DM's Note on Sources: This post contains vague spoilers to module D3: Vault of the Drow. The names of the streets, Quarters, and the general city layout comes from Fred Weining's article in Dragon 298. The Crowned Cap is from Joseph Bloch's D4: City of Spiders (in which it is called the Crowned Button).
Post 418: Any Port in a Storm 24 May [3 Wealson] - Erelhei-Cinlu - West End Street
[3/27/24 play session, continued]
[Main street Encounter 8: Marilith]
Coming up the center of the street is a large woman, more than head and shoulders above the drow. Mathias takes her to be eight feet tall at least. She moves with a curious ebb and flow, surging forward and then pausing before moving again as if she was borne by waves.
The closer she comes, the more of her he, and then the others, can see - her bare shoulders, then her torso, covered by strange armor that protects her sternum and upper arms, and yet leaves her breasts and midriff completely bare to the skin. By the time they can see down to her waist, they realize that she is not walking, but rather propelling herself, for from the hips down her body is that of a serpent! This is why she is ‘surging’ forward, for her long tail is coiling, then pushing against the ground to shoot her forward, and then pulling itself up to her body to coil again.
In one hand she holds a shimmering chain, that sometimes appears to be made of a glossy green-black metal, and other times appears to be a serpent itself, with glistening scales and all. Regardless of its appearance, the other end is wrapped tightly around the legs of a naked male drow, who is being dragged behind her. When she surges forward, her scales slide smoothly over the stone street, but his skin, already raw and bleeding, is dragged roughly forward and he screams in pain. Then, when she pauses for her snake-tail to coil, he gasps for air and whimpers. All the way up the street behind her, he is leaving a bloody trail.
Mathias and Aurora strain to hear the excited whispers of the drow around them. Everyone is suggesting names or houses, trying to recognize the unfortunate male. There is another refrain, though - repeatedly, they hear people asking rhetorically, “Who did he offend to deserve that?”
Mathias starts to tell the others to move to the side, but as the crowd parts and they all can clearly view the snake-woman, and her prisoner, they are already doing so without his having to say so. They all watch in silence as the stern-faced ‘woman’ and the screaming drow pass.
(11:45am)
The party turns off West End Street on the side-street that leads to the Crowned Cap, and they soon pass it, but without pausing. They have one more errand before they can retire to the peace and relative safety of its basement. The unfriendly but helpful trio of mages told them they could purchase ‘cinnabar cusps’ in the Palace of Amalriv, and they intend to do that while they are still out and about. Willa suggests, and Doro agrees, that it is better for them to be seen all over the city, doing everything they need to in one trip and being reported everywhere but with no clear pattern, then to have multiple witnesses seeing them repeatedly coming and going from the Crowned Cap for diverse errands and having everyone know where their base is located.
(11:55am)
They reach the open plaza surrounding the palace and look for the queue and the drow selling day passes - Mathias still has his ribbon from earlier to show them and confirm that it is still valid. But those drow are nowhere to be seen, and there is no line. People are entering the first and second story entrances of the Palace from off the street. Doro suggests that, since no one inside asked to see their passes before, they were likely scammed. Willa nods.
While Mathias makes sure to avoid the stall containing the gray dwarf merchant, the others quickly scout for the “cusps”. Now that they know what they are looking for, it does not take them long. Aurora finds and purchases two pairs, for 50 gp each. Ultimately these will be destined for Doro and Willa but she tells them not to worry about the price. It will save her two slots or more of darkvision every day, and she says she is still indebted to them for picking up inks for her. The drow she buys them from assures her that the cusps have never been used, but given the dents and scratches on the other gear in his stall she doubts that this is true. She promises the others she will clean them several times with prestidigitation before they attempt to place them in their eyes.
(12:15pm)
Without any further complications they leave the market and return to the Crowned Cap.
(12:25pm)
When they finally enter the building, Willa wonders at the relief she feels at returning to the familiar common room. Who could have guessed she would want to return to an inn in the city of drow? Well, it is certainly better than the demon-ridden streets and, as the Salters say, ‘Any port in a storm.’ And what a storm her motley crew is weathering! All these errands, she reminds herself, are just leading up to the main event - somehow finding a way to stop the invasion of Sterich.
She looks around. There are few patrons present, but all of them are drow. Is this an ambush? A few look up, but none of them tense or ready (Willa Insight 24). She doesn’t think these customers are any different from those who were here before, except for their race and their lack of visitor cloaks.
The proprietor glides over, still not quite seeming to touch the floor when he moves. He looks over the party, then tells Willa that they have missed the hot meal service, but that they may order leftovers at the bar. He slides a half step closer and asks, in a low, conspiratorial voice, whether they will need more beds for their 'guests'. It takes Willa more than a second to realize that only she and Mathias wear the same faces they left the inn with. Doro, Thokk, and Aurora are all different, and the drow-zombie seemed as a hobgoblin is a completely new addition.
“Nay,” she finally answers, “Are guests nay be stayin’ long.”
“They are welcome in the Crowned Cap all the same,” he replies, and smiles disquietingly.
They pass into the basement, and Doro drops the seeming. Babshapka is immediately repulsed by the dead drow, but says nothing. Mathias orders the zombie into his room, and the creature closes the door behind itself.
(12:30pm)
[At this point the party has been up for more than 15 hours, and has less than an hour left before they are permitted to take a long rest. None of them have had a short rest, however, and they are free to start that. 12:30pm-1:30pm]
Mathias wastes no time in telling them that they need more information before making another move - and he thinks he knows where he can get that information, in a way that will not attract notice. He is going to rest a bit, freshen up, and then set out, but he won’t be far - likely on this same block if he judged the building exteriors correctly. He suggests that Thokk accompany him. After carefully considering it, Willa decides that she is going, too. Mathias raises an eyebrow but doesn’t try to gainsay her. “Suit yourself,” he replies sardonically.
When Willa goes upstairs to order food, Mathias enters his own room.
[“Alright, turn out your pockets,” Leezar says to the zombie as J’Kul watches impassively. “Hand it all over.”
The zombie unbelts the baldric of his shortsword, laying it on an end table, and then sets down his hand crossbow and a box of quarrels. He pulls forth numerous daggers, including several from cunningly hidden pockets, but no coins or other valuables. First J’Kul and then Leezar search him, but find nothing else - no papers, no broaches.]
Over the next hour the party eats, and those who are still wounded from the encounter with the rakes, wash and dress their wounds.
[Aurora uses arcane recovery to get back seven levels of spells, chosen as two 2nds and one 3rd. She is now at 2/2/1/2/2/1/0. She also spends five HD to gain (2, 3, 7, 2, 4) = 18hp and is at 70/73. Thokk spends three HD to gain (8, 5, 10) = 23hp and is at full 139/139.]
By the time she is done resting, Aurora is eager to copy spells! She has inks, she has scrolls and notes, and she has a quiet place where she won’t be disturbed for hours - everything she needs. But she is also tired [still has one level of exhaustion] and feels like she could easily sleep [eligible to start a long rest]. If she hits any difficult spots in the spell transcription, she does not like her odds (with one level of exhaustion, disadvantage on Arcana or Constitution checks). She reluctantly retires to her room and sets her inks and reference copies aside. Babshapka has been in the inn the entire day; she will let him worry about the watch.
At about the same time, Mathias emerges from his room. He has washed off the dust of the streets and the grime of combat, and his hair is slicked back, though it is not clear with what. He wears an impeccable white, buttoned tunic and pressed trousers. “Whar be we sailin’?” exclaims Willa, suddenly reconsidering her decision to accompany them.
“You’ll see,” he laughs.
“An’ T’okk?”
“Oh, he’s fine dressed the way he is.” Mathias laughs again, and S*** Bringer starts to go off on Thokk’s sartorial splendor and how he has to dress down just to avoid the drow women being overcome with lust at the mere sight of him.
Willa considers taking off her armor, but finally decides against it. She does put in the cinnabar eye cusps though. The rock lights of the basement appear a little cheerier, the dark corners a little brighter, but there is no other difference.
With Aurora already off to bed, Willa asks Doro to wait up for them rather than sequestering herself in her hut. They have been out in the city for hours, and gods know how many people have followed them back to the inn. With Aurora sleeping and the party split, she would like more than just Babshapka on watch. The bard replies that she will be up a while, but asks them not to stay out too late. Indeed she is not in her small chamber, but in the sitting room, with her samisen out, and the spoon, block of marble, and small ivory carving of the door in front of her. She seems to be working on a song. As Thokk, Willa, and Mathias ascend the stairs, they can hear her behind them…
I'll light the fire
You place the flowers in the vase
That you bought today
Staring at the fire
For hours and hours…
The proprietor is not in sight as Willa returns the last of their trenchers to the bar, and then the three of them are out the door and into the street. Willa nearly swoons as she steps out the door, for it is the same street she knows but much more intense. What was the palely-illuminated sign of the Crowned Cap now blazes in a sulfurous yellow beacon. Their three visitor’s cloaks are so vibrantly green that Mathias’ white suit and pale face take on a lime hue in reflection. She can see further down the street, and deep into what were before dark alleys. The patches of ornamental fungus in the verges or window boxes are bright hues of mauve, taupe, lilac, and puce. The tiny gemstones that passers-by wear on their exposed flesh glitter and gleam like stars set against the black night of their skin. Willa steadies herself with one hand on the building.
“Are you alright?” asks Mathias, concern in his voice. Thokk scans the rooftops for drow archers who might have shot his evil advisor with a poisoned quarrel.
“Aye be fine…” says Willa, slowly regaining her balance. “‘Tis jus’...t’ese cusps be warkin’, ‘tis all.”
Once Willa has recovered, and there is a pause in the street traffic, Mathias places his finger to his temple, only it is no longer Mathias’ face, but a different man’s, and somehow one that seems to match his strange clothes even more. He sends a steady stream of messages to Willa as he crosses the street, and begins to walk along the block, in the direction of the Palace of Amalriv and away from the nearby West End Street.
We don’t know much about how this city works, and who is in power, where. But asking about those things makes us look like novices and easy marks.
“Aye.”
More importantly, we don’t know anything about the Spider Queen, who serves her, and how we are going to strike at her to stop the invasion. And asking about any of that makes us look dangerous, and will certainly get the wrong people looking for us. .
“Oh, aye.”
So, we need to go somewhere we can ask questions, but without being noticed. We need to fit in, not stand out. We need to talk to people who know all about the city, but who won’t think twice about talking to us, and won’t tell anyone about us after we leave.
“Aye, an’ whar be such a place?”
Mathias turns on the first side street, and Willa and Thokk follow. The street is narrow, and not unlike the alley in which they were stopped in the Artisans Quarter, although the buildings are shorter and the street more strewn with refuse. Mathias angles around a puddle of suspicious liquid and gestures grandly at the decorated entrance to a two-story structure. Double doors of deep red ‘wood’ are set into a frame carved on one side with a satyr, member fully erect, and on the other with a nymph, mouth wide in an expression of pleasure. One door is closed, the other half open, and the sound of music from within reaches them. A pair of armed bugbears flanks the doors, but display no concern as Mathias approaches them unhesitantly. When Willa looks past the bugbears and spies the carvings, she understands the nature of the establishment within.
“A red lan’ern ‘ouse?”
That’s right. Some men (and here Mathias points at Thokk) come here to let out the bad humors. But some men (and here he points at himself and gives a wry smile) just need company, and come here to talk. If this place is anything like the bordellos of Greyhawk City, the women will think nothing of talking to strangers; it’s all part of their job. _________________ My campaigns are multilayered tapestries upon which I texture themes and subject matter which, quite frankly, would simply be too strong for your hobbyist gamer. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Mp7Ikko8SI
DM's Note on Sources: This post contains vague spoilers to module D3: Vault of the Drow. The names of the streets, Quarters, and the general city layout comes from Fred Weining's article in Dragon 298. The description of the interior of the bordello, and the characters within, are my own.
Of Erelhei-Cinlu, Gygax wrote in the original:
D3 wrote:
The tiers and dungeons of Erelhei-Cinlu reek of debauchery and decadence, and the city's inhabitants are degenerate and effete. (Those with any promise and ability are brought out of the place to serve the fighting societies, merchant clans or noble houses. The rest are left to wallow in the sinkhole of absolute depravity which is Erelhei-Cinlu.) The most popular places in the city are the gambling dens, bordellos, taverns, drug saloons, and even less savory shops along the two main streets. The back streets and alleyways too boast of brothels, poison shops, bars, and torture parlors. Unspeakable things transpire where the evil and jaded creatures seek pleasure, pain, excitement, or arcane knowledge, and sometimes these seekers find they are victims.
My descriptions herein have tried to represent this fairly, with the higher level of detail experienced by the characters, but also mindful of the public audience of this journal. Content warnings: prostitution, sexual violence, sexual fetishes, drug use, torture, suggestive language, racial essentialism.
Post 419: Fifty Shades of Grayhawk 24 May [3 Wealson] - Erelhei-Cinlu - Foreigners Quarter Bordello
[3/27/24 play session, with the group, continued, integrated with 3/17 play session, with the player of Leezar, only.]
(1:45pm)
Mathias pulls open the two doors and enters, and the others follow behind him. There is a short, narrow entry hall with six doorways off of it, three on each side, and then the far end of the hall opening into a larger room from which the music, and the sound of voices and laughter, comes. The first pair of doorways opens onto cloakrooms, in which hang a number of outer garments, though no visitor’s cloaks, Willa notes, and so they leave theirs on. The colors of the cloaks and other surfaces for her are much more subdued here than in the alley - or do the cusps not work indoors for some reason? As Willa looks at Mathias, she sees that his clothes have changed again as well. He is still in white, but in a tight-fitting one piece garment, with no gap or seam between the tunic and breeches, but just the hint of a strange metal fastening in the back. His pant legs are tucked into low black boots. Willa realizes that she is looking at a spotless white version of the uniforms from the starship.
As they work their way down the hall, they can see that three of the next four doors are closed, but one is an open doorway. The room within is no larger than the cloakrooms, but it has two residents and no cloaks. A man, probably human but with gray skin and haggard features, sits on a bench built into the far wall. A woman, also likely human but so lithe she might be a quarter-elf, stands on the floor, ‘dancing’, but not in time to the music coming from the main room, but rather in slow, sensual gyrations. She stands between his two splayed legs and he rests one withered hand on her taut thigh. Willa grimaces as she passes. Of course such things happen in this kind of establishment, but why in the entry hall, and with the door to their privy room open, as if they wanted everyone to see…and then she realizes that perhaps that is the point, they do want everyone to see. She hopes this place serves ale.
They pass between two more bugbear bouncers and out onto the large main floor. There is a stage ahead but running in a diagonal to the right of their entry, while far ahead and squarely in front of them is a flat wall. The other walls are lined with booths, most open, a few with cunningly-crafted sliding lattice panels currently closing them off. The open floor has numerous small, round tables, and most of the clientele sit at these, so as to better see the stage, which would be harder to view from the booths. The people at the smaller tables have drinks, or spice, or both. A few of the people in the booths have food in trenchers.
Several nubile women and men, human or half-drow, or even fully drow (but these only males) are dancing on stage, in time to the music, although it is not clear from where the music is originating. They wear costumes that are gaudy and elaborate, but also revealing - more decoration than covering. Mathias moves the three of them out onto the main floor, but then just stands there, observing, with no indication that he plans to sit down any time soon. His eyes scan the crowd as if searching for something.
If anyone asks, he messages Willa, Big Green is here to sample the wares of this establishment. I am his procurer, hired to conduct him around the city and settle his bills.
Willa nods. “An’ me?”
There is a pause as Mathias continues to scan the room. Then comes his reply, sounding distracted even through the message. You? Ah…you are a guard for the wealthy owner of this prize-winning Pit Fighter, hired to make sure he doesn’t get lost or end up on another team.
Willa nods again. “Can do.” She begins to take stock of the room herself. It is fairly obvious who here is a customer and who is staff, serving drinks or fawning over clients. She is surprised to find so many humans here - more than she has seen on the streets of the city, women and men, clients and staff - though fewer women as clients. In the dim light she is also surprised to see many drow women as staff, but as each moves closer in turn she realizes that they are actually darker-skinned humans or half-drow at most, though all made up to look like drow. The staff, male and female, use an abundance of make-up, and Willa wonders whether Doro should be along here with them, to lift a disguise kit from somewhere backstage. The only true drow in the place are male, and most of those are customers, with nearly as many of them at the tables as there are human men. She also realizes that she is the only one in the place wearing heavy armor, and suddenly feels foolish for not having left it at the inn - not that she begrudges its protection, but just that she is making a spectacle of herself. She adjusts her visitor’s cloak so that it drapes the front of her shoulders and her sides as well as her back, and resolves to tuck herself into a dark booth at the earliest opportunity.
By the time Willa has sussed out the composition of the room, Mathias has apparently found who he is looking for. “That’s her,” he says, and nods at a woman in a long dress and wearing a headdress with bright red feathers. She approaches a table and laughs as she shares a word with a guest, her hand resting lightly on his arm.
“Who?” asks Willa.
“The floor manager,” he replies.
“Ye ken ‘er?” Willa asks, incredulous.
“Never met her,” Mathias laughs. “Let’s fix that.”
The woman leaves the table and has a quick word with a waitress, who nods submissively and hurries off. As she crosses the room, somehow Mathias catches her eye and she changes her course for the three of them. Willa’s best guess is that she is half-drow, half-human - but between the make-up and costume there is fair room for error.
She moves in close, appraising them with shrewd eyes. Thokk did not spend his short rest bathing, and he is still splattered with dried gore from their recent street fight. At the Crowned Cap, Willa had washed her face and wiped down her armor, at least the parts she could reach without taking it off. But Mathias looks like he just came from a bathhouse, hair still wet and his clean white suit without a wrinkle. The woman smiles at him and says playfully, “Not much of a rind on you.”
He smiles back. “I am wondering if you can help take care of my friend and me.”
“Of course,” she smiles again, this time dazzlingly, displaying gleaming white teeth. “That’s what we do here. But what do you and your friend desire?”
“My friend,” says Mathias, “needs companionship. Vigorous companionship, and lots of it. And I,” he sighs, and for a second even Willa believes him, “just want someone who can carry her end of a conversation.” He pauses, and then adds, almost embarrassed, “And enough liquid entertainment to make me an interesting conversant for her, as well.”
“Easily done,” says the woman. “What sort of companionship would please your friend?”
Now Mathias is nonplussed. Surely his innuendo could not be misconstrued?
Seeing his look of confusion, the woman elaborates. “Does he like boys? Does he like girls? Does he like humans? Does he like dwarves? Does he like…monsters?”
Mathias laughs, glad that he was understood, just surprised at the number of options. Willa is unsettled at the way the woman said ‘monsters’. For some reason she suddenly thinks back to the paunchier of the fish-people at the shrine, the archers she thought might be female. Her blood runs cold as that then makes her think of her dream last night. Focus, Mina she chides herself.
Mathias switches to Elven, and suddenly Willa and Thokk are excluded from the conversation. The woman seems to have no difficulty following him, though. “I seem to recall him mostly speaking about his interest in women,” Mathias says. “Drow women. The most drow possible.” He punctuates this with a wink, and she laughs.
She leans in close, and says conspiratorially, “He won’t know the difference. We have privacy rooms in the entryway, but there are suites on the second floor if you would like to pay more for the full experience.”
“Oh, he wants the full experience.”
“Very good. And your other friend?”
Mathias turns, as if he had forgotten about Willa, and then switches back to Common. “Ah, she’s just here to play nursemaid and make sure we don’t get into trouble. I’ll pay for whatever food and drinks she orders.”
“She’s welcome to the food and drink,” says the woman mischievously. “But if I am doing my job, she won’t be able to keep you out of trouble. Now come along.” She turns and leads them across the floor, towards the flat wall at the back of the place. Willa takes two steps, then thinks better of it and stops. She finds a booth from which, sitting on the outside, she can see the whole floor. There is a small pot on the table with a glowing crystal formation in it, much like the ones at the Crowned Cap, that casts a dim, colored light over the booth. She moves this to the far corner of the booth, and sets it on the bench seat, so that it illuminates the underside of the table and leaves her in shadows.
Halfway across the floor, Mathias realizes that Willa is no longer accompanying them. He turns quickly, but turns back when he sees her in the booth, despite the darkness. He shoots a message over his shoulder without even looking at her. Remember, you watch out for d****, and I will check for ambushes.
When they reach the far wall, Mathias can see that behind it, running parallel for its entire width, is a set of stairs leading up. “The private suites are at the top, to the right,” the woman says.
“Wonderful,” says Mathias. “But I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings. How much, how many, how long…”
“A real businessman,” the woman says in a playfully mocking tone. “No wonder you just want to talk…” she sighs, disappointedly. What follows is a few minutes of Mathias making sure he understands the rules, terms, and conditions of the establishment. Once he feels confident, he explains it all to Thokk, slowly and carefully, in Common. This is coming out of Thokk’s money, he says. This is what these fine women are agreeing to, he says. Make sure there are no deviations, or we are all in trouble, he says.
Yes, yes, Thokk chides him, eager to start saving the drow people from their weak males. He doesn’t know if Velonda is in the house that his junior evil advisor has brought him to, but he wants to find out and doesn’t mind working his way up to her while word of his prowess gets back to her from other maids. He repeats just enough of what Mathias tells him that the man almost feels ready to leave him to the ministrations of the staff.
“I’ll be close by,” says Mathias, “talking with other women - not the drow women, those are all for you. We can stay as long as you like, just a little while, or all night…”
“Thokk go all night” he says resolutely, claps Mathias on the shoulders, and heads up the stairs.
---
[Willa]
Mathias speaks briefly to the woman and hands her something. Then the two of them return across the room. She seats Mathias at an empty table on the open floor near to where Willa sits in her booth, and then moves off, gesturing to or speaking with different servers as she goes. Soon after, a handsome young man appears with a mug each for Willa and Mathias, serving Willa first and then moving to Mathias’ table. Mathias raises his mug in the air across the distance at Willa. She scowls, but responds to the courtesy by raising her own mug. She sniffs at its contents suspiciously - more fermented mushroom juice, like at the Crowned Cap. She knows that Thokk thinks the plots of the drow are driven by the weakness of their men and the dissatisfaction of their women. Willa is beginning to wonder whether their machinations are actually caused by the crippling lack of barley for all of their population.
As she works on her mug, the music quickens and the dancers grow phrenetic, leaping in the air, jumping over one another, performing handsprings and other artistically-timed acrobatics until the loud finishing notes. The performance is authentically impressive, but its finale draws only tepid applause and a few half-hearted cheers from the audience. The dancers line up, bow once, and then the music starts again. This time it is slow and courtly, and the performers pair up and join their hands, then begin an elegant processional around the stage, in some sort of pavan or basse dance. Willa is still more interested in the crowd than the performers, alert for daggers in the dim light, but eventually she does note that not all of the partnerings on stage are of men with women. Of course, people can dance with whomever floats their boat. Willa would never gainsay such a pairing and wouldn’t think twice about seeing it - and has even danced with maidens herself - at a rollicking Richfest celebration. But same-sex dance partners just doesn’t seem…courtly? Or at least in keeping with the theme of this style of music.
After a slow procession all the way around the stage, the partners draw closer to one another. They continue to move in time to the music, but now are exchanging brief kisses or quick caresses as they travel. Their relative lack of dress makes these actions quite direct and by the time Willa is halfway through her mug, their behavior has become rather publicly immodest. It is at this point that she notes a woman approaching Mathias’ table.
The woman has both human and (surface) elven features, though from this distance it would be hard to say how much of which, or what is real and what is artifice. She wears a full-length but tight-fitting gown, with a long slit up each side to the tops of her thighs. It is a deep, midnight blue, but sparkles and flashes as she moves. An elaborate black lace shawl is around her shoulders, matching her coal-black hair, and she holds a matching blue fan in front of her face, so that only her eyes can be seen beneath her raven bangs. Her arms, the only part of her flesh that is really visible, are almost alabaster-white. She inclines briefly at Mathias upon reaching his table, but does not lower her fan. Willa finds herself wondering if the woman has fangs in place of teeth. Mathias offers her a chair, and she sits down next to him, terribly close for a stranger.
---
[Leezar]
As Leezar watches Thokk ascend the stairs he realizes that the barbarian, himself, and Willa will each be in three separate locations, and may not have eyes on one another. He reaches out telepathically to Fish, who is sitting on his shoulder, invisible.
If things get wonky, he thinks, it’s up to you to get back to the inn and tell the others to come here.
Sure t’ing, boss!, comes his immediate reply.
Once Thokk has disappeared from sight, the woman turns to Mathias. “I understand you would like a conversation?”
“That’s right,” he says, and hands her two drow platinum pieces. She takes the coins, but they seem to disappear at her touch without him noticing where they want. “Preferably someone who knows about the city.”
“Is this your first time here?” she asks, somehow conveying in her tone the thrill of discovering a new and forbidden pleasure.
“Yes it is. And I’d feel much more comfortable navigating the city if I knew the dos and don’ts.”
“And would you be more interested in the perspective of a native, or an outsider like yourself?”
“I’d really like a native understanding. I plan to be here for a while, maybe you could come check on us later and I will let you know how it is going?”
The two of them return across the room. She seats Mathias at an empty table on the open floor near to where Willa sits in her booth, and then moves off, gesturing to or speaking with different servers as she goes. Soon after, a handsome young man appears with a mug for each of them. Leezar raises his mug in the air across the distance at Willa. She scowls, but responds to the courtesy by raising her own glass.
As he sips his drink, musty but alcoholic, the music quickens and the dancers grow phrenetic, leaping in the air, jumping over one another, performing handsprings and other artistically-timed acrobatics until the load finishing notes. The performance is authentically impressive, but its finale draws only tepid applause and a few half-hearted cheers from the audience. The dancers line up, bow once, and then the music starts again. This time it is slow and courtly, and the performers pair up and join their hands, then begin an elegant processional around the stage, in some sort of pavan or basse dance. The partnering appears irrespective of sex.
After a slow procession all the way around the stage, the partners draw closer to one another. They continue to move in time to the music, but now are exchanging brief kisses or quick caresses as they travel.
A woman approaches Leezar’s table. She has both human and (surface) elven features, though it would be hard to say how much of which. She wears a full-length but tight-fitting gown, with a long slit up each side to the tops of her thighs. It is a deep, midnight blue, but sparkles and flashes as she moves. An elaborate black lace shawl is around her shoulders, matching her coal-black hair, and she holds a matching blue fan in front of her face, so that only her eyes are visible. Her arms, the only part of her flesh that is really visible, is almost alabaster-white. She inclines briefly at Leezar upon reaching his table, but does not lower her fan. He offers her a chair, and she sits down next to him, familiarly close.
Staring straight ahead, the woman says, “I understand you would like to learn more about our fair city.” She angles the fan so that even though she is not facing Leezar, he can still easily hear her words over the noise of the floor.
“That I would,” he says out of the side of his mouth, pretending to watch the dancers on stage, if that is how this is supposed to be played. “Would you care to be my informant this evening?”
She angles the fan so that he can see the curl of a smile on her deep red lips. “It’s awfully noisy here,” she responds. “And perhaps you would like to ask me things you wouldn’t want others to know you are asking. Should we go somewhere more private?”
“That would be excellent.”
“There are small rooms just off the entryway - you passed them on your way in. But if you don’t mind spending a little more, we can get a room upstairs. We can talk there, and also get comfortable.”
“Oh, definitely upstairs. Those cloak-rooms are not for someone of such refined beauty as yourself. Let’s go get comfortable.”
---
[Willa]
Over the next few minutes Mathias and the woman speak, but don’t even look at one another, each looking forward as if watching the show. There is no way Willa can overhear their conversation.
Eventually they stand, and the woman elegantly adjusts her dress back into position and begins to cross the floor toward the same place that Thokk disappeared from view. The woman’s hips sway exaggeratedly as she walks in front of Mathias. Willa snorts in her drink. “Sister, ye dinnae hae ter splash so much, ‘e already took ther bait.”
Finding her own remark shrewish in hindsight, Willa looks back at the stage to distract herself and sees that the couples have taken to removing the clothes from one another and tossing them aside as they continue to proceed formally around the floor in time to the stately music. With fewer and fewer barriers between them, their caresses are becoming even more intimate. Tha’ ain’t ‘ow t’ey do ther pavan in Seaton, Willa thinks. She drains the rest of her mug in three large gulps and holds up the empty vessel until a handsome serving man scurries over and takes it from her, promising he will be right back.
A bugbear guard has moved aside, and Mathias has followed the woman behind the far wall and out of Willa’s view.
- - -
[Thokk]
While Mathias was waiting at the table below, Thokk had gone up the stairs himself but at the top he was immediately met by what he took to be a trio of drow beauties (actually two half-drow and the darkest-skinned half-elf in the establishment). They took him into a side room with one long open wall that looked out over the stage. The room also had a large metal tub, large enough for even Thokk to sit comfortably in. After coaxing him out of his loincloth and into the tub, they have taken turns bringing in bucketfuls' of hot water, with the two who are not carrying the bucket at the moment using cloths, sponges, and soap to scrub the gore and grime off his skin. All the while they are marveling at his many scars and tracing them delicately with their nimble fingers. Any other member of the party would have immediately been curious about how the maids were finding buckets of hot water on the second story of a building, or where the first few bucketfuls of very dirty water were drained to before they began to fill the tub, but Thokk is unconcerned. From the tub, Thokk cannot see the stage below, just the far wall of the building and complicated scaffolding with ropes and weights. But he can hear the music, and when one of the maids notices his bare foot moving in time, she begins to dance and sway suggestively in front of the tub, to the same rhythm. Thokk watches, so entranced that he does not notice another maid coming up behind him until she has dumped the bucket of water over his head. In one move Thokk stands and spins, and had his back harness with his axe been in place when he reached for it, and not on the floor near the tub, the woman would even now be disemboweled across the floor. But since Thokk swung with empty hands, he just ends up slipping and then catching his balance, standing naked in the tub with the three maids giggling around him, and even the one with the empty bucket is unharmed. Once he realizes the actual situation, Thokk lets out a large guffaw that can be heard even by Mathias through the closed door to the entry room.
---
[Leezar]
When they stand, Leezar acts like he is impressed by seeing the full extent of her dress again. “That dress is spectacular,” he says. “It really compliments your form.”
She tugs on one side to get the tight-fitting piece to fall right, and angles her fan just enough for him to see her smile. “Well, it was designed by…” She drops the name of an important, and currently fashionable, designer in the Artisans Quarter as if he is supposed to recognize it, and he dutifully pretends to.
“Exquisite work. And the dress is well done, too.”
They cross the floor, her leading him but walking slowly and suggestively. When the bugbear bouncer at the bottom of the stairs sees her, he moves out of the way. His eyes narrow as he stares at Leezar, but he does not say anything. At the top of the flight of stairs the space opens to their right into a sitting room with a low couch and lower table and a few overstuffed chairs. A number of doors lead off the room, and the hearty guffaws of Thokk come from behind the one closest to the stage.
The woman crosses the room to the couch and leisurely removes her shawl, revealing bare shoulders as white as her arms. She folds the shawl carefully and drapes it over the back of the sofa, closes her folding fan, lifts the waist on her dress, takes a seat, and reclines languidly into the soft, padded back of the couch. She pats the spot next to her as an invitation to Leezar. The slit in her dress is now riding so high that her black lace undergarments, a careful match to the shawl, are now visible.
Leezar sits down next to her, takes a sip of the drink he brought with him from downstairs, and sets it on the table.
[For his consumption of the current drink, and subsequent others, a Constitution Save is called for to avoid the Poisoned Condition. Leezar’s save 12, applies Dark One’s Own Luck for +3, total 15, will avoid poisoned for now, at least until he has had more than a “difficult” amount of alcohol.]
The woman turns her upper body toward Leezar, angling her shoulder so that the strap on that side begins to slip off. “So what would you like to know about our city?”
Rather than respond to her question immediately, Leezar instead asks whether it is alright for him to smoke in this room.
She titters and says that he should make himself feel at home. She crosses her legs, so that her entire bare alabaster thigh is now visible, and shimmies even closer to him.
Leezar pulls a fat pinch of diviner’s weed out of his man bag and lays his rolling paper on the low table in front of them. The woman giggles when he uses his tongue to moisten the paper. When he has the blunt rolled well, he holds it a few inches from his face, his sign for invisible Fish to light it, and sure enough it flares to life. Leezar holds out the blunt for her to have the first hit. Rather than move closer, she keeps her seat but leans in close, such that one shoulder strap of her gown does fall as she takes a long drag. When she leans back into the sofa again and exhales slowly, only the tightness of the dress itself is holding the upper portion in place.
Leezar takes his own drag, holds, and exhales. From the room next door comes a loud splash and a playful cry of protest from one of the women with Thokk.
---
[Thokk]
Now the maids take it in turn to try to distract Thokk by dancing, while each one attempts to sneak in another bucket of hot water to dump on his head. Knowing the game, Thokk allows himself to enjoy the sensuous movements of the women, but still keeps his ears open for the one coming up behind him. When he hears her breath catch with the exertion of lifting the bucket above his head, he spins and points, delighting in having “caught” her. Pouting, she demurely pours the water into the tub, then hands the empty bucket off to one of the other maids while she takes her place in dancing.
The game is played thus for several more minutes, with Thokk winning each round, until one of the dancers leans in and whispers a suggestion in the delicately pointed ear of the other. She nods, stops dancing, and begins to slowly remove the outer garments of the first maid. This proves distracting enough to Thokk that he does not notice the one approaching from behind until she has finally been able to successfully dump a second bucket of water over his head. This time, when Thokk spins, he doesn’t reach for his axe, but for her! Snatching her up at her tiny waist, he spins around as the bucket clatters across the floor, and then deposits her unceremoniously into the water in front of him with a loud splash.
“She’s the one without her clothes!” the maid squeals in protest, and points accusingly at her now-uncovered co-worker.
“Perhaps we should all disrobe,” says the only one with dry outer garments, and turns her back so that her partner can start to work on her stays. Once the other two are down to their small clothes, they help the maid in the tub out of her sopping garments, gently wring them out, and hang them to dry. The tub had been only half-full, but by the time the three maids are in it, the water comes up to Thokk’s broad chest when he leans back. The women begin to work on his legs, feet, and other places they could not reach from outside the tub, scrubbing his skin with cloths. Thokk chortles as they work between his toes.
- - -
[Willa]
Willa has received her second mug of fermented mushroom juice. This one doesn’t taste as bad, which must mean that it is working, she thinks. By this point, on stage, the courtly procession has come to an end as each of the pairs of partners has finished disrobing one another, and all have sunk to the stage, entwined in embraces. The music has continued in the same rhythm, though, only now rather than dance steps, the hips of the participants rise and fall, their heads arch forward and back, in time. In her booth, Willa is glad of the darkness for she seems to be the only one in the room whose cheeks are burning. She doubts it is from the drink.
---
[Leezar]
Leezar has been composing his list of questions all day, but the drink and the weed are moving some of the items around in his head - he will need to proceed slowly and carefully. “So, not being from here,” he opens, and the woman nods as her eyes widen, “what are some of the general laws of the land?”
The woman waits, perhaps to make sure he is done. Rather than answer directly, she says, “Of course you have questions. Curiosity is a virtue. Most of my customers are curious about something.”
“I can imagine.”
“But in terms of ‘laws’, that whole concept, your idea of ‘law’ is very…let’s say, surface-oriented. Laws are for the upper world. Here in the city, we are all free. We do what we want. It’s better that way.”
“Okay.” Leezar neither agrees nor disagrees with her, but takes another hit as he thinks of his next question. “You are right, I am from the surface. And up there, different things happen at different times of the day. But since my arrival in the city, I’m not sure that applies here. Is there any kind of schedule that the city runs on?”
The woman sits in silence for a while, then offers “I have heard - and maybe you can confirm - that in the Lands Above there is a terribly, frightfully burning orb that just hangs in the sky and moves about. Like a slavemaster, its motion forces everyone to work at certain hours, whether they want to or not, then forces them back to their homes at other hours, whether they want or not.”
“Well, that’s true in a way,” Leezar admits.
“Here in the Vault, we don’t have anything like that,” the woman continues. “Our beautiful turquoise moon floats above the city, always, unchanging. Our people do what they want, when they want. When we are hungry, we eat. When people want to seek pleasure, they come to places like this club.”
Leezar decides to respond. “While some people in my world allow the Orb to dictate their activities, not all of them. There are those who set their own schedules and do as they please. I’ve seen lots of mushroom food here - you have agriculture?”
The woman intuits that this is Leezar just asking for a quick confirmation, not an explanation. She nods and he continues.
“Well, in agriculture - some things grow better in the dark, and some things grow better in the light. In my world, those who work in the fields do toil under the light of the Orb. We call it the Sun, and say that they work from sun-up to sun-down. But there are others, such as myself, who prefer the night, and who prefer taking pleasure to working.”
She listens carefully to everything that Leezar says, then traces her hand lightly along his outer thigh until it comes to rest at his inner thigh. “So you would say that you grow better in the dark?”
Leezar laughs. “Yeah, you could say that.” He considers his next question, and decides just to confirm something before he moves on. “So there is no overall schedule to the city, no set times when the shops open, or the gates close, or anything like that?”
She smiles and shrugs. “You won’t find such petty rules in Erelhei-Cinlu.”
Leezar nods and moves on. “How do people feel about foreigners - tourists - visitors? What’s the general take on people from my world visiting your fair city?”
“Erelhei-Cinlu is the most beautiful city in all the underdark - all who dwell in the Vault are fortunate to be here. Of course others would want to visit. And when they come, they bring valuable and beautiful things from their lands, and leave them here with us as a fitting tribute to our greatness, in recognition of the skills and services we can provide that are not available in their homelands. That is only fair and appropriate.”
“Indeed.”
“It would be a shame for us to have so much beauty but then to guard it jealously, rather than sharing it with all those who can benefit from it.”
“That’s such an open-minded way to look at it. You people are so nice. Coming from my world, I have to say that I find this city and its people to be quite remarkable.”
Despite her assurances of the wonders of the city, Leezar tries to ferret out some hint of its dangers. “I think I understand that you don’t have a schedule here - but are there times when visitors are less welcome? Or when it would be better for them to remain inside?”
[Since this question touches on something of a religious nature, a Persuasion check is required to convince the woman to speak indirectly about the Fane; Leezar 15]
The woman laughs. “Inside? Well, you certainly don’t want to be out on the streets during The Hunting. I mean, no one does - not just visitors.”
“Oh, wow - what’s that? The Hunting?”
“Yes, it’s very exciting. Some people come to the city just to see it! Every so often, the priestesses of the Fane announce that it is time for The Hunting, and then they open the gates of the Tombs. Then all the ghouls from the Tombs just have free run of the city! Then pretty much anyone who is out in the street gets eaten, you know. Ripped apart, really, eaten alive. Some people like to watch that. Most people just shut up their houses - bolt the doors and the shutters on the windows, hope that they live in a nice enough place that the ghouls can’t find a way in. That goes on for a while, until everyone is satisfied, and then the priestesses blow a big horn - one that can be heard across the entire city! That horn recalls all the ghouls back to the Tombs.”
“Wow. That’s incredible. But where are my manners?” Leezar has just finished his drink and realizes that the woman does not have one, although he has been regularly passing over his blunt as they have talked. “Do you want a drink?”
“If you are buying, sure.”
“Absolutely. I think we are hitting it off pretty well. This is the kind of interaction I was hoping for. So I just want you to be able to relax and have a good time along with me.”
She smiles, leans forward, and using him as a support, lifts herself up and off of the sofa. She walks over to the top of the stairs and whistles to get the attention of the bugbear bouncer at the bottom over the sound of the music coming from the stage. When he turns, she makes a hand gesture that indicates an order for two more drinks. The brute won’t be serving them, of course, but the next time one of the wait staff passes him he will relay the order.
---
[Thokk]
After the maids have thoroughly scrubbed Thokk’s skin, one leaves the tub and with a set of combs and brushes begins to work on his long, but sparse, hair. Another sits on his lap while the third hands her picks, powders, and scraps of cloth so that she can work on Thokk’s gums and teeth. As the drow woman, clad only in her wet small clothes and leaning on his chest, carefully polishes his two tusks, Thokk is taken back to a memory of his orc father being cared for by his human mother in a similar way. He sighs in contentment, feels something stirring below, and the woman on his lap giggles. “I think he’s ready for the oils,” she says to the others.
- - -
[Willa]
The music slowly fades and the buzz of conversation in the background appears to be dying as well. A hush falls over the crowd. Willa’s eyes dart about the room - what is about to happen? One of the performers on the stage lets out a loud, long, and drawn-out moan, and then another performer gives an exultant climactic shout. One by one, each of the performers sounds off, adding their voices to the passionate chorus. Finally, when the last two sound a simultaneous vibrating wail, all of the figures collapse to the floor as one. The room erupts in applause. The performers, sweaty and sticky, stand and bow as the applause continues, and then when it fades, turn and walk backstage.
---
[Leezar]
When she returns to the sofa, she spends some time unfastening a number of jeweled barrettes and a large comb, placing them carefully on the table and then tossing her head so that her long, coal-black curls flow freely down her bare shoulders. In the course of this, the other shoulder strap of her dress falls, joining the first, and despite the tight, clinging fabric, the entire top is starting to roll downward, revealing more of her chest and back.
When she finally sits back down, it is close enough that she has to lean just a bit to have her weight supported by Leezar’s shoulder, and he is forced to move the still-lit stub of the blunt to his left hand. As she angles her head to look up at his face, he says, “That thing you described - the Hunting - sounds both crazy and really exciting. The more I learn about your fair city, the more amazing it seems.” She smiles contentedly. “How often does something like that - an event like the Hunting - happen?”
“Oh, not often,” she purrs. “As exciting as it is, it is very disruptive to all the normal activity in the city. The merchants don’t like it, because all of the shops have to close. A place like this, the pleasure houses, most of our customers would be gone to their homes, thinking them more secure. Occasionally we will get someone who wants to have a second-story room with a window, and wants to have company while they watch the Hunting from above.”
“Oh, wow.”
“In general, though, it makes business harder for everyone, so it is not that often that it is held.”
“Yes, that makes sense. Is there any chance something like that will happen soon? When was the last one?”
“It would be a while, likely many, many sleeps before the next one.”
“Ah, that’s a shame. You have seen many, though?”
“Yes, I have. And if you stay in the city long enough, no doubt you will see one as well. Maybe you could even participate in one!”
“Participate! Are people allowed to kill the ghouls?”
“Of course! You know, you asked before about ‘laws’. Like I said, we don’t have laws in the city, but we have customs, and principles. And one of our fundamental principles is that you always have the right to defend yourself. If a ghoul, or say, a pack of ghouls, breaks your door down and is eating your children, then you have every right to do what you need to do.”
“Nice. Say, you mentioned that the Hunting is run by the priestesses of the Fane?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Pardon my ignorance - but is there just one Fane? Or several Fanes? My limited knowledge of Elv…that is, of your language…tells me that ‘Fane’ means a kind of church - but is every temple its own Fane?”
“Just one, of course. They would not permit any challengers. The Great Fane of the Spider Queen rules the Vault. They guide and protect the drow nation.”
“Oh. So does everyone follow the Fane?”
Here she hesitates in replying, then says, “I think that’s our drinks!” [She is unsure she wants to answer direct questions about the Fane, so she politely excuses herself while she composes her thoughts.] The woman rises and crosses the room to the head of the staircase, then accepts two more cups from a waiter who has made it past the bugbear. She carries these over to Leezar and sets them on the low table in front of them. This time, when she sits, she does not immediately move closer to him, but waits to see whether he presses her on the question about the Fane.
---
[Thokk]
Thokk lies, belly down, on a bed of flat stones, each curiously warm. The maids, now as naked as he is, sit or kneel next to him, each laboring to deeply massage scented oils into his skin and work out the knots in his thick, corded muscles.
- - -
[Willa]
On stage, a gaggle of goblins have emerged from the wings, furiously gathering up all the larger clothing from the previous performance and carrying them off in baskets. When there are just small clothes left, their pace slows. The wrinkled creatures lift these to their faces and, nostrils flaring, give them exaggeratedly long sniffs, then lick their lips with purple tongues. This elicits hoots and laughter from the crowd, so Willa takes this to be the comic relief between acts. The goblins contort their faces into ever-more vulgar shows of appreciation for the scents on the small clothes until the laughter begins to play out and their gag has run its course. Then, one by one, they gather the remaining clothes and leave the stage, until only one particularly wrinkled gobliness is left. After eliciting as much scattered laughter as she can from smelling the clothes, she wads one pair in a bunch and stuffs them down the front of the rags that pass for her skirt. As she moves them about with her hand, fresh laughter erupts from the crowd and then a sharp intake of breath as a new figure strides onto the stage. She is clad entirely in black leather and wears a masquerade mask depicting the face of a female drow, though Willa suspects she is anything but beneath. The gobliness looks over her shoulder and squeals in alarm, and the crowd laughs again. The woman uncoils a braided leather rope - no, a whip - from her hip as the gobliness throws up her hands and squeals ‘Please, matron mother!’ in a quick succession of Drow, Common, Dwarven, and then a series of languages Willa does not recognize. The woman moves to the center of the stage and begins to send lashes at the gobliness, who jumps over the first lash and then starts to run circles around her. Every time the gobliness moves between her and the crowd, the woman cracks the whip, usually having it snap within scant inches of the gobliness, but occasionally laying it across her flesh as the crowd cheers. The accumulation of visible lash marks shows that this part of the show is quite real.
Willa can only stomach this so long, and tries to look about the room for anyone as disgusted as she is, but everyone has their faces to the stage, enrapt. A cup boy carrying two mugs moves toward the bugbear guarding the far wall and asks to be let up the stairs. His shirt is open to his navel, and his pants are so tight no weapon could be concealed within them, but there would be plenty of room for a long, thin knife in his high boots, so Willa tries to assess his posture (wait staff or assassin?) as he moves. When the bugbear lets him past, Willa counts the seconds (five between every crack of the whip) until he reappears - long enough to have delivered the drinks, not long enough to have assaulted Thokk or Mathias.
---
[Leezar]
Leezar takes his drink and smiles winningly. He does not start the conversation, does not insist she answer, but it is clear that he is still interested in her response [Persuasion 26]. She takes a good, long look at the gaunt man in his strange white uniform. When Leezar still does not either press her or change tack, she finally says,
“You know, there’s a certain amount of risk involved in talking about certain subjects. Some people like risk. Some people find it exciting. For myself, I think risk is fine - so long as it is properly rewarded.”
“Oh, I agree. But there is so much I would like to learn from you, we can talk about that later. I imagine that there are some things that are easier to talk about, and others that are more…complicated. Let’s stick to the easy things for now, and if we feel like doing the risky things later we can then, after we are clear about rewards.”
She smiles broadly. “That sounds wonderful.” She moves away from Leezar on the sofa, but slips off her shoes and turns so that she is lengthwise on the furniture. Leaning her back against one arm, she reclines with her drink in one hand and her bare feet in Leezar’s lap.
Leezar picks up his own drink from the table and tries it - it still has the flavor of the kombucha ale he had downstairs, but is considerably stronger, and warms his throat as he swallows. He assumes that it is a spirit, distilled and the alcohol concentrated from what began as the fermented mushroom juice. He sits a while in silence, not moving her delicate, gleaming white feet from his lap but not touching them either. Eventually he says, “I am enjoying our conversation, but it’s been pretty one-sided. As we get to know one another, you can ask me questions, too, if you would like.”
“Oh, well, thank you!” for a second her polished business demeanor drops and she seems honestly surprised, but quickly recovers. “That’s certainly very open of you. Generally my customers don’t like to talk about themselves; they value their privacy…except, for, you know, well, there is a certain type of gentleman for whom that’s all they want to talk about, and the service they are paying for is for me to be suitably impressed with every aspect of their lives. But even they don’t really offer to talk about the things that I would actually like to know.”
When Leezar doesn’t interrupt, she asks him, “Where in the surface world did you say you were from?”
“Well…” says Leezar, and pauses. “Are you familiar with the surface at all?”
“No, I've never been. I know some names, but I don’t actually know places.”
“Hmm. If you know some names, you might know this one. There is a pretty large city, on the surface, in my world, that they call Greyhawk.”
“Gray Hawk?” She clearly recognizes the words in Common, but her pronunciation is strained. She immediately returns to the Drow speech. “Hiswa-fion; ‘Hawk’ - that’s some kind of flying animal, yes?”
“Yeah, and that’s actually one of my questions for you - we have what they call ‘birds’. You know bats, though, right? Birds are like bats that fly around in the sunlight.”
“Oh, yes, of course I know bats. Fried bat is actually one of my favorites.”
“Oh, yeah? Nice,” Leezar enthuses.
“Yes, I know this shop that is just a few blocks from here. You can actually get a whole bucket of fried bats - and they have these secret herbs and spices for the batter.”
“Really? I love wings! You have to make sure they are cooked all the way through, though. It can be disastrous if they’re not. That’s great.”
Leezar has another sip of the strong drink. By now, between the two of them, they have finished his blunt. He roots around in his man bag and finds a small case with some pre-rolled cigarettes, but of pipeweed. He sets the open case on the table and takes one out, holding it up for Fish to light. When it flares into life he takes a quick puff to set it burning and then offers to pass it to her. She takes it from his hand but smells it first, wrinkling her nose and looking at him quizzically. He shrugs, takes it back, inhales and exhales a cloud of smoke. When she doesn’t follow-up with another question for him, he suggests they return to the theme of foreign visitors in the city. “What would be some things they should not do?” he asks.
“Offend the wrong people,” is her easy answer. “Steal or break things that belong to someone important…”
“That’s funny,” he interjects, for she was not done, “how do we know who those people are? Who should we not offend or break their things? I mean, we don’t know.”
“No, no you don’t,” she says giddily, and then laughs fully. “Because you’re foreigners!”
Leezar laughs along. When they finally both finish, he adds, “Can you at least give me some examples? I’m trying to be on my best behavior while I am here; I don’t want to be rude or impolite. I’m a guest here, and I’d like to be here as long as I can; I wouldn’t want to do something where I am either banished or killed!”
The woman purses her lips and mock-furrows her brow. She nods seriously, trying to mimic the gravity in Leezar’s tone, but her eyes dance and a smile keeps tugging at her mouth. The fact that she is still reclining on the sofa with her feet in his lap also takes away from her effort to match his concern. Nevertheless, she addresses him. “Alright, an example. Here, we are in the Foreigners Quarter of the city. And that means that…ultimately…everything here belongs to the Noble House of Tormtor. That means that anything that you break, anything that you take, any trouble that you get into here, is an offense to the Tormtor Nobles. They have put Lord Amalriv in charge of tax collection for the Quarter. So any offenses you committed here would, more proximally, get Amalriv upset with you, and then by connection, you would have offended the Tormtors by disrespecting their property and their named representative. Other parts of the city belong to other noble houses, so those are the people you would be offending.”
Leezar relaxes, relieved to be again receiving helpful information. “I see. So, how many houses are there?”
“Why, eight of course! Everything comes in eight!” She clasps her hands together, palms down, and folds her thumbs so that they are hidden. Then she wriggles the eight fingers remaining, so that they look like eight stumpy legs of a slender bone-white spider.
“Ooooh!” Suddenly Leezar realizes the key insight he has been lacking until now. “That…is awesome.” He lifts his cup in her direction.
She smiles and reaches for her cup, currently on the low table, but she doesn’t have the leverage to rise against the soft sofa without pushing off of anything, so she slides one foot underneath his thigh and squeezes her two feet together in a grip strong enough so that she can sit up and grab the cup. They bump their cups together and drink deeply. Leezar is suddenly aware of the acutely defined muscles in her slim white legs that are holding her sitting up but leaning back, unsupported, while she drinks. Then she places her now-empty cup on the table and lowers herself back down until she is again reclining and her legs are again soft and smooth. She leaves her foot where it is, though, its sole resting against his left inner thigh.
“Is there any way you could let me know what all of the eight houses are?”
“I can think of some ways, yes,” she says carefully.
After a few seconds Leezar realizes the implication of her statement and reaches into his man bag. He pulls forth five drow platinum coins and is about to hand them over when he thinks better of it, grabs three more, and places a total of eight coins on the table near her empty cup. She doesn’t look at them but begins to speak as if the pause was for nothing more than her to collect her thoughts.
“There are, of course, eight Noble Families. Besides the Tormtor, there are the Everhate, Despana…”
She seems to be reciting them from memory, but as she does so her hands move in vague, half-finished gestures. Is this reflex, some kind of mnemonic aid? “...Noqaur, Ahleval, Kilsek, Godeep, and Eilserves.”
“Awesome,” says Leezar, sincerely. He is momentarily distracted by a loud thump and a soft groan coming from the other side of the door leading into Thokk’s suite, and his head turns to regard the door. When there is no further noise he turns back - and finds that the coins that were on the table have vanished, although the woman’s tight dress has no visible pockets.
---
[Thokk]
After Thokk has rolled over, and the maids have thoroughly massaged and oiled his front as well, culminating with his growing tumescence, he can stand it no longer. Fun is fun, and this pleasure house has been unlike any he has visited before, but it is time to prove to Velonda that he is her champion. He sits up, and attempts to grasp one of the women lightly, but the abundance of oil helps her wriggle free of his grasp. She does not go far, though, but merely moves across the room to where a thin padded cushion lies on the floor. Settling into it, she meets his gaze and he moves to her.
- - -
[Willa]
After the departure of the cup boy, Willa has nothing to do but to return her attention to the stage. She tries to focus on the deftness with which the gobliness, as small and possibly old as she is, avoids most of the blows from the lash. Suddenly a blow catches her squarely across the face and her body goes taut in pain and then tumbles off the front of the stage. A collective gasp comes from the crowd, and for a second Willa believes that the performance has finally gone too far and passed some sort of limit. But the gasp was surprise, not shock, and once the crowd has realized what has happened they are actually applauding, some even standing to do so. Willa spits on the floor and clangs her metal mug against the table to drown out the applause, at least within her booth. A cup boy scurries over with an earthenware pitcher in case she is asking for a refill.
---
[Leezar]
“What else?” she asks, and smiles.
“Let’s go back to the city,” he decides. “Are there any important surface folk…any people from my world who have positions of power or influence in the city, or even, are just here but have made a name for themselves?”
“Generally, the surface folk come to the city for a reason,” she says. As she stresses the last word, her free foot moves, and her toe traces a pattern on the thin uniform over the outside of Leezar’s right thigh, pressing into the skin underneath. “They have a purpose to being here, they accomplish that goal, and then they leave…or, you know, sometimes something terribly tragic happens to them before they can achieve what they came here for. Regardless, surface people don’t tend to stay that long, such that they don’t acquire reputations, or at least not so much that someone unconnected like myself would have heard of them.” Leezar nods, but when he doesn’t immediately follow-up with another question, she asks one of her own. “What did you say you were in town for, again?”
“Ohh, well, I didn’t say. But you are welcome to know that I am a prophet.”
One of her delicate, jet-black eyebrows arches in curiosity. “That is interesting. And what do you prophesy?”
Leezar considers his words carefully. “Let me first ask you a question, and then I will elaborate. What’s the deal with the illithids in the city? I mean, why are they permitted here?”
The woman studies Leezar carefully. What is he on about, prophecies and mind flayers? This seems interesting - she will play along, even if it means revealing a little too much about the Noquar (Leezar Persuasion 29).
“The illithids you see in the city are not welcomed by citizens in general. They tend to move about mostly in the Scholars Quarter, because they are interested only in knowledge, and not the many other items and delights that can be found in our city. The Scholars Quarter is administered by the Noquar House, and most of the illithids, as foreigners, are here at the invitation of the Noquars. Personally, I think they are nasty, disturbing creatures, and I’m not the only one. I just don’t like the idea of them poking around in people’s heads,” she says, grimacing. “And if it were up to me, they would not be allowed to be here. Fortunately for me, they are not at all interested in anything a club like this has to offer, so you would never see them in here, and seldom in the Foreigners Quarter. In the course of my line of work, I can generally stay far away from them, which suits me just fine.”
“I understand. To answer your question, then, my prophecies mainly concern the illithids.”
“Indeed? So, can you tell me the date in the future when they will finally be kicked out of our fair city and we can all feel more pure without their disquieting presence?”
Leezar chuckles, then stares straight ahead, smoking in silence for a while and ignoring the distant groans from next door. Finally he turns to look at her face, still expectant. “That, I do not know. That part of the prophecy has not yet been revealed to me. But the fact that there are so many in the city is a surprise to me. Knowing now, thanks to you, that they are based in the Scholars Quarter means that perhaps I can find out more about them there, and that further parts of the prophecy will become known to me. It often happens thusly. The parts of the prophecy that have come to my attention so far concern things more on a grand scale. I do appreciate what you have told me, though - and if I learn anything about such a date I would love to share that information with you. If my investigations there reveal anything, I will make sure to come right back here and let you know.”
“Have you not been to the Scholars Quarter?”
“I have not. I am still new to the city. I have been in the Foreign Quarter, of course. And now I am aware of the Scholars Quarter. I know of a place - called the Street of Lies - I have seen that. Would you be willing to tell me more of the different areas in the city?”
“Certainly. Consider me your guide as we tour the body of my city. There are, of course, eight districts…”
“Of course!” Leezar interjects emphatically.
She smiles, unphased by the interruption. “...with each district controlled by one of the Noble Houses. There is also The Concourse, in the center - that’s where all our important public celebrations and festivities take place. Then there’s the Main Gate, that opens on to the greater Vault - I’m assuming you know that, since you likely entered through it?”
“Yes.”
“The many other parts of the city may or may not be relevant, depending on what you need and what you are interested in. For you as a surface dweller, the safest part of the city is the Foreigners Quarter, but if what you are looking for is not here, you may have to go somewhere else.” _________________ My campaigns are multilayered tapestries upon which I texture themes and subject matter which, quite frankly, would simply be too strong for your hobbyist gamer. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Mp7Ikko8SI
DM's Note on Sources: This post contains vague spoilers to module D3: Vault of the Drow. The names of the streets, Quarters, and the general city layout comes from Fred Weining's article in Dragon 298. The description of the interior of the bordello, and the characters within, are my own.
Content warnings: prostitution, sexual violence, sexual fetishes, drug use, torture, suggestive language, racial essentialism.
Post 420: Fifty Shades Grayhawkier 24 May [3 Wealson] - Erelhei-Cinlu - Foreigners Quarter Bordello
[3/27/24 play session, with the group, continued, integrated with 3/17 play session, with the player of Leezar, only.]
[Leezar]
“There have to be more important places than just those,” says Leezar. The woman merely smiles agreeably, until he takes out more coins from his bag and sets them on the table - six drow platinum for the six city districts she has not yet mentioned by name.
“What sorts of things are you interested in?” she responds brightly.
“Well, magic…and, um, art.”
“The entire city is full of art, of course. The drow are each developing their own talents, and expressing themselves as artistically as they can, following their own personal muses. It is one of their glories, and distinguishes them from the lesser races. But each one of them has their own personal art, and there is not a specific place or district for that.”
“For magic,” she continues, “if your interests are pure research and theory, that would be the Scholars Quarter, but if you are seeking crafted items of magical power, that would be the Artisans Quarter.”
Leezar is silent for a while. He is well aware that she knows a wealth of information about the city that she is not offering, but she seems to be waiting for him to ask very targeted questions before revealing anything. However, he isn’t sure he knows what he needs to know in order to ask such questions, and feels like if he knew, he wouldn’t need to ask! Of course, he wants to know more about the Fane - but that will likely be the last thing he asks about, so he holds that in reserve. What is a safer topic that could get her talking, and open up more avenues of questioning?
“While this house has many pleasures,” he says, gesturing with the last stub of his cigarette at the door from which the soft moans of the women with Thokk continue to emerge, “those aren’t for everyone. For myself, I am more interested in suspension.”
He hasn’t used the word in Elven before, and is just guessing that it has the correct connotation. Those who had hung him with body hooks in the pleasure dens of Greyhawk City used Common (or, for one particular dominatrix, Rhennee). It takes him a while to work out with her exactly what he means, for her first assumption is that he means watching others get hung from body hooks as a means of punishment and torture, which is included under the many forms of ‘Instruction’ available in the city in numerous locations. When he explains that it is for himself, and more about his own pleasure in the moment and not creating permanent physical damage, she is able to help him with the rich drow vocabulary for such concepts.
Once she is sure that she understands what he is asking for, she admits that such an advanced, exotic form of pleasure would be difficult to find in the Foreigners Quarter. Of course, there are always those who would be willing to attempt it, but they would be amateurs using improvised equipment. No, for a professional experience, she suggests that he go to the Performer’s Quarter. Displays of erotic suspension are common enough as part of the plays and acts there, although typically they are performed on trained members of the theatre companies for the amusement of spectators. For something more personal, done to himself, he might need to engage a private instructor, but he is sure to be able to find one at a higher-end pleasure house in the Performer’s Quarter, she says. She even suggests that he start his search in the neighborhood of Acrobat’s Terrace.
“Since the Foreigners Quarter is where those who are not native to the city generally stay, the clubs here, this one included, try to have as many different kinds of workers as possible, for all possible client tastes. Whereas what you are talking about is a more specialized and refined field, not appealing to the typical visitor.”
“Yes, I understand.” That question led some places Leezar did not expect, but was helpful. He resolves to continue with questions that appear as curiosities but which may get her to reveal more.
...
[Thokk]
By the time Thokk has finished with the first maid, they have long since left the area of the padded mat. When he is done, she gives a long groan and collapses heavily to the floor. He stands and turns to look at the other two - one of whom is even now approaching him with a waterskin. Once he has drunk deeply they eagerly vie for who he will choose next.
- - -
[Willa]
The gobliness, after a moment of lying stunned on the floor, climbs to her feet and staggers toward the stage, accompanied by the derisive hoots of the audience. Hauling herself over the lip, she remains crawling until she is prostrate at the feet of the matron mother. What happens next is a long sequence of her abasement, forced by the ‘matron’ to do various revolting acts. Willa tries as much as she can to scan the crowd rather than watching the stage. Although there was universal enthusiasm for the comic scene with the whip, this protracted humiliation sequence seems to wear thin with the non-drow members of the audience, who soon return to their drinks, spice, and conversations. Willa notices that the most attentive in the crowd continue to be the drow men and women, many of whom are openly laughing. Finally it is over and the two performers exit the stage, the gobliness still crawling.
---
[Leezar]
“I haven’t been here long - but I’ve seen more than one demon in the streets. They are flying, as well - can things in the city fly wherever they want?”
“It takes a pretty powerful priestess to summon a demon…whether they are in the Fane itself, or are perhaps a member of one of the Noble Houses. So generally, the demons are here on business, and the assumption is that anyone who tried to hinder their movement would be interfering in the business of someone important. No guard captain is going to cross a priestess unless they have specifically been ordered to. No one wants to get in the way of a priestess, if they can help it. Granted, some demons have been brought here to perform a particular service, but when the negotiated terms of their service are complete, they decide to stay. They enjoy the city, of course, because it is a beautiful place! Some of them end up staying, because we have such a wonderful city, full of delights. These free demons do as they want, and answer to no one, so they are more dangerous to the common folk, who try to stay out of their way, as well. If it is known that a demon is here without a mistress, and it is causing trouble - killing people and such - then the city watch might be sent to dispatch it. But simply flying above the streets, it is not harming anyone, and no one would seek to restrict that - there would be no reason.”
“So they just go where they want?”
“Pretty much.”
“And what about other things that can fly, people and things like that?”
“Well, they would have to dodge all the webs. Flying at street level is not easy, because of the spiderwebs running between the buildings. But like anything else in the city, if you are skilled and capable enough to do the thing you are attempting, and you are not damaging the property of someone important, then of course you can do it. That’s freedom.”
“Huh. Okay. So, demons in the city are pretty common?”
“Oh, yes.”
That’s a good amount of information in a run, Leezar decides, and without even having to pay more. Time to build back up some of the capital he has spent. “I’ve asked you a fair amount of questions again. Do you have anything you would like to ask me now?”
The woman closes her eyes and sinks even deeper into the sofa. The moment of silence between them makes the sounds from the room next door more obvious. She opens her eyes and gestures one pale hand toward the door. “I understand you came here with a friend. What can you tell me about him? Is he also a prophet?”
“Oh, no. He’s not a prophet. He’s…well, one, he helped me get down here.”
“All the way from the Gray Hawk?”
“I mean, I couldn’t have gotten down here by myself. It was, you know, a pretty arduous journey.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, “you seem pretty capable. I bet you could get down wherever you wanted to. Even here.” She wriggles on the sofa, using her hands to push against the arm rest over her head so that she slides toward him. His thigh had been sandwiched between her shin on one leg and her calf on the other, but by the time she is done, it is now caught between her knees. Her silk dress has stuck to the upholstered sofa, so that even while she shimmied closer, it remained in place, and although it was calf-length before, it is now up to mid-thigh, with nearly all of the alabaster skin of her legs revealed.
“He…uh…he helped protect me.”
“Hmm. So if he is in the other room,” she says suggestively, “who’s protecting you right now?”
“Why, you are!”
She smiles and says contentedly. “That’s right.”
“Seeing as such, what is the proper way to address a fine woman like yourself in the city?”
“Mm-hm. That is a question both sensible and practical. If you are speaking with a woman, and you want to be polite, you can call her ama (‘mother’), and this would be appropriate for pretty much anyone. But if you want to emphasize the personal relationship you have with her, that you are specifically in her service, at least for your current situation, you would call her amassa (‘mistress’).”
“Do drow males defer to only drow women, or does that respect carry over to all women - that is, women of other races?”
“All drow, males and females, know that women are just more capable, more competent - it is natural that they would have a higher position in society. Of course, everyone is different, and there is plenty of variation among individuals. There exist incompetent women and competent men, naturally. But one can simply assume that the best women are going to be the ones in charge of any enterprise - at least any one that has a chance of success.”
“Of course.”
“So when meeting a group of foreigners, any drow would simply assume that their females were in charge. And evidence to the contrary would generally be taken as reason to suspect the entire group of incompetence.”
“I see. Is there a local greeting that I should be aware of, or use?”
She smiles. “So many! All depending on the circumstance. Entering a shop with the intention to buy, passing someone on the street that you know, or someone that you don't, complimenting someone when it is the first time you have seen them since a victory, each of these situations calls for a different greeting…but you will need something for general use. You can say Vendui (‘greetings’) for formal situations and Al thalraus (‘well met’) when you wish to give the impression that you are glad to see the person. And ‘behold the glory of the drow’ is always appropriate - although as a foreigner, you should only use that sincerely. Using it ironically is something drow can do among themselves, but for a non-drow to do so would be highly offensive.”
“So let me see if I am understanding more of your world. I want to ask whether I can use magic in the city - but I am going to guess that as long as you are not breaking something, or hurting someone, that belongs to someone important, and you are skilled and capable in the use of magic, you can do it.”
“You are learning, prophet. This is freedom - you are free to use all your skills and abilities. Anything else would be enslaving yourself to mediocracy, not letting your own inherent power shine through. You need to let your light shine!”
“That’s awesome. On the way to the city, outside the city, we passed…farming fields?”
“Yes, most of the food for the city is grown in the Vault, by the merchant houses on their lands.”
“So the merchant houses are different from the noble houses?”
“The merchant houses are clients of the Noble Houses - you could say that they belong to the Noble Houses. Depending on how you look at it, you could say that they are like children of the Noble Houses - they owe the Nobles service and obedience, but the Nobles owe them protection and guidance.”
“And there are eight of those merchant houses as well?”
“Oh, no - much more than eight. Like children, they must compete to show their worthiness to their parents, and some may be discarded and new ones made, so they are always in flux, whereas the noble houses are permanent. I don’t know them all, so I can’t say how many there actually are, but certainly more than a dozen. The more powerful a Noble House is, the more merchant houses it can care for, just like the more successful a family is, the more children they can have.”
“So it is kind of a mess to keep track of how many merchant houses there are, or who they serve?”
“Well, I’m sure lots of people know that information - and any Noble or merchant would. But as a free woman of the city, I just don’t have need of such knowledge - it is not part of my experience.”
“I can see that. We’ve talked a while. Would you like another drink?”
“Absolutely. I will order more. And while we are waiting for it to come, perhaps some of what you were smoking before? The first one, that is - the one you just finished smelled absolutely horrid.” Using Leezar’s leg as leverage again she sits up, then withdraws her legs from his, swings around, and sits facing forward on the sofa. Rather than letting her dress fall back to its full length as she stands, she gathers it up and ties a complex but decorative knot, so that when she rises it still reaches only her upper thighs but clings just as tightly as before.
She has maneuvered around the low table and out onto the open floor of the room when Leezar says, “I hope I’m not boring you.”
“Of course not. I talk with a good number of men and women in my work, but prophets are rare among my customers.”
Leezar thinks for a moment and replies, “If I am to learn the customs of this city, perhaps I should be ordering the drink and serving you?”
“Yes, you can.”
Leezar leaves the butt of his cigarette on the table, next to that of the diviner’s weed blunt, and stands. Crossing the room to her side, he asks what he should say to order drinks. She tells him a word that is clearly not Elven, so perhaps it is Bugbear? He tries to repeat it and she laughs and pushes playfully at his chest. He tries again until, with her guidance, he has something resembling the word, and then he moves to the landing at the top of the stairs. The bugbear at the bottom has his back to the stairs, and when Leezar tries to call down to him he either ignores it or can’t hear it. If you are skilled and capable enough thinks Leezar to himself, and casts mage hand, making the spectral hand first wave in front of the startled brute's face and then, once he has his attention, pointing its index finger up the stairs. When the guard finally turns around, Leezar shouts down the word that the woman taught him. The bugbear’s face contorts, but then he relaxes and nods. Leezar holds up two fingers and the guard nods again, then turns back around.
---
[Thokk]
Thokk lies with the second maid, this time with the first two close at hand praising and encouraging him throughout.
- - -
[Willa]
After a brief pause, a new figure walks on to the stage, a young woman in rags with a mop and bucket. Almost immediately there is a chorus of boos from the crowd, and a few patrons even throw ceramic mugs that smash and shatter on the stage. Fortunately for the maiden, the ones who are launching projectiles are among the more intoxicated in the crowd and their aim is poor. Willa does not understand their immediate animosity until she looks closer. The woman is wearing obviously fake pointed ears, impractically pointed slippers, and is either naturally flat-chested or has chest-bindings on under her chemise. In other words, she is a human costumed as a surface elf, and the crowd is reacting as if she were a real elf - at least within the fiction of the theatre. Curiously, the costume is clearly obvious and not meant to fool anyone - very unlike the woman the party saw earlier, caged outside another pleasure house like this one, also in the Foreigners Quarter.
The woman sets to work with her mop and bucket, cleaning up the stage from the fluids left over from the dancers, and with a hand-brush, sweeping the broken mugs into her apron. Aside from her strange costume, this all appears to be normal cleaning and not part of an act - at least until another figure appears on the stage.
This new actor is a male drow without costume, although he has a long scar running from temple to jaw that Willa thinks is more likely greasepaint than real. He is dressed in robes with runic symbols on them and is clearly meant to be taken for some sort of caster. The crowd greets his presence with a mix of cheers and jeers, but the ‘elf maiden’ pretends not to notice his arrival. He holds up a wineskin and then a potion vial - the vial being glass in the shape of a heart. He pours the potion into the wineskin, and with exaggerated stealth, tiptoes behind the elf made to leave the wineskin on the ground and then retreats to the side of the stage. He then watches the woman, whose work in cleaning the stage is still quite real. When she is finished, she sets down her mop and pantomimes wiping her brow as she surveys the now-clean stage. ‘Noticing’ the skin for the first time, she wipes her brow again and goes over to it, lifts it, and drinks deeply. A few seconds later, accompanied by musical effects from still-unseen players, she swoons and falls to the stage as if asleep. At this point, the drow ‘magician’ laughs deviously, grabs the abandoned mop, and tosses it offstage. Then he begins an incantation, and suddenly his form is obscured by a cloud of red vapor. When the cloud clears, a new mop is standing erect where once the drow was. Its handle is of a gnarled, ebon-colored wood. There is scattered applause. Now, obviously the effect is meant to make it seem as if the drow transformed himself into the new mop. Willa has been around Aurora enough to know that in an actual polymorph effect, you can see one shape transforming into the other - and also that it is advanced enough magic that its practitioner would not be working in a pleasure house theatre. She guesses that the cloud was a simple prestidigitation cantrip to cover his disappearance through a trapdoor in the stage and his replacement with the new mop.
The maiden wakes from her slumber, and when she raises her head everyone can see that red hearts have been painted over her eyes. She wanders the stage for a bit, accompanied by music, until she collects the mop and heads off-stage. Just before she reaches the edge, though, she pauses and looks at the mop with what appears to be longing. “She be in love wit’ ‘er mop?” says Willa to no one in particular. What kind of daft play is this? The maiden carries the mop around, and then as the music changes she begins to dance with it, holding it close, with the audience laughing and cheering. The music grows slower and the woman stops dancing, looking ever more longingly at the mop. When she begins to hike up the hem of her chemise, Willa finally sees where this is going and blurts out “Great Gentle Sea Cow!” She immediately looks around, but it appears her outburst was covered by the laughter coming from the crowd. No one is looking in her direction - all eyes are on the maiden as she slowly draws her hem higher and the mop closer. Just as it appears that she is about to consummate her ‘love’, there is another flash of red smoke. The mop is gone, and the maiden is embracing the drow magician from before. She screams at finding him in her arms; he leers, and the audience laughs raucously. He throws her to the ground and she screams again, a piercing cry for aid, to which the response of the crowd is more laughter and cries of encouragement to the magician. Willa stands up to look for a privy, or at least a piss closet. ‘Acting’ or not, she doesn’t want to be around for the scene of this ravishment. Feigned play or not, at the very least her reaction to having to watch it will make her stand out more than her armor already does.
- - -
[Thokk]
After Thokk has thoroughly serviced the third maid, they lie together for a while, the four of them, in a pile on one of the stuffed pads on the floor, the heat from their bodies keeping each other warm despite their nakedness. The maids purr and coo and trace his scars with their fingers while he recounts their scenes in his head and wonders how long news of his prowess will take to reach the ears of Velonda.
- - -
[Willa]
By the time Willa returns from the privy, a number of musicians are setting up on the stage - the first time the source of the music can be seen. Some of them turn out to be singers as well. The songs are plaintive and ethereal and the accompaniment expert. No doubt, she muses, they are still singing of murder and rape and torture and the Spider Queen, but so long as it is in Elven she needn’t be bothered by that and can work on her fourth cup of fungus-ale in peace. She decides to start keeping the empty cups at her table so as to keep count, and refuses to let the handsome cup boys carry them off, insisting on a new cup every time they come by to refill hers. She doesn’t know how long she will have to be here, and she will need to pace herself. Interestingly, when she deigns to engage the cup boys in conversation, if only to tell them to leave her empties with her, they take it as an invitation to speak to her - and invariably they want to advertise the services of various different drow varlets of the club, each of whom struts, prances, or minces by her booth as the cup boy is singing their praises. Willa waves them all away. Most take it in stride, but one varlet seems particularly offended that Willa would refuse his services. “Hmphh!” he huffs. “It’s not like you surface scum could afford me anyway,” he retorts in drow as he stomps off.
Later, Willa spies the bugbear guarding the stairs turn around, and then turn back and summon a cup boy and speak to him briefly.
- - -
[Leezar]
Leezar feels the woman’s arm encircle his waist from behind. “Well done ordering,” she whispers. “Now where were we?”
Leezar laughs. “I was about to roll you some more diviner’s weed.”
“Oh, yes,” she says - with just a hint of disappointment in her voice. They move back to the sofa, so that Leezar can use the table as a rolling surface. When he is done, Fish lights it surreptitiously and they pass it back and forth until a server comes in with the drinks.
Feeling light-headed, Leezar tries to go through his list of questions again, but finds himself coming back to the same ones again and again, the ones that have already been answered, as if he kept getting distracted and had to start at the top of the list every time. Finally he locates a novel one. “So, there’s the merchant houses…outside the city. And the noble houses…uh…um…is there anyone…is there any place in the city, like an embassy, for the noble houses, each of the noble houses? Or are they only in their…estates? Like, if I wanted to talk to the Scholars…the Noquar House, would I go to the Scholars Quarter and there would be some place there I could meet with representatives of the house? Is that a fair assessment?”
“Yes. For example, the Tormtor House maintains an office, visits by appointment only, in the Palace of Amalriv. I’m sure they also have other offices, official or unofficial, at various locations around the Foreigners Quarter. I certainly couldn’t tell you where they all were. Honestly, after another one of these,” she says as she waves the stub of the blunt around, “I’m not sure I could tell you much of anything. But yes, the Noble Houses maintain a presence in the city, because these districts are their parts of the city - they administer them and that requires in-person supervision.”
“Alright. Outside the city, are any foreigners - green cloaks - allowed to visit the manors?”
“Manors? The Noble estates on the plateau?”
“Yes, the noble estates.”
“Allowed to visit? Well, not by a visitor’s request. But if they are invited, certainly. If for some reason a Noble House wants a particular surface dweller to come…I mean, the surface dwellers that are in the city are here because somehow they got a medallion, which means that some Noble House wanted them to visit the city. If that reason required them to also visit an estate, then they would be invited there, as well. But most business would be conducted in the city itself - actually going to an estate would be quite rare.”
“Well that’s good to know - I wouldn’t want to go over there and then have my visit here cut short because I was out of bounds, so to speak. It is helpful to understand where I would be seen as transgressing.”
“It would be very presumptuous of you to ask to go to one of the Noble Houses, rather than being invited. And since only Nobles (and their guests) are allowed to cross the bridge to the plateau, you wouldn’t likely even get to the point where you could ask.”
“Yes, I can see where that would be problematic.” Leezar sips his drink for a bit, trying to use the burning sensation to help him focus his mind on his next question. Eventually he is ready. “So, this might be outside your area of interest, but…it was a long, difficult journey to get here from the surface. Can mages just teleport? Is there anywhere in the city that people can teleport to? That would make that trip so much faster.”
[Luck roll for specific knowledge +3] The woman responds, “There are certainly rumored to exist portals within the city, so that important people can move about without having to take to the streets. But to leave or enter the city itself, no. All of the stars and the moon and sky of the Vault forms a dome of protection over the city, keeping such magic from working. That’s why the city is here, and not somewhere else. Without this barrier, all of the hateful darthiir (‘traitor’ = surface elf), those who drove the drow from the surface, could come. They have powerful mages among them - they would be teleporting in here all the time just to slay the drow and other people of the city indiscriminately. It’s because this place is blessed with natural features that act like an interdiction effect to teleport and other magic that the city could be built here at all.”
“Ah, I understand.”
“That is also why the Noble Houses are able to control access to the city - they can issue medallions and make sure that only the people they want here can come - the ones whose trade and custom benefits us. If it wasn’t the hated elves, it would be anyone. A powerful human wizard decides he wants a magic book - so he teleports to the city and demands it, or just takes it and vanishes.”
Leezar nods sympathetically.
“So what house was it that invited you?”
This question takes Leezar aback - has she been patiently waiting the whole time, playing along with his questions, drinking and smoking until she can ask him what she really wants - or what the person she reports to really wants? Or is she just curious, given his line of questioning? Regardless, he is not so sure he should lie in his answer. While he thinks, she doesn’t press - but neither does she move on, just as he did not, before. Finally, he says, “The Noquar.”
She regards him skeptically. How could he have been invited by the Noquar, and yet not know anything about the Scholars Quarter, or the Illithids? What is he playing at? (Leezar Deception 25). Unless he is not asking her questions to gain knowledge himself - he is instead asking her to see what she knows, and to test what she is willing to say. That would not be unheard of. But it makes his whole persona of ‘ignorant visitor’ suspect.
For a long time both of them sit in silence, re-evaluating their previous conversation. Mathias continues to sip his drink. The woman remains on the sofa, but she hasn’t slid closer to Leezar or put her feet in his lap again since they sat down. Even the sounds from the room next door have ceased, and there is only the muted music coming up the stairs.
---
[Thokk]
Eventually Thokk feels a stirring again and briefly considers taking the first maiden a second time, but finally decides against it (the DM determines that a fourth bout in this amount of time would be a DC25 (very hard) challenge; Thokk Constitution check 22). Sensing his restlessness and indecision, the maids rise and draw him with them to sit on a long padded bench in front of the open wall of the room overlooking the stage. A number of musicians and singers are on the stage and the maids encourage him to relax and enjoy the show while they continue to fawn over him.
- - -
[Leezar]
Leezar finishes his drink and sets the cup down on the table with a loud click. “So, strange question. No laws, not really any social standards, are there at least customs of behavior here? Like you can do drugs anywhere, but if you want to hit them hard you need to be in a drug den?”
The woman’s tone is decidedly less playful than before. She answers his question directly and to the point. “No, no laws - at least the way you surface folk think of them. With drow, it is a question of pride, not law. If you take spores in public and as a result, your behavior offends someone - someone more powerful than you - then you can expect they will do whatever they think is necessary to restore their honor. It’s about the personal offense, not some arbitrary social norm. You do spice in a spice den and pass out, that’s expected. You do spice in a restaurant, pass out and s*** yourself - well now, someone has to clean that up and you have insulted the restaurant owner and their clients. So how powerful is the owner, compared to you? There’s nothing inherently wrong with taking spice and s******* yourself, and if that's what you enjoy, then anyone who tries to make you feel bad about it is just a moral tyrant. But if you offend people who are trying to enjoy their meals without smelling your s***, if people are insulted by your behavior and they are more powerful than you are, then there will be consequences for that.”
“So it’s not about decency…just offense.”
“Yes.”
“And theft? I mean, you said that we need to be careful not to take or break things from powerful people, but what about simply taking it from people who are not powerful?”
This finally brings a smile back to her face. If this foreigner is not as innocent as he seems, he certainly has a convincing act - and that, at least, she can appreciate. “If you see something you want, and the person who has it isn’t strong enough to keep you from taking it…then it really wasn’t theirs to begin with, was it? Perhaps they were just holding it for you.”
“Huh.”
“Now, if you try to take someone’s things, and it turns out you underestimated them and they are more powerful than you thought - or they are just holding their master's things and their master is more powerful than you - then you can expect them to have a lesson for you about why you shouldn’t try to take those things. And however far they want to take that lesson is up to them.”
“Okay, that sounds reasonable.” Leezar takes a while to consider this. Eventually he begins speaking again, but it is not clear whether he is actually asking a question, or is speaking to himself. “So…bribes in the city. I guess that could be considered a form of payment to the noble houses, a fee for doing business in their area? Kind of like a tax, I suppose.”
“Think of it like this,” the woman says. “I have information about the city. And you have money. So we exchange what we each have, for something we each want. That exchange is the basis of a free society. If the Noble Houses have goods or services that you want, and you have valuable items that they want, then you as two free parties negotiate how you are going to exchange those things. What you call ‘bribes’ is just part of the negotiation. You might say it is the foreplay before you consummate the act of exchange.”
“Hmm. I’m still trying to understand theft, I’m afraid. People - say some street toughs - can just hold you up and demand money? And this is considered fair play? I’m having a hard time with that.”
“Let’s say you are someone that’s weak,” she says indulgently. “And you are walking around with a bag of gold. And someone that’s stronger than you wants that gold. Well, if they are stronger than you - or more clever - then they probably deserve that gold more than you do. Maybe next time you will think twice about being so weak! They should be able to take that from you, in return for the valuable lesson they have taught you. And if you can’t hold on to that - it wasn’t really your gold.”
“Yeah, I guess I have to agree - it is just strange to see a society built on so much truth, when the world I come from is layered in hypocrisy.”
“I can imagine.”
“You had said that people from the surface - from the world outside - they don’t generally stay here, in the city. Not for long.”
“No.”
“But, has any surface person stayed here? Someone must have. Or are they not allowed to?”
“Oh no, you are welcome to stay here - as long as you can support yourself. As long as you are paying coin to someone in the Foreigners Quarter, you are a welcome guest. But beggars doesn’t last long on these streets, especially if they are not drow.” She thinks more deeply about his question [Luck roll -2; although there are surface dwellers who have made a home for themselves in the city, she personally does not know of any], but doesn’t offer any more.
“Well, knowing what I know about the city, even now, it’s certainly very appealing. Just imagining myself being able to say longer would be marvelous.”
“You are pleasant company, and certainly always welcome to visit me here.”
“Well, thank you.” Leezar looks over at her cup. She hasn’t finished her drink yet. He has a feeling that ‘always welcome’ means so long as he is buying drinks or sliding coins across the table.
“So, I’ve seen nightmares in the streets - maybe being ridden by nobles, or military personnel…what other creatures are common-place here? Things that someone from the surface might be surprised by. I just haven’t seen everything yet.”
“Let’s see…you’ve seen demons and nightmares, and we talked about the ghouls. The most common thrall races in the city are bugbears, troglodytes, trolls, orcs, goblins, and xvarts…free creatures include hags, derro, illithids…those are your most common visitors.”
Leezar laughs. “Speaking of troglodytes, I saw one get freakin’ smoked by a Balor out by the Street of Lies!”
The woman laughs along. “Oh yes, that does happen.”
“It was crazy,” Leezar chuckles.
“Well,” she adds, “that’s one way to get rid of their smell.”
“Yeah, the dude just burnt up! There were a group of people there - I’m guessing priestesses - they were yelling about, you know, the Street of Lies, how nobody should go down there, and then that dude got fried. I don’t know if it was a patrol or what. Do they do that a lot, make examples of people? Or, not people, just troglodytes?”
“Oh sure, all of them. It’s important, you know, to understand one’s place in society. If you are a troglodyte, it’s important to realize that you are in the city to serve your betters, and if you are someone that owns a troglodyte, it is important to realize that you need to take care of your things, if you have your thralls just out wandering the streets, things can happen to them - you need to take better care of your toys.”
“Yeah, I guess. So, is there a place of worship - in the city - for the Fane? A specific place? Or is it like, everywhere, everything belongs to the Fane?”
“Oh there are small temples and shrines, of course - pretty much everywhere. The Spider Queen is our mother, and you don’t have to go very far from anywhere to find a place, small or large, to make sacrifices to her. Each of the city quarters has a single Grand Temple, patronized by whichever house runs that quarter. Some are more impressive than others. And then of course there is the Concourse - large events that would attract more citizens than any one temple could hold are held out-of-doors at the Concourse.”
“I see. If one wanted to become a follower of the Fane, a foreigner, how could they go about doing that?”
This last question is asked as the woman is taking a sip of her drink. She sputters the distilled spirits across the table and begins to cough, waving away Leezar’s offer to help. “Oh…” she gasps between coughs, “...oh dear!”
When she finally has control of her breathing, she sets the cup down on the table. Little of the drink remains. “No, no,” she says, turning to Leezar with a smile, “the best you, or one like you, could do in the Fane would be to offer yourself as a sacrifice. You are both a surface dweller, and a male…you are not worthy to be a follower of our mother.”
“I see. I’m sorry - I hope I haven’t caused offense.” When she shakes her head, clearly still amused, Leezar adds, “At least I am keeping you entertained.”
“Yes,” she agrees enthusiastically. Your questions are very refreshing. But if you are going to ask any more like that, I will need another hit of that ‘diviner’s weed’ you shared before.”
Leezar laughs, and takes a pinch more out to set on the table, but doesn’t immediately roll it. He wants to make sure she knows the offer is open, even if she is just joking at the moment. He thinks for a bit, and recognizes that he is out of ‘easy’ questions. With this humorous introduction to religion, it appears to be time to again broach more serious questions. He takes out another eight drow platinum, and sets the coins next to her now-empty cup.
“You have said you don’t like the thought of the illithids going through your mind,” he says. “But, with your permission, I do have a few questions that you could answer for me…telepathically.” She looks intrigued, and nods slowly.
“Okay - I will give you a sample, and you can tell me whether we should proceed.” Leezar puts a finger to his temple and messages her - You know, I’ve been sitting across from you all night while we talked - but I have to wonder if there is more to do here than talk.
She gives a little jump when his words first appear in her mind, but the familiar content seems to calm her. A second later, though her lips don’t move, he hears her whisper back, All you have to do is ask.
Leezar smiles. That’s not what he came here for, but they seem to be approaching the end of the conversation. Maybe that can be arranged. He switches back to speech for a moment. “You mentioned the webs as restricting flying in the city to those who are skilled enough - is there anything on the ceiling of the Vault?”
“Oh no, just the moon and stars. And they are so far above the city, they couldn’t interfere with anyone flying.”
“Well, it certainly is a beautiful sky.”
“Yes, just another way we are blessed here in the Jewel of the Underdark.”
“What threats does the city face? Attacks from creatures? Demon attacks? Those gray dwarves? Do the walls and gates keep those things out?”
“There are free demons on the streets, sure. And always be mindful of making a deal with the derro. You need to watch yourself when in the city - but there is nothing that could threaten the entire city. The Queen of Spiders protects us - the fighting sororities and fighting fraternities defend the walls and gates. We are in the center of the drow homeland and all the forces of our great nation would be alerted if ever invaders managed to breach the Vault, long before they arrived at the gates of the city.”
“I saw purple worm tunnels - and purple worms - on the way in here. Can’t they burrow through the walls of the Vault?”
“The Vault, maybe - there are wild creatures out in the fungi forests outside the city, some of them quite large. But anything that attacked the walls would be dead long before the walls were breached.”
“But not everyone lives in the city?”
“No, not everyone is so fortunate. The merchant houses live out in the greater Vault. But they have their own thralls, as well as the fraternities and sororities, to protect them.”
Hopefully the patter has thrown off anyone listening. Leezar is ready to ask his real question, and he uses message again, this time saying Does everyone follow the Fane? [Luck roll +1, and referring back to Leezar’s previous persuasion check of 29]
She purses her lips, but her eyes linger on the stack of platinum coins still on the table. He hears her reply. Publicly, everyone is a servant of the Spider Queen. But in private, some people are more loyal than others.
Leezar considers his next question as he sets to work rolling the blunt. He wants to stay busy to make their pause in spoken conversation seem less like a shift to messaging. Youse gots dis, boss! encourages Fish as he lights the weed.
I don’t know what’s really going on, because I am from the surface, he communicates. So, some people follow the Fane and some don’t - would that sort of thing - people who aren’t faithful to the Queen - be found on the Street of Lies? After he has drawn on it a few times, Leezar passes it over to her. As she takes it, he hears her reply.
Yes, the Street of Lies is the only part of the city where temples that are not dedicated to the Mother of Spiders are permitted. That’s why it is called the Street of Lies - because there are gods other than Her there.
They pass the blunt back and forth for a while, and she starts to titter. Leezar chuckles as well, but at least to his ears it sounds more like nervous laughter than abandon. Leezar’s head is swimming. He tries to think of any more questions, but they all sound highly suspicious - What do the patrols look for? Who commands the bridge to the noble plateau? He won’t be asking any of that - not this time, at least. Finally, when the blunt has been entirely transformed to smoke, ash, and giddy uneasiness, Leezar climbs unsteadily to his feet.
“This has been a lovely evening. I have thoroughly enjoyed your company. How do I compensate you for your time…?”
“You can see the floor manager downstairs - the woman you spoke with on the way in. I’ve enjoyed myself as well. You prophets are a strange bunch, but certainly interesting. Are you sure there is nothing else you would like to talk about,” she says breathily, leaning forward and looking up into Leezar’s eyes, although as she is still seated on the sofa, her head is at the height of his waist.
“No, no,” he says, as he slowly weaves toward the door on the wall of the slowly spinning room. “This has been very helpful already. When I come back next time, it won’t be for questions. For now, I’ll just check on my friend.”
She rises quickly from the sofa, although as she walks towards him she appears as unsteady as he is. “Allow me,” she says, moving ahead to reach the door. She turns back to him and says clearly, “You can’t go in here, unless you want to pay to watch your friend.” Leezar waves her ahead.
She cracks the door and looks inside, then pulls back and shuts it silently. “He appears done for the moment. He and his attendants are watching the floor show from their window box.”
“That,” says Leezar, “is an excellent idea. Watching the show, that is.” At this point, he is unsure of his ability to make it down the stairs. He does not want to attempt the two blocks from here to the Crowned Cap in this condition. “You are welcome to stop by my table, if you would like a drink.”
“Thank you,” she says, “but I might need to go lie down for a bit.”
---
[Willa]
The music and song goes on for quite some time, to Willa’s relief. After that a real drow mage takes the stage and begins an artistic colored lights show - starting with them on stage but then drifting out over the crowd and up into the rafters. By their glow Willa makes out that Thokk is in a balcony seat (Willa Perception 15). Alongside him are three drow women, hanging off his arms, nuzzling his ears, and otherwise acting rather unsuspiciously like professionals (Willa Insight 19). At least from their chests up, the only part she can see from the floor, they are all four naked, with no place for the women to hide a blade. But where is Mathias? There is no sign of him or the woman he went upstairs with. Willa rechecks her cup count. It has been more than an hour since they arrived, and is likely getting closer to two. Still, seeing Thokk reassures her. There can’t be that many rooms at the top of the stairs, and surely Mathias could have messaged Thokk had he been in difficulties.
A short time later a cup boy approaches her but she is not nearly done with her current drink so she attempts to wave him off, but he insists - and sets in front of her a clear glass of what looks like a deep red wine. Wine? She sniffs at it suspiciously, and confirms it is indeed the fruit of the vine. It’s not ale, but the grapes must have grown in the wholesome light of the sun. How on Oerth did they get that here - and what must it cost? The cup boy bows and says something in Elven, but then gestures at a male drow sitting at a nearby table - facing Willa and with his back to the stage. Another varlet, although this one is apparently trying to buy her a drink? Willa scowls and pushes the glass away from her on the table. The seated man’s mouth moves, although Willa doesn’t hear the words, and suddenly a silent image of him appears on the table, equal in height to the glass. The figure takes one knee and holds his tiny hands up to her imploringly. The actual drow makes a gesture and the image suddenly has a diminutive rose in his hands which he offers forth. Willa looks skeptically back and forth between the image and the drow. They are indeed identical - the same black leather pants, and shining silver hair. Except that the real drow has a loose-fitting silk shirt of deep purple, while the image is bare-chested - with chiseled muscles on his arms, chest, and abdomen.
The rose is bunk - she’s not the kind of lass to be won by silly flowers - but the simple, honest smell of the wine is the one wholesome thing in this whole sordid cesspit of a city. She looks up at Thokk on the balcony, eyelids heavy but three naked drow women surrounding him. He’ll be fine. Mathias’ll be fine, too. She’s had enough of being nursemaid this evening - enough of trying to keep her motley crew of a party alive in this den of iniquity. She’s always the one taking care of them, of course - it might be time for someone to care for her, and she can think of no better use for her share of the treasure that Mathias insisted they divide out. Perhaps a quick roll in the sheets with this one dark elf is a better, and safer, way to take the edge of her nerves then slowly drinking herself into a stupor in a room full of drow. At least she’ll just be worried about the one, and she’ll no longer be standing out.
She gets to her feet, tosses back her current mushroom drink, and carefully raises the glass of wine in the direction of the drow. The image on the table disappears, and the real man winks at her, beckons, and then turns and moves through the crowd. Willa follows, moving slowly so as not to spill her glass. Time to see if this varlet is as well-apportioned as his image advertised. He leads her to a small private room off the main floor, but behind the stairs. She imagines that Thokk and Mathias are on the floor above her. With a gesture, the man lights a number of red candles in the formerly dark room and moves to sit on the heavy ‘wooden’ frame of a silk-covered bed. Willa takes a sip of her wine and walks around the room, tracing the walls with her fingers and rapping on anything that doesn’t seem solid. Finally convinced that there are no secret doors with rooms full of assassins behind them, she moves a chair to block the single door into the room. He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t move. Willa comes over and stands in front of him, one hand on her hip and the other raising the wine glass. He studies her for a bit, then stands, and leans in close without touching her. He does smell nice, at least.
Turning away, he crosses the room and moves some candles off an end table and brings it closer to the bed. He rests his hands gently on one of her baldrics. When she doesn’t object, he begins to remove her various belts and harnesses, one at a time, and lay them out neatly on the table, all with the weapon hilts facing her. After that, he begins working on her armor, going slowly and carefully. He is as skilled as any squire she has seen, and even improvises a hanging rack for the hauberk by utilizing a tall and heavy iron candelabra.
Once he has her down to her tunic, he backs away and takes off his own shirt, again sitting on the frame of the bed. His muscles are indeed as chiseled as his silent image advertised. By then she has finished her wine, and moves closer to him but remains standing. He begins to help her out of her outer clothes, not that she needs help, but it allows them to touch as his soft hands glide along her skin. It is not long before they have left port and are in the bed together.
He is slow, and patient, and still doesn’t speak, which gives Willa time for her own thoughts. He is no Sigurd, of course, and there is no spark or connection like she has felt with the occasional man over the years. But the last thing she needs now is one more connection, and by the gods he is competent. Even without her speaking either, he is skilled at reading her responses and taking longer here or jumping over there or revisiting ‘tother. He makes sure she has been at full sail for some time before he guides them into the rough seas and spends so long there you would think he was born to the storm. When at last they are safely back in port, both of them salty and sea-soaked, Willa realizes, as her thoughts slowly return to her, that she has not been thinking of anyone else in the party for the whole time, and that this respite was just what she needed.
She does not linger, though, just long enough to gather herself before she stands. He is at her side immediately, and though he lets her dress herself he helps with all of the parts of the armoring that go better with help, and just those. Awake after but not underfoot? Now that is not something she’s had from a human man, not that she has had all that many. Perhaps Thokk has it backwards, and it is the drow females that are corrupting the males of the race rather than the ‘tother way ‘round. Not that he needs to know.
When she is fully armed and armored she moves back to the door and takes the chair out of the way. He is close on her, too close, so she simply turns and points him back at the bed. He smiles, bows, and retreats, and she leaves the room alone.
---
[Leezar]
Leezar makes it to the landing and uses the wall to support himself as he goes carefully, step by step, down the stairs. When he gets to the bottom, the bugbear lets him by wordlessly. He looks up at where the woman says Thokk was watching from a window box, but does not see him - maybe from the angle? (Leezar Perception 10). He looks out across the crowd, but sees that Willa’s booth is empty. As he struggles to stay upright moving across the floor to an empty table he becomes anxious. Fish? he says mentally. I need you to be extra alert for threats - I need to sit down for a while.
A hoarse chuckle sounds in his ear. Youse gots it, boss.
Mathias makes his way back, with difficulty, to the table he was at before. He would like nothing more than to go lie down in one of the padded booths, but he can’t see Thokk or Willa, so they will have to find him, and that means him being visible. When a cup boy passes, Mathias croaks “Nén”, but when the boy just stares at him he repeats it more forcefully and the youth scurries off. He eventually returns with a cup of water. Mathias doesn’t know the word in Elven for “pitcher”, so he just shows with his hands that he wants more, and this time when the youth moves away Mathias begins a ritual cast of purify food and water. That will give him something to do for ten minutes while his head clears, and hopefully the open use of magic will keep anyone from considering whether to assault him or not while he is obviously disoriented. He gets the spell off and drinks deeply while he is waiting to come back down. While he waits, various fantastical scenes of torture and sex between the performers play out on the stage. They are reminiscent of the tapestries the party saw in the drow chambers of the fire giant hall.
Mathias is nearly back to feeling sharp again, and the performers have changed to one female drow reciting a long, epic poem accompanied by a chorus of robed figures, when Willa finally appears and pulls up a chair to his table. She looks just as when he left her, except her hair is wild - disheveled in a way that he has not seen before, even after a battle, braids completely undone. “You look…” he begins, but she immediately holds up her hand.
Like Aye been ridden ‘ard an’ put away wet, is what she thinks to herself, but what she says to him is “Aye dinnae need ter ‘ear it,” and then adds, “An’ if ye value keepin’ yer tongue in yer ‘ead, t’ere’ll be nay a ward o’ t’is ter Aurora.”
Mathias shrugs. “Suit yourself.” Noticing her interest in the pitcher, he says “It’s water, and I made sure it’s safe.” The look of relief on her face is so apparent that he holds up his hand for them to be brought another cup. Now that Willa is here, what about Thokk? He looks up to where the window seat should be and for the first time since he came back out on the floor his eyes can focus far enough to see up there. Indeed, Thokk reclines on a padded bench on the balcony, head lolled back asleep but one arm around the shoulders of a rather bored-looking half-drow woman, with his large hand cupping her breast as her only covering.
Once Willa has drunk her fill, Mathias shoots a blast of force at the balcony, causing the woman to squeal in alarm and Thokk to start awake and start grabbing about trying to find his weapons. Mathias sends a second blast, and by now Thokk is alert enough to look for the source. When he sees Mathias on the floor below he waves happily, and Mathias waves back, then messages him that it is time for him to gather his things and go. Thokk tries to object that he is not yet done, but Mathias tells him that he has already passed the whole night wearing out all the drow maids this place has to offer, and there are no more for him until later.
By this time the crowd has realized who interrupted the, now-scowling, poet on stage with the explosive blasts and a number of patrons are looking at Mathias angrily. He smiles at them with his best ‘what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it?’ grin, and it turns out that the answer is ‘murmur and be offended and not much else’.
By the time that Thokk is dressed and has found all his weapons, scattered about the room above, and come downstairs to their table, the floor manager has glided over and is ready to settle accounts.
[Thokk
Three courtesans x 10gp = 30 drow gold.
Thokk tips them another 10gp each (total 60 drow gp), and tells her to tell them to tell their sisters that he will return to satisfy them all.
Mathias
One courtesan x 13gp (plus additional amounts along the way already deducted)
4 cups of mushroom spirits = 4gp
Mathias tips the floor manager 3 gold, total 20 drow gold
Willa
One courtesan x 15gp
10 cups of mushroom ale = 2gp
1 cup of fine wine = 30gp
Total 47 drow gold]
(4:45pm)
Once accounts are settled, the floor manager gives a subtle gesture to the bugbear bouncers, not even noticed by the party, that means they are permitted to leave, and as they approach the narrow entryway, the brutes part for them to walk by. Also unnoticed by the party is that just when they are leaving the floor and passing through the cordon of bugbears, drow rakes rise one each from three different tables, simultaneously, and move after them.
The cubicle that before had a couple in it is now empty; another room that was open before now has its curtain drawn and the sounds of multiple people moaning inside. Thokk pushes open the heavy ‘wood’ exterior door and they step outside. When Willa turns to shut the door behind them, each of the three drow tailing them have already moved into the small rooms off of the entry hall and are out of her sight.
Stepping between the outdoor bouncers, the three party members are back out in the familiar alley. Willa shades her eyes as the rush of colors too intense to process all at once flood her senses. The air is - if not ‘fresh’ - at least not heavy with incense and perfume and she gratefully lets it fill her lungs as the others wait briefly for her to be able to see.
Two half-orcs, a male and female, each with one arm around the other and one of the remaining arms holding a large earthenware jug, stagger together up the alley. The bouncers pay them no heed. _________________ My campaigns are multilayered tapestries upon which I texture themes and subject matter which, quite frankly, would simply be too strong for your hobbyist gamer. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Mp7Ikko8SI
Willa
One courtesan x 15gp
10 cups of mushroom ale = 2gp
1 cup of fine wine = 30gp
Total 47 drow gold]
I'm just wondering why Willa didn't object to being forced to pay for the wine. I wasn't even certain the drow male was a courtesan/employee of the bordello. I thought he was a customer. Still, he sent her a 'gift' that she then had to pay for? Seems odd, but then I am not personally familiar with the customs and norms of drow society. I asked Sir Xaris himself, since he has been to Erelhei Cinlu, but he denied spending enough time in the city proper to answer such a question.
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