A massive flow of human life, flushing through a marbled street with golden sigils interwoven into it. No matter where Nur looked all he could see was wealth. The clothes that they wore, clean and without tears. Their bodies, unmarred by starvation and untouched by disease. Even the sky was touched by the hand of man, featuring massive stone constructs hanging overhead in orderly disorder. Rows and rows of such things existed, carrying the faint sound of gushing water to Nur’s ears.

Structures lined the sides of the street made of not only wood but even carved stone. Nur rubbed his eyes that were swimming in their sockets. His amazement was only overpowered by the dozens of unknown smells that assailed him, turning his steps light and drawing him towards a building where people were sitting and partaking in what could only be a feast.

Able to easily reach his target, for people around him made way without hesitation despite the lack of room, he walked up to the entrance where a woman dressed in a long flowing tunic of light colors and thin fabric.

Having just finished speaking with two people prior her demeanor was respectful and her gaze warm. Yet when Nur stepped forth, she gave him a look over and the sheer disdain that radiated from her caused Nur to almost drop his jaw in shock.

“The cheapest meal is here is one denarius, sir,” said the woman though it she looked to be on the verge of a stroke as she forced a respectful tone, “please confirm your wealth.”

She then put out her hand with a sigh, waiting.

Taking out his money pouch, Nur counted the various coins he had on hand while remembering the value of each one. Reaching into the bottom of his sack his hand grasped empty air.

His features marred into anger, his body shaking slightly as a low rolling laugh escaped him that caused the woman to turn pale in fright.

“That bastard. He stole my money” whispered Nur, but to everyone present all they saw was a madman on the verge of a killing spree.

Taking a breath and calming himself, his vision was filled by several burly men who did not look to pleased.

“Leave sand rat,” spat one of the men, “back to the western quarter with you. We will have no trouble on the emperor’s road.”

Their movements were light yet their power deep. Stuck between pondering the unfamiliar term and in awe of how fast the men had surrounded him, Nur allowed his shoulders to be grabbed and his person to be thrown out the premises back onto the street.

Laughter and jeers followed him on the way out, several unfamiliar terms being thrown at his back in barbed tones and dripping with venom.

Sand Rat, Rot-Blood, Forsaken

Rubbing his shoulders Nur considered the words thrown at him and made a decision on the spot. Looking at the sun he determined the correct path and walked westward, moving away from the clean and ordered streets in favor of twisting alleyways and narrow paths shrouded in darkness.

The smell of incense, tasteful food, and sheer opulence was fast replaced by the smell of sweat, human excrement, and iron. Curiously, Nur noticed the golden sigils that were so plentiful on the main road to be slowly becoming infrequent.

By the time the sigils became absent, the boisterous and lively city had grown into a destitute shell of itself. The sky above him hung bare and the buildings grew smaller and less clean.

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Gone were the massive crowds and replaced by individual characters that kept their eyes down but guard up, their hands never leaving the weapons at their side as they moved forth with great speed.

Nur noticed that several people who were sitting on mats that were full of trinkets and baubles would look at him with a murderous eye, whispering to their customers while palming coins.

The sparse foot traffic suddenly turned from disorder to order. Where Nur turned, they turned, where he did not, they did not as well.

One presence from the opposite direction leapt down from the rooftops and landed in front of Nur, a young boy of dark sun kissed skin and a well-worn tunic.

“Brother, this street was taken by the snakes last week. Follow me, I will lead you to safer roads.”

The boy turned the corner and sped off, causing all those following Nur from behind in the shadows to burst into action as well.

The boy looked back, feeling a presence fast approaching, only to see a hand grab at the scruff of his shirt and pull him onto a shoulder.

“Can I earn money by following you?” asked Nur causing the boy to cease his struggles.

“Money….? Sure, I guess. We brothers- oh take a right there-, we brothers of blood look after each other.”

Following the directions given, the two ran into a road that ended with a brittle rock wall standing tall in the way.

Raising his fist Nur moved to strike through the wall, but the boy on his shoulder twisted around his neck and pulled at his upper tunic.

“Woah, wait! This was created by brother stone. Just wait here and watch if you are so scared.”

Jumping down the boy stretched his shoulders, eyeing the red-faced men who now surrounded them with anger in their eyes.

“You son of a spore ridden fleabag, we will gut you today even if the emperor himself stands in our path” spat one of the men, raising a thick wooden stick in anger.

“They were chasing you not me?” asked Nur, to which the boy just shrugged and flashed a cheeky smile.

From his sleeves several small bags short forth into the air, jingling with the sound of coin, before falling back in and disappearing from sight.

Like rabid dogs the men’s veins bulged in anger and spittle frothed from their mouths, with some jumping in shock as they pat their clothes in exasperation.

The boy stood in front of Nur and shouted,

“You milk bellied snakelets should run while you can. This here is the newest edition to our gang, brother sharp tooth! He is from outside the city and has slain dozens of amalgamations! Run, hide, cower!”

He then ducked behind Nur and flashed him a thumbs up, before touching the stone wall and disappearing through it like it was made of liquid.

“Brother sharp tooth” laughed Nur as he turned around, facing a dozen not so happy adult men armed with bits of wood, glass bottles, and even large rocks.

Cracking his neck, a fire lit within his eyes as his presence flared from a mute bystander to a ferocious predator.

“Surely there is some money left on you.”

The surrounding men looked at one another then at the lone opponent, laughing to themselves and leaping forward with supreme violence.

The first two men moved in perfect sync with one another, thrusting forward wooden staves with accuracy and discipline. Their target takes a light backstep while lifting up his left leg towards the sky, bringing it down heel first and shattering the pieces of wood into pieces.

In retaliation the men throw what they had left in their hands and leap back, replaced by four stone throwers who launch their volley in a horizontal arc.

Nur leans back abruptly, his back inches off the ground. Catching the center two stones in each hand he springs back up and launches them at two men who were sneaking in from the sides, knocking them out cold.

The two original stave users rejoined the fight with two more, all sporting long wooden poles with a sharpened end. In unison two thrust at a time, with two waiting to cover any openings Nur might create.

The small space he created at the start narrowed quickly. Frustration began to swirl within and a flicker of essence permeates his body.

Dashing forth he ignores the two thrusts as they make direct contact with his now reinforced body, bending slightly as they push into his flesh ever so slightly.

The surprising move causes the men’s reactions to slow, allowing the distance to be closed and two throats to be grabbed. Throwing them into the final two pole wielders, Nur launches forth and unleashes devastation onto the backline of now unarmed stone throwers.

Four unconscious bodies hit the floor with one now missing half of their tunic. Whilst tying a makeshift bandage to stop what little bleeding there was from the two puncture wounds on his stomach, Nur approaches the last two men who are groggily standing up on their feet. They soon join their brethren on the ground.

Sitting on a pile of unconscious bodies, a thoughtful expression as he scratches the back of his head in wonder.

Even some random thugs in this city can put up such a fight.