Among the Gutters

That's the thing about this city. When you look past the fame and glamour, it's no different from any other of its kind. The people up top live in luxury afforded to them by their bloodlines and maintained by connections and wealth. Those below are forced to scrape by and are looked down upon for it. Any attempts to escape or advance are stamped down.

I doubt the guards looking for me even know why I am to be arrested. If experience has taught me anything, it's that the enforcers in places like this are either desperate for employment or just as cruel as their employers. Even now, I can hear their hounds barking in the distance. The city watch races against the rain, desiring my capture even at the risk of slipping up on the wet cobblestone road.

I didn't even do anything major, even in comparison with my past escapades. In all the towns I was chased out of, I was accused of anywhere from sedition to cult activity. All of them exaggerations and half-truths of innocuous actions. The worst of which was when a mere exchange of pleasantries was spun into a tale of attempting to kidnap the mayor's daughter.

This time, however, has got to be the worst case of elitism. All I did was distribute bread to some beggars. This apparently counts as both theft and treason against the state. It's not even the capital, yet they're acting like I just drop-kicked Ludwig von Lindezvarn the 3rd in the groin, dooming the royal lineage before it could continue. 

The pounding on the door signifies that they've just arrived. They are already bellowing demands over the barks of their hounds. Hopefully, the strong smell of Karnakan cheese and rotten fish I left upstairs would distract them after they break down the door. This house was a rental anyway.

I had already finished packing the last of my possessions; my dwarven-steel traveling knife and it's sheath. It was a gift of thanks from an old friend. I'd feel bad about leaving it behind, especially since they could use it to track me or even frame me for that matter. With all my stuff in place, I hurry down to the basement.

I can tell from the sounds of frustrated arguing that they decided to bring some sort of mage with them. Even as I climb down the creaking stairs, I can hear orders, threats, and insults over the barking and pounding. Someone thought it would be a good idea to use magic to apprehend a magic null, and it wasn't the mage.

In the basement lies a secret passage-way, probably used by some previous tenant for some unknown purpose. It leads, after three different doors (possibly an attempt to hamper the smell), into the sewers below. I don't doubt that they'd be searching down there even in weather like this, but it's quite possibly the safest option for me right now.

I overturn the stone tile that covers the passage, drop my bag below, and slowly descend down the ladder. Carefully placing the stone back overhead, I then light the glow stone hanging from my left side and proceed down. Someone managed to break down the door, the splintering of wood and heavy thud meant they probably used their entire body against it.

I pray that they searched the upper floors first as I quickly lifted my pack and proceeded down the winding and crude tunnel. The smell becoming stronger the deeper I go. I unlock and relock door after door, fumbling in the dim-light with some makeshift lock picks. Each passing second rushing with dread that they'd find the entrance somehow. My ears focus themselves on every little noise behind me as I work lock after lock. I don't know who or what the previous tenant was trying to keep down the sewers. With any luck, they won't mind a visitor.

The thought of finding something like an alligator or a race of evil ratmen comes to mind. A possible attempt of my subconscious to relieve the stress. If such was the case, then it should just shut off my nose, then again I needed to breathe. At last, the final lock was cracked and relief rushed through my body, followed by the full strength of the pungent sewer water as I threw open the door.

Whatever they were throwing down here, or eating for that matter, has got to be worse than regular filth. I step out onto the pathway, and as I gagged and desperately attempted to focus on escape. I feel someone clasping my mouth and attempting to pull me onto the side. This could have been successful if they hadn't underestimated my strength and weight, a common mistake.

I threw off my would-be assailant, but almost immediately recognized her from the slums I frequently visited. We have some brief dialogue which I really didn’t focus that much on due to the stench and the paranoia of capture. Some of the people I fed learned of my predicament want to help and this lady ‘conveniently’ knew I would take this route. As we trudge through the damp and sticky sewer floor, I can hear the voices of more guards in the tunnels.

Through the conversation we have under our breath, I learn the previous tenant was a dealer of contraband of some kind and used the tunnels to aid in his trade. One of my 'rescuers' actually worked with him for food before he was eventually caught. It was fortunate that the guards never discovered the passageway then.

However, there was no way out of the city through the sewers. We need to escape by going up top. The only way out is through the main gates, or through the hidden passages that are to be used if there ever was a siege. Even then, we would need to wait at the right time and place to exit. This could take anywhere from days to weeks.

It is here now, that I need to work with this woman that I barely know, in this city that hates my guts. Here I must lay low and devise a plan to escape. Perhaps along the way, I could make some changes before I go. Right now, though, it seems the only way I can help is to contact outside authorities. Regardless, I now must learn to hide and survive here, among the gutters, with the rest of those kept around only to be scoffed and snarled at.