Trip to the Cold Field

The newest children are taken roughly from their beds only days after their implants are put in and the parasites still enflame the areas around the eyes. The new bile duct the Flesh mechanics installed in your face still burns and itches. You have learned from watching and touching that disturbing the wounds only makes the pain last longer.

Many of the children in this barrack still wear the needles filled with bright liquids and potions in tubes around their bodies, and move slowly as their lungs struggle in the thin cold air. The needles are painful, and constantly itch, but again disturbing them results only in pain and installation of fresh needles with new wounds that itch and burn.

The children are gathered in a group and brought under the watch of two fully encased soldiers with tridents, to a train yard and waiting train car with large windows and comfortable seats.
Snacks are provided and the children are instructed to wait quietly before the car finally sets off north to a massive city made of bleached white towers. Impossibly graceful and flowing structures that stab into the perpetually black sky.

The car speeds across the landscape, rolling hills covered with trees, creeks and rivers. Sometimes the car passed a massive orchard or plantation swarming with hundreds of workers and a few mounted men in gleaming gold and red armour.

The gaurds stood near the doors, their sculpted armour was a series of tightly fitted and joined plates of planished steel. It moved with the typical clacking and ticking of heavy armour, but seemed not to weight anything when the massive soldiers moved. Each carried a short sword and the weapon of their choice.

Many favoured shields, while still others wielded two handed weapons, with roughly a third wearing much lighter armour and various bows. As the train approached the larger cities, massive groups of soldiers were marching about the streets. Thousands of troops like the ones in this train car.

The buildings and streets between them glowed with life and various magics. Bustling with commerce and trade, this is where the Black Elves money flowed like a river of gold. When viewed from a distance the cities gave off pink and purple light, arcs of energy like lightening would sometimes crawl up the side of the buildings to flick off into the distance.

Storms of pink and orange clouds would rage in the sky before turning black and purples, then rain down sheets of water during the day. It snowed at night and the moonless darkness drank up every sound in the thin air.

Finally the train stopped and the children were driven into the streets, and ferried as a group through massive throngs of civilian Black Elves in a sort of revelry. They jostled and pushed each other to get to an area much like a city square, where a massive orb of swirling silver liquid displayed a nearby arena where two large groups of gladiators were squaring off against each other. For hours you watch as hundreds of slaves like you are injured and a about a dozen are killed in the spectacle.

After the fighting the children are fed from street vendors, then ushered onto the trains once again and the trip back after nightfall. The stations are bitterly cold and the children are chilled to the bone before it arrives. The snow falling in the darkness is only visible from the lights cast by the train and Black Elf structures seeming to float through the darkness.

Once back in whatever city the children are returned to their beds with empty bellies, and only the thin sheets for warmth. In the morning you are sent off to the Flesh mechanics to check on your new eyes.

The scarred face of the doctor leers at you once again as he brandishes his needles and blades close to your face. He prods twice with his needles, then laughs at the resulting response.

Trip to the Cold Field

Carnival of the Black Elves arbhall45 arbhall45