There is a darkness beneath Vesk. Beneath the High City, where the Lairds and fops prance and pomp their way through life… Beneath the Black Alleys, where countless humans work, eat, steal, fuck and kill in endless routine.
Twenty years, the sewers have been my home. Twenty years I have watched the waste of the city flow beneath my feet, out into the ocean, or down deeper into the darkness. I flit like a shade, a wraith, among the human excrement that finds its way to my domain. Noblemen making pacts that cannot be seen in the light of day… Smugglers hauling contraband into the heart of the city…
I pass among them unseen, yet not unfelt. The superstitious claim the sewers haunted, draw their cloaks in tighter against the imagined cold and finish their business faster than they would have liked. These lucky few, I allow exist in my world. The Slavers, Rapists and sub-human vermin fall to my arrows. The swiftly quelled screams not passing to the land above.
Were-rats know of my existance and have kept to their territory. No longer hunting me. Too many of their number have fallen to my bow. Pockets of walking dead, mindlessly scratch and claw at the grimy walls of the prisons i have lured them into. They exist as a vanguard within my territory. Their hungry cries a clear warning to any who think to hunt these dark passages.
There is a darkness beneath Vesk. New, yet ancient, vast and filled with unspeakable evil. In the decades that i have lived here, I have sensed it approaching. Biding its time. Drawing followers to it and building in strength.
There have been whispers amongst the people of the lower city. Rumours of Drow, crawling out of the depths at night, stealing men, women and children alike. Whispers of Lycanthropes and monstrous flesh golems.
Through them all, one word rings true. One single word stands clear… Spelling the end of all that we know, all that could have been…