Worldbuilding Wednesdays: Glazing Construction

Welcome to Worldbuilding Wednesdays!  Every Wednesday, we spend what is probably far too much time walking through our worldbuilding process.  This week, we're going to talk about how colorful our nascent civilization is going to be.

What We Have So Far

The process has been slow thus far, on purpose, but we're now at the point where our three intelligent species are working together to build and support population centers.  When we left off, technology had advanced to the point that the culture on The Hill was building the first structures that would stand the test of time: city walls.

The structures that survived the march of history from the Bronze Age to now, some 5,000 years, come in exactly two varieties.  The first variety is those structures that happen to be in an environment conducive to surviving long periods of time- the deserts of Egypt, the semi-arid canyons of the Near East, and so on.  The second variety is, regardless of location, really big walls.  From the Great Wall to Hadrian's Wall, if a wall was sufficiently large, it was virtually guaranteed to persist into the modern era.

So it is that, even discounting those wonders that may be constructed as part of our creatures' religions (a subject we haven't touched upon yet), we can now say that we're starting to see features of civilization that will still be present once we've advanced to the current age.

What we haven't done yet is address how those features will look, given the unique features of our setting.  As we've hinted at, they won't be strictly stone colored.

A Nice Coat of Shellac

As mentioned, many of the structures that survive 5,000 years do so because the environment helps preserve them.  Structures in mostly dry environments, especially those that are protected from the weathering effects of, well, weather, do the best.

Our structures are being put together in an environment of near-constant moisture, with gentle winds but frankly ridiculous tidal patterns.  Except for the wind, this most closely matches up with the Pacific Northwest.  The Pacific Northwest, for those who haven't been, is notorious for unique building requirements that have to account for the fact that the weather will fairly literally melt even the stoutest concrete structures within a few generations.  We can safely assume that the creatures of our world will also notice the relatively speedy decay of their buildings.  For the largest, most expensive structures, we can even assume they'll take steps to mitigate the effect.

Again, this is nothing new.  Boats, even ancient boats, were coated in heavy paint, pitch, and tar in an effort to render them waterproof.  Anthropologists have found all sorts of structures, some over 7,000 years old, that were coated in bitumen (a kind of naturally occurring asphalt) for the same reason.  The downside to these efforts is that the coats themselves are impermanent.  Using any of the above would only protect a given surface for a handful of years at a time.

While more resource-intensive on Earth, there is another, more colorful option:  vitrification.  The material to be protected (usually stone, clay, or ceramics) is coated with metallic salts or oxides- such as readily available soda ash or table salt- and then heated until virtually all of the moisture is removed.  The result is effectively a glazed, colored brick.

Vitrification is more likely on our world for two reasons.  First, our people don't need fuel to heat their bricks and stones.  They can simply place the ingredients in the middle of a sigil and activate it, magically doing the same thing that a kiln would at a fraction of the cost.  Second, there is another important effect of vitrification:  it lowers the friction of the vitrified stone.

Slicker Than Sin

Recall why city walls are going to be a thing on our world in the first place.  Mass combat is unlikely, but predation by other creatures, especially extra-dimensional creatures and monsters, is not.  Some of these creatures may use tools, but most will rely on natural abilities, albeit often with magical enhancements.  That means we can safely assume that the vast majority of attacks upon a given population will work the same way that the natural predators of Earth do.  Since our intelligent species are not yet prone to trying to build out in the water, most attacks will be from the land or the air.  The massive trees of the local hyperforest already serve as a natural defense from aerial attacks, and extending some netting downward from the lowest branches will protect whatever the trees don't.  That leaves attacks from the land, where stalking, chasing, ambushing, and (especially on our world) pouncing are the available options.  All of these options can be defended against by constructing a wall big enough that the various creatures can't simply leap over it.

There is, however, a secondary problem.  Because creatures weigh much less on our world than they do on Earth, many predators are going to be light enough that even awkwardly built creatures will be able to easily climb.  With their weight effectively 1/10 of what it would be on Earth, they only need 1/10 the friction to be able to scale a surface.

Now, remember how we said that vitrifying stone lowers its friction?

A short vignette will serve to highlight the effect.  Of our three species, the nu humans are the most likely to wander afield on a given day.  Imagine that, as a nu human hunter searches for food beyond the city walls, he encounters a horse-sized centipede.  Such a creature, with its low center of gravity, scuttling motion, and dozens of legs, is both faster and more agile on the ground than a human, and its shell could be as thick as a human leg bone.

Armed or not, discretion would be the better part of valor.  Our nu human would make for the city at top speed, using bounding leaps to evade the snapping pincers of the centipede.  Guards at the top of the wall fire at the centipede, dealing little harm but serving to give the centipede enough pause that the nu human safely makes it inside.  The gates swing shut.  The centipede, undeterred, easily vaults 10 feet straight up the city wall.

...Then scrabbles against the glossy, smooth stones of the wall, finding no purchase.  The guards continue to fire arrows, spears, and stones, aiming for the centipede's eyes.  Eventually, the centipede gives up or is driven away.  A few hours later, another nu human buffs out the scratches on the wall.

Rainbow Walls, Monotone Streets

It's important to note that vitrification, even with magic, is still more labor-intensive than simply applying tar or pitch to the outside of a structure.  Bronze Age-style vitrification would give the outside of the brick a glassy surface, yes, but uneven heating or mineral coating would leave that glassy surface with a texture akin to orange peel.  Elbow grease would be needed to smooth it sufficiently.

This can also be considered a design feature, instead of a flaw, depending on the desired use of the stone.  For example, smooth streets would make travel more difficult inside the city.  Glossy, weather-proof stones that nevertheless have enough of a texture to safely walk on would make for great cobblestones.

The result of this is that, once our people start building structures to last, we're going to see a mixture of techniques employed to protect them.  Basic buildings hidden in the branches will be built of easily shaped materials, such as wood.  In the opening between massive trees, stone buildings proliferate.  Those built for a single family are likely stacked stone, held together with tree sap (or tar, if available).  Community buildings are made of vitrified stone, as are the main streets of the city.  The street stones are rougher than those used in the buildings, of a more plain color- likely olive or dark grey.  The buildings will be more colorful, with colors ranging from dark green to orange or red.

Most colorful of all will be the city walls.  These are the stones that need the most work to be effective, and it doesn't make sense that our people would spend the most time on the ugliest stones.  Colors will be placed to make pleasing patterns, possibly creating full images or rainbow bands.  It's not unreasonable to believe that city walls might well have the name and emblem of the city emblazoned upon them, writ large enough to be read from miles away.

Graffiti will be wildly frowned upon.  Not only would it ruin the artistry, but it might also provide enough texture to help a monster up the wall.

Conclusion

The burgeoning city on The Hill is going to be an urban artist's dream.  Even after basic vitrified stone falls out of use, similar technology and style (such as tiles and slick paints) are going to be in order until it becomes more traditional than necessary.  As technology advances, the riot of color will likewise move from side effect to aesthetic choice.  By the time our world reaches the present day of the setting, the fantasy authors that call The Hill home will write of outlandish places where every building and road is monotone.

That day will not be next week, however.  Next week, we'll address a gap that hasn't been touched yet:  religion.