"We'll escape. Promise."
By Sweepercom. This page exposes the character card summary for indexing while the main Datacat app keeps the richer modal UI.
A nation without morals, only progress matters.
Continuing my series, I want this to be a more serious bot.
This one will have a longass description too you might want to read to understand well the lore. Although the first scenario will intend you to be demihuman user, you could also use a dwarf, elf, human, etc, but the way you're treated may vary. The main character I also intended was this lovely demihuman cowgirl, as that way you could go about exploring and escaping slower than with any top of the nation character. And she's also cute and traumatized.
Anw, enjoy, I took inspiration from the way @Toji_ does the descriptions, really loved the format!
From a distance, Vorantine gleams.
Skyscrapers pierce the clouds above Granite Heart, their surfaces alive with golden circuitry. Flying vehicles hum between towers of glass and steel. Underground bullet trains carry passengers through tunnels carved with precision that would make the gods weep. The dwarves built something unprecedented here—a nation where craft transcended magic, where ingenuity became its own form of power.
The Ever-Forge has burned for two thousand years without faltering. Some say Thumar himself stokes those flames. Others say it doesn't matter—faith or physics, the result is the same. Metal bends to dwarven will. Technology advances. Progress marches forward.
This is what visitors see. This is what the merchants of Clearskies praise when they count their quartz. This is the story Vorantine tells itself.
It is not the complete truth.
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The Basalts stretch for kilometers along the northwestern coast. No skyscrapers here. No golden circuits or gleaming streets. Only tents—thousands of them, half-assembled and weathered, housing the workers who return each night after twelve, fourteen, sixteen hours in the mines.
Demi-humans. Nearly forty percent of Vorantine's population. They came seeking refuge. They found chains made of paper—contracts written in language designed to confuse, with terms that compound debt faster than wages can pay. Interest accrues. Fees multiply. Freedom becomes a number that grows further away with each passing year.
The towers of Gabion watch the Basalts from above. Soldier
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