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Maronath, more commonly simply called The City, is a vast and ancient edifice. Two dozen centuries have broken upon her vast land-walls - half a hundred princes, patricians, barbarians and kings have taken her, been slain in her streets or strangled in her palaces. The Street of the Blind thrums with prayers to a hundred gods, and a thousand more sit in shrines in the vast sprawl of the city. Thirty five guilds, three mercenary guard companies, sixteen gates, nine great famillies, twenty-two wizard's towers, at least a few skinchangers, more than a million citizens, and one City.
You do not live in the streets of Great Maronath, in its soaring towers, blood-soaked slums, decadent palaces or silk-draped harems. You dwell in the undercity. Any city this old has built upon itself, attics become cellars, streets are buried, forgotten, remembered and destroyed. It doesn't much help that the city was founded on a cavernous network of yet more ancient ruins, nor that its sewers have always been run by each local guild, forming a patchwork mishmash of poorly maintained tunnels, staggering like drunkards between old caves, dwarf-pits and flooded cellars.
So - you dwell in the trackless depths beneath the unknowable city - but what are you?
>A hulking crocodilian - part monstrous escapee from the Row of Blades, part failed experiment, all tooth, scale, claw and lurking fury.
>A phyle of duerg - an engineered semi-artificial slave race of the dead dwarves. Like machines, somewhere between stone and flesh, somewhere between automata and men.
>A tribe of scrap-hobs, half-canine mutt goblinoids, trying to survive in a brutal ecosystem through your wits and the favour of the ruin-gods.
Or are you something else?
>Lonely Myconid
>Sewer Leviathan
>Ghoul Hive
