Post by Zahhak Keves on Sept 20, 2013 2:00:55 GMT -5
Zaun was never the kind of city that the downtrodden and weak had much luxury in to begin with, but in the sections of the city collectively known as Low Town, it wasn't the sort of place people down on their luck had much ease escaping from. Those that weren't in the labor force were in the rackets; Scams, strong-arming, theft and assault. Whatever you had to do to get out always came with a set of checked morals at the door and led to more than a few places where those looking to go unnoticed could hide in the most inconspicuous of locations; Such as in the floors of living complexes, to catch a few hours rest.
Living had not been kind to Zahhak in recent times. Aside from nearly being beaten to death and buried alive, he'd lost his home and any wealth he'd had saved therein due to the strangely prevalent rumor he'd died under mysterious circumstances, which all things taken together was somewhat true. He was dead, just taking his time getting there. This meant that his somewhat safe haven was gone and he'd ended up back in the haunts of his childhood. With his mother dead and his siblings scattered throughout Zaun there was no reliable place he could just relax, so he'd simply done what any smart man would do when you were presumed dead and not wanting to be found too easily;
He paid a few valors he could scrounge up for a lovely night's stay un the floorboards of the ground floor of houses. Which house? It didn't matter, so long as the floor was stable. Contrary to popular belief it wasn't too uncomfortable with older homes, larger spaces between foundation and the beams above him, but more importantly it was private. Where Zahhak could twitch, spasm and scratch at the corruption slithering up his arm without having to explain himself to neighbors, landlords or curious mages.
It also made leaving fairly basic, like now for example. Zahhak's hand pushed the series of loose floorboards he'd crawled through up and simply slithered out, replacing the beams and though he drew a few curious stares from the young man and his daughter he'd bought the 'accommodations' from, he barely waved at them as he stepped out of the small dining room and pretty much just slipped out the door wordlessly. Even pocket change could buy a little understanding and a short memory.
From there it was to the usual haunts, the low town little places where information traded hands. When Zahhak had been a sellsword, he'd frequented this place for jobs and employers but now it had become something a bit closer to a workplace. Even mercenaries shied away from some jobs, the really gritty ones that had you slumming the sewers or hunting down some pet experiment, the kind of thing that was just as dangerous as sword work but half as profitable and twice as utterly disgusting. Which suited Zahhak just fine right now, it kept him far from the actions and people who might recognize him. There were several spots these kinds of jobs got posted, but Zahhak's favorite was a communal poster board located just between Low Town and the Black Market.
A hollowed out, crumbling factory had been converted into a series of shanty living quarters by those edging out of Low Town and still trying to keep out of the criminally infested sections of the city and it's own little community had sprung up. Ex-scientists disgraced and thrown down, working class who had slipped a little too hard or worse, the chemical addicts and, the best, the 'just crazy enough to be here but not crazy enough to eat livers for fun' crowd. They had a poster board where this little shanty would post up community needs; Help build a new home, six valors. Hunt down a pest, five valors. Submit yourself to genetic testing; Fifty valors and a new home. The kind of things that sprung up in the downtrodden.
As Zahhak walked through the streets to this little hive of poverty he found himself sidestepping a small group of men dressed much like him, save browner robes and heavier blades; The shackles, ropes and gags were a bit different from anything he carried either. The human trafficking crowd was extremely active on this border as it was just far enough from the slums to not be patrolled but just close enough to the bad places to be ripe ground. Zahhak walked behind them for a few minutes, then ducked into an alley as they came across a pair of workers walking home after a shift; The sound of the scuffle made the evening feel cold as he tightened up his hood, drawing around a corner to step past the alleyway and into the courtyard of the little shanty, aiming to bypass anyone around and find the message board before it was time for dinner.
Living had not been kind to Zahhak in recent times. Aside from nearly being beaten to death and buried alive, he'd lost his home and any wealth he'd had saved therein due to the strangely prevalent rumor he'd died under mysterious circumstances, which all things taken together was somewhat true. He was dead, just taking his time getting there. This meant that his somewhat safe haven was gone and he'd ended up back in the haunts of his childhood. With his mother dead and his siblings scattered throughout Zaun there was no reliable place he could just relax, so he'd simply done what any smart man would do when you were presumed dead and not wanting to be found too easily;
He paid a few valors he could scrounge up for a lovely night's stay un the floorboards of the ground floor of houses. Which house? It didn't matter, so long as the floor was stable. Contrary to popular belief it wasn't too uncomfortable with older homes, larger spaces between foundation and the beams above him, but more importantly it was private. Where Zahhak could twitch, spasm and scratch at the corruption slithering up his arm without having to explain himself to neighbors, landlords or curious mages.
It also made leaving fairly basic, like now for example. Zahhak's hand pushed the series of loose floorboards he'd crawled through up and simply slithered out, replacing the beams and though he drew a few curious stares from the young man and his daughter he'd bought the 'accommodations' from, he barely waved at them as he stepped out of the small dining room and pretty much just slipped out the door wordlessly. Even pocket change could buy a little understanding and a short memory.
From there it was to the usual haunts, the low town little places where information traded hands. When Zahhak had been a sellsword, he'd frequented this place for jobs and employers but now it had become something a bit closer to a workplace. Even mercenaries shied away from some jobs, the really gritty ones that had you slumming the sewers or hunting down some pet experiment, the kind of thing that was just as dangerous as sword work but half as profitable and twice as utterly disgusting. Which suited Zahhak just fine right now, it kept him far from the actions and people who might recognize him. There were several spots these kinds of jobs got posted, but Zahhak's favorite was a communal poster board located just between Low Town and the Black Market.
A hollowed out, crumbling factory had been converted into a series of shanty living quarters by those edging out of Low Town and still trying to keep out of the criminally infested sections of the city and it's own little community had sprung up. Ex-scientists disgraced and thrown down, working class who had slipped a little too hard or worse, the chemical addicts and, the best, the 'just crazy enough to be here but not crazy enough to eat livers for fun' crowd. They had a poster board where this little shanty would post up community needs; Help build a new home, six valors. Hunt down a pest, five valors. Submit yourself to genetic testing; Fifty valors and a new home. The kind of things that sprung up in the downtrodden.
As Zahhak walked through the streets to this little hive of poverty he found himself sidestepping a small group of men dressed much like him, save browner robes and heavier blades; The shackles, ropes and gags were a bit different from anything he carried either. The human trafficking crowd was extremely active on this border as it was just far enough from the slums to not be patrolled but just close enough to the bad places to be ripe ground. Zahhak walked behind them for a few minutes, then ducked into an alley as they came across a pair of workers walking home after a shift; The sound of the scuffle made the evening feel cold as he tightened up his hood, drawing around a corner to step past the alleyway and into the courtyard of the little shanty, aiming to bypass anyone around and find the message board before it was time for dinner.
