Downtown Druid

Jacopo moved through the tight dwarven halls quickly and quietly. There were no cracks in the walls for him to slink through, so instead he had to rely on the shadows in order to make his way through. Dwarven darkvision may have made that a problem, but because they lined their halls with braziers that cast harsh light, they may as well have had human eyesight. A price they paid for aesthetics. This was an insight that Jacopo had thanks to his connections with Dantes rather than independently.

He’d noticed he’d had a lot of those kinds of insights since they’d been bonded. The vast majority meant nothing to him. Even this one wasn’t vital in his mind. Who cared why the dwarves couldn’t see him? Who cared that they were called dwarves? What mattered was that he could move quickly and quietly past them. Though even the reasons he was there were still confusing to him. When Dantes had explained revenge to him, he had felt very strongly that it was something that he wanted. In the past when another rat had stolen from him, or a human had attempted to trap him or threw a rock his way, he’d felt no such feelings, but since being connected to Dantes, he’d felt strongly about every slight, and the memory of his near death at the hands of Iron in the Mine, made his blood boil.

He wove through a few of the tunnels, hiding against the wall when a dwarf loaded down with goods made his way through to the undermarket. He passed by a few more as he began moving through the maze-like halls of dwarven territory. One was dragging a bound elf around, another was hauling stone, and a third was vomiting in the corner, reeking of alcohol nearly as strongly as Mez had been when he’d seen him earlier.

Jacopo sniffed the air. He smelled food, and drink nearby. Dantes urged him in that direction. The last time he’d seen Iron it was on a throne in their hall, there was a good chance that’s where they’d find him this time. Jacopo made his way in that direction, his near silent footfalls further muffled by the sounds of drinking and cheer. The room was much better lit than the rest of the hall, but Jacopo had the advantage of everyone being thoroughly focused on their food and drink.

There were more than two dozen dwarves inside. Most of them with well decorated beards that marked them as high up in their clan. Iron himself was nowhere to be found. Jacopo sniffed the air as he scurried into the protective shade of a stone table. They were eating some mixture of mushrooms, skitterling, and broth. Dwarven cuisine was a cultural experience that Dantes had always done his damnedest to avoid, particularly since elements of it would kill him, but he found himself sharing Jacopo’s hunger for it while he was watching through his eyes, and smelling the rich scents through his snout.

The room was loud, but it only took a few moments for Jacopo’s ears to filter everything down into individual conversations as he scurried around, and took a moment to nibble at a small spill of their stew.

“Damn the knife eared bastards, good riddance to them.”

“Aye, bunch of assholes. Remember the time one of ‘em stabbed me tween the ribs?”

“I remember the ones that stabbed you through the cheek, but not the ribs.”

“That was a halfling, the one I cheated with loaded dice.”

“Ah yeah. Why did the elves stab you?”

“I pissed on their boots while they were walking past.”

“Seems like a bit much to stab someone over. A beating sure, but a stabbing? They took themselves way too seriously.”

“Speaking of taking themselves too seriously, where’s Iron? I expected him to be celebrating the raid with the rest of us.”

“He’s celebrating back in his quarters with Rock.”

“Getting drunk as friends?”

“You know that’s not what they’re doing.”

“Why doesn’t he just hit up the brothel like the rest of us. The changelings are perfectly capable of making themselves into a fine dwarven woman. Or even a human, or hells a halfling if you're feeling a bit less than traditional.”

“His…preferences always ran this way. Even back in Rendhall. I mean, he had a wife, he did his duties, but he always had a boy on the side. Why do you think he’s down here?”

“I thought he got thrown down here because he killed that councilor’s son?”

“No, he wasn’t the one who did it, but they made him take the fall for it. He accepted it too, part of what makes him such a good clan head down here. Too few dwarves have a sense of responsibility these days. Too many are born used to the sun on their faces. Makes them weak.”

“I had no idea that’s why he was here.”

“It was before your time, lad. Don’t worry about it.”

Jacopo was looking for the next area to move to. Dantes had encouraged him to sit still so that he could listen to the gossip, all of which he filed away for use later. Jacopo wanted to keep moving though. They left from under that table, scurrying for the next one, then the next. Jacopo encountered a few cousins beneath that one, eating spilled food, and drinking spilled drink. He flicked his whiskers in greeting, before moving toward the far end of the room. He knew, because Dantes shared the knowledge with him, that all dwarven halls shared a similar design, and so at that far end there would be a hall that led to the clan leader's inner chambers.

He found the back rooms unsealed, and so walked through them. The sound from the main hall became muffled in those rooms, and eventually faded completely as Jacopo worked his way deeper into the inner chambers. There were several empty larger rooms with stone beds filled with hay or in a few cases as Jacopo made his way deeper inside, actual feathers covered in cloth. The rooms were all well appointed, but became surprisingly elaborate as they made their way further in, with small trinkets, piles of dust, weed, and tobacco that made Dantes briefly wonder if Jacopo would be able to carry anything back before being reminded both by himself and by Jacopo that was a foolish idea.

The door to the room at the far end of the hall was slightly cracked, with candlelight flickering from within. Loud snoring was carried out of the room, and halfway down the hall where it reached Jacopo. He moved inside quickly, sharing excitement with Dantes, a thrill that came with skullduggery that he had been unused to before his bonding.

This room was the best appointed of them all. Intricate dwarven carvings lined the walls. Furniture of stone, carved for the space filled it, and the bed looked the same as one that may have been on the surface in Rendhold. There was even a wooden cabinet in the corner, a true luxury in the Pit.

Dantes’ priorities sending Jacopo into Clan Stonedust territory were simple. The first priority was information gathering, the second was locating some way to damage Iron and Clan Stonedust. Dantes’ first instinct in that regard was to find some item of Iron’s and have Jacopo steal it and then plant it among another dwarf or perhaps even find a way to put it in the possession of the orcs to sow strife among them. When Jacopo moved to the top of the wooden cabinet to survey the room however, another possibility came into play.

Iron was laying on his back, with a younger dwarven man with only a few decorations on his beard laying across his chest. They were both asleep, and on a small stone table next to the bed, sat Iron’s blunderbus.

Dantes hesitated to say anything, thinking of the danger his idea may put Jacopo in.

“You are not going to suggest it?” asked Jacopo internally.

“I worry about the risk to you. We’re linked, I don’t want to put you in too much unnecessary danger.”

“I want to do it,” sent Jacopo. That gnawing feeling he’d gotten from Dantes was stronger than it had been before. The hunger for revenge.

Dantes felt it too. His hesitation evaporated when he realized that they shared the same feeling on the matter.

Jacopo moved to the side table, climbing up easily, his movements silent in comparison to the loud dwarven snoring that was occurring. The blunderbus wasn’t angled quite right, so Jacopo had to move it before firing to maximize the damage it would cause. The blunderbuss was massive to Jacopo, but he grabbed the end, and began pulling. It made a loud scraping noise, but the two dwarves kept snoring, undisturbed. Jacopo heaved it just a bit further.

“Huh- what’s tha-”

Jacopo froze as Iron sat up briefly and looked around. His eyes half lidded and bleary. The man that had been laying against him patted his chest a few times, and Iron gradually settled down.

Jacopo settled, and shimmied around to the trigger. Neither Jacopo, nor Dantes had a lot of experience with firearms. They were rare, even on the surface, and had only really been adopted by dwarven artisans and a few enterprising humans. It was because of this, that when Jacopo pulled the trigger, he and Dantes didn’t even remotely consider the idea of recoil.