BILL
[sblock]
Through many twists and turns, Bill followed the skreet for what seemed like miles. More than once he was certain that they’d emerged from the tunnels, but it was an impression formed mostly from the smell of the air, because it was quite some time before he actually emerged from the rock and rusted sheet metal to see the sun again.
Looking back to the south, he could see the high walls of the inner city. He was on the outside, now.
“Where are we?” he asked his guide.
“Rot Town!” came the squealing reply.
Rot Town. Bill had heard quite a bit about it from the skreet in the arena. Built inside the old city along the banks of the northern canal, Rot Town was shelter to the very lowest of sli’ess society: grotesque abominations, diseased and broken slaves, fugitives, rebels, criminals—and hordes of undocumented “free-bred” skreet. Rot Town was as dirty and dangerous as any border town Bill had ever seen—and, he figured, about as likely to house more than a handful of powerful and influential crime lords.
For the first time since he crossed the portal, he actually felt at home.
“So what now?” Bill asked.
“Eh, you tell me. I’m lookin’ for some friendly, furry fun.” The skreet narrowed his eyes. “Don’t suppose you’d be interested in that?”
“Ah, no,” Bill averred. “Won’t you be missed back at the palace?”
“Nah, they got more skreet than they can count. ‘Sides they can’t tell us one from another. Truth, doubt they can tell you, either. Blond and blond, brown and brown, blue eye, green eye—best they can do. Mostly they know your smell, if they care to know you at all. But, to know to see? That’s for us warm-bloods. For them, not so important.
“Still, you gotta be careful. You, maybe, they want to find. Slave hunters come down here sometimes; yeah, yeah that Vert’jaal is here much, much too much.”
“So what you want to do?” [/sblock]
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
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