**At the center of Epicrin, at the northern edge of the Bonfire Park and the city square, sits the newest and most breathtaking of the city's many towering structures. A dozen stories tall, it is clad in white marble with barely perceptible golden runes many small vents from which the steam and air from countless machinist devises randomly burst. The top two stories of The Spire are occupied by a massive four faced clock that chimes on the hour.
Upon entering the main lobby of The Spire, one is overloaded with visual and auditory input. It is all one massive circular room, carpeted in blue, encircling a massive polished cherrywood desk counter at the center, behind which dozens of clerks work and interact with the public.
From the ceiling countless tubes of varying diameters emerge from the ceiling and run to the center of the room, where they arc down behind the clerks like the entangled legs of a dozen glass octopi, each with a tiny bronze plaque embossed on the end. Some of these the clerks talks into or listen through, communicating with the city officials working above. Others carry capsules containing papers and other items to and from the desk. Neither system seems to be perfected yet though, as the volume of the voices and speed of the capsules are unpredictable at best and dangerous at worst. In the words of one of the many signs hanging around the room's perimeter
"If you hear a very loud whistling noise please duck."
The walls of the room are white stone, veined with crystal, well, veins, through which assorted potions are constantly flowing. Wooden benches line the walls, broken up by eight massive copper tubes. These house The Spire's pneumatic lifts, the only usual way to travel between The Spire's many floors. Open the doors, press a button and hope you reach the right floor, and do so at a speed which leaves your bones intact.
Anyone with official city business step inside, speak to the clerks, and pray to whatever gods you believe in the maintenance men weren't hung over this morning.**
**The man shot out, grabbed Vinny by the shirt, and spun, hurling him several feet through and the air and face first into the side of the Spire.
In an instant the cloaked man closed the distance and pinned Vinny against the wall with one hand as people all around backed away in surprise.**
Man - Strutting little peacock, lets see how you look with wings, shall we?
**His hand withdrew for a moment, then both hands shot forward, his flattened metal fingers driving into and then through Vinny's back. As Vinny screamed in agony the mans fingers probed the back his ribs then hooked around them and snapped each and every one with sickening pops that could be heard even over Vinny's cries of anguish. With violent thrusts he stretches and bend the ribs outwards, cracking them at the midway point so they spread out to either side of Vinny's back like horrific wings. Vinny's cries were finally silenced when the man finished his work by reaching back into and pulled his lungs out through his back.
As Vinny's corpse collapsed, the man wrote something on the Spire wall in the man's blood, then turned to the horrified crowd and bowed to them, as well as the onrushing peacekeepers that had been in the vicinity. He straightened and looked back upon the spire.**
Man - LOOK UPON MY WORKS, YE MIGHTY, AND CRAP YOURSELVES! YOU THINK BOUNTY HUNTERS WILL STOP ME?!
**Then with a laugh he bolted into the crowd, backhanding one of the peacekeepers out of the way and being chased by the others.**
Vinny had any thoughts run through his head in his final moments, most of which were variants of "Ow!", but some of them were quite profound.
He regretted never finding out who his real mother was.
He regretted that after he died, he would leave nothing behind but a sweet visor and some jaegerbombs.
He regretted that he didn't live long enough to hit up that sweet honey who gave him the stink eye.
But he did NOT regret acting like a total Douche to everyone, ever.
A young woman wearing a shocking purple jacket and matching fingerless gloves wandered into the spire. Admiring the design but having heard rumours that made her wary of its architecture, Darla smiled. She approached the nearest free clerk.
Darla- Excuse me. I believe Judge Gelm is looking for help?
**The door opened and a old, very weary looking man with long silver hair and a black robe stepped out and shut the door behind him, but not before she was able to glimpse a couch with a pillow and blanket upon it. He looked at her, then looked around, a bit crestfallen.**