and forth along the blackened pavement.

And there in Allanak, on Drov’s Street, it brushes over the pavestones, each sixth one marked with the sign of Drov, the ripples indicating shadows, and it stirs the leaves of the perpetually dying plants there, which grow in clay urns along the sides of the street, their leaves ithered and yellowed since the day they first let them uncurl. When it comes to the end of the street, it circles the jamb of the tall, clay-brick house there, moving upward to stir the curtains of a second story window where, on the day of this story, there stood a girl. Not a remarkable girl, dark of hair and eye like most of the citizenry of Allanak, and with skin browned by the rays of Suk-Krath, although her features were not unpleasing to the eye, (more…)