Crud
2006-02-13, 03:32 AM
You stumble bleeding, exhausted and alone into the outer limits of the twisting maze that is formed by the shanty-town surrounding the city walls of [anytown]. The eyes of creatures from at least a dozen different species stare out at you. They are devoid of either hostility or warmth, merely wary of your sudden appearance. Thoughts of the battle two days ago come back clearly and unbidden. The party’s Cleric had taken a heavy cross-bow bolt in the face before you even knew what was happening. Then they were everywhere, frigging Goblins and Kobolds, low level creatures of every kind. They should have been fodder, just little chunks of XP, but they had swarmed the Rogue, easily overwhelmed the Wizard, and almost taken you down as well. With the Cleric dead, there was no hope of healing magic. What hope did a lone Monk have? I mean seriously? You couldn’t afford a healing potion. With the 12GP you got to start you could barely afford shoes and a walking stick to beat people with. A frigging stick! So lawful or not you ran. All night and all day, hoping to reach civilization, and here it is at last. Nearly collapsing from fatigue, images of your horrifying escape send a visible shudder up your spine. Now the local denizens, content that you mean them no harm, begin to go back about their business. A scrawny looking Goblin with what appears to be a stack of parchment under one arm skitters into view. He eyes you for a moment, taking in your obvious plight and then scampers over, snickering as he hands you a pamphlet printed in Common and a debased form of Dwarven that can only be some form of Goblinoid. It reads:
Chef Crud’s Healery and Grill
Are you a low level PC? Strapped for cash, wounded in battle, with nary a friendly face in sight? Upscale healers charge a fortune. That might be fine for those fancy heroes with their double digit class levels and their wealth-by-level guidelines, but how the heck are you ever going to get there if you don’t take care of that pesky spear in the back problem? Remember: Other healers’ll charge you an arm and a leg, Chef Crud’ll only charge you half of that, and he'll even let you pick which one! Poisoned? Don’t worry, it all adds to the flavor! Goblinoids and other sentient creatures: Don’t worry, Chef Crud doesn’t discriminate! Are you tired of always getting the pointy end of the stick when adventurers stroll through your neighborhood? We’ve heard it all too often: Your village’s shaman died when the last expedition of heroes passed through, wounds are going untreated, limbs turning gangrenous? Well come on down. Try our two-for-one special: Bring a friend1 and get [i]your healing needs seen to at no cost to yourself.
Feelin’ fine and dandy, but the high price of living getting you down? Meals can be expensive when you’re down on your luck, but never fear! Chef Crud’s got you covered. If you or your party are looking for a lower-cost alternative to those fancy restaurants, or trail-rations, come down to chef Crud’s and have a seat in our adjacent family eatery.2 Enjoy a plate of mystery-meat while enjoying the boisterous atmosphere provided by our regular clientele. If you’re looking for a real treat, or you’re just out to impress that special someone, order up our house special: Leg of Grom, mmmm… turned to perfection. Goblinoid tribes, bring the whole clan in for a meal on the town. Caught some of those pesky adventurers? Bring ‘em with you and we’ll whip ‘em up to order: Sauted, braised, charbroiled, or in a tasty fondue. We’re here to serve. Hey, you may not like the taste, but you can’t beat the price!
Weekend Drink Specials! That’s right, Chef Crud’s drink specials are back! Half price grog for as long as you can stay conscious! This deal’s definitely too good to be true to pass up!
Not from the squat? Need directions? That's just fine. Just ask anyone of our beloved squat's fine citizens for directions.3 If you ask hard enough they should be pleased to help. Once you find us, our friendly staff will direct you to the appropriate section. [i]Remember, if you're a member of the town watch or any lawful-Good organization you have to say so upfront. Otherwise it's entrapment!
*1Preferably unconscious, friendship optional.
*2 No Minors.
*3 Except the town Watch.
Box text
Outside
After trudging along a seemingly endless progression of narrow streets, more like paths, between the semi permanent agglomerations of mud-brick and old refuse that make up the squat, your destination finally winds its way into view ahead. Hanging precariously from a hook on the wall of a building that could only be described as impressive in comparison to its surroundings, is a sign announcing the presence of Chef Crud’s Healery an’ Grill. There is no entranceway visible, and the sign looks like it was designed to be pulled down and stored out of sight in a hurry. An alleyway opens off of the corner of the building, passing between it and another to create a narrow, darkened passage, presumably to Crud’s.
Spot Check:
DC 5: There are a couple of shady characters hanging around in the general vicinity of the alleyway, a rough looking Human and an Orc. This isn’t particularly remarkable from what you’ve seen of the squat.
DC 10: These rough characters seem to be lookouts, they constantly scan the area. Both appear to be armed… Well, they have weapons anyway. The human is missing his left arm, but seems to be otherwise in fine health, while the Ork, sitting lazily atop an old cask, sports a peg leg.
DC 15: The lookouts seem to have spotted you, but look mostly uninterested. One of them has a stack of pamphlets under his arm.
DC 20: You see a few more lookouts at the ends of the adjoining streets, and recall having passed someone who might have been part of the same group. They seem to be communicating warnings and all clear signals with whistles and hand signs. A goblin stumbles up the cross street, supporting the weight of what appears to be an unconscious comrade, he turns down the aley to the healers. What a friend!
As you approach the alleyway [which is the only entry to Crud’s, no fire codes here] you are stopped by the Orc lookout’s lazily outstretched hand. He, enquires, “Oi, you lookin’ fer Crud’s? Yor not part o’ th’ watch then eh? We don’t mind you fellers down ‘ere so long as yer off shift an all. No? So is ye mendin’ or eatin’ or both then?” “Arright.” He grunts as he waves you past, “Head down the end and talk t’ th’ Mat-r-dee”
You press on down the alley. The walls, an assortment of brick and timber, seem to close in around you, and the eaves of the two adjacent buildings jut out far enough to obscure the sky. You can vaguely make out what appear to be bits of old broken armor, and clothes too badly torn or stained to be reused. Assortments of old soup bones of some kind line the corners, perhaps this is why the narrow space carries a lingering smell, like old stew gone sour. Already light-headed from loss of blood, the smell of this dank, refuse filled chasm almost makes you retch.
Chef Crud’s Healery and Grill
Are you a low level PC? Strapped for cash, wounded in battle, with nary a friendly face in sight? Upscale healers charge a fortune. That might be fine for those fancy heroes with their double digit class levels and their wealth-by-level guidelines, but how the heck are you ever going to get there if you don’t take care of that pesky spear in the back problem? Remember: Other healers’ll charge you an arm and a leg, Chef Crud’ll only charge you half of that, and he'll even let you pick which one! Poisoned? Don’t worry, it all adds to the flavor! Goblinoids and other sentient creatures: Don’t worry, Chef Crud doesn’t discriminate! Are you tired of always getting the pointy end of the stick when adventurers stroll through your neighborhood? We’ve heard it all too often: Your village’s shaman died when the last expedition of heroes passed through, wounds are going untreated, limbs turning gangrenous? Well come on down. Try our two-for-one special: Bring a friend1 and get [i]your healing needs seen to at no cost to yourself.
Feelin’ fine and dandy, but the high price of living getting you down? Meals can be expensive when you’re down on your luck, but never fear! Chef Crud’s got you covered. If you or your party are looking for a lower-cost alternative to those fancy restaurants, or trail-rations, come down to chef Crud’s and have a seat in our adjacent family eatery.2 Enjoy a plate of mystery-meat while enjoying the boisterous atmosphere provided by our regular clientele. If you’re looking for a real treat, or you’re just out to impress that special someone, order up our house special: Leg of Grom, mmmm… turned to perfection. Goblinoid tribes, bring the whole clan in for a meal on the town. Caught some of those pesky adventurers? Bring ‘em with you and we’ll whip ‘em up to order: Sauted, braised, charbroiled, or in a tasty fondue. We’re here to serve. Hey, you may not like the taste, but you can’t beat the price!
Weekend Drink Specials! That’s right, Chef Crud’s drink specials are back! Half price grog for as long as you can stay conscious! This deal’s definitely too good to be true to pass up!
Not from the squat? Need directions? That's just fine. Just ask anyone of our beloved squat's fine citizens for directions.3 If you ask hard enough they should be pleased to help. Once you find us, our friendly staff will direct you to the appropriate section. [i]Remember, if you're a member of the town watch or any lawful-Good organization you have to say so upfront. Otherwise it's entrapment!
*1Preferably unconscious, friendship optional.
*2 No Minors.
*3 Except the town Watch.
Box text
Outside
After trudging along a seemingly endless progression of narrow streets, more like paths, between the semi permanent agglomerations of mud-brick and old refuse that make up the squat, your destination finally winds its way into view ahead. Hanging precariously from a hook on the wall of a building that could only be described as impressive in comparison to its surroundings, is a sign announcing the presence of Chef Crud’s Healery an’ Grill. There is no entranceway visible, and the sign looks like it was designed to be pulled down and stored out of sight in a hurry. An alleyway opens off of the corner of the building, passing between it and another to create a narrow, darkened passage, presumably to Crud’s.
Spot Check:
DC 5: There are a couple of shady characters hanging around in the general vicinity of the alleyway, a rough looking Human and an Orc. This isn’t particularly remarkable from what you’ve seen of the squat.
DC 10: These rough characters seem to be lookouts, they constantly scan the area. Both appear to be armed… Well, they have weapons anyway. The human is missing his left arm, but seems to be otherwise in fine health, while the Ork, sitting lazily atop an old cask, sports a peg leg.
DC 15: The lookouts seem to have spotted you, but look mostly uninterested. One of them has a stack of pamphlets under his arm.
DC 20: You see a few more lookouts at the ends of the adjoining streets, and recall having passed someone who might have been part of the same group. They seem to be communicating warnings and all clear signals with whistles and hand signs. A goblin stumbles up the cross street, supporting the weight of what appears to be an unconscious comrade, he turns down the aley to the healers. What a friend!
As you approach the alleyway [which is the only entry to Crud’s, no fire codes here] you are stopped by the Orc lookout’s lazily outstretched hand. He, enquires, “Oi, you lookin’ fer Crud’s? Yor not part o’ th’ watch then eh? We don’t mind you fellers down ‘ere so long as yer off shift an all. No? So is ye mendin’ or eatin’ or both then?” “Arright.” He grunts as he waves you past, “Head down the end and talk t’ th’ Mat-r-dee”
You press on down the alley. The walls, an assortment of brick and timber, seem to close in around you, and the eaves of the two adjacent buildings jut out far enough to obscure the sky. You can vaguely make out what appear to be bits of old broken armor, and clothes too badly torn or stained to be reused. Assortments of old soup bones of some kind line the corners, perhaps this is why the narrow space carries a lingering smell, like old stew gone sour. Already light-headed from loss of blood, the smell of this dank, refuse filled chasm almost makes you retch.