Sagroth, Lair of Vermin -- The Seekers of Sagroth

Deed Lore

Gárvadach insists there is a prize to be had in the sewers beneath Carn Dûm, but not all who serve him share in this belief, or his apparent willingness to traverse such a foetid place.

To complete this deed perform the following objective(s)

Discover some spongy effluvia

Cruim sat on the driest patch of stone she could find and removed her left boot. Something wet and spongy slipped out when she upended it, looking like good custard and smelling like old meat -- her prize for straying too close to some slug-like creature.

"I hate this place," she declared.

"Would you rather be at the glass house?" asked Brâc, a twig of a man with more sense in his head than muscle on his frame. He was a poor choice for a soldier, but the Iron Crown grew more desperate by the day. It's why they were in this sewer in the first place.

Find some footprints

For a while, the two could hear nothing but the sound of their footsteps echo across the tunnel.

"What do you think Gárvadach expects to find here?" Cruim asked, breaking the silence.

Her companion shrugged. "I do not know," he admitted. "I cannot think with this odour filling my skull."

"Perhaps he seeks to use the stench itself." In an attempt to achieve some measure of Gárvadach's grating affectation, she crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose. "Kneel before me or I shall make you stink like a thousand rotting onions!"

Brâc rolled his eyes.

Find a particular sticky puddle

"We walk with purpose and don't stop until we are out of Angmar," Cruim muttered under her breath.

They walked towards the gate of Carn Dûm, an invisible wall of stench affording them privacy from passersby.

"Someone will stop us," Brâc said. "They'll know we are deserting."

She scoffed. "We smell like someone threw a bundle of hair into a privy and set it all on fire. No one will want to get near us."

They remained silent until the gates of Carn Dûm were well behind them.

"Where will we go?" Brâc asked.

"Anywhere but this doomed place."

Find a particular corpse

Somewhere deeper into the sewer system, they stumbled across what was left of Ogil. Much of the body had already been devoured by whatever foul fauna nested in this place -- so much so that they had trouble identifying him.

Brâc stared at the wreckage of his once-friend. "We will die here, searching for a madman's prize."

Cruim grabbed his wrist and pulled him back the way they came. "No," she said, shaking. "This whole city is falling to madness. I will not die with it!"

He wrenched his hand free from her grip. "Then what are you going to do?"

Find a slimy sword

As Brâc withdrew his sword from the slug’s corpse, long strings of effluvia clung to the blade. Flicking the sword did nothing to free it from the slime. He grimaced.

Cruim walked past, giving a wide berth to both him and the rapidly liquifying slug. "You could run the blade through the water," she suggested. "I'm sure that would help."

He eyed the sickly green water with due suspicion. "I would sooner replace the sword entirely."