Downtown Druid

Dantes gently placed a small candle down on the floor of the wide cavern. He took out a small burnstick, lit it, and gently placed it against the wick of the candle. It lit easily, and then he moved a few yards down and lit another one. He repeated this process until there were a half dozen candles lit in a long straight line.

He reached out his senses feeling all of the life in the wide cavern starting to stir from his activity. He focused his attention on the cave moths nearby, not willing them to do anything, but instead simply broadcasting the image of candlelight to them. He felt them respond shortly after, and soon enough there were dozens of moths fluttering around the candlelight, their soft grey forms getting closer and closer to the burning flames, a few of them coming to close and lighting themselves aflame.

The moths weren’t his goal. He couldn’t really think of what he would do with a moth’s favor, aside from maybe using them to destroy shipments of cloth coming in from the ports after purchasing a large amount and then selling what he stored at a high premium. He paused for a moment. That was actually a fantastic idea, but not one that would be of much use to him in the Underprison. His current needs were very different from what he hoped his future ones would be. He filed the idea away for later, and focused on his actual target for the day. The bats hanging from the ceiling above.

Enjoy the buffet

He couldn’t see in the contrast between the candlelight and the dark, but he could hear the soft wingbeats of the bats as they dropped from their upside-down perches and began to make their way toward the moths that had gathered to enjoy the light. It was mere seconds before he started to feel moths' lives start to be extinguished as the bats caught them in their talons and jaws. They didn’t seem to mind though, just continuing their mindless drifting toward the light.

It had taken him some time to decide where to focus his attention in the last few weeks. He’d continued his exercise, transporting the fruit, the occasional round of dice with the changelings or the collared. He’d also continued to work on coordinating the rats and roaches simultaneously, but even that wasn’t really enough to keep boredom from slipping through. So he’d decided to see what he could do to gain another Mark. He’d considered spiders, snakes, and a few other critters, but found that it was too hard to locate large groups of them, and also the easiest ways to feed them and gain their favor would be to sacrifice his rats and roaches, which was counterproductive, so he’d decided on bats. He was already starting to understand them better, catching the odd word here and there, even though he still couldn’t directly speak to them.

He left the candles burning in the cavern, and made his way back to his own cave. He could feel his garden starting to ramp up its requests for blood again, but so far the droplets of his own had kept the cries from growing too loud. He began to flit through the viewpoint of a number of rats making sure that his path ahead was clear. Then he shifted to that of the roaches. It was harder to process what they were seeing and feeling for Dantes, but he could keep track of them from a much greater distance without issue and at far less of a cost.

There seemed to be some kind of commotion with the Collared, but he couldn’t tell exactly what. He looked at his marks. The roachmark was full at both wings, with just the head still stubbornly black. The ratmark on the other hand was only a fingernails width from being completely filled. He flexed his hand and clenched it into a fist watching the nearly completely golden mark expand and contract on his skin. He was excited to see what would happen, he wasn’t certain of what it would be, but he knew he wanted it.

He made it to his small territory in the underprison without trouble and broadcast a message to all the nearby rats that they could eat all of the fruit they wanted to, aside from the peach tree which was Jacopo’s. The amount of favor he’d been receiving got smaller as the mark filled, but he hoped one last push would get him where he wanted to be.

He arrived at his cave, squeezing into it through the large crack that acted as a door. It had gotten tighter and tighter recently, and he found himself needing to really stretch at the middle portion to get through. The cost of having a full stomach regularly again. He moved over to his pantry, and removed a bit of fruit, some dried meat he’d gotten in the undermarket, and a piece of stale bread. A poor man’s meal on the surface, but a rich man’s meal in the pit.

He walked across the thick carpet of green moss that spanned the entire cave, and laid against a particularly thick patch of it in the corner, laying his food on the ground in front of himself after sending out a warning to scavengers to leave it alone until he was done.

Jacopo leapt off of his shoulder and picked his own favorite things from the pantry. A pawful of dried meat, a peach from his tree, and a bit of hard tack.

They ate in a comfortable silence for some time, until Dantes started to feel strange. It was minor at first, a bit of a burning and itching sensation on his wrist that he absently scratched at as he ate his food and let his senses wander through the lift that filled his cave. Then the pain increased. He looked at his wrist, the ratmark was full, and glowing with golden light. All around it, his inner wrist was covered in thick gray hair. He stood, swallowing his food as he stared at the patch of hair. Even as he was looking at it, more hairs began to pop up on his arm, spreading out further, and filling in thicker as it began to cover his arm.

He opened his mouth to scream, but was winded as a heinously loud cracking noise shot from his back followed my terrible pain as he was forced to lurch forward, landing on his hands and knees. He tried to scream again, but as he opened his mouth his jaw made a terrible crunching noise as it began to elongate, his nose stretching out to meet it.

He fell to his side and began tearing at his own skin in a mad frenzy of agony as whatever process his body was going through sped up. His already long fingers grew longer, his back began to arch further forward and his joints all popped into and out of place as they rearranged him into a new shape. On top of that, those few moments in which he was able to recognize anything that wasn’t pain, he could see the cave was expanding, growing larger and larger every moment.

He believed, or hoped, that the pain would release him and he would pass out, but it was merciless and he felt every individual change with pure consciousness and focus, the only thing that caused one pain to fade was the introduction of another. After what felt like an eternity, it came to an end and he found himself standing, no, not standing, hunched over.

He looked at his hands, and saw small delicate paws looking back at him. He moved his attention across his body, taking a few steps, twitching his new whiskers, and swinging his thin tail back and forth. He’d transformed into a rat. The feeling was familiar, thanks to his many experiences looking through the eyes of rats, but that didn’t mean it was welcome.

“Hmmm, you are ugly as a rat. Are you considered ugly by two-legs when you are one of them?”

Dantes turned around to look at Jacopo. It was very unusual to see him at eye level. They were the same size, give or take a whisker or two.

“Some do, certainly.” His words came out as a series of squeaks, but at the same time were perfectly understandable to him. “This doesn’t surprise you?”

Jacopo shrugged. “You were already an honorary rat to me, and at this point your surprises are no longer surprising.”

He looked down at his wrist, the rat and roach marks were both still there. He reached out with his senses and found that his abilities didn’t seem diminished at all. The only real difference seemed to be that he had become a rat.

He took a long deep breath into his tiny lungs, and willed himself to change back. It worked, as he instinctively knew it would, and he grew back to his human self without nearly as much pain as the initial transformation had taken. He took another breath and willed himself to change into a rat again. This time it was less painful and much faster, but still incredibly unpleasant. He repeated the process a few more times anyway, switching from rat to human, and back until he could perform the transformation within seconds either way. He couldn’t think of many immediate possibilities for the power, at least none that it wouldn’t make more sense for him to just send a rat to do, but the ability to get out of and into places personally was very useful to him.

He looked back at his wrist. The ratmark's fangs were still filled with gold, which meant that the transformation didn’t cost him any favor. He ran his finger along the raised skin of it.

“Thank you, rat god.”

He felt the mark burn for a moment, as if he’d been acknowledged, then it faded. He started going back through his regular rotation of rats and roaches to see if anything had changed. When he reached the roach he had been monitoring the collared, he froze. He sensed blood.