City of Caran
Caran – the so-called city that’s like a festering sore on the already rotten skin of Wormblood. It’s a burg that’s slightly less hospitable than a rusted bear trap. Despite that, it’s the closest thing you’ll find to civilization in this wretched realm, but don’t expect a welcome mat or a friendly tavern. It’s a collection of pits and more pits, all filled with the filth of despair. And don’t even get me started on the stench – it’s like Jubilee and Zuggtmoy decided to host a party and invited every foul odour in the multiverse.
Now, the locals – if you can call ’em that – they’re the real charm of Caran. You’ve got the Muckborn, these poor sods that were birthed from Wormblood’s muck itself. Picture creatures of ooze and filth that make goblins look like cherubs. They’re the ones who call this pit their home, and they’re as jaded and foul as the place they inhabit.
Caran’s got three districts, of a sort. There’s the Gruel Pits, where the Muckborn scavenge whatever passes for food. The Wretched Ward, where the sickly and the desperate linger amongst alleyways between fungus houses, waiting for a cure that might never come. And the Sludge Alleys, a maze of filth and despair that’d make even a basher with a strong stomach think twice before entering.
Why would anyone brave the festering diseases of Wormblood and pay a visit to that charming pit city of Caran? Well, believe it or not, some bashers come to Caran in hopes of finding a cure for ailments that even the best healers of Sigil can’t fix. The place is so riddled with sickness, yet somehow the muckborn keep clinging on to life; they’re immune to the wormblood disease for starters, and apparently other magical and non-magical ailments too. A body’s got to wonder what kind if secrets they hold; as they say, sometimes the darkest corners can shed the most light. Just don’t be surprised if the “cure” has a few side effects you weren’t expecting.
There’s another group of muckborn sods who are working against the Plaguebearers. While they themselves live in conditions of horror, they aren’t quite so callous-minded to think that the rest of the multiverse should suffer too. Unfortunately this sliver of conscience is in danger of being quenched by their apocalyptic nemeses. Led by a creature named Guaiaco, these muckborn have been driven underground by their less noble-minded peers.
So, if you’re thinking of paying a visit to Caran, keep your wits about you, and your sword in your hand. This ain’t the kind of place you stroll into like a clueless prime. It’s a place where danger, disease, and despair reign supreme, and even the most foolhardy should think twice before crossing that city’s broken gates.
Source: Jon Winter-Holt, mimir.net
