Lakeside Parish Ambience
Sights
The moment you step into the Waterside Parish, the visual palette changes dramatically. The streets, wide but rough, are an earthy mix of sandy brown and grey, dotted with patches of crushed shells that glint faintly in the dim light. The lake dominates the horizon to the North, its surface unnaturally dark, with patches of luminous algae glowing faint green, creating an otherworldly reflection.
Boats of all shapes and sizes bob on the water, from small rowboats patched with tar to large fishing vessels with colorful, weathered sails. Nets hang like cobwebs between wooden posts, and fish drying on racks shimmer with silver and iridescent blues.
Tom the South, the cavern’s wall rises into the darkness above, glowing faintly with sparce patches of bioluminescent lichen, casting soft, shifting patterns. Lanterns, fashioned from driftwood and colored glass, hang on doorways and market stalls, their flickering light adding warmth to the scene.
The people are a mix of hardworking fishermen, bustling merchants, and weathered locals. Most wear simple, practical clothing—tunics and trousers in muted blues, greens, and browns. Their faces are lined from sun and labor, but their expressions are lively and animated as they go about their day.
Sounds
The parish hums with life. The rhythmic creak of boats rocking against the docks forms a steady backdrop, punctuated by the clinking of ropes and the occasional splash of water. Vendors shout out their wares:
"Fresh eels! Still wriggling!"
"Riverweed potions, good for your bones!"
The chatter of people bartering blends with the shrieks of gulls circling overhead. Children’s laughter echoes from alleyways as they chase each other around wooden crates and barrels. Fishermen exchange gruff greetings or call out warnings as they carry heavy nets to the docks.
In quieter corners, you might hear the faint melody of a stringed instrument played by a street performer, the notes rising and falling like waves on the lake.
Smells
The air is thick with the scents of the lake. A damp, aquatic tang dominates, mingling with the sharp smell of fresh fish and the earthy aroma of damp wood. Smoke from cooking fires wafts through the streets, carrying hints of grilled fish, spiced riverweed, and the sweet, nutty scent of baked goods made from algae flour.
There’s also a faint undercurrent of decay—wet nets and drying fish left too long . Occasionally, you catch a whiff of fragrant offerings from the shrines: incense, spices, and aromatic oils used in rituals to appease the lake deities.
Colors
The colors of the parish are muted but alive. Earthy tones dominate—browns of the sandy streets, greys of weathered wood, and the dark greens of moss-covered walls. These are punctuated by bursts of vibrancy:
- The shimmering silver of fish scales.
- The warm yellows and reds of lanterns swaying in the breeze.
- The soft blues and greens of hand-dyed clothing.
- The vivid oranges and purples of market goods like rare fruits, spices, and potions.
The lake itself is a study in contrasts, its black waters rippling with streaks of green light from the glowing algae and faint, golden reflections from lanterns along the docks, and the lights deep below the surface.
People
The parish folk are a hardy, salt-of-the-earth community. Fishermen, their skin dirty and wrinkled, haul heavy nets and crates with practiced ease. Merchants, often in slightly finer garb, move with energy, shouting over the din to attract customers. Their hands are quick, counting coins and weighing goods with precision.
Families gather around the market stalls, mothers clutching woven baskets while children dart around excitedly, pointing at strange, wriggling creatures or colorful baubles. Elders, often seated outside their stilted homes, carve wood or mend fishing lines, nodding politely to passersby.
The people of the parish are warm but guarded. They greet one another with familiarity and jest but regard outsiders with mild suspicion, their eyes quickly assessing whether you’re a friend or a threat.
Through a Walker’s Eyes
As you stroll through the Waterside Parish, the combination of sights, sounds, smells, colors, and people creates a tapestry of vibrant, hardworking life. The air is alive with motion, the ground beneath your feet soft and gritty, and the lake stretches endlessly, reminding you of the power and mystery that sustains this community. There’s a sense of pride here—a quiet defiance against the grandeur of FeketeTo’s more affluent districts. This is a place where life is simple but rich, where the lake is both a friend and a fearsome master.