Tullgotha is a city built into a hillside.
It consists of 7 stepped terraces of enormous size.
How to describe this in a couple of sentences?
Previously the simile was used of a wedding cake.
Could it be improved?
Some current ideas are:
But Tullgotha was, in reality a sprawling series of enormous concentric rings precariously stacked in great terraces, the outer, lower ring, therefore, had no centre.
But Tullgotha was, in reality a sprawling series of great circular terraces precariously stacked like vast steps cut into a mountain, the outer, lower ring, therefore, had no centre.
I’ve also had these great suggestions:
But Tullgotha was, in reality a (foreboding) spiralling stack of brooding masonry. Escarpments hewn with visceral effort into seven plateuing levels, each subsequent disc cutting its staircases against the otherwise rolling hillside.
But Tullgotha was, in reality a towering zenith of seven successively diminishing stone crenulated walls as they carved their ascending pathway into the hillside.
A progressively looming stack of forboding concentric rings, essentially a metropolis carved into the side of the majestic mountainside.
But Tullgotha was, to a passing fowl, a precarious statue of gray dinner platters, each terrace overwhelmed by the city masonry, intricate passways and fibrous bridges to toothpick towers. Ancient and detailed stonework faded into a blur of gray masonry and shadows, the terraces overflowing onto the green landscape like so much spilled feast.
This one is coming together gradually:
But Tullgotha was, in reality, a city of fortified escarpments cut into a great hill. Seven plateaus arranged in immense concentric terraces, each stacked high with the masonry of clustered towers, winding passways and connecting bridges. The lower level therefore had no centre.
Any better ideas?
The full paragraph is below the picture.
Razzles lived in a little stone cottage a mere hop, skip and a jingle away from the lower Tullgotha city centre. The residents there fondly referred to their dense knot of rambunctious architecture and ramshackle hovels as the ‘city centre’. But Tullgotha was, in reality, a sprawling series of enormous circular steps precariously stacked in the manner of a gargantuan wedding cake; the outer, lower ring, therefore, had no centre. Yet it felt like ‘the centre’, the higher, more important tiers, or ‘wards’ as they were properly known, somehow lacked the earthy realism of the ground level. Down here where most of the buildings had wildly overhanging, wood-beamed upper floors and drunkenly warped slate roofs, you sensed that this was the true city, the genuine heart of the place. Down here you could really get lost in a maze of narrow back streets and winding cobbled alleys half of which you honestly believed were not there the last time you happened along that way. This was where it all happened. At least, that’s what the common folk said.