The Sprawl. It has no real name, not any more. Perhaps once it did, when there were other cities and a need to tell one from the other. But not any more. Now there is just the Sprawl, spreading from the black rocks of the coast to the blackened girdle of the Cage. The Cage - the great stone wall, eighty feet high and half as thick, that wraps around the city like a smothering blanket. It even stretches out into the bay, great bold arches, portcullis and nets that long ago broke the fury of the sea.
Nothing gets in. Nothing gets out. There is no gate in the Cage - not on the landward side, at least. No reason for it. Beyond the walls, past the flame-swept pitch of no-man's land, is the enemy. The Great Forest, realm of the Woodsmen and Bark Spirits. The Great Betrayers, who stole our peoples wealth and livelihoods and children. There is no reason to leave the Sprawl, to pass beyond the safety of the Cage, for outside is only death and misery. Within the city death and misery are in abundance, too, but at least it’s the kind a man can deal with himself, with his own two hands and wits and gun. With some cunning and some nous a fella can get by. With a crew of like-minded links he might even prosper. But you're not a regular worker at one of the numerous factories or workhouses, or a acolyte of the Hammer, so you live between the cracks, on the black side of the law. It's been six months since you've had work, your pockets are nearly empty, and rent's due in two days. You need a job now. Any job. |