R
Renegade Proxy
Guest
Original poster
"So, you want to go up. You heard of the diamond city and thought you'd make your fortune. Trekked all the way here, weaseled, bribed and killed your way in. Thought you were set on a road to the good life. But something went off along the way. Instead of a picture of god you fell into this stinking hole. Still haven't given up, though. Still think you're gonna make it. You're not like the rest of this human refuse. You're better, you can see the future you want to make, think you know just how to do it. Whatever you have to tell yourself. There's just one thing.
Unlike you, I have an answer."
Welcome to Central, bastion of the human race. After our forefathers rained nuclear fire upon the land we were born from the ashes. Mankind clawed its way out of the earth, then they took back the sky and then...they built a city. A place from which their new society could stretch out its hands and reclaim a planet lost. A throne upon which to sit and gloat over the tenacity of their accomplishments. Even in the face of certain doom, the human cockroach would not die.
Rumors spread like wildfire about a sanctuary in the dark. A gleaming stronghold-palace that welcomed all and sundry to bask in radiant comfort. But they lied. Sure, the stories are true, most of them anyway but stories are never quite as pretty as fact. There's just one thing those tales never seem to mention, a crucial aspect left out of an otherwise tantalizing narrative: the plate. A sheet cast between two words, both wall and gateway separating that pristine Heaven we were all promised and the Hell you see now.
Because not just anyone is allowed into the city proper and where the unwanted go is far removed from the lap of luxury. For beneath the plate is a festering pit miles deep and on all sides range a second city, as dark as its sibling is bright. A tomb with the most beautiful capstone you've ever seen. So, you've been tossed into the depths but no one gives a good goddamn about that. How are you going to get out and when you do, will those dreams of yours still be as sweet.
Unlike you, I have an answer."
~
Welcome to Central, bastion of the human race. After our forefathers rained nuclear fire upon the land we were born from the ashes. Mankind clawed its way out of the earth, then they took back the sky and then...they built a city. A place from which their new society could stretch out its hands and reclaim a planet lost. A throne upon which to sit and gloat over the tenacity of their accomplishments. Even in the face of certain doom, the human cockroach would not die.
Rumors spread like wildfire about a sanctuary in the dark. A gleaming stronghold-palace that welcomed all and sundry to bask in radiant comfort. But they lied. Sure, the stories are true, most of them anyway but stories are never quite as pretty as fact. There's just one thing those tales never seem to mention, a crucial aspect left out of an otherwise tantalizing narrative: the plate. A sheet cast between two words, both wall and gateway separating that pristine Heaven we were all promised and the Hell you see now.
Because not just anyone is allowed into the city proper and where the unwanted go is far removed from the lap of luxury. For beneath the plate is a festering pit miles deep and on all sides range a second city, as dark as its sibling is bright. A tomb with the most beautiful capstone you've ever seen. So, you've been tossed into the depths but no one gives a good goddamn about that. How are you going to get out and when you do, will those dreams of yours still be as sweet.