~Meribia~
There it was again.
That damned smell.
Ramus had been catching whiffs of it ever since he'd managed to persuade that imbecile Dross to surrender his general store and pawn shop for much less than it was worth, ironic considering the business he was in.
The place, as it turned out, needed a bit more work than its previous proprietor had been letting on.
No matter; the goal -- getting this place open for business as soon as humanly possible -- was in sight, and Ramus had been putting his effort sorting the arrays of, well, mostly junk from the backroom floor to various shelves, bins, and in more common a case than he'd have hoped, the trash.
Still, he'd expected to find something perishable, or at worst a dead animal as the source of whatever was stinking up the place. Nothing of the sort had turned up, but Ramus now noticed that among the heaviest things had been clustered around a particular area on the back wall, and the closer he got, the more the putrid odor assaulted his nostrils.
Almost as if what sat on the floor there wasn't nearly as important as what it was blocking...
There was no way around it. It took him a good half hour, but he managed to find the strength and ingenuity to topple the highest crates onto the floor next to him, and as he cleared the last few at eye level...
Ramus gasped. It wasn't a
what
as much as a
where
.
A stone staircase jutted downward and led off into the darkness, no doubt leading to what Ramus could only guess was the Meribian sewer system, which explained the smell. But what was it
doing
there? Had Dross been using it to smuggle goods in and out of the city? Were his confederates still expecting this route to be used?
He wasn't sure, but Ramus could have sworn he heard a faint, rumbling growl from below.
Or was it something entirely more sinister that lay beneath what he hoped would be his new home and livelihood?
He briefly considered calling the authorities, but stopped himself. The possibility to use this...route...was too great to ignore. Whatever was down there, he was going to have to investigate, and if worse came to worse, remove, himself. He looked askance at his practice sword, dull from lack of use and care. Fighting had never really been his thing.
But if there was anything that could motivate Ramus Farmain to stick his neck out, it was the possibility of the payoff of a lifetime.
