Every mourning one hundred thousand chickens, two hundred thousand goats, five hundred and eighty-two rats are killed (The bloody dwarfs, at least they've stopped eating the dogs) to feed the growing city. Fifty thousand of gallons of water are consumed, and numerous cloths dyes veagtables herbs fruits and candles. Every single day. The city grows, the city breaths, and the city poops one hundred thousand chic... ...fresh straight out into the ocean every single day. But most of all the city shines. And in the center of the city a young girl sleeps peaceful, dreaming of dragons Golems and Werewolves, with her five foot tall sword laying on her bedside table. "What brings you too my domain." The Golems voice rumbled through the air, small rocks falling from the ceiling. The thing was huge, Clara doubted her sword was going to do anything against it. She gulped. "Just...you know going sight seeing that's all." She said conversationally.