Desperado 4

The streets of the Scorpion's Den weren't as busy or noisy as they were a few months ago. The locals have gone through several fights and chaotic weeks, and have learned not to go outside unless they need to. Instead, the crowds and workers filling the streets were faithful members of the Coven of the Night King. All around, blue-marked dragons were busy rebuilding wells, erecting barricades and ballista stations, handing out free food and tools to those bold enough to approach them. Things were tense and uneasy, but the Coven was making a point to rebuild their image.

In the middle of this hustle and bustle, Dusk and I walked the streets side by side. I had my yellow bandana standing against my black scales, a common enough sight in those times. Dusk walked by my side, an older Rainwing of charcoal-black and sea-green scales and a quilted shawl of many colors. Whereas I - the current mayor of Crossroads and the Den - smiled and nodded at passersby, the former cult leader remained neutral, her eyes staring into the middle distance.

"I met another Rainwing yesterday." Dusk said, apropos of nothing.

I turned to look back at her. "Really?" I asked, surprised, "Here, in the Den?"

"Indeed." She said, "Though I'd appreciate a little less skepticism in your voice, if you don't mind."

"My apologies, Sister," I said, using her "official" title outside of Coven spaces, "You are the only dragon of Rainwing blood I've ever met. I didn't think they liked leaving their jungle homes."

"Most of them don't," She admitted, "Though there are a few that feel the urge to travel, or seek to make a fortune as merchants. This one is different. He comes here with purpose."

"And what purpose is that, dear mentor?"

Dusk leaned over to my ear, and whispered, "He's an assassin."

I stopped mid-stride, turning to face her. "An assassin?" I demanded, "Are you sure? Who's he here for?"

"Keep your voice down, Brother," She hissed, continuing to walk. When I caught up, she continued, "I met him in one of the cantinas. His name is Sparkling. I was able to convince him that I was a fellow traveller who'd been away from home during the war, and he told me some very interesting things."

"...What kind of things?"

"Do you remember Burn's old builder, Xerophilous?"

"Yeah?"

"He's their King now."

I snorted derisively, but Dusk's expression killed any hint of humor. "How?"

"He passed one of our trials with his fancy toys. Three mangoes hit with a single arrow. My new friend claims that the foreigner rules as though he's blessed by the Spirits. His intelligence and craftsmanship is unparalleled, and some think he's an unknowing Animus."

I scowled at the blasphemy, but asked, "And what do you think?"

For the first time, she smiled. "I think The Darkstalker works in mysterious ways, and that this Rainwing works for us, even if he doesn't know it."

"What're you thinking, my friend?"

Dusk reached into her pouch, and pulled out a silver coin. She tossed it at a vendor and grabbed an apple from his stand, as she continued, "Sparkling hinted that he had business in Hawkstone, where a certain 'Lord Protector' is living."

I nodded in understanding. "You think we should raid Hawkstone while he's doing the hit?"

"Keep an eye on the place, for sure. We should wait until after chaos has been sown in the city, lest we jeopardize his chance of succeeding."

They passed by a blind beggar on the street corner, and the old mystic tossed the apple into her bowl. "And try not to kill him if we catch him. I may've been exiled from the jungle, but I don't hate my father's Tribe."

"Alright, I'll only take one of his fangs while interrogating him." She shot me a powerful glare, and I immediately backtracked, "I'm joking, I'm joking! I promise not to harm him. You know I can be a real nice dragon when I want to be."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. I sighed. I admit my humor is not to everyone's tastes. Even Dusk can find it a little too dark, a little too serious. If anything, she's been a moderating influence on me for quite some time. Night King knows what I'd actually be doing to these poor bastards, if she wasn't always rubbing the edges off me.

Heh, "rub the edge off". Chameleon would get it!

And so it went that for the better part of that month, we rebuilt the Scorpion's Den and the Coven's image. All the food, water and supplies that we'd been stealing from the Seawings was given back to the people. We also went about the long, complicated process of purifying the wells that were poisoned, letting them refill once the toxins were cleared out. Patrols were organized amongst our number, making sure that at least some semblance of order was maintained in the markets and edge of town (at least, more than what Nightshade had been doing before they had their transformation). In that regard we were very successful, as the Denners became a lot more trusting of the Coven - at least, our patrols could go down the streets without fear of getting ambushed or mugged. Our efforts to maintain at least some of the laws and protect the weak was the closest thing to "law and order" the town had had in at least twenty years.

Between defeating the Seawings and curbing crime, we were doing a lot to make ourselves look strong, to be the winning side. This in turn nicely dovetailed into the second part of our agenda: Recruitment. Young drakes and dragonesses in the Den joined gangs for many reasons: For protection, for bragging rights, for being on the winning side of a fight. What is a militia or an army but a gang on a much, much larger scale?

Dusk wanted to capitalize upon this by sending out missionaries and proselytizers out into the streets to recruit. The Coven was, after all, a religious organization, and emphasizing the connection between the Night King and our victory would draw more and more converts and recruits. I, meanwhile, spent many afternoons training our little militia, eager to turn them into a proper fighting force. Our current rabble was good enough for hit-and-run raids and sabotage, but holding a city requires a little more grit and discipline.

To an extent, both of our efforts were successful. Two hundred drakes and dragonesses converted and joined over the course of the month, either out of sincere belief or the chance for adventure and action. Training continued for everyone already part of the militia, and I could now confidently claim that we had a semi-decent fighting force - one that could, theoretically, hold their own in an actual battle.

Alas, our successes with recruitment and image didn't hold up for our other efforts. With Hawkstone being so close to the Den, I wanted to build up some of our defenses in case they attacked us first. Walls, spikes, nets, anything that would slow down an airborne attack. But, as much as we were working on improving our image among the dragons of the Den, we couldn't do that and turn the city into a fortress at the same time. The vendors and minor gangs tended to get a little ornery when you're trying to build cover and weapon emplacements right next to their hookah lounge. After a few days of work, and a few more days of argument and debate, I decided to leave things be. Besides, with our low numbers, it'd still be better to stay mobile, and be prepared to leave the city if we had to.

I likewise wanted to continue our raids upon the Hawkstone convoys. Like with the Seawings before, I wanted to make Hallowglide's life harder while sharing his goods with our people. The problem was, Hallowglide had increased the security of the shipments: each convoy now had a team of a dozen or so hired goons, protecting the merchants and their cargo from bandits, scavengers, and us. With our own militia still too fresh and inexperienced, Dusk and I decided not to launch any raids. Better to bide our time and continue training, than to risk lives for missions that would probably result in failure.

Guarding convoys wasn't the only thing the clever Nightwing was up to. Even as hundreds of Sandwings were fleeing to the southeast over rumors of a "safe zone" in the Jade Mountains, Hallowglide had organized a feast of sorts within his little fiefdom. Queens Glacier, Moorhen and Scarlet were in attendance, as well as most of what was left of the civil service and representatives from multiple towns and villages, and even Tanwen and what was left of the royal entourage. Rumor had it that the two dragons were competing with each other to earn the backing of the three Queens, and become the new figurehead of the Coalition. Tanwen tried her best, by all accounts, but for all her experience with royals (and in fact being part of the same family as the last Queen), this was his hometurf. One didn't become de facto ruler of your own town without being a charming, charismatic personality (myself included), and Hallowglide was no exception. In his Great Hall, he made a great speech alongside Steward Capybara, General Sandstorm, and his personal engineer Terrorgrip. He declared himself "Lord Protector" of the Sandwing Throne, and that he'd safeguard it, the kingdom, and all Sandwings from "rebellious renegades" and "Battlewinner's puppets". Together, with the support of the other kingdoms of Phyrria, peace and order and normalcy would be returned to the land, and the rights of royalty renewed. Or some such bullshit, I don't know - I couldn't get any spies in there. Most of what happened I found out afterward when his town's newspaper the next day.

Regardless, this was enough to convince the Queens that Hallowglide was their guy, and in a joint statement supported his claim, as well as reaffirming their commitment to "kicking Nightshade's ass", as Scarlet put it. When Tanwen up'd and disappeared on everyone, vanishing from her tent in the middle of the night, I'd assumed that he'd done away with her like any other inconvenience to a mob-boss, and tossed her lifeless body down a ravine or something. But no, Dusk explained, Blister's cousin wasn't dead. Instead, her new Rainwing friend had made her "someone else's problem". Fine by me, I thought. Once less problem to worry about.

Now, the conflict was a lot simpler. It was me and my Cult, against Hallowglide and his Coalition. The warriors of the Night King, versus the hordes of the Old World.

Game on.