TSC - Chapter 1: Cause and Effect (1) - City of Needles

Auspar is the the capital of the Stead of Thaemor, ruled by The Insane King, Holva the First and his Visor Melch. The city is built around the Obsidian Spire, each building, has at one point or another been the tallest building in the city, hence it being known as the City of Needles. Merchants, families, guilds and organisations all try to outdo each other in grey and tan stone, embellish with art and reach out with wooden platforms. Bunting, banners, flags, kites and wind chimes; some larger than the floors themselves  of the towers are anchored to even the remotest of moorings. The owners of towers with glass windows, brave enough to risk not barring up from intruders, have found that over time the glass has developed a unique complexity. The inside of the glass at a seemingly random time each day, melts or shatters inside, while the outer surfaces remain pristine. This process leaves the windows with a unique colouration and pattern. There are some  that have tried to decipher the patterns, believing this to be code from a civilisation not of this world. They tend  not to ask permission first, much to the annoyance of the residents. The plants grow without the constraints of gravity in aerial gardens, trees float on root wrapped boulders . Water features flow in intricate patterns, scattering light onto the stonework.

The inhabitants have no roads as the centre of wealth shifts ever upwards with the current floor four being the base line for the merchant class. Depending on wealth, status, or height from the ground you can travel between towers by bridge, floating structures, zip lines, pneumatic lifts and sky ferries. Those that are given the ability, or have bought their way have personal transport, such as jet-packs, anti-gravity devices, gliders or Numenera . Below floor four you reach the latest height of the underbelly, known as The Foundation. As the Obsidian Spire rises, the ground of the caldera on which Auspar is built upon lowers, and the walls around the city rise. When a floor becomes lower than the surrounding landscape it becomes the new lower floor and in turn the residents build ever higher. It is generally considered that there is a corresponding number of floors that the lords and ladies, the rich families and merchants live in the highest of the spires but that changes from tower to tower. Crime, garbage, and a unique gravitational radiation are what can be mainly  found in this dark and lawless zone. The Under-Croft market has been venerated by the Silver Palm , and has been maintained the by the guild for its entire existence. It can procure pretty much anything, if you don't require quality, or cleanliness. The guild has eve even managed to restrict bridging over the site, so that the space above can be used for hanging decoration and symbols of wealth and power stolen from those above.

For those, the merchant class and higher the same rules apply. Ceremony, stature and image drive the residents; each aspiring to be better, regardless of station, to build higher, to know more, to be the first in a chain reaction that leads to something monumental . Every action and intention gilded to near garish proportions in hopes of warding off competition and attracting fame. Punishments are public, festivities spill into every level, the completion of buildings always finished in a ceremony to the God of Prosperity and growth Gulspar around  the Obsidian Spire. These citizens celebrate what they have, dazzle and amaze and always try to be the first. This is the price they pay for their King. How they compensate for the embarrassment and threat. Holva the First has utter devotion to his Visor. He regards Melch's advice over own reasoning, while his own sanity wanes with each impossible new proclamation.  These new rules have turned most of the kingdom against him, with the latest being a Shadow Tax. To which it is only known to be a fund to help build the Kingdom, improve it in some form or another. The Tethered, the law enforcing Grapnel Guard, only enforce the laws decried by the King in his presence.  In all other circumstances the basic universal Stead laws, and Order of Truth tenants apply, which Thaemor's citizens thrive in, despite Holva's rule. The real law to pay attention to here is not to rise above your floor and get caught, as there is only so many places to hide and a long way to fall.

In the north west of the city lies the tiered Grapnel Arena. Home to the city guards and its best gladiatorial combatants it has also staged many of the city's ritual and rites. Unfortunately today, this ritual was unkind but necessary. Guldspar's blood must be nurtured, consequence must be caused. Two prisoners , whose crimes were indiscriminate came before the baying crowd.  Two Tethered  held their polished verred to the backs of the sacrifices . The prisoners were blindfolded,  disorientated. An intricate an ornate set of Numenera restrained their arms and esoteries behind their back. The dried blood of previous days was only noticeable in the hardest to reach parts of the golden metal filigree. A crude silk scarf was used to gag them and just as they entered the  main arena an ornate silken sack was placed over the top of their heads.

The crowd roared as they came into view, the music played triumphant tunes in brass, synth and string. This distinct smell of roasted meat and spices filled  the air, wafting gently down to the lower floor. A large silken screen, lowered from the arena platform above, relayed the ritual as if it was in clearly in front of them . The food however, was whatever was thrown down from above. At least it was masking the usual smells from below. From all the floors the noise of the crowd was deafening. Excitement crackled in the air. An man in his mid fifties, dressed in ornate metal weave armour approached the stage. Over the top of his armour was  a cloak of slowly changing brilliance cloth.  Its colour rotated around hues of green and brown,  its many tips curling in the air in an exotic display. A grey stubble beard  matched his clipper short hair. His chiselled features were created by battle, not by nobility; a noble would never be seen with scars. Metal bands and jewellery adorned every available space, their pattern contained a design  that seemed fluid,  dependant on the light. The music came to a crescendo, the crowd briefly clapped and cheered, they all then quickly fell silent.