Tunnel Rat

Clan Shark was meeting on the beach, surrounded by the scrap metal and wreckage that used to be a sleek and powerful submersible. Captain Mako had made it clear that any crew who weren't there should burn their top hats and take jobs in the mines. To her disgust, five of her crew had left their top hats and monocles on the beach, paid their guild fees, and got to work. Word had spread quickly about the empty vault. A lucky captain could have her pick of the best crew in any port, and Mako had been counted as one of the luckiest until now. Losing the Silver Shark to a swarm of eels and the casino in a game of cards to crafty ratkin had shaken her crew. They wondered if Mako's luck was turning bad. The raided vault seemed to confirm that. She was still the captain, for now, but she needed to turn things around fast or her crew would be deserting ship and heading to luckier captains.

The plan was simple, "We need more cash. The double-dealing scum who betrayed us and looted our riches couldn't carry it all away, but what was left isn't enough to buy back the casino. And we need the casino to get back in business and generate enough money to repair the boat. We start with tossing in our personal swag. I've put everything I own into the clan including my gold-handled beard trimmer and my mug collection. I'm asking all of you to do the same. As soon as the money starts pouring in, you'll get it back double! Captain's Honor!" The crew had known this was coming. Some had buried their small treasures somewhere, hoping no one was watching. Others had more faith and tossed everything they had into the growing pile. Mako watched and smiled encouragingly at them, noting who put in only a few coins. She'd settle with those people later. For now, she needed the muscle power.

"Great job girls! This gives us a start. Now we get to work shaking down this town. If someone owes a debt, even if it isn't due yet, they pay up now or you break their legs and charge them double. I want three card monte games running in every bar and street corner. Later tonight I want to hit the gangs. Some of them are a little obvious in where they have their 'Secret Headquarters.' I want to hear the jingle of coins in our pockets and leave behind a graveyard full of headstones. Tomorrow we shake down every business for protection money and follow with some destruction of those that don't take us seriously. That should give us the cash we need to get back our casino. Now get to work!"

The Sharks scattered into the town while Mako and Beluga Bessie made their way to the seedy dockside bar which they'd turned into their clan headquarters. Unknowing, they left behind a person skulking quietly in one of the destroyed boilers, listening to their plans and making plans of his own.

As evening turned to night the Sharks met again, and split up into their raiding parties. Setting off into the city they worried little about cut-throats or gangs. A half-dozen Scavengers were well matched against a dozen players, although the fighting had become tougher lately. The players involved in the gang wars were leveling up faster than the Sharks who until lately had spent most of their time on their ship or in the casino. But tonight they had the element of surprise on their side. Coming to a crossroads, the three groups split up, heading to three different locations to hit their targets simultaneously. Most of the gangs had little loot, constantly spending it to replenish their lost weapons and armor. Hitting those gangs was important not for what cash could be gained from them, but for letting the city know the Sharks were still in business, and in control of their territory at the docks. One gang was getting beat up just to send a message, while two gangs were singled out for special treatment, owing to rumors of small stashes of high-quality loot or a modest treasure.

The Sinister Blades met in the basement of an abandoned noble's villa. The top floors were ruined, but the Blades had salvaged the dining room table, chairs, and much of the draperies. They'd decorated the basement and turned it into a gloomy feasting hall. Mako's informant had let her know the Blades had made a big score this week and the gang would split the treasure tonight. The gang had joined a raiding party heading into the Haunted Catacombs, a new dungeon found near the mines. It was filled with the angry spirits of the old city and no one sane thought of entering it. This meant every player in the city had converged on the new dungeon for pick-up raids. One such raid had unearthed a gem-encrusted idol of some Elder God as the only treasure. With eight Sinister Blades in the raid group and only four other surviving players, the Blades had found it easy to divide the loot by dividing the other players. Sold to a 'collector of odd things' for roughly a tenth of its value still made it a rich haul for the gang.

The raid on the Blade's hideout went as planned, the Scavengers taking care of the two scouts in the upper ruins before they picked the locks on the door to the lower levels and rushed below. The gang members were sitting around the table, drinking wine and feasting on roasted chickens. A portion of the gold was being distributed to each member and stacked in front of them. The six Sharks sprinted into the room, firing pistols and taking down two Blades before engaging with cutlasses, daggers, and fists. In the rough and tumble battle that followed, two Scavengers took wounds but the fight was never in question. Wine dulled the gang's reactions and full bellies made them slow. Fancy footwork skills did nothing for you when a dwarf tackles you to the ground.

When it was over, the Scavengers took their time, eating the remains of the chicken dinner and drinking a dozen bottles of wine that they found in a wine rack behind a curtain. It was cheap red wine, the type preferred by both the gangs and the pirates. The strong, sweet taste and hefty kick came from the addition of alcohol distilled from sugar beet juice. When the first nudges from the system came, casually mentioning they were taking poison damage, all the Scavengers laughed.

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A bad batch of hootch was common when drinking fortified wine, a sure sign of a crappy human brewer. It would kill or blind a human or elf, but to a dwarf with their racial toughness and poison resistance, a little methanol in the mix was just extra flavor and a mild tummy ache. Minutes later, both the kick and the tummyache got worse. Scavengers passed out at the table and only one tried to stumble out of the dining room, frustrated to find the door locked.

Hours later, the players respawned and returned to their headquarters, hoping to reclaim some of their gear from their headstones, and cursing the Sharks. Plans were made to disrupt the Scavengers in any way they could. To their delight, they discovered that not only were their unplanned guests still around, they were all dead. The dwarves were sprawled amongst the gang's headstones, bottles clutched in their hands and their dead eyes staring at the gold they came to steal. Marianne, the leader of the gang, took a half-full bottle and offered up a toast before swigging down a few swallows. "To the Sharks, hard fighters and hard drinkers! Hard enough to drink themselves to death!" Others went to join her but stopped as her face turned black and she began trembling. She left her second headstone a minute later. By unspoken agreement, the rest of the gang gathered their belongings and their gold and went to Ralph's inn, where they rented cheap rooms and drank his beer for the rest of the night. It was crap, but at least it didn't kill you.

The Shark's second target was a ratkin gang known as the Razorclaws run by a skilled clawfighter named Blackwhisker. While most of his gang were players who left the Hollow as fast as they could for the bright lights of the city, Blackwhisker was whispered to have trained in the Hollow until he hit the third Tier, learning the secrets of claw and tail from the old Master. Under Blackwhisker's vicious style of leadership, he had slowly taken over most of the ratkin gangs and turned them from cheese-addicted clowns to one of the more feared gangs in the city. They still ate too much cheese, but fighting and dying constantly was keeping their addictions in check, and anyone who lost control got locked in a basement room for a week with only stale bread and dried fish for meals.

They had put their hideout in a ramshackle warehouse a dozen blocks away from the docks, and outside of the Sharks territory, but close enough to become a thorn in Mako's shoe. The gang was now providing escort duties for merchants who wanted to journey to Limburgher Hollow and purchase wagonloads of mushrooms, flour, fine cheese, dried cavefish, and the Myconic potions that the Hollow was now exporting. They'd just been paid for their last caravan run and Mako wanted to appropriate that gold before they spent it on cheese.

The rotting wooden doors were barred from within but were no match for six charging Scavengers led by Beluga. The large woman knew how to use her weight, and their shoulders hit the door hard, breaking the wooden bar holding them shut. They stumbled inside, seeing a mostly empty warehouse, and a few ratkin scurrying about. The creaking of wooden beams and ropes alerted Beluga and most of her crew to the trap, as crates full of rock swung toward them from either side. The heavy pendulums crashed together, smashing one Scavenger into a red, gooey mess as the others dodged forward.

"Get the Rats! Charge!" Beluga roared and headed for the group of six ratkin in front of her, all of which were making rude gestures with fingers and tails. Beluga wasn't a great runner but had surprised several opponents with how quickly she could make it across the ring in a cage battle. She was panting hard as she crossed the warehouse, glaring at the ratkin who stood ready to fight with knives, claws, and spikey sticks. She probably would have made it all the way if it wasn't for the trap that clamped hard on her leg. She nearly pulled out the heavy bolts anchoring the trap to the floor, but this trap had been designed with her in mind and held fast. Two other Scavengers were similarly trapped. The last two Sharks in her squad suddenly found themselves facing six ratkin to the front, with six more dropping from the rafters behind them. They wisely surrendered and suffered through a mild beating before being bound tightly. The two trapped next to Beluga were beaten unconscious with a flurry of tail slaps leaving the large mate trapped and alone as Blackwhisker moved closer to talk, chewing on a piece of Limburgher cheese. The strong aroma hit Beluga hard, sapping her strength.

"You little bastards! I'll carve off your hides and make a whip out of your tails. You have no idea who you're messing with!"

Blackwhisker kept his distance, not wanting to be grappled by Beluga and crushed to death as she had done to so many others in the fighting pit of the casino. "Oh, I know who you are. You're the person who is going to send a message to the Sharks that Razorclaw territory is off-limits."

"Bullshit. I ain't carrying any message from you to Mako. Get a pigeon."

"No worries. It's a non-verbal sort of message. I'm sure your Captain will understand."

The rest of the gang dropped from the rafters and grabbed old oars that had been left behind in the warehouse. Beluga was a fierce fighter, but not with one leg crushed in a bear trap and unable to run at her attackers. The gang members took their time, striking at her from behind, the heavy ores slowly beating her into unconsciousness, and then adding more bruises and broken bones for good measure.

"Grab the gold and cheese. We're moving to someplace that isn't decorated in one-legged dwarves."

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