Alright, Depending on what you've heard, everyone has some different outlook on the city of Omelas... I'm simply posting -my- outlook, and adding a little twist to it. Love it, hate it, whatever.
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As much as Omelas was a city, it was a citadel. A haven for creatures of a new and profound race, and religion. Omelas was haven for "The Tainted" a race of demonic and celestial blood lines, years before beginning in the city of Sigil, the city of pure neutrality. As they where banished from Sigil, they created their own protected garden, eventually spawning into a new, uproar of a city.
In the streets of Omelas, the main language was of Common, however others visiting from the Shadow planes or passing through to another realm often spoke Rokugani, or perhaps Elvish. Almost everywhere you looked, you could find another race, the Tainted had welcomed such beings into their homes without hesitation, eager for Allies and the like. Making is easy for others to come and go as they pleased, leaving most of Omelas open for attack, or danger.
However, Omelas seemed well enough protected, it's spires overlooking the cast forests beneath, and its imperial guards sweeping the cobble stone streets. For added protection, they had hired a powerful binder, who could easily weave magic through his fingertips and create a spell to protect such a place. Fog and rain where a constant in Omelas, and this was the binders spell, for the fog and rain clouded any air-riders vision, leaving Omelas well hidden from any airial attacks.
The Underdark was a city beneath, it's lights came from paper lanterns and spells that the Drow cast apon the city, their alighnment was of pure evil, and their people of the few who never spoke of, or traveled to Omelas. However, eventually they became agrivated with its prosperity, knowing that they would soon lose there own means of trade and travel. Leaving their earthly home to attack and spread plague apon the city. Omelas, in distress of this new plague, knew nothing of where it came from, bidding its travelers to keep doors tightly locked, and it doing so, keeping their people from fleeing, leaving them to perish slowly from plague and assasinations delt from the septim hand of the Valsharess.
Soon, Omelas was a fallen city. It's population now consisting of burning corpses and plagued rats. Beetles made nests in the alleys, leaving the city in harmony with crackling embers and screeching insects. The buildings began to crumble, libraries in shambles, the books a last resort for the fires to turn upon, eating them along with old records of the city and the legends that belonged to it. Walls where knocked through, boards upturned and the docks a living nightmare of nails and splintered woods. Omelas knew not of these attacks, or where they came from to protect themselfs, therefor leaving them to perish against the bruising weapons of the Drow. As they slowly roamed the city, exchanging glances and hooting in achievement, they came upon the last standing spire, and apon reaching the top, they found a bell, the bell that usually rang out when celebration became of the city. Omelas had not fought back, and however hallow this victory seemed, and however unjust, the Drow rang the bell, leaving it to echo across the distance as they danced about in cheer, of this new found victory.
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Comments would be apreciated...( I've been told I was a good Role Player, and a good plot designer, however I'm not sure of how well I do when describing places and what has become of them :/ )
