[Paxian Reconstruction] May these walls never fall again… (Open)

[Striker]

Month of Cryxatum in the Season of Summer, Era XIV

Congregated on either side of the former Winged Gates, the long impoverished Paxians watched, mouths agape, as the endless queue of wagons, caravans, horse, and foreigners lined the perimeter of what had once been Paxia’s mighty walls. The indentations in the earthen floor caused by the weight of the all-encircling structure were still visible, though the rubble that had once sat atop was no longer there. Word had circulated quickly that an elementalist, one Erenthril Mael’tharias, had cleansed the wreckage in less than a cycle, and his successful endeavor had facilitated the absolute rebuilding of the city’s outer defenses, defenses that would never fall again to the throes of invasion. The Paxians would make certain of it.

Dwarven engineers from Zerdargia had spearheaded the reconstruction of the walls, and their short but stocky frames could be seen in abundance as they scattered about the area, utilizing magically-empowered steam engines or unrolling lengthy diagrams as they went to work. The sound of hammers and chisels scraping against stone and metal resonated through the air along with a chorus of hoarse dwarven voices as they sung in unison to Cetheron. And so the author of the dwarven race provided his children with blazing sunlight to ignite their efforts.

Aside the countless dwarves that dotted the various reconstruction sites dispersed all across the area, groups of giants from the surrounding Highlands hefted massive blocks of granite from wagons to the bases of the prospective walls, forming what would eventually become the very foundation of Paxia’s outer perimeter. Leading them was Gorgon, an enormously tall giant whose bulky carriage was hidden beneath large tan breeches and a matching shirt. The giant’s sophistication, something that was lacking in most of his kindred, had bolstered the cooperation of his kindred with the Zerdargian folk, and together, side by side, the groundwork for the city’s gates was manifesting.

Gena’ra, the most ennobled Senior Aedile that Paxia had ever seen and a proven leader among leaders, surveyed the landscape and the surrounding activities –moisture flecked his golden eyes. Standing in between what had once been the Winged Gates of Paxia, the lionoid breathed in relief for the first time in over an era. Despite the setbacks that the city had faced, despite its neglect, Paxia would finally return to its former glory if not then some. He looked from to the elegantly dressed elven woman and the white-haired Captain of the Falcon Legion standing on either side of his shoulders, both of whom returned his gaze with understandable nods, and then together, the three of them, all survivors of the tumult that had become Paxia, watched with cheerful hearts and hopeful eyes.

The sound of dwarven hammers was music to their ears.