Tychite; A Description

[Camille]

There’s the scent of fish and salt water hanging in the air. The docks unkempt and uncleaned. Fish carcasses cling to the underside of the mangled docks, gathering upon the shoreline with the low-tide. No one feels obligated to clean up the mess that has been piling up for what seems like ages now. And why should they? No one within this port is making enough money to even consider taking on any “extra work” which may befall the region.

The boats within the port are old, dilapidated. The paint peeling off the sides, creating rough patches upon the sides. It’s more than apparent these ships have been through hell and back, some pushing through ice during the winter time, in order to obtain some minimal amount of food for their families in the cold months. There inlays the dangers of working on a fishing boat; little to no income comes in throughout the winter months.

The families within this port town are poor, and suffering because of it. Though it wasn’t always this bad, there’s once been a time, decades ago, when even the lower class folk lived at least decent lives, even if they were cramped into small homes too close to the water’s edge.

Water damage is more than apparent on the port-side homes, be it from the near-constant wake washing upon the break water, and over to the ground below the homes, or from the heavy rains that come from living so close to such a large source of water. Mold and lichen creep up the sides of these once-pristine walls; the white wash having long since chipped and peeled off. Those shack walls are ever so close to simply caving inwards, the boards rotting away from the nails used to fasten them into place.

Everything seems grey within the Tychite District, from the water, to the homes; near all of any sort of color washed away by both rain, and ocean water. Everything coated in a thin film of salt left over from the ocean’s wake

Pneumonia and Tuberculosis run rampant in an area like this. The moisture content within the air almost ludicrously high, and little medical attention to be found, let alone a sufficient homestead to keep well within. These diseases, and infections mostly affect the small children, in almost devastating numbers, very few live to see past their teens, let alone adulthood.

As such good help was becoming all the harder to find, let alone help with enough fortitude to last long months upon sopping wet decks.

Fishing was all the majority of these people have ever known, and now they were forced to look into other enterprises for some semblance of sustenance; something simplistic, after all, those capable of working were getting on in age, and as such were becoming less and less spry, and capable of complex tasks.

These people are looking for a new way of life, eager for a new government, and all too willing to fight for such.