Downtown Druid

Dantes made it to the docks with time to spare and began sending out rats and roaches to search all of the nearby vessels that had just come into port. As he did that, he slipped into the dock manager’s office with Jacopo. It was early, and so there was only a skeleton crew napping on some cots. Inside he found the long gray jacket that docking officials that worked for the city wore. He found one that fit him without much issue, and slipped it on.

He adjusted his posture, straightening his back a bit, and shaped the branch around his left forearm into the shape of one of the clubs often worn at the dockworkers side. He strolled out of the front door and began walking down the docks to his first target, a medium sized Frasheid ship lazily bouncing with the waves. Inside, beneath the shipment of cotton and silk that the city was expecting, was a large amount of weed and dust that Dantes presumed was meant for Mondego’s storehouse.

He brought two fingers to his lips and whistled loudly, scattering a number of gulls that were gathered nearby who he muttered a quick apology to.

A man wearing a white cotton shirt peeked over the side of the boat at Dantes, his eyes bleary and a small beer stain on the front of his shirt.

Dantes pointed his club at the man taking initiative. “You. Get me your captain. Now.”

The man shook his head, and stumbled over to a slave, smacking him on the face and pointing at the entrance to their belowdecks. The slave scurried away and the man stumbled back to Dantes, rubbing his eyes and trying to wake himself more fully.

“I believe we already paid the docking fee, Ser,” he said.

“Not about that fee.”

Another man appeared, this one more awake and wearing a tricord hat on his head and a saber at his waist. “I am the captain of this vessel. What is it the docking authority needs?”

Dantes smiled and pulled Danglar’s symbol of office from his jacket. “The local magister who maintains the legal organization of this portion of the docks requires an… additional fee before you may bring your goods onto land.”

The captain frowned deeply, and walked quickly off the boat eyeing the symbol of office. “We don’t pay a fee, we are the ones who are paid.”

Dantes shrugged. “All I know is that my boss told me to come down here and get ten gold from you… unless you want me to round up some of the dock guards and have them take a closer look at your inventory than they did the first time.”

The man’s face reddened. “That’s outrageous.”

Dantes nodded. “Alright, the guards it is. If I were you I wouldn’t be so keen to be arrested in a foreign city. I mean, we’re a bit better to our prisoners here than you are to your slaves, but, not by much.”

The captain gritted his teeth before looking back up to where a sailor was standing. “Don’t just gawk, go get him the damned gold.”

Dantes waited until the pouch was in his hand and he nodded at the captain. “Expect the same price next time. Mondego’s people will be here to collect the goods later.”

The captain seemed too angry to respond and simply walked back onto his boat, cursing under his breath.

Dantes moved down the docks to the next boat, this one from Viscent where one of their smaller steam cargo ships was docked. Unlike the Frasheid boat, this one had a halfling standing on the prow keeping watch, and a scattering of gnomes and even a dwarf beginning work on cleaning the deck, and doing various tasks. The halfling looked at him and immediately signaled silently to a younger halfling on deck who disappeared only to swiftly return with a gnome wearing a black uniform with two silver pips on the collar.

“What is it that the docking authority needs from us?” he asked, offering his hand to shake.

Dantes took his hand and returned it firmly. This time Dantes didn’t beat around the bush. “A bribe.”

The man nodded. “Why and how much?”

“The magister who is a part of the smuggling operation here wants a larger cut of the profits.” Dantes flashed Danglar’s symbol, “He is requesting ten gold, otherwise I summon the guard who will discover the gunpowder that you have hidden onboard.”

The man nodded. “Not a good idea. This will cause Danglars a lot of trouble going forward.”

Dantes nodded, doing his best to appear pained about it.

“Good man, following orders you disagree with.”

“It’s my duty, ser.”

The gnome gestured to one of his men who vanished briefly and returned with a small pouch. The gnome handed it to Dantes, who took it.

“We will be lodging a complaint with Mondego.”

Dantes nodded. “As is your duty, ser.”

The gnome gave a small smile, and walked back onto his boat.

The next ship was a Drashus vessel, manned entirely by orcs and half-orcs wearing the heavy patterned wool sweaters that marked their clans. Dantes had been on Drashus vessels often since he was a child. His father served on one of their ships after all. He didn’t see anyone he recognized, so raised up a hand at the third mate that was peering over the railing.

“Ey halfblood, what do you want?”

Dantes twirled his club in his hand. “Your captain now, then maybe your sister later.”

“My sister would break you in half.”

Dantes shrugged. “Your mother then.”

“She’d break you to quarters.”

“Bring me your captain, or I’ll bring the guard.”

The mate threw up his hands. “Fine, fine.” He disappeared and came back with a larger green skinned orc wearing the customary sweater along with a thick bandana and sporting heavy tattoos on his face.

“What do you want?”

“Ten gold”

“What for?”

“To keep me from calling the guard and having them find all that dust you’ve got onboard.”

The captain leapt off the boat and landed heavily on the dock in front of Dantes, stepping toward him.

Dantes didn’t step back or give any ground, but he did subtly change his club to make it spiked with curved thorns.

“You threatening me, boy?” asked the orc, baring his tusks.

“I’m not.” He held up Danglar’s symbol. “The magister I serve is. Kill me, and I’ll just be replaced. Not to mention the guard coming for you.”

The Orc shook his head with a disgusted look on his face. “I hate doing shipments here. It’s always some new kind of horseshit. Bunch of clanless halfblood with no honor, or elves. This whole city is a cesspit.”

Dantes shrugged. “Well at least I rank higher than elves.”

The captain spat at Dantes’ feet. “No. Bureaucrats are worse than elves. Corrupt bureaucrats in particular.”

Dantes was tempted to point out the hypocrisy considering the man was smuggling in drugs to a city by a means that was only available to him because of corruption, and likely doing so to line his own pockets, but he decided that wasn’t prudent.

The Orc Captain looked up to his third mate. “Get him his damned gold. I don’t want to talk to this slime any more.” He moved back onto his boat, and shortly after the third mate tossed down ten gold…in coppers, nearly knocking Dantes off his feet as he caught it. Dantes directed the rats on the ship to shit in their grog, and continued on his way down the dock.

He hit a half-dozen more ships, always sure to show Danglar’s symbol of office and doing his best to be a perfect mix of convincing enough to get the gold, and a pain in the ass enough that Mondego would hear about it. By the end of it, he’d made a tidy sum on top of sowing a fair amount of discord. He began to move toward a final target, a Visalian ship moving arcane books of some kind, when a guard on patrol squinted at him.

He attempted to keep walking, trying to let a confident stride do the talking for him, but the guard continued looking at him, even starting to move toward him.

“Hey!” yelled the guard, just loud enough to carry over the noise of the docks.

Dantes kept walking.

“Stop!”

Dantes started running, his backpack jingling from the coins he had. He quickly ducked into a nearby alley and shifted into ratform, sitting next to a pile of refuse when the guard entered it. He did a sweep of it, rubbed his eyes, and then exited the alley, still looking both ways as if searching for him.

Dantes stayed in ratform and made his way further away before returning to his usual self. He found himself panting heavily when he was done transforming. He leaned against a wall sweat dripping from his forehead. Something was wrong, he hadn’t been in ratform long enough to feel so poorly. He stumbled into an alley and retched.

“Jacopo,” he sent, but Jacopo didn’t respond. When he focused he could sense that he was also suffering. Curled somewhere cramped with a recently empty stomach and shivering. Dantes began to move toward where he sensed him, each step growing more painful as his vision began to blur.