Downtown Druid

Dantes turned the mirror over in his hands, looking for some kind of activation rune, but found nothing. He could tell the item was magical, there was a feeling to things that had magic. It presented differently for everyone. Some people heard a low hum, others said the air around magic smelled like the air before a storm, others would feel a chill up their spine. For Dantes it was a tingling in the tips of his fingers. He felt that sensation keenly as he held the mirror.

His attention turned to the mirror’s exposed edge. The only portion that wasn’t obscured by leather. It had been shaved down to a sharp blade and when he looked at it closely he saw small brown stains he recognized as dried blood. He began to press his thumb into the edge, but hesitated. He was eager, it was the first taste of power he’d had in some time, the first true heist he’d been a part of, he needed to calm himself. He longed to use the mirror, but magic could be dangerous, and he had no idea exactly how the mirror functioned, or exactly what might be waiting for him on the other side. Even if he turned it on, it wasn’t as if gold would start to flow from it, it was just a connection to another mirror outside the prison, not a tool for wish fulfillment. He needed to resist the desire to rush things, and gather more information.

There were a number of people he could bring the mirror to, but only one he could think of that owed him a favor. Dantes slid the mirror into one of the many folds of his coat, slotted a few shivs into his boots, and slid out of his cave.

He didn’t head straight toward the Collared’s territory. They were the gang he got along best with, but that didn’t mean he trusted them. He’d trusted his gang, and they’d gotten him thrown into this shithole. He had no desire to be betrayed again. He wove through a few narrow caverns and corridors, skirting around Kobold territory just in case the elves had put any kind of bounty on his head. Kobolds were good neighbors. They rarely bothered him when they encountered one another, he got along with the ones that traded, and they could be relied on to perform any job they’d agreed to, up to their understanding of that agreement. They’d still slit his throat for the right price though, and they knew enough about the general area in which he lived that they could place some of their trademark traps to catch him off-guard if they truly wanted to.

He stopped in an offshoot cave that stopped in a dead end. He peeled away a piece of stone from the wall. Inside was a small pouch that he knew contained a small portion of food, a shiv, and a bottle of clear hooch. He slid the mirror into the compartment, and then sealed it back up. He had a half dozen such hiding places in the Pit. He was hardly the only prisoner that had the idea, but he was fairly certain he was the only one that had so many scattered in the outermost tunnels of the Pit. Most prisoners preferred company, even bad company, to being alone. Particularly with the many stories about the dark things that lived in the furthest reaches of the underprison. He’d heard stories of everything from undead, to floating skulls wrapped in fire, and even that the original denizens of the underprison, those beings that had their city here before Rendhold was built on top of it, were waiting in the darkest depths to pounce. So far, he’d only encountered rats, giant spiders, and the occasional skitterling.

With the mirror stored safely in his hidey hole, he began making his way to the Collared’s territory. He took a familiar route there, moving carefully so that his own footsteps wouldn’t be so loud that he couldn’t hear anyone else approaching him. As he moved, he continued to experiment with his newfound senses. He could feel a patch of black fungus on a far wall, and it’s craving to spread, he caught snippets of conversation from rats that skittered away as he approached, and he even thought he could sense that Jacopo was still closeby, though exactly where he wasn’t certain. He wasn’t sure of what ways he could use those abilities to benefit himself, aside from more deals with rats, but any edge was better than none, and he was confident he’d find a way to take advantage of it..

He reached the edges of the Collared’s territory. It was composed of a large cavern, with dozens of small chambers that served as individual rooms. There were many such chambers in the Pit, which had led many to presume they’d been sleeping chambers for whatever society had initially carved them long before Rendhold was built atop it. The Collared's territory included a small freshwater fountain at its center, the source of which was unknown, but they’d managed to use it to create a crude plumbing of sorts all throughout their space. A few other gangs had been envious of it, but the value of being closer to the maw was higher than a source of freshwater, and it wasn’t worth dividing their forces to hold more than a single area at a time.

There was a single sleeping former mage leaning against the wall with his head tucked downward. That was typical. The Collared had much more to worry about coming from the other direction. Still, Dantes decided to help the young guard pay more attention next time. He noticed a slightly raised outline at the side of the boy’s robe. Quickly and deftly he slid his hand into the robe, found a pocket, and pulled out a small book. He recognized it as a grimoire. He was disappointed for a moment, there were few things more useless to him than that. Then he realized it was lighter than he expected. He opened it, and turned a few pages to reveal a concealed compartment. Inside were three pieces of silver, and a small pouch of dust. He smiled, claimed all of it, then slipped the book back into the boy’s pocket.

Once that was done he walked into the main room, keeping his hood up. He wasn’t exactly hiding who he was, but he wasn’t making a show of being there either. He exchanged a few nods, and a wave. Near Televor’s chamber was a table at which four men were shooting dice. One was a gnome, two were humans, and one was an orc. All four wore the telltale bronze collars.

The Orc waved. “Dantes, care to join us for a bit of gambling?”

“I’d always care to take your goods from you, Wane, but I’m busy today.” Their table was probably Dantes’ third favorite. The stakes were low since they didn’t have much to gamble with to begin with, but on the other hand the stakes were low so why bother gambling? Aside from that Dantes didn’t care for many of the regulars aside from Wane and Tel. Though taking money from people you dislike was certainly its own entertainment.

The gnome moved one of the dice between his fingers. “Trying to find some way for the Elfland Kings to leave you be?”

Dantes turned his attention to him. “Pillion…”

“News travels fast… sometimes it can travel very fast. Where people rest their heads, the tunnels they tend to pass through.” He gave him a knowing look. “Of course, for the right price maybe that news doesn’t travel.”

Dantes felt a scowl shaping on his face, his small tusks pushing against his lips. He fought it down and took a deep breath. This was normal, it was a good play, one he may have made himself in Pillion’s position. He knelt down to look him in the eyes.

“Pillion. We don’t really know each other beyond a few games of dice. All you know about where I live is that it’s somewhere in the tunnels beyond Collared territory. You don’t know how close, or far, or how hidden, or even if I sleep in only one place. When you tell the Elfland Kings where you think you can find me, and they come up empty handed, or worse, I manage to kill one of them, do you think they’ll treat you kindly? Do you think if I survive that you’ll remain secure with a bit of extra weed in your pocket to lose on dice? That collar isn’t so thick that it will keep your throat from being slit. You’d do well to remember that.”

Pillion scoffed, and made a rude gesture, but couldn’t help bringing his hand up to his collar and rubbing his neck gingerly.

Dantes turned to Wane. “Is Tel in his room?”

Wane nodded. “Yeah, been sleeping since he got back though. Seemed real dehydrated as well, must’ve drank an entire pitcher of water. We thought he may have traded away the last of his goods for one too many stiff drinks.”

Dantes laughed. “It wasn’t drinks. I introduced him to Syn.”

Wane laughed too. “Ah, well, I think I remember my first visit to Which Wench. I managed to hold out for a year and couldn’t walk right for a week afterward.”

“Disgusting,” muttered Pillion as he placed his dice into the cup and began shaking them.

Dantes shook his head, not willing to expend any more time on Pillion, and walked to Tel’s room. If Pillion was trying to extort him, that likely meant that someone else among the Collared had already told the Elfland Kings all that they knew about him and where he was. The longer he took to figure things out, the harder it would be to maneuver, and the more limited his options would become. He needed to speed things up.

He reached Tel’s room, and slid the small curtain to it aside.