Downtown Druid

It was early morning when the cannonfire began. It could be heard all across the city like a distant thunderclap. Those closer to the walls in Midtown could see flashes of blue light where the cannonballs and their enchantments struck against the invisible walls maintained by those few mages that the city had left. Several of the cannonballs broke through, crashing into homes, and businesses and obliterating any flesh they came across. When one cannonball made it through, the mages would make changes to their shield to adjust for whatever new enchantments the enemy had placed on their artillery, and once their cannonfire stopped working, the enemy’s mages would make their own adjustments to compensate. The early part of the battle was tense, but aside from those few cannonballs nothing else had made it through. The main problem now was that Viscent’s ships had almost reached Rendhold. Rendhold’s own navy had limped back to the docks, and now their cannons and equipment were being turned to defense.

All of this meant a lot to the people of Rendhold, but not the other things that lived there. To the vermin, the ruins of a city weren’t so different from a bustling one. Jacopo yawned as he listened to the war committee continue prattling on. The ruling they’d made to allow the recruitment of criminals had gone through, but they’d only just started the process of actually bringing them to the surface, focusing on mages and former guards as their primary recruitment targets, though in the case of former guards, not many had survived their time in the Pit or were well enough to actually fight and so were denied release.

Unlike previous meetings, Argenta was attending this one in her council seat. None of the others were there as they were too directly involved in the city’s defense, aside from Kline who may or may not have even been alive at that point.

Jacopo stood up, interrupting the ongoing conversation with a complete lack of shame. “I have heard of a man with particular talents in the Pit who should be recruited as a priority.”

The older orc man, whose name Jacopo never bothered to learn, gave him a withering look. “I let you make a suggestion without waiting your turn in the past because I knew you were new to the city and felt sympathy for your inopportune timing. At this point though, I think you know well that you’re breaking decorum.”

“I don’t care. The city’s about to get destroyed. This man, Dantes, I’ve heard possesses magelike abilities that could help in the city’s defense and already commands the loyalty of hundreds within the Pit.”

The younger dwarven woman next to him spoke up. “The gangster? I thought his powers were a myth? What man can see everything in the city at once, teleport, fly…” She shook her head. “It makes no sense.”

Vampa sighed and nudged Desha.

She sighed and stood up.

“Even if he’s not capable of those things, the fact that such powerful myths about him have sprung up means he is effective. I think we should consider making his release a priority.”

“He is a criminal!” cried one of the older men at the committee table. “Worse than any of the others in the Pit. He’s brought Dust into our city, weapons, and countless deaths are attributed to him.”

Desha smiled. “Capable, as I said.”

“Too capable,” came a voice from the back of the room.

Jacopo turned to see Pacha. His beard was filled with debris and his breastplate was dinged in several places. Jacopo shifted his focus to check to see if the wall was breached. It wasn’t, but an entire volley of cannonballs had made it through the barrier at once and tore through part of the city. Pacha must’ve been involved in checking those areas for injured.

“Gavain himself had to be involved in his takedown, and he gave up his own freedom to ensure that he was brought in and received his punishment.”

The young dwarven magister shook her head. “Lot of good that did. He got taken by Drasheid and they invaded us anyway.”

“He acted with honor, in the name of Justice.”

Dantes’s full focus arrived to look through Jacopo’s eyes.

“Do you mind if I take over for a minute?” he asked.

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Jacopo didn’t mind at all, he found all of this incredibly exhausting.

Dantes flexed Jacopo’s fingers a few times, adjusting to being in both his body and in control of Jacopo’s. It wasn’t something they did often, but this time it made sense.

“Justice doesn’t matter now,” said Dantes through Jacopo, drawing the eyes of the room. “This is about Rendhold, about survival. Even with all of this yelling at one another about this or that addendum, I know you can hear the firing of cannons. Do you think the inner walls will keep them out? Do you think the generals don’t want all of the wealth of Uptown in their coffers? Do you think their men don’t want to know what it feels like to take a noblewoman?”

“They wouldn’t just kill all of us. They want to own the city, not destroy it,” argued the old orc.

“Yes, they won’t kill all of us, but how certain are you that you and your families will be the ones that are spared?”

“No man should be freed from the Pit, but Dantes least of all. His control of Midtown was only the beginning, with him back things could grow much worse,” he looked at Argenta. “The whole city could be run by criminals if we are not careful.”

“And things are better without him?” asked Dantes through Jacopo. “From what I understand guards are getting murdered there everyday, Nobles are assaulted, merchants robbed. Is that better than when Dantes was there?”

Pacha glared at him.

“There’s always going to be crime in Midtown, but when he was in charge it was controlled. He had rules, and his people abided by them. How many of you have gone to his club? Did you feel in danger there? Or even on the way home after? He has standards, which the chaos in Midtown shows are no longer reflected there.”

“A man gave his freedom to have him put away.”

“That man’s actions were his own. If he hadn’t antagonized Frasheid over some slaves in the first place, then we may only be facing one invading army instead of two.”

Pacha started to take some steps toward him, his hand on his sword, but Vampa put himself between them, holding the hilt of his own sword, and he stopped.

“Besides, if he takes the deal as it’s offered, he’ll have to be on the front lines. If he’s there, there’s a good chance he’ll die anyway. If he turns to crime again, the city can deal with it after the current crisis. Without using every tool at our disposal, we won’t even make it that far.”

The committee exchanged some glances with one another, and the old orc received a subtle nod from Argenta.

“All in favor of prioritizing the release of Dantes from the Underprison?”

…

Dantes returned to his own body and took a moment to regain his composure. Jacopo had been doing incredibly on his own, but he could tell things had needed an extra push. He stood up and stretched as he looked over from the roof of the tavern he was standing on to the warehouse next door. It had once been a building used to store the machines used for processing wool, but Drake had purchased it to use as his own personal abode. His tastes were simple, he liked stone fixtures everywhere he could, a large space for training, and a bed massive enough to fit himself and the woman or man of his choice, which made it quite massive as his tastes tended to be for women and men his own size.

Dantes leapt off the roof, shifting into batform in midair as he made his way to a small chimney at the top of the building. He dove down, and flew out into the open space, before flying up to a rafter and shifting into a rat. He could hear a dull thud coming from across the warehouse, and so skittered in that direction. He could see the source of the sound long before he reached it thanks to the wide open space of the building. Drake was training, smashing his massive fists into a post covered in rope. It reminded him of the training he’d seen Vampa doing, which he’d extended into the training regimen for Zak and Jacopo.

Drake was shirtless as he exercised, wearing only a silver medallion and covered in massive, ugly muscle. Not the kind you’d see on one of the studs at the Magnificent Stallion in Uptown, more like what you’d see on orcish dockworkers that lifted heavy rope and crates all day, but doubled.

While he was focused on abusing the wooden post, Dantes climbed down from the rafters to get closer. There was a pitcher of water there and a small glass. Dantes moved toward, watching carefully to make sure that Drake was focused on what he was doing. He shifted into himself, accessing the poison he had stored in his wooden arm, and extending a needle like wooden finger to slowly deposit it in the pitcher. When he was done, he shifted back into a bat and moved back to the rafters, where he waited. He was using a much more potent brew made with a mix of what Lorna gave him, and Mor-Gan-May’s advice on how to mix it.

It was nearly a half-hour of Drake pounding his fists on the post before he finally stepped away to take a break. Dantes kept himself busy with monitoring things around Rendhold, making sure the walls hadn’t yet been breached, and communicating with Jacopo.

Drake went over to the water, ignored the small glass, and lifted the pitcher to take several long drinks of it, much to Dantes’s satisfaction. He coughed for a moment and shook his head, then he coughed some more. He clutched his throat and stumbled forward, knocking over the pitcher and breaking it as he fell. He landed on his back, his eyes screaming and face reddening as he struggled to breath. Then he went suddenly still.

Dantes watched him, something wasn’t right.

Drake began to laugh, a thorough belly-laugh, and stood up. “You think a bit of poison can kill a man like me? A coward’s weapon like that?” He put the flats of his hands behind his back, rolled back a little, then launched himself onto his feet with his hands. “You must think I’m as dumb as Niklas was, eh Dantes?” He turned his head to look directly at where Dantes sat on the rafters.

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