The Lone Writer
The moon shone on Ophe'khan, illuminating its dark streets and alleys with scant little pallid light. Towers rose like monuments to the heavens, and the rooftops' were oases of light. The moonlight accentuated the cold solid stone that made up most of the city. The city was dark, as if it was forgotten at night. It was twilight over Ophe'khan, but the city was far from dead. Drunkards brawling and drinking in their taverns, and the the brothels were drowning in gold. Merchants were arriving with caravans of wares, and were discussing payments with their caravan guards, and bribes with the main gate's guards. Elsewhere, the city's healthy underworld was also partaking in their various deeds in the twilight. Thieves, Murderers, Cultists, Blasphemers, Rebels, Traitors, Forgers, Conspirators and king-makers were abroad, although they were enjoying their acts in the dark, dreading light, so that they could be secret and be safe.