Book 3: Chapter 41: Small World
The sewers of Al-Lazar, ofttimes ironically dubbed as the ‘Perfumery’ by the locals of the city, is a vast underground network of tunnels that funnel out the wastewater of the city. Over the generations, strange creatures have come to call the place home. Cunning rodents the size of wolves, and in sufficient numbers almost as fearsome, clades of reptilia and chitinous horrors live alongside each other. Strangest of all are the gelatinous things that stalk that underground realm, the Quiverings.
Translucent slimy entities that move silently along the damp corridors and walkways of the sewers are they. The Quiverings feed on any organic matter they encounter, dissolving it with their secretions.
Legend has it that these creatures are not merely mutations or residents by chance. Rather, they are said to be the living manifestations of the city's sins, accumulated over the countless centuries. As if aware of their own origins, they avoid the light, thriving in the darkest recesses of the sewers. Occasionally, they merge into larger, more formidable masses when threatened, making them a perilous challenge for even the most seasoned sewer explorers.
- Monsters of the Mortal Realms by K. D. Fidditch.
A stone staircase, well-worn and smoothed by the countless many before us, spiraled down into the depths. Larynda and I, a most unlikely pair, descended slowly into this new mire. I extended my Zajasite, its dim light faintly revealing the ancient friezes and carvings etched into the rock. These relics bore the marks of time. Some of the damage was accidental, others clearly intentional. Here, a figure's face was obliterated; there, limbs were gouged out with rough tools by uncaring hands.
I inwardly hissed at whoever had done such an unthinkable thing.
As we descended, the stench grew, the clear smell of the products of the human condition. Larynda was visibly wilting under the nasal assault, but despite this, her face was set with lines with determination. Against that, I had no excuse for a humiliating retreat back up to the surface. That, and the fact I would be a laughingstock for those above until I had finished my mission down here. My pride would not allow it.
“You know… just a thought an’ all, but you ever thought it might have worked better… if you, well, tried to be nice?” she asked weakly.