GROWTH INDUSTRY
The beginning of a LowLife adventure
It was sausage weather in the Würstreich. The icy bite of Mister Winter carried on the wind. Farms were bursting with the beginning of the harvest. Pumpkins were expanding. Apples were swollen, ready to pick. Leaves lazily fell to the ground on warm winds.
Everything was cast in orange highlights & blue shadows. These comfortable colors disguised the arrival of the unforgiving dead time of year.
The fortress city Brüttelburg was the biggest in the Wurstreich. It was built on the weird, old remains of a giant, sarcophagal structure. The origins of this building, people only had guesses. The city had three layers, each opened up with a monstrous mouth-shaped gate.
Brüttelburg’s Midenstadt was the bustling in-between of the ancient city. The sector was dominated by a massive market square surrounded by tall walls which were topped off by a shadowy, smoky ceiling far above.
The Midenstadt was full of everything. The place was teeming with people buying & selling. Everything that could be sold was sold here. Items of all shape, size, condition & legality were spread out on the ground, on blankets, on tables, in kiosks, you just had to know where to look.
Assorted scum peppered the throngs of unremarkable people. Behind the peddlers were various shops, restaurants, temples, banks, taverns, clubhouses & more.
The bobbing necks of large, flightless birds emerged from the crowds occasionally. The Reitvogel, as they are called, were guided through the crowds by their riders on long leather leads.
The ripe smell of filth was mixed with roasting meat, perfumes, cheese & cut flowers. The city smelled undeniable, alive, fertile. The majority of the citizens of the city lived & business thrived here.
The Midenstadt wasn’t as claustrophobic & miserable as the enclosed bottom layer or as open & airy as the top. It was the middle, tolerable & lively, not too good, not too bad.
The gang met up as they always did at the Shifty Eyes pub. They had been using this rustic little dive as headquarters for years. The Shifty Eyes had been there as long as anyone could remember & had cheap food & drink & cheaper clientele.
The bar was windowless & dark, but worn & cozy. All the tables & chairs were sturdy, survivors of the many brawls that erupted over the decades. The customers were as solid & used as the chairs they slouched in.
As you scan across the help wanted board in the back, a flyer from the Ancient & Illustrious Order of Sausage Manufacturers catches your eye. The bulletin is printed on sturdy paper & bears their seal. It states that they are looking for market control & need someone to help. The job pays 150 Würstmarks up front, 20 Würstmarks per day per hiree stipend & 250 Würstmarks upon completion.
“Sausages are serious business for the Order… they’re loaded.” says a stunted, unattractive, older, drunken man watching you, spittle dripping from his mouth. “They drop any problems they have with each other to assure that they can sell their sausages to you & me.” He licks his chapped lips & orders a bockwurst at the bar.
The flyer says to meet with brother November von Drecksau at the Verdammt Butcher shop in Pigskin Port. You are instructed to ask the person running the counter if they’ve heard any good jokes lately. They tell you the joke & you answer “a mystery meat-ing.”
The farmlands between Brüttelburg & Pigskin Port are full of activity. You leave early in the morning.
It takes two days to travel to Pigskin Port. There is a roadhouse, “The Bloody Stump” at the midway mark, right before you cross the west fork of the Stinkendblüt River at North Bridge.
The Tschüss Road winds through the agricultural land between Brüttelburg & Pigskin Port. Haus Patchesitzen owns most of the territory. The royal haus heavily taxes the farmers who work it, but also acts as a governing & protecting body.
The area is fertile, idyllic & more than a little seedy. Fruit orchards, plots of cabbages, pumpkins, turnips & corn cut across the land in rigid rows. The agricultural order hides the rustic regression that is frequent to such areas.
Plodding Büffel plow the soil, their horned heads angled down. Flocks of chickens peck every scrap of ground, finding small things to eat. The smell of pig shit lurks around every corner.
This was the beginning of the first adventure for LowLife, a DUNGEON DEGENERATES TTRPG, live now on Kickstarter. The entire adventure is available free as a download along with quickstart rules & pre-made characters to get you going. Back the Kickstarter & drown yourself in the new era of criminal fantasy!