
The Cabal’s Swansong
“How is he outflanking us all?”
In their shadowy chamber, hidden above in a glamorous bar on the border of Oplentis’s wealthy and impoverished districts, a council had formed around a square table. It compromised the leadership of the city’s four big organized crime families, one leader on each side of the Table. While the wealthy fools drank and gambled away in their one shared enterprise, they gathered to discuss their mutual problem.
The one who spoke, a lithe ratkin dressed in a tight-fitting polo shirt, was fidgeting. It took more effort than he would ever care to admit to keep his leg from banging against the Table.
Across the Table, the swankin dressed in a full three-piece suit, feathers once meticulously now flared out unconsciously. “If we knew that, we wouldn’t be gathered here now!”
“Relax”, from the side, their lizardkin counterpart sat, seemingly unphased by her more ‘assertive’ male counterparts. “This ‘Volpes’ isn’t the first to try to take us all down, and he won’t be the last. He’ll fail like all the others.”
Before the fourth, an otterkin, was able to speak, she was interrupted by the sound of the door to their chamber opening. A shirtless red fox, tall and heavily muscled, stepped into the room. More striking than that were his eyes: Bichromatic eyes visibly glowing in the darkness of the room. Each of them, in their own way, made their displeasure at the interruption plain. The ratkin was the most forceful, standing up and slamming his hands on the Table.
“Who the hell do you think you are!? This is a private party, meathead freak! Get out if you know what’s good for ya!”
He marched forwarded, unphased by the threat, bare footpads stepping gingerly forward. “Now, now. Calm yourself. Is it not natural for someone to grow interested when their name is mentioned?”
“When their name i- YOU!?” The swankin was the one to speak, but all four of them were now on their feet.
“Indeed. Volpes, in the flesh. I’ve been told you were looking for me.”
The ratkin yelled out passed the interloper. “What are you louts doing, letting him in here!?”
Volpes could only chuckle. “Those two stationed outside? They won’t be joining us tonight.”
That was when Volpes saw it and felt it: The change in the room. These fools at their Table, they were no longer in control. The advantage was his.
In the days to come, he would return to the bar underneath their dark Table. This time, in his green robes, he would sit across from another: The manager of the establishment. And this time, he would be greeted with more warmth.
This mousekin, small in stature, would nonetheless command the office. And despite his titanic size, Volpes would give her due deference with a polite bow, to show that they were equals in this arrangement.
Despite the warmth, they would still have business to finalize. She would waste no time, getting straight to the point. “I heard about what happened at the Table. So, how did it go?”
“It went exactly as we planned, Mrs. Gooseberry.” The smile would be apparently in his tone.
“And our deal?”
He would gently toss a set of keys in her direction, and she would be ready for them. “I own sixty-five percent of the bar. The Cabal owns the remaining thirty-five.”
“Our deal, Volpes.”
“I know, Mrs. Gooseberry. I know. I will divide my share evenly among myself, you and your employees. As of today, the Bazaar Bar belongs to its staff.” He would pour both himself and his new associate spirits brewed by his own hands, both to celebrate and for dramatic effect. “After all, I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“Having your reputation proceed you isn’t always a bad thing, Mr. Volpes. It was a pleasure doing business.”
This piece from Marsel-Defender has been in my files since October 2024. I’ve been ruminating on what kind of side story would make the most sense for it, and I kept coming around to this idea of Volpes strong-arming the rest of Oplentis’s criminal underground into submission with a confident charm.
It also served as a good opportunity to demonstrate what makes Volpes so effective, beyond the titan upgrades. On paper, his syndicate is just titan muscle, but that’s mostly a front. His true strength is the fact that the Oplentian citizenry are on his side, often aiding him in exchange for his assistance with their own problems.
Community building works!
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