Death Comes In Many Shapes 6 (1/2)

A dwarf was napping pleasantly while leaning back in his simple wooden chair. His soft snoring echoed slightly through the narrow stone hallway he was supposed to be keeping an eye on.  Although this behavior was not befitting someone who had been appointed to guard duty, none of his peers would fault him for it. The actual ‘guarding’ consisted waiting for someone from the other side of the circular steel door next to him to speak the password so that he can open it from the inside. This chore was closer to being a doorman than an actual guard.

After all, not only was the door in question concealed as one of many wine casks inside a large restaurant’s cellar, but it was also impossible to open it from the outside. Granted, this wasn’t the only way in or out of the underground complex, but it was the one the grunts and enforcers of the Honeydew Cartel used the most. They had a separate entrance at the opposite end that was mostly used for carrying goods in and out of the hideout, but they avoided using that in broad daylight. After all, just because this particular criminal organization was rather small-time didn’t mean they wouldn’t take a few extra precautions so as to not be found out.

Especially considering their main source of income wasn’t something like extortion or armed robbery. That stuff was for brainless bandits that lived in the woods and slept in the dirt. Granted, they still did those things when the opportunity presented itself, but their specialty was smuggling. Being this close to the northern border and along the imperial highway meant all manner of cargo, illegal or otherwise, had to pass through this town of Bootlick, whether its owners wanted to or not.

The Honeydew Cartel’s main imports were narcotic substances that had a highly addictive nature, such as Fairy Dust or the Honeydew they named themselves after. They were produced en-masse in the Ishigar Republic to the north, where their use and sale wasn’t illegal like it was in the Empire, but was still strictly regulated. These drugs were then smuggled across the border in large quantities and resold to other organizations looking to peddle them to any commoners looking to get a fix. Overall, it was a setup that ensured a steady stream of profit for everyone involved. Well, other than the end users, that is.

Of course, that was not the Cartel’s only revenue stream. They also sold superior Empire-forged weaponry to the elves across the border. Purchasing and then smuggling quantities of weapons over the lang route was risky, but the payout was well worth the danger involved. All things said and done, this organization was doing quite well for itself even though its members didn’t even reach 3 digits. Unfortunately, they were rather lacking in the information department. Most humans and elves simply passed through the town, at most stopping only to rest for the night before moving on towards the capital. It made gathering sensitive intel quite the challenge.

That didn’t mean they did not try, however. The cartel had an informant in pretty much every guild in town, offering them a bounty of gold for any juicy info that flowed in from the Empire’s heartland. One such mole was a Warlock that went by the rather unsavory name of Grimebeard. In fact, he had informed the organization earlier today of a relatively low-leveled elven Warlock who had an Artifact-grade item in his possession. It was clear that he wanted the item for himself, but the Cartel had other ideas.

A single one of those ancient treasures could fetch thousands of GP if sold to the right bidder, far more than what the old Warlock could offer them. He was told in no uncertain terms that the Cartel would take charge of the Artifact and sell it to their contacts across the border. The old dwarf had momentarily forgotten that, no matter how amicable they seemed, this Cartel was still a criminal gang that placed their own profits first. He therefore had to begrudgingly give up on getting his hands on that staff and would need to be satisfied with the extra large finder’s fee. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but it would still be a lot more than the big fat nothing he would get otherwise.

After agreeing to his contact’s terms, he gave them everything he knew about one Chester Underwood, including the confidential information gleaned from his Full Appraisal. The Cartel quickly learned that this was the same ginger-haired elf with the personal steel golem that one of their own had identified as a potential person of interest earlier today. The chance of getting their hands on not only the Artifact, but also on that golem’s control rod was simply too good to pass up.

So the Cartel’s boss decided they would gobble the unsuspecting elf up. This was hardly the first time they’d done something like this, and this mark would be easy enough to deal with as long as they could take him out quickly and quietly. Six of the organization’s enforcers were immediately dispatched to track down and relieve mister Underwood of his valuables. Although a few of them thought that sending so many was perhaps overkill, none of them particularly minded ganging up on a single kid if it meant they’d get paid without losing any of their accomplices.

That was over 5 hours ago.

*Bam bam bam*

“Frozen pickles!” shouted the dwarven doorman as the sudden banging noise woke him from his slumber. It took him a few seconds to realize that there was someone outside the hidden entrance to the hideout.

“Fifteen!” came a panicked male voice from the other end. “Twenty-two! Sixty-four! Uh, th-thirty? Yeah, thirty!”

The dwarf rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he double checked the note on the wall, confirming that those numbers were indeed this week’s password. He got off his chair and walked up to circular metal door next to his station, kicking it once to show that he was about to open it. He placed a hand on the large valve-like locking mechanism and was about to start turning it when the voice from the other side called out again.

“Hurry it up!”

“Hold yer horses, asshole!” he shouted back.

Everyone knew the door was too heavy to just magically swing open all on its own. Not that this wasn’t possible, it’s just that it was far cheaper to have a low-ranking grunt do the heavy lifting. The large valve was turned two full revolutions before the heavy locks allowed the door to open inwardly. He pulled on it with a bit of effort, and a draft of fresh air rushed in as the main entrance opened slowly.

The doorman looked through the ajar door and saw the figure of a thin, tattooed, black-haired dwarf drenched in sweat standing in the middle of a wine cellar that held dozens of wine casks. The visitor lunged through the open entrance, roughly shoving the guard out of his way as he did so, then hurriedly pushed the door closed and spun the lock. Once the entrance had been firmly sealed, he slid down to the ground, panting heavily.

“Tubbs? What the heck are ya doin’?” asked the other dwarf as he stared in shock. “Wait, where are the others?”

The ironically nicknamed ‘Tubbs’ had been one of the six people that left earlier today. The fact that he was returning alone and in such a dire state was distressing to say the least.

“Th- They’re dead!” he blurted out in between gasps for air.

“Dead? What you mean dead?! I thought you guys were just going to nab an elf!”

It was supposed to be a sure thing, so how did-

“That was no fucking elf!” screamed Tubbs, both his voice and his body quivering. “I don’t know what that… thing was but it’s nothing like what we were told!”

“So then the others-”

“It ate them, man! It fucking gobbled them up like nothing! There’s nothing I could do! It would’ve gotten me too if I didn’t run with all I had!”

“By Goroth’s tits… Did- Did that guy follow you here?!”

“I-I-I don’t know, I don’t think so- But we can’t take chances! If that bastard Grimebeard set us up, then he might have sold us out to someone! We gotta warn the boss!”

“Fuck, yer right! Wait, why ‘we?’”

“I- I need your help… I can barely walk…”

The gatekeeper looked the sweat-drenched Tubbs over one more time. To say he looked like fuck would be an understatement. The oddly slender dwarf must have run clear across town at full speed for him to be this worn out. It was also readily apparent that not all of this sweat was due to physical exertion. Although he would technically be deserting his post, this was hardly the time to nitpick.

Besides, manning the front door at this point was pointless, as the group Tubbs was a part of were the only ones scheduled to return tonight. Not to mention that their boss would want to hear what happened to her men right away. Even if she was ruthless to outsiders, she took good care of the boys under her wing. This fostered an odd sense of trust and camaraderie one wouldn’t expect from a gang of criminals. In fact, to say that the Honeydew Cartel treated each other like family would not be an understatement.

“Alright, take my shoulder!” he said while propping the exhausted Rogue up.

The pair of dwarves hurriedly moved down the hallway, making their way out of the passage and into a wide-open cavern that was dug into the side of a hill that was near the edge of town. The dome-shaped structure was created by magic and served as the hub of the Honeydew Cartel’s operations. The main chamber served as a shared living space that was dotted with tables and chairs. One side of it had been turned into a large kitchen while the center was dominated by a small arena where organized fistfights often took place. A number of doors lined the walls, each leading to a small room that served as either storage or sleeping areas.

Tubbs and his escort circled around the edge of the chamber towards the wall opposite the one they came in from, drawing curious and worried glances from the two dozen dwarves that were milling about. All of them had similar facial tattoos, marking them as belonging to the Honeydew Cartel. It served as a warning to people around the area the hideout was in. The unspoken rule in this neighbourhood was ‘don’t mess with the Cartel and they won’t mess with you.’

The pair quickly reached a pair of heavy wooden doors, beyond which lied the boss’s chambers.

“Hey Jammy, what’s up with Tubbs?” called out one of the two dwarves guarding the room.

“Got bad news, Rocker!” replied the doorman called Jammy. “Tubbs here says Hammerhead’s group got wiped out!”

“Holy sh- Here, let me help!”

The muscular dwarf in the plate armor quickly opened the heavy doors and supported Tubbs from the other side. The three of them walked into a rather simple room with sparse decorations, such as some paintings, an old vase and a few carpets. Some old wooden furniture such as a few armchairs, a large bed and a few bookshelves were lined up against the walls while 3 lanterns illuminated the inside, providing plenty of visibility.

A tiny, wrinkled, gray-haired woman was sitting idly in a rocking chair off to the side, enjoying a rather thick book. She shifted her bespectacled gaze away from it and stared inquisitively at the trio before them. “What’s the matter, dearie?” she asked with a soft, worried voice.

This was Granny Hilda. Everything from her demeanor, to her simple clothes gave off the impression of a kindly old grandmother, rather than the cold, calculating criminal she was underneath that facade.

“Tubbs said his group got wiped out, Gran!” reported Jammy.

The kind grandmother facade disappeared in an instant and the stern face befitting a gang boss appeared instead. The change was so drastic that 8 out of 10 people would think she had been replaced by a different person. She motioned for Rocker to leave and close the door behind him, which he did immediately. This was a dire matter that she needed to handle without being disturbed.