CHAPTER F: SLUMMING

While Arya and Balefire were meeting with Pavel, Kronk and Strife were seeking guidance on areas in Mitrik to avoid, and why.  From various inn customers and passers-by, they learned that the slums of Mitrik were located on the east side of town, about half an hour’s walk from the dock area.  They also learned that several notorious fences did business near the port, and that, despite attempts to suppress the trade, thieves continued to deal with them.

Naturally, Kronk and Strife headed for the slums.  They did, however, leave a note for Arya and Balefire at The Brave Axe, letting them know of their plan.

After about half an hour’s eastward walk, the two trouble-seekers noticed that the neighborhood was deteriorating.  The slums must be near, thought Strife.  On the corner of a side street, they noticed an old, poor, shabby, dirty man: a beggar.

“Alms for the poor!” he cried, holding out a tin cup.  Kronk dropped five coppers in the cup.  “Thank you, my good orc!” said the grateful beggar.  Ignoring the beggar’s slight misidentification, Kronk asked the beggar if anything interesting was going on.  He  promised more money for any information.

“Sorry, I have no information to give you,” said the beggar.  Persistent, Kronk offered a silver piece.  “Beware of agents of Ket in this city!  Some of our own people are betraying us!” the beggar exclaimed.

“We will, you may be assured,” said Strife.

They went on.  Afternoon arrived: time to eat.  The two adventurers found, with some difficulty, an establishment they could stand entering.  Gross, but the least gross they had seen.

An ugly, sloppy old lady came over to take their order.

“Hi, beautiful!” said Kronk, intending a friendly compliment.  “Give us your best!”

The hag didn’t consider his remark a compliment.  She slapped him, then called for her son.  An ugly, tall, angry, fat man came out of the malodorous kitchen and into the eating area.

“Alright, you two,” he growled.  “Show some respect or get out!  We may be poor, but we don’t put up with the likes of you!”

“Uh, please, mister, we m-m-meant nothing . . .,” Kronk started trying to talk his way out of the situation.  The cook cut him off.  “Order up or leave!” he barked.

They ordered two Blue Plate Specials.  The cook soon came back with two bowls of slop with mystery meat.  At five silver pieces per bowl.  Kronk snorted.

“We’ll pay half that,” he asserted.  In response, the cook slopped both bowls over their heads.  “On the house!” he roared.  “Now  get out!”

The two now slop-covered adventurers promptly got out.

As they passed the next side street, they heard a noise.  The noise of a runaway cart!  Kronk managed to evade the cart.  Strife wasn’t so agile.  The cart struck the hapless ranger, injuring his leg.

“You alright?” the half-orc enquired.  Strife nodded.

Just then, the owner of the errant cart ran by.  He ran to the cart, which had come to rest after hitting  a building.  Kronk called out to him.

“Hey!  You there!”  The cart owner turned toward Kronk.  “Your cart hurt my friend.  Pay up for his injury!” Kronk demanded.

The owner laughed derisively and drew his sword.  “Uh, for me?” the slow-witted half-orc said.  “Thanks!”  Kronk reached out and grabbed the sword, trying to take it from the cart owner.

The owner obviously had not intended a gift.  He promptly attacked Kronk, but failed to connect.  Kronk, in response, swung back, but also missed.  Strife pulled away from the melee, but reached for his bow as he did so.

The cart owner and Kronk exchanged blows.  Strife shot into the melee, aiming at the cart owner.  “Coward!” he exclaimed as the arrow flew overhead.  He withdrew to the other side of the cart.  Kronk tried to push the cart onto its owner.  It wouldn’t budge.

Then Arya showed up.  She had gotten the note and immediately came after the two mischief-seekers.  “What’s going on here?” she demanded.  “Can’t leave you two alone for a minute!”

Ignoring Arya’s query, Strife shot again at the cart owner, again missing.  The owner looked over the cart, back toward the side street from which the cart had come.  He spotted some of his friends approaching.  “Hurry up, you guys! I need you!” he shouted.

Kronk spotted the approaching reinforcements.  He climbed up on the cart.  Arya went over to Strife.  Seeing his injury, she cast a spontaneous cure minor wounds.  The injury healed completely.  “Now go on back to the inn!” Arya ordered.  Strife left, just as four angry slum-dwellers arrived to aid the cart owner.

Kronk realized that it was time to leave.  He  jumped off the cart and ran after Strife.  Arya promptly followed.

As he ran, Strife turned and yelled an insult in elven at the cart owner and his friends.

The three adventurers had escaped the brawl, but were now lost in the eastern slums, surrounded by unfriendly slum dwellers.  Strife searched for a friendly, or at least not overtly hostile, face.  Spotting a nearby bum, he approached the man, and tried to get him to lead them back to the docks.  He offered two gold pieces for the assistance.

“Show me the money,” the bum demanded.  Strife did as requested.  The bum agreed to help them, and an hour later, all four arrived at the Mitrik docks.  The bum held out his hand.  Strife promptly paid up.  “Thank ye all,” said the bum, who quickly headed back to his own neighborhood.