Situated off the coast of the second largest landmass, this thriving port city is constructed atop the remains of a gigantic mobile refinery. Hundreds of these devices once roamed the planet in their never-ending search for Promethium and other mineral deposits. Now their valuable mechanisms and technological secrets make them targets for the treacherous nobility and enterprising raiders. The behemoth on which Port Languin is constructed was designed to dock with the towering nautical drilling wells. Laden with promethium, its internal processing plants then refined the crude for a variety of industrial, military, and void-faring applications on its journey back to the bustling orbital docks. Centuries ago, this particular machine halted, its massive servos seizing and its towering front legs buckling, as it gradually settled down into the thick muck within sight of the nearby coast. Luckily for the occupants, their home did not sink entirely below the waves, and generations later it has grown into a massive, thriving city.
Space
on Port Languin is generally at a premium, with the more affluent
constructing additional levels at higher altitudes or residing in great
domiciles formed from the original berths that housed the walker’s crew.
Meanwhile, the majority of the city’s inhabitants live on massive
floating pontoons or in ramshackle sheds, attached directly to the
corroded superstructure and supported by salvaged parts and rickety
walkways that sway and creak in the pungent ocean breeze. For the
average citizen of Port Languin, life is bleak, wet, and—with the
exception of the occasional acid storm, rogue wave, oil fire, or
accident at sea—uneventful, and most spend their entire lives toiling in
the refineries or unloading crude on the
pontoon docks.
The port’s lifeblood is promethium and other valuable fuels, and its attendant fleet of archaic tanker ships, civilian patch jobs, and other ramshackle craft continue to supply it with a steady supply from those few wells and rigs that still function. The crews of these vessels transport their precious cargo any way they can, and many of the countless skirmishes, bitter feuds, and costly accidents among these vessels occur when ships either lose their cargo overboard or collide in their frantic attempts to offload their steadily leaking payloads. The refineries aboard Port Languin still function despite the centuries that have passed since the massive walker’s last step, and as a result the port enjoys regular trade with nearby hive cities, as well as the occasional interstellar vessel. The Fuel Barons of Port Languin have become quite wealthy in their own way; most even enjoy fair relations with the other noble houses, many of whom are rumoured to loathe intermingling with the descendants of their former servants.
As with much of Snope’s World, instances of corruption and heresy are increasingly common among the citizens of Port Languin, including numerous attempts to usurp or sabotage the Fuel Barons’ tight control over their precious promethium reserves. The ready availability of such a viable fuel source has also made the city a convenient location for traicking in profane and prohibited items among the unscrupulous traders that frequent the port city. However, the true extent of such deals can only be guessed, for few imagine what horrors change hands within the rickety, oil-slick undertown that sways unsteadily beneath the city’s gloomy bulk.