Toori
14-10-2007, 05:57
It was a fine day. The first snow of the year had just settled in overnight on the steppe cliffs of Mt. Thunderhammer. It reflected the late morning sun across the island and the bay, revealing slowly the fortress/city of Polis Gaugon. The air was crisp and cool, as it usually was in mid-autumn. Everyday life was normal at the Polis. The village militia group aided in community services after having their weekly breakfast meeting, young adults trained on the sparring platforms that floated near the docks on the calm bay waters, and the villagers went about their daily duties, harvesting kasas shoots, sea vines, or tending to village matters. It was found quite odd, that a nation as advanced and strong as the Toori, had such a primitive culture. It was reminiscent of saxon or norse styles, with a noticibly staunch tropical flare. Reguardless of the peacefull life of the civilians, if they were even to be called such, the inner and outer walls of the Polis bristled with 18 inch big guns pointing out to sea, guided missile launchers, long range ballistic missiles, long range anti-aircraft weaponry, mortar launchers, and anti-satelite magnetic accelerator cannons pointing skyward. An occasional Toori aircraft was seen flying overhead, as well as the common sight of a Gunship coming in to either deliver supplies, or take some away. This could be certain to be seen nearly every half hour, or ‘auht’ as it is for Toori.
Three distinctive figures walked sharply into the polis’ square. One was Praetor Iruunik, a mature protoss, wearing casual armor and wielding a halberd in his right hand. The other two were human, Colonel Morton and Captain Vaughn, both in casual civilian attire, with side arms holstered at their hips. They slowly made their way to an old wooden table off to the side, and took their seats waiting for the Maldorian representative.
As they sat, they watched the villagers gather around approaching hunters, bringing their morning harvests in to the butcher for the meal of the mid-day. Some of the younger hunters claimed their magnificent Plains Elk, a usually seen beast on Thunderhammer Island, but a few of the older hunters were just fortunate enough to outsmart some beautiful Red Stags. The elk meat would be the most likely candidate for this afternoons roast, while the red stag meat would be saved for the evening feast. The aroma of the spices sizzling entoxicated the air, while the roasting fire crackled in the center of the square.
Three distinctive figures walked sharply into the polis’ square. One was Praetor Iruunik, a mature protoss, wearing casual armor and wielding a halberd in his right hand. The other two were human, Colonel Morton and Captain Vaughn, both in casual civilian attire, with side arms holstered at their hips. They slowly made their way to an old wooden table off to the side, and took their seats waiting for the Maldorian representative.
As they sat, they watched the villagers gather around approaching hunters, bringing their morning harvests in to the butcher for the meal of the mid-day. Some of the younger hunters claimed their magnificent Plains Elk, a usually seen beast on Thunderhammer Island, but a few of the older hunters were just fortunate enough to outsmart some beautiful Red Stags. The elk meat would be the most likely candidate for this afternoons roast, while the red stag meat would be saved for the evening feast. The aroma of the spices sizzling entoxicated the air, while the roasting fire crackled in the center of the square.