⚔ Aᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ⚔

Hidden among the shadowed alleys of the Seatower neighborhood, Sewer Keep was once envisioned as a triumph of civic duty and arcane innovation. Constructed by a rare alliance of druids and Baldurian patriars, its purpose was noble: cleanse the city’s growing flood of sewage before it fouled the Chionthar River. Anchored into the city’s western walls, the Keep’s trio of stone towers house immense vats and vine-choked cisterns where enchanted flora break down waste. Yet despite its promise, public apathy and political neglect quickly starved the facility of gold and oversight. Today, it operates on bare minimums, with a skeleton crew of grim-faced workers, aging spells, and a constant struggle to keep foulness from overrunning its bounds. Rumors of strange life in the depths abound—mutated rats, mold-born elementals, or worse.

Approaching Sewer Keep, one is first struck by the oppressive stench—a pungent blend of river rot, moss, and the sour tang of alchemical runoff. The towers loom like rotting teeth against the city wall, slick with greenish mildew and choked by ivy that flourishes despite the filth. Rusting iron walkways span the gaps between towers, sagging with disuse. Murky pipes and overgrown aqueducts weave through the base like bloated roots. Pale, flickering lanterns cast sickly yellow light over the cracked stone courtyards, where druidic glyphs pulse faintly beneath layers of grime. The air is thick, humid, and buzzing with unseen insects. Within, the tanks glow dimly with bioluminescent fungi and sluggish, enchanted vines that churn ever onward—silent stewards of a task few remember and fewer care to understand.