IC: Slums, Sewers and Dark, Dank Dungeons [D&D 3.5] [Eberron]

[SunsetWaraxe]

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Five days ago, a courier for House Jorasco went missing in the Rekkenwoods. Davdak "Rumble Brace" d'Jorasco, a young member of the House, was worried something may have happened to the messenger and so commissioned a band of adventurers to head out into the shadowy and archaic forest to see if they could locate the wayward message bearer. The Rekkenwood's canopy was eclipsed by oak, pine, and yew, which left just enough light for a diversity of shrubs to dominate the soil-rich grounds below. From the moment the party left the city, the rains began. Not a hard rain but a near constant drizzle. Not enough to make travel difficult, but just enough to make the journey muddy and messy. On the third day of searching, the adventurers found the currier... Or at least what was left of him. Wolves had ravaged the poor halfling. Luckily, the beasts spared the currier's satchel, which was found ten paces from the corpse. After a quick funeral, the party ventured home.

Along the way, the band was confronted by three Karrnath Royal Swords - the national guard of the realm. The three men were suspicious of the party and demanded to see their official identification papers. The group hurriedly showed the men their papers. With a derisive snort, the Swords allowed the party to continue on their way. You had heard stories of other travelers, of those who could not produce their papers being assaulted - or worse - by the Swords. Karrnath was still a land locked in the war mindset. Martial Law was enacted early in the Last War and was never ended. Even two years after the war concluded, Martial Law remains. Perhaps this is just the way of things? Karrnath, more than any other Kingdom save Cyre, was uniquely devastated by the war. Wounds to a nation's psyche like that are not healed overnight...

The collective thoughts of the adventurers are broken by the onset of yet another storm.

The rain.

The rain.

The rain!!!

It never ended this time of year.

As you venture back to Rekkenmark, you take refuge from the endless sloppy mud by walking upon the conductor stones of the lightning rail that winds its way through the woods and into Rekkenmark. After many hours of walking, the faint call of howling elementals and cackling lightning can be heard. Hopping off the conductor rails, the party stands to the side to watch the behemoth zip past… Only it does not. The lightning rail comes to a squealing halt in front of the party. You can hear the members of House Orien yelling about a "feisty, unruly elemental." Many members of the house walk along the roofs of the lightning rail coaches, heading to the locomotive. Many look frustrated and angry. As the tram stays stationary for more than ten minutes, many of the passengers disembark to get some fresh air and stretch. One of rail employees notices the party and smiles, "Headed to Rekkenmark?" The party nods. The man looks over their road weary faces and the thick coat of mud covering their clothing. "Get on board, we will take you the rest of the way."

After a half hour, the elemental screeches and the coaches jolt forward. The employees tell everyone to get back on board. The ride to the city is smooth and - thankfully - dry.

Lucky for the party, Rumble Brace operates a small clinic near the lightning rail station. With hat in hand, the party informs the halfling of what had happened and returns the satchel. With a heavy heart Davdak accepts the bag and slides a hundred gold over to the party. "Thank you for finding my friend. Although he was not a member of the House, he was a trusted gofer. I am deeply saddened by his passing. Praise the Sovereign Host that," He pauses as he pulls out a vile from the satchel, "This was not broken. It is an experimental healing potion that is supposed to be twice as effective as Jorasco’s base potions. It was brewed by an elderly member of the House who lives as a hermit, which is why poor Yarder was sent out into the middle of nowhere.” He sighs, “Hopefully I can replicate her potion and help save many lives... That way Yarder's sacrifice will not go in vain." With a sullen nod, the halfling escorts you out of his clinic.

It is a dark and cloudy day in Rekkenmark. It rained earlier this morning but not hard enough to wash away the grime and filth that has piled up in the bombed out slums. A miasma of foul air hovers over garbage-strewn streets. The reek of unwashed bodies, offal, and rotting refuse forms an invisible cloud that permeates everything. A rusty sewer grate spurts pea-green sludge that oozes down the gutter, and rats swarm in the alleys. Peasants hustle through the streets, grimy handkerchiefs covering mouths and noses. A figure wrapped in rags bellows, “Pies for sale! Fresh, savory meat pies! Get 'em while they’re hot!”

The party returns home to their delightful... Fixer upper that is their tavern. The bones of the building are strong but little else is. The reward from the last quest would surely do much to improve the place.

The party strips their mud-covered clothing off and changes into fresh garbs. They enjoy a nice meal and revel in the success of their last quest.

As night falls on Rekkenmark, a big fist can be heard knocking on the door.

“Pardon me!” The man at the door appears to be another destitute Rekkenmark peasant, a half-orc with mottled dusky skin and a gut that hangs well over his belt. “You have the look of trackers about you,” he says. “Might I trouble you for a moment?”

He takes a seat at one of the tables, the chair creeks as his plops down.

“Mung’s the name. I'm a baker by trade. Best meat pies in town! I’m sure you heard of me, or at least enjoyed a pie or three of mine!”

“I tripped on some of the upturned cobbles in the southern slums this morning. Big gash on my arm and my knees were all torn up. I went to the clinic to have Rumble Brace heal me up. That Halfling is quite nice to us poorfolk. Always heals us at a big discount. I’m sure his betters look down on him for doing it. Anyway, I was in his clinic and… I didn't mean to eavesdrop but… I heard you and him talking about how you found Little Yarder out in the woods and, well, I need someone found too.

You see one of my suppliers, a fellow named Algie, has gotten himself lost. No one's seen him for a week. I wouldn't worry, except that four others have gone missing in the last month. All ratcatchers. Two showed up dead. I don't have much money, but everyone in town knows Mung. Help me out and I'll make your life a lot easier. What do you say?”

Spoiler: OOC

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The Party received 100 gold for their previous quest.