The cathedral was the only unrefined building for fifty kilometres. Grasping at the sky, the peak of the church clawed the clouds, a shard against smooth architecture. It was dingy and the walls were covered in years of smog. It had fallen into abandon, its large oaken doors cracked and chipped.
Inside, he withered on a pew worn from age and weathered from the bodies that once littered the church. His fingers were covered by the thinnest of skin. He was an ugly man; he was one in which even the most compassionate among the public would turn away in unsettled apprehension. There were few men whose age eluded even the finest of minds—those whose face bore neither youth nor age—but such was this man who was one. Surely he was past his thirties—the slight gray of the thinning brown hair hidden beneath a grimed and frayed hat spoke to that—and yet his skin was youthful and held plump cheeks against far-set eyes. …show more content…
Clothes dripped from his body: a shirt, loose against his frame and worn only because it was provided by those he had encounters with; pants, even looser, sagging off his body as though they did not wish to be on such a man. He kept his appearance similar to that of the Sewer Gang, though he was far too old to be a part of hooliganism. It was merely he was the snake of the group, leering over them with a toned ear.
This man in which we speak of can be addressed by the name of Rostin Yates, a man who was one of the few who chose to use his sins as a secret armour in which was only prodded by the most vulnerable. He was despised as much as he was tolerated. He was a man who spoke only his truest word when there came a time for sowing. In the bowels of the city he addressed the Court with a tone of ingratiating placidity and then turned to the Sewers to churn a