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
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