Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20190827204408/@comment-25828117-20190905120901

The port was connected to the city by a long mole. Lined with smaller ships that were meant for trade with the towns and villages around lake Rumare. The greater vessels lay beyond on the curved islet where docks stretched out into the basin like eyelashes of the top eyelid.

On that curved islet also lay the waterfront district. It was made up of shoddy wooden houses stacked on top of eachother for lack of space, some like the town of Weye before it, older than the city itself since parts of the district had been protected from the destruction by the wall curving the length of the waterfront. The ground was a thick black mud that would leave not one hem unscathed. Yes, the permanent mud was unpleasant to traverse for those not on horseback but the wet ground was perhaps the only reason this district hadn't gone up in flames yet.

The poverty of this place had always been an issue but since the destruction of the city it had been allowed to fester as more pressing issues always came on top of the agenda. At best the main road feeding into the Mole was kept safe and clean enough so commerce could go on unhindered, but the alleyways were a quick way to get into trouble.

Lysilde did not seem afraid of these people despite her looking like a lady, the ideal target for a mugging. No, instead she felt sorrow, sad that she couldn't help them.

"The captain who might be able to allow us passage is this way." She called back, making sure nobody would linger or worse yet, get lost. She pointed towards the end of the road where the harbor picked up, and stone ground made the mud disappear. Masts of ships stuck out over the houses wherever they were they were built low enough.