The room was dimly lit.
The air coming in from the ajar windows was cold, nearly frigid.
Located at the very first floor of a high-rise located in a somewhat abandoned part of Valestorm was one of the many buildings the Temple of Sands had given to the Golden Asura.
Dividing up territory was not an easy or simple task.
For one, although there was a blanket sense of unity amongst everyone in Valestorm, which included the Beastkin that had recently come, that only held true so long as all parties involved could protect their interests.
The Iron Beetle, independent merchants, craftsmen, and hunters all sought their portion of this destroyed world. A place they could call home beneath the grey skies of this dark world.
The nature of this system of 'governance' was a bit strange.
Mostly, the people had already fallen into a routine, and breaking it would be more of a hassle. Instead, they chose to leave it as it was, even in the absence of the reigning Deity.
