Downtown Druid

Dantes walked toward the Consortium’s Undermarket bar. He felt good. He’d put on even more weight thanks to his climbing routine, easy access to food, and the whey tip he’d gotten from Merle. On top of that coin jangled in his pockets from the last two deliveries of what Mez had begun calling his, “Bloody Brew”, due to its dull red hue. Only Dantes and Jacopo knew how appropriate the name truly was. Life was horrible overall, but also as good as it had ever been for him since he’d been thrown into the Pit.

Dantes shifted his focus to Jacopo, who was already tucked in a wall of the bar, watching it. The Shadow Cats were already there as well, pretending to be unrelated patrons in the corner, but Ryker and his retinue hadn’t arrived. That suited him fine, meant that there wasn’t an ambush of any kind waiting.

He went inside, and walked over to where a gnome was standing on top of a stool behind the bar. He held up a finger, and the gnome nodded, pulled out a cup, poured strong red brew into it, and slid it over to him. Dantes took a long, slow sip, enjoying the sweet flavor and burning aftertaste. When he was done, he took a copper from his pocket, and slid it across the bar. The gnome took the coin with practiced grace, and poured Dantes another round.

Jayson attempted a subtle wave, but Dantes ignored it. Jacopo had moved into an alley nearby, and he could see through his eyes that three orcs were about to enter.

Dantes kept his eyes forward, and enjoyed another long slow sip as they entered. Hierarchy was rarely a difficult thing to determine with orcs. If one was bigger than the others, and walking ahead of them, he was in charge. There were a few exceptions here and there, but in this case things adhered closely to stereotypes. Ryker was a head and shoulder taller than the other orcs, which put Dantes at about chest height to him. His tusks were capped in iron points, his skin was the deep green of vines, and his eyes were a rich orange color. He had shaved bald, as had the other orcs, and all of them were bricks of muscle.

Dantes turned around on his stool and raised his glass to Ryker, who gestured with his neck for his men to take a seat at a nearby table without them, then went to the bar to sit next to Dantes, his large frame seeming almost comical on the small barstool. He gestured for a drink, which the gnome poured without comment and took a long sip before turning his orange eyes to Dantes.

He sized him up for a moment, his eyes running up and down him, before he nodded. “Before I hear what you have to say, I need to ask you a question.”

Dantes nodded.

Ryker smiled widely, his entire demeanor shifting from intimidating to warm in an instant. “How good did it feel to blow those fucking elves up?”

Dantes looked left and right and leaned in conspiratorially. “Better than the last time I had a woman.”

Ryker let out a loud laugh and slapped Dantes on the back, nearly knocking him from the chair. “Oh, I had a feeling I’d like you.” He took another sip of his drink. “This stuff, I heard that it was partially your doing as well?”

Dantes shook his head. “I just connected the right people to each other that’s all.”

“Hey, nothing more valuable than that. No crew, no job, no gang can exist without a guy who puts the pieces of things together.”

Dantes nodded. He hadn’t expected Ryker to be so personable. Wane hadn’t given him much of a heads up about what to expect, and so Dantes had been assuming it would be a large Orc full of balls, bluster, and rage. So far, Ryker only met two of those predicted criteria.

“Can I ask why you came to meet me? Wane initially said it would probably be Kester.”

Ryker finished his drink. “I wanted to meet the guy who took care of the Pit’s elf problem in person.” He gestured for another drink. “I also wanted to see if you were up to joining us.”

Dantes briefly lost control of his expression, and his eyebrows shot up.

“Is that such a surprise?”

“Are you going to pretend it’s not?” asked Dantes. The Orc gang was probably the most open to recruiting half or quarter blooded orcs into its ranks without any prejudice, but not when they had elven or dwarven blood. Dantes had both, though only the elvish was obvious.

Ryker. “Quarter orc, half-orc, doesn’t matter. Society sees you as an orc no matter what other blood has mixed with it. Whether we want them to or not. Besides which, we’re a…what do you call it…a meritocracy! You seem good at killing and setting things up. Even Blud gave me the sign off to see if you were interested.”

Dantes brought his expression back under control, though he found it was easy to give an affable smile. He liked Ryker, he seemed reasonable, and he didn’t detect any insincerity either. He hadn’t expected this, particularly not Blud, their Chief, to be interested in him joining up. This was good, he could use it.

“No need to make a decision now. Hell, we’d be willing to work with you even if you don’t join up.” He took another sip of his freshly refreshed drink. “But anyway, what did you want? Why the meet?”

Dantes took a short sip of his own drink. “The Which Wench, I’ve heard you’ve been trying to get them to start paying up to you?”

Ryker nodded. “Yeah, we’re doing a bit of flexing here and there. The changelings have had it easy for a while. I’m sure they’ve got the goods to pay us.” He smirked and lightly hit Dantes’ arm with his elbow. “And if they don’t they’ve got other ways to stay out of debt with us.”

Dantes kept his smile, but immediately felt his opinion of Ryker drop by half. “Well, I get along well with them. Gamble with them, drink, you know. I was hoping to talk to you about going easy on them? Maybe dropping the ask? Or negotiating something different?”

Ryker kept his smile, but shook his head. “Fraid not my friend. Taking the Which Wench, and a few other businesses… That’s on Blud’s orders. No turning that around now.” He picked at an iron capped tusk with his index finger.

“Come on, there’s always a deal to be made. I’m sure if you worked with them it would wind up being beneficial for everyone.”

Ryker laughed. “They're just whores Elf-killer, they’re only good for one thing. Smart guy like you knows that.”

There went the other half of his opinion of Ryker. Still, he kept up his smile.

“Yeah, whores are whores, but I lost a bet and owed one of them a favor. You understand, I’m sure.”

Ryker nodded slowly. “Honourable too, even to whores! You really just sell yourself more and more as we talk.”

Dantes rubbed his chin as if deep in thought. “You know, there might be a way I can make things go easier for you with the changelings. Maybe even get some profit out of it for the both of us.”

“Oh?” Ryker gave a conspiratorial look.

“Well, they trust me, and as far as they know I’m on their side. I could talk to them, convince them not to resist… maybe even get them to agree to the deal verbally. Have them bound to listen to you and the other Orcs by fey law.”

“And what would you get out of that?”

“A cut of course, and maybe Blud makes me one of his lieutenants when it’s all over.”

Ryker nodded, pointing a thick finger at him. “You, you’re bold. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were full blooded, straight from suckling off an orcish tit.”

“Well, what I do in private is my own business, isn’t it?”

Ryker let out a big full laugh. “Alright. A guy with jokes like you needs more than just a brief meet. You, me, and my boys are going to be getting some serious drinking done.” He gestured to his men at the table who moved up to the bar. Then he gestured to the Shadow Cats. “Your bodyguards too, they’re welcome to join us too.”

“That obvious, eh?” asked Dantes.

“Let’s just say, those boys are greener than I am. I had them nailed the moment I walked in.”

Dantes laughed, and waved them up. “You heard the man, let’s all drink!”

They all got a fresh cup, and raised them high once before they chugged the first one down. As expected of a bar full of criminals, not one of them even winced as it burned down their throats. Dantes kept making jokes, and sharing drinks until the day was done. He needed them to trust him as much as possible before he slipped a knife between their ribs.