Level 7 - High Scholar of Slipping Logic
I had someone ask me, recently, why I not only allowed such characters in my campaign, but didn't seem to care that anyone wanted to do so. Parts of my response seemed worth sharing.
'Something weird heah! Get yer weird things!' I raised an eyebrow. Street vendors rolled by the Woflo Inn about five hundred blighted times a day, screeching like strangled gulls. I got sick of the racket by the second day, but it was midsummer, and closing the shutters would've choked us with the heat. Blight take this human city anyway, I'd take the Altanian jungles if I had a choice. At least there are no street vendors there.
Chav was on her feet and grabbing for her belt pouch like a shot. 'Where are YOU going?' I drawled.
'You GOTTA come see this, Eve! This guy is great!' And with that, she was right out the door and pelting down the stairs.
'Something weird heah! Get yer weird things riiiight heah!'
This slum reveals the darker face of the City. Shanteytown is exposed to the elements and unprotected by wall or guard. A seedy mixture of driftwood shacks, impromptu shelters, lean-tos and camps thrown up on old ruins, and filled with the underclass and those with nowhere else to go, Shanteytown is for many the end of the line.