**They sat across the table from Joshua Manbeard getting ready to plan out their next adventure.
Mutton Chop Mudd felt hostile eyes on him as soon as he passed through the swinging doors of the Bruised Sylph. A quick scan of the room revealed the usual assortment of the scum-of-the-world. He expected nothing less in a tavern located in the Undersewer.
A thick-necked gnoll bartender, with the typical greasy fur of his race and eyes so bloodshot they appeared red, stood behind the bar pretending to wipe down a mug that he held in his left hand. A pair of dark elves openly haggled with a scorpid over the price of a murder for hire. An arachnid examined a slave as the human slaver looked on trying to appear bored.
As he scanned the crowd he saw his target. A nasty looking representative of the lizard folk. This particular lizard resembled a crocodile and his scaly body was covered in scars. He was all of seven feet tall and thickly muscled. He and his two companions looked to be mercenaries for hire.
They locked eyes and Mutton Chop went straight ahead walking directly at him. The lizard sneered and pushed past his two companions, shoving them to the side as he moved to intercept Mutton Chop.
With no preamble or exchange of words Mutton Chop smashed the lizard straight in the throat with a crushing straight punch that rocked the lizard back on his heels. Giving him no time to recover, Mutton Chop was all over the lizard, raining down blow after blow.
The patrons laughed and cheered him on as they began to place bets.
The lizard tried to pull a knife but Mutton Chop was too quick and he smashed a chair into the lizards face and used the broken leg of the chair to stab several holes into the lizards chest and shoulders.
The crowd roared at the sight of blood and more frantic betting and coins began to exchange hands.
Mutton Chop knew this violent outburst was the only way he was going to gain any respect in this cesspool of criminal filth and he felt no remorse for beating the shit out of some random dirt bag if it meant he could conduct his business in relative peace afterwards.
Mutton Chop knew in a place like this, his show of brutality would buy him some respect and earn him a bit of space for the time being. He also knew the risk. His peace would not last long as word would inevitably spread and a new challenger would no doubt come sniffing around to take up the challenge.
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The excitement of his entrance had died down and Mutton Chop sat in a booth facing the swinging doors that lead out to the street and as expected he was given a wide berth. He expected to meet with an informant that he had paid handsomely for some information regarding the whereabouts of a particular member of the Rat Risers.
He could think of a thousand places that he'd rather be than here. The Undersewer made Shadows Alley look like a pleasant walk in the park. This is the gathering place for the lowest of the low. The most vile inhabitants in all the realms gathered here.
As the name implies the Undersewer is under the sewer. Many surface inhabitants do not even know this place exists just below their feet. The Undersewer is truly lawless and extremely violent. You do not come here unless you are very highly skilled at defending yourself and even then, this is where you will learn that no matter how bad-ass you are there is always someone more bad-ass.
On the the surface, Shadows Alley is known for selling black market items, secrets, sex, drugs, and anything else illicit. Most people do not realize that all of these items come from the Undersewer.
The Undersewer is the distribution hub and it is controlled by the Rat Risers. The most powerful and vicious of all the gangs in Gateway. They run their organization completely from underground. and aside from the occasional kidnapping, the Rat Risers typically have no interest in surface dealings.
When they do do surface dealings, it's typically a snatch and grab where they track their target from below and snatch them by the ankles through trapdoors or access tunnels and pull them down to the sewer level.
It was because of the Rat Risers that Mutton Chop was down here in this filthy hole. He was doing a bit of reconnaissance for his friend Kristoff Two-nose. Kristoff had a run in with the Risers and had asked Mutton Chop to run a bit of surveillance for him. Kristoff needed someone he could trust that would not be recognizable and could pass through the Undersewer in relative anonymity
Mutton Chop hated the city, and civilization in general anything larger than a village rankled him something fierce but he had a great respect for Kristoff and owed him his life many times over so this was the least he could do. Besides, this gave Mutton Chop the opportunity to crack some skulls and Mutton Chop loved fighting as much as he hated civilization.
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Jeremiah Swift sat in a puddle of his own piss and blood as the huge gnoll stood over him brandishing a delicate looking but wickedly sharp spike while awaiting the next command from the slim form of Hatch'dal the dark elf who paced casually around the chair that held Jeremiah strapped firmly in place.
His fingers had been sliced off, one eyeball dangled uselessly from it's socket, and his ears, nose, and lips had been removed but Jeremiah still refused to speak. He had been trained quite well by the priests of Dolorr and he welcomed this pain as a cleansing of his body and mind.
The dark elf paced slowly and deliberately around the chair. He steepled his finger at his chin as he conceived the most brutal and absurd tortures that the gnoll would deftly and expertly carry out but instead of crying out, their prisoner, Jeremiah would laugh maniacally that sounded as though he were on the brink of insanity.
A voice echoed from the shadows as a third figure stepped into the dim and flickering light, "He is a follower of Dolorr you fools. No amount of torture will ever get him to tell you what you want."
Throwing back her cloak, Inverness stepped fully into the light, "In fact, he will probably lie just to get you to poke and prod at him some more." She continued "For many followers of that insane god there is no greater service to Dolorr than to die while being tortured to death."
"But you already know all of this, you just like the torture part." She shot him a wink and casually added, "Get rid of him, he is useless to us and the commander wants to see you in his office, now."
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Hatch'dal stood at the ready in the commanders office listening to him droll on about wasting resources on a follower of Dolorr. As his eyes began to glaze over the commander got to the point of this meet and Hatch'dal's eyes snapped open at the mention of the name Mutton Chop Mudd.
A spy had been intercepted that was allegedly on his way to meet up with Mutton Chop who was currently still sitting at the Bruised Sylph awaiting the arrival of the aforementioned spy.
Hatch'dal had a run in with Mutton Chop many years ago when Hatch'dal was just an upstart that was running a small crew of thugs that operated outside of town. At that time he had been doing simple shake downs and robberies. Hatch'dal barely escaped that confrontation with his life and he had vowed to get his revenge.
He quivered in anticipation and thanked the gods at his luck in being assigned this task. Hatch'dal was to go to the bruised Sylph and eliminate Mutton Chop by any means necessary.
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Kristoff laughed uproariously, slapping both knees in approval as the bard on stage got to the bawdy part of the song. The entire tavern lifted their mugs and sang along as the bard continued to sing his ribald tale of debauchery.
He only felt slightly guilty that he was here enjoying a great show among mostly civilized folk while Mutton Chop was down in the Undersewer dealing with gods know what at his behest.
Kristoff raised his mug and said a prayer to Lock, the god of luck and mischief, for his friend Mutton Chop to a speedy and safe return to the surface. He would have done the job himself if he could but he knew he could not show his face in the Undersewer if he intended on keeping it attached to his head.