Hey all, I thought many aspects in the slums of Divinity Reach needed a revamping. I really wanted to try to put a serious tone on the slums. I’d love to see more realism/seriousness put into the guildwars story. Thanks for reading!
Short Story: Human Poverty (rough draft)
The boy gripped the handle of the shambling door. He knew what was inside. It was inevitability that was hanging over his head since he was a child. He had to see it with his own eyes. A fat black rat climbed onto the doorstep next to him. The rat sniffed the crack in the door looking for food. The boy looked down at the scavenger who began scratching at the door. He knew what food this sewer dweller was looking for.
“It was only a matter of time. The most important thing is…”
“Shut up!”
The boy interrupted, growling back at the man.
“Temper temper”
Murmured the man. He turned to keep watch, looking out from the back of the alley.
The boy opened the door. They were immediately bombarded by foul stink. The rat scurried into the darkness of the house. He quickly covered his mouth with his tattered shirt, choking back the vomit. The smell penetrated the boy’s lungs. He took a stumbling step inside. The house smelt of feces and rotting flesh twisted together. The walls of the house were decaying and the floor was littered with glass and feces. The glass crunched underneath his boots as he moved further into the darkness.
The first thing he noticed was the sound. It was like a thousand tiny mouths chewing and feasting and fighting. The boy continued to stumble in further to the familiar home. More tiny bodies passed around his feet, flowing like a river into the center of the room. The smell got worse as he entered the main room. The boy dug in his pocket for the matches. He pulled one out and struck it against the wall. The light flickered off the walls and he held it out to reveal the room. Thousands of rats flowed around his legs toward the decaying corpse in the middle. A thin layer of foul water was on the floor. A corpse in the center of the room, covered in rats from head to toe, fighting over every last piece of tendon. He couldn’t choke it down any further. Vomit burned out of the boy’s mouth. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve only to vomit again. A few rats began eating the disgusting substance. He made his way over to the body through the rats. It was her, his mother.
He stared at the body, taking it all in. Should he take an item to remember her? Did he want to remember her? He held the match closer to the amulet around her neck. Was she worth the memory? He reached down then hesitated. No. He was moving on. It was just another thing to weigh him down, just another thing to care about. No. He tossed the match onto the body. The flame caught the clothes and burst into a larger flame. The rats pulled the flesh away and ran back into their holes. The boy left the house.
“Let’s go, the seraph will be here soon.”
“Aye, there’s a caravan heading to Nebo Terrace leaving soon.”
The man replied.
“Anyplace is better than this city.”