DUNGEONS & DRAGONS: Dawn of Revolution
The Boss
Ten months before the coalition war began...
Even from here, comfortably nestled in the Devil's Den, Alesey Naynt could hear the dull roar of a fireball spell blastin' someone half to hell, and then he saw a column of black smoke to match. Well, that ain't good.
"That was near 73rd and Jalo Boulevard, wasn't it?" Alesey demanded to one of his bodyguards. He pointed a scaly finger out the window.
The guard, a half-orc with a scar over his right eye, nodded. "Sure was, boss. Didn't ya send Yucchi Six-Fingers down there to spread our protection racket?"
"Sure did. Right this morning," Alesey confirmed. He rolled his eyes. "I keep tellin' that joker to keep his men in line, and now look! Boom! Half the business district blown to hell!"
Alesey waited impatiently for Yucchi Six-Fingers to meekly return to the Devil's Den with his head bowed, begging for mercy that he might get after a good skull whackin'. But it was worse.
"B-boss!" Yucchi cried once he and his squad of ruffians stepped into Alesey's drawing room in the manor's third floor. The curly-haired gnome bowed deeply in apology, and his idiot squadmates did the same. "The Syndicate is musclin' in on that turf! We had no idea they'd gotten so far -"
"Shut yer yap!" Alesey snarled, seated on a plush wingback chair with maroon velvet. "Who the hell set off that fireball?!"
Yucchi dutifully pointed at the oafish blond human on his team named Jihnny, and with a motion, Alesey ordered two of his men to drag the offending moron away and beat some sense into him. "Boss, I really am sorry 'bout this -" Yucchi continued.
"How did a simple mission like that turn into 'blow up half of Sassanoit' so fast? Well?" Alesey barked. His clawed dragonborn hands gripped the chair's armrests, his nails tearing into the fabric. Like he cared. "Did they provoke you, or did your men land the first blow?"
Yucchi swallowed and braced himself, eyes squeezed shut as though expecting an executioner's ax to swing down on him. "W... we..."
"We what, wise guy?"
"We dealt the first blow! They insulted us, they did!" Yucchi yelped. "Orzhov punks think they can throw mud on your honor and mock the Green Scale family! And they pushed us around like we were schoolchildren!"
Alesey sighed through his nose, and a few sparks flew out with his hot breath. This had to be a bad joke, right? Already, the Green Scale crime family was bein' pressured by its chief rivals, the Darkweep and Firemane families, losin' turf to them all over Sassanoit, and now this garbage?
"What else happened?" Alesey demanded. "Who got hurt or killed? Gimme a report!"
"Yes, boss!" Yucchi cried. He finally stopped his stupid bowing. "We... well, Jihnny smoked two of them Orzhov goons with his fireball. Saw it with my own eyes! And we put the hurt on five more. One of 'em was a priest. Eclipse medallion and all." He gestured at his breastbone, where an Orzhov priest's trademark medallion would hang on its gold neck chain. "Oh, and we blew that shop to hell, too. The one we and the Syndicate bastards were fighting over for protection money."
Alesey clapped a hand to his face. "You jacked this up so bad, I..." Words failed him. Instead, he raised his voice and simply called out for his younger brother. "SKIZZMAR!"
Right on cue, the hulking Skizzmar Naynt barged into the room, throwing open the doors, his reddish eyes alive with thuggish glee. He knew that tone.
Alesey pointed at Yucchi. "Punish him."
"You got it, big bro." Skizzmar cracked his knuckles and leaped right at Yucchi, who threw up his hands to shield his face just in time. Skizzmar seized the gnome's hands aside, then delivered a gut-punch that made even Alesey wince a little. Yucchi was sent flying halfway across the drawing room, curled up on an expensive but dusty rug, gasping for breath.
Skizzmar wasn't done. He strode over to Yucchi, seized the gnome's head, and threw him against the wood-paneled wall with a crack. Yucchi went limp, collapsing onto the floor in a dazed heap.
"He musta done somethin' pretty bad, big bro," Skizzmar commented, dusting his scaly hands.
Alesey rolled his eyes again. "That gutter rat and his squadmates went head to head with the Orzhov Syndicate, and instead of talkin' their way out of it, blew up half the city! You know what that means?"
"The Orzhov'll want Yucchi's head," Skizzmar concluded.
"Yeah. And I'm tempted to give it to 'em," Alesey said darkly, glaring at the unconscious gnome. "But Yucchi's useful to me. This was more Jihnny's fault. Still, the Orzhov won't be happy if I just hand him over. Jihnny's a grunt. The Orzhov like to take captives they can brag about."
"So, we give 'em Yucchi?"
"Yucchi knows a lot. And it'd be a waste to kill him," Alesey admitted. He got to his feet and cracked his neck. "Watch over the Devil's Den, Skizzmar. I'll talk this over with the head honcho at the Orzhov Cathedral and see if we can smooth things over."
"Sounds risky, big bro."
"Which is why I've got backup plans. Such as killin' Yucchi and sendin' the Orzhov his head in an express delivery box, or even faking my own death."
Skizzmar guffawed. "You'd do that?"
"I'd rather not." Alesey dusted off his jacket. "But we'll see..."
At least the trip to Sassanoit's financial district was a peaceful and sunny one this fine afternoon. And then Alesey Naynt found himself standing in the shadow of the massive Orzhov Cathedral, Sassanoit's second-largest and second-fanciest building behind Castle Rhoda itself. The cathedral's ornate architecture, menacing gargoyles, and dazzling stained glass windows all screamed wealth and prestige. Alesey wasn't fooled, though. The Orzhov Syndicate was a church... and also a shady bank and a crime family, by far the strongest in the Kingdom of Verhamaine.
He went in.
"... so, as you can see, supreme pontiff, I have already gotten my house in order to prevent mishaps like this in the future," Alesey was saying ten minutes later after he got an audience with supreme pontiff Garod Batvia, an elderly half-elf fellow with a piercing gaze. They weren't alone, either; here in the expansive nave stood a handful of Orzhov guards and, evidently, Garod's adult daughter and right-hand woman.
Garod Batvia stroked his short gray beard as he took in the dragonborn boss's words. "A mishap? That's how you characterize this, Mr. Naynt?" he asked coldly.
Alesey folded his arms. "Look, my men got carried away, I admit it. And I'm takin' care of it. I'm sayin' we can end this problem right here, right now, and let all parties move on. Nice and easy."
"Hmph!" Garod raised his staff a few inches and rapped it sharply on the polished marble floor. "You think me a doddering old fool, Mr. Naynt? Just shake hands and say 'we're cool' or whatever you street hoodlums say? You insult the Syndicate by trivializing an assault on my troops in broad daylight?"
"You're taking this too lightly, in other words," Garod's daughter added, also folding her arms. "You have some serious nerve, approaching us with such a meager offering!"
"That you do, lizard," Garod told Alesey. "It constitutes an insult."
Alesey bristled at the actual insult being hurled at him. And the nerve of these Orzhov clowns. "Have I not spent years respecting the Syndicate's territorial claims and business affairs here in Sassanoit? All the street gangs do. Think of the sacrifices we've made to keep your lot happy -"
"Sacrifices! Ha!" Garod laughed dryly. "It's a privilege your pitiful gangs exist at all! You Green Scales, the Firemanes, the Darkweeps... we indulge you simply because the mood has not yet struck us to fully scrub your filth from the streets. Perhaps today is the day that changes!"
Alesey suddenly felt cornered, and he took an automatic step back as the Orzhov guards shifted slightly, as though preparing to attack. Curses! Alesey knew when a deal had gone sour and when the other party was gettin' ready to whack a few poor saps. If he didn't get out of here quick...
"Surely the Orzhov Syndicate has bigger problems on its plate," Alesey said, stalling for time as he plotted an escape plan. He held his hands up in false surrender. "The Cult of Bones is plotting something big. Everyone on the streets can see it."
"Do not deflect, lizard," Garod snapped. "Grovel before me and pray that you will live to see the next dawn!"
"Sure, sure." Alesey said, slowly lowering his hands, mindful of the spell scrolls secured on his waist. "Let me just -"
He made his move.
"What the -!" Garod's daughter yelped as Alesey whipped out his first spell scroll, conjuring a mass of thick, sticky spider webs everywhere. Garod, his daughter, and two Orzhov guards were suddenly squirming and thrashing in the webbing, and Alesey ran for his life in the confusion. He lowered his head and sprinted for the doors, fists pumping. Come on, almost there -
Wham! A translucent, shimmering blue-white wall of force appeared between Alesey and the exit, and he painfully crashed into it, sprawling onto his back. Alesey rubbed his scaly head, his skull aching.
"Not so fast, street rat," an Orzhov priest snarled, his hand outstretched, magic smoke curling from his fingers. "You Green Scales have crossed the Orzhov Syndicate for the last time! We will have your head, Alesey Naynt, and make an example of you!"
So it was like that, huh? These Orzhov goons weren't just content to punish the oaf who actually set off the fireball earlier today; they wanted Alesey dead, and decapitate the Green Scale family with one stroke! Alesey was a wanted man. And that meant setting one of his most desperate plans into action.
"See ya, chumps!" Alesey sprang to his feet and brandished his other spell scroll, and in a split second, a cloud of cool violet mist teleported him to the wall of force's other side. Alesey threw open the cathedral's front doors and sprinted through the sunlit cobblestone streets, pushing aside anyone who got in his way, even knocking a few fools down.
Blast it all! The Orzhov Syndicate was practically untouchable with its vast wealth and power, and worst of all, the Syndicate was friendly to the king. Having him on your side meant you could push around anyone and get away with it. Not even combined could the city's street gangs take on the royal army.
But Alesey could survive to fight another day. By dying.
"Xorman. Been too long," Alesey said breathlessly when he strode into a certain funeral home's main office, hands on his hips.
The chief mortician, a balding halfling man with half-moon spectacles and a dark red vest over his white shirt, looked up from the paperwork on his desk and set down his quill. "Alesey Naynt," Xorman said with a casual grin. "Who needs to fake their death this time? Don't tell me it's you!" He laughed, evidently reading the grim expression on Alesey's face. He stopped laughing when Alesey failed to laugh with him.
"I got myself into a real mess this time," Alesey told him. "Long story short: one of my men screwed with the Orzhov Syndicate, and now the supreme pontiff wants me dead. And he sure knows what I look like. The entire Green Scale family's in big trouble until the supreme pontiff gets what he wants. You read me?"
Xorman gave his dragonborn friend an appraising look. "I never thought the day would come."
Alesey gestured impatiently. "The day's now. Are we doin' this or what? And I can pay. Up front."
"Right this way, Mr. Naynt." Once he collected the fee, Xorman got up and politely gestured to a hallway entrance, acting like some stuffy butler just for fun. Alesey stalked right into the freezer room, where some of Sassanoit's dead lay on metal trays, stiff and peaceful. One body was a blank template, a doll that could become anyone.
"Hand on the chest," Xorman explained. "Keep it there for a moment."
Alesey complied, and he marveled as the body's flesh half-melted and oozed around, morphing into a perfect likeness of a certain Alesey Naynt. Except naked.
"There. I'll dress it up, give it a plausible cause of death, and have a cover story ready," Xorman said, dusting his hands for dramatic effect. He looked up at Alesey and grinned again. "Any preference? Stab wounds? Magic missiles? Decapitation? Strangulation?"
Alesey snorted. "Whatever. Just make sure the supreme pontiff can still recognize me."
"Perhaps we could say your men turned on you to save their own skins, once you explained this affair to them?" Xorn suggested.
"Got it."
"Perhaps you could also bid farewell to your men after explaining this plan to them?"
"Sure thing. But I'll have to be careful goin' there and back out again. Can't let anyone see the real me."
"Agreed. Best of luck to you... dead man."
With that, Alesey covertly slipped out the funeral home's back door, now wearing a borrowed cloak with the hood up. He navigated his way through Sassanoit's labyrinthine back alleys and side streets, being both everywhere and nowhere as he went, sticking to the shadows and avoiding crowded areas. He didn't dare rest easy until he snuck back into his mansion headquarters, the Devil's Den, in the residential district.
"Boss! We were gettin' worried -" an enforcer blurted out.
"Can it! Where's Skizzmar?" Alesey demanded. In a moment, his brutish brother was summoned, and Alesey explained it all.
"Until I'm ready to return," Alesey told Skizzmar, "I've gotta lay low in one of my safe houses in Point Isaac while I think up a new plan. Maybe get a permanent disguise, too. I'll find a way."
"I'll miss you, big bro," Skizzmar said sadly, hanging his head.
Alesey put his hands on Skizzmar's shoulders. "Don't be like that. I'll be back someday. And until then, I'm naming you the boss of the Green Scale family. Make me proud."
Skizzmar blinked a few times in surprise. "Me?"
"You know the ropes, Skizzmar. Just listen to my advisors and stay clear of the Orzhov Syndicate. And remember the plan for my fake dead body!"
Skizzmar wrapped Alesey in a bone-crushing hug. "I'll do my best, big bro!"
"G... good," Alesey wheezed. "I... need to get going..."
It was with great reluctance Alesey snuck his way out of the Devil's Den, down 51st and Ladlam Avenue, and into a secret tunnel for an occasion just like this. Curse those pretentious Orzhov snobs, Alesey raged as he hiked through the mine-like tunnel, a gas lantern held aloft as he went. These streets were his to rule! Garod Batvia thought he was such a hotshot, insulting Alesey and demanding his head out of stubborn pride! They said Garod's pride was sharper and more brittle than a broken stained glass window, and now Alesey saw what the people were getting at. Curses...
It was mid-afternoon by the time Alesey emerged from the tunnel and into Verhamaine's rustic countryside, with the tunnel exit hidden in a small, abandoned house just outside the city wall. Alesey turned off his gas lamp and stepped out the house's front door, blinking in the sudden sunlight as a breeze picked up.
He wasn't alone.
"Who are you? Where did you come from?" a robed man demanded, one of many who were camped around the house. Their horse-drawn wagons and tents sat nearby, along with a cooking pot and fire.
"I... well..." Alesey raised his hands in surrender for the second time today, kicking himself for not being more aware of his surroundings. He recognized these navy blue robes with the emblem of a jawless white skull and flames... the Cult of Bones. They were awfully gutsy, camping this close to Sassanoit! See, Garod Batvia? The Cult of Bones is the real problem around here! Go after their heads!
"Tie him up," an earth genasi woman ordered, and two of her cultist fellows soon had Alesey's hands tied behind his back. They forced him to his knees next, knives out to warn him not to try anything funny.
"I don't suppose we can talk this out? No?" Alesey said half-heartedly, looking around at the two dozen cultists who surrounded him. Well, blast it all. It took just one really bad day to bring it all crashing down, even for a respected gang boss, huh? Good thing he at least had the Syndicate fooled and had Skizzmar taking the reins for now.
Alesey groaned. "Ain't nothin' going my way today -"
A cultist kicked Alesey in the head to shut him up, and everything went black.