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[Arzarael, Archfiend]

Deep beneath Ezenthrar, in the reaches of the Middledark under the Damaskran Homelands, lies the city of Ehlas Valune. The very city itself is a metropolis of sixty thousand inhabitants, a whole third of whom were Drow, with the other two thirds consisting of slaves, captives and migrants from the surrounding enviros or the surface world. Indeed, peace does not come easily to the City of the Drow, if anything could be passed off as "peace". Religious tensions between the dominant faiths of Lolth, Vhaeraun and Ghaunadaur lock the four quadrants of the city in an uneasy peace and the incestuous interhouse feuds of the Lolthites constantly change the power dynamics of Ehlas Valune's politics. To the drow, change is the only constant and even the most ancient of Houses are not exempt. Several weeks ago, the House of Vae fell to House Di'Tanaz'riit, ranked fourth in the city and a violent lockdown begins as the victors consolidate their power.

~Nyves~
The half-elven weretiger had been hanging around the Slave Quarters of the city for many a month. It was a place where few of the dreaded nobles ventured and the drow who actually lived in the squallor were either commoners or had fallen from the Spider Queen's grace. They were no less cruel than their more affluent counterparts but without political or much personal clout, they were far less capable of causing trouble. Actual trouble, that is. Nyves stared around the dusty inn which had been his home since the lockdown began. The Andor's Ruin, a small but well-kept establishment, occupied a former merchant outpost in a stalagmite pillar and the perceived shabbiness of the outside kept many a dark elf away. Few patrons were in today and four of the six tables in the twenty by twenty room were devoid of any bodies.

~Liandri~
"Oh, but it'll be prudent to keep an eye on Melazin. I don't ever advise turning your back to her." Nan grinned and she fixed the clasp of her white coat and cowl. "Malcontent runs deep." Liandri considered the mercenary woman's words as she watched her disappear into the shadows. She couldn't understand why Nan, a mercenary and advisor to many of leading Houses would want to help her overthrow the current order that has put the city in a standstill. Ever since House Di'Tanaz'riit took over nearly a week ago, there had been an increase in violent attacks against the Vhaeraunites in the Merchant districts and the Ghaunadurites in the lower quarters. The attacks on the supposed "enemies of Lolth" galvanised the renegade Priestess' efforts and she was able to recruit more disaffected warriors to her cause.

The safehouse, a run-down shack in the slave quarters was well guarded and Liandri was surprised that Nan could even leave and enter without the notice of the sentries that paced the corridors and kept the intruders out. As the Priestess of Elistraee looked out of the windowsills, she saw the filth-choked streets were empty. Nan was nowhere to be seen and the only evidence of her visit was the half-empty wine bottle placed on the table.

~Madrean~
"When you leave, you will run. Forget your companion. She is lost."
Madrean stared in surprise at the ashen male now holding Caphyrxis' bracelet in one hand. He had thought it was impossible to remove the finely crafted trinket but Mandahras had finally done it. The process was painful and it left a waxy burn mark on the bard's left wrist but he was finally free. As he gathered up his bundle of clothing and equipment, he regarded the dark elven vampire. When he was recaptured by the half-dragon daughter of Matron Julidra, he had thought Mandahras was just a mindless lackey, another toy employed by the Caphiir assassin in her deadly trade and perverse debauchery. He could still recall the terror as Caphyrxis forced them both to pleasure each other and the night was made even worse when they brought Katrina in. But still, he realised that the vampire and himself were not so different. They were both unprotected men in an unforgiving matriarchy that allowed no freedoms for "mere males". They could be killed and disposed of at any time. At least Katrina had a mistress who cared.

Shaking away the nightmares that haunted his mind, Madrean barely noticed Mandarhis shoving a scroll of teleport into his hands. "Use this. They've lowered the wards momentarily so you can leave but quick!"

~Kalizor~
The ghostly form of Kalizor could not remember the last time he had faced battle but he knew that something was horribly amiss when he saw the dark spires and faerie-fire glows of Ehlas Valune. The city, usually bustling with an ordered chaos had grown admittedly darker during the past weeks and it wasn't only the dulling of the Faerie Fires, or the sudden lack of slaves in the streets that made him feel that way. It was almost if the drow themselves who were growing more secretive about their dealings. Prior to his death, Kalizor had little dealings with the dark elves, the traitors of the Kindred Wars and even now, he usually killed those who attacked in fear. However, the discerning quiet was enough to make Kalizor realise something was not quite right and he was curious to know why.
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Unique Outsider
Level 10 PLUSHIE Moderator
CR: 45
-Arzarael, Archfiend

[AbuDhabi]

NYVES

It was another boring day for Nyves - which was fine with him most of the time, but was getting rather old. The half-elf - a veritable giant among his kind, at six feet six inches - sat in his usual place in a dark corner of the Andor's Ruin, as usual wearing his plate armour. The armour itself was obviously a work of art, forged from mithril and its surface "painted" with darker metals in stripes, forming a pattern not unlike that of a tiger's fur in black and white. Besides the armour, Nyves' distinctive feature was his hair - cut moderately short, it was a mesh of black and orange. These two things earned Nyves his nickname, Tiger, almost immediately wherever he went - or, at least, anywhere on the surface. Here, not many people ever even saw a tiger, much less could draw a likeness between the beasts and Nyves.

What with the lockdown, Nyves had no easy way out of the city. Unwilling as yet to take his chances sneaking out - a risk he considered a tad atrocious, considering the security in place - he was forced to stay. The inn was a natural choice for him, as it spared him the trouble of having to deal with most of the city's movers and shakers. He could handle the small fry, let them come, if they had a deathwish. He passed his time with his hobby - drawing - although there were few things to draw, excepting the inn itself and the patrons. Lacking anything better, though, he made due with what life handed him, and was busily completing the latest sketch.

Nyves yawned expansively when the drawing was complete, and appraised it critically. Having decades to perfect his skill, he came to be very good at depicting reality in two dimensions, and experimented with new techniques whenever he felt like doing so - which was right now. This particular work was merely "passable", as one could recognize who and what was etched upon it, but it wasn't one of his best - far from it, in fact. Nyves put it in a folder with the other pieces and stretched in his chair.

He wondered when the lockdown would be over. Not that he had a particular dislike of the city - as far as he was concerned, it was one of the more beautiful places... if one had gotten rid of the smell of death lingering virtually everywhere. Nyves had a particularly keen sense of smell, and little escaped him if he went close enough. He was frequently aware of someone's earlier demise when he cruised through the Slave Quarters, and didn't particularly like it. The smell of blood always sent his heart pumping, as his body recognized the scent of recent kills - this was less than ideal, particularly in a place where he was expected to act like a civilized being.

Nyves rested his chin on the palm of his hand, placing an elbow on the table. He scanned the current patrons for familiar faces, and sniffed at the air for familiar smells - he could recognize either as easily as normal people recognized the former.

"Craft (Visual Art)": (2+10) = 12.
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[Attilla]

Kalzior

Kalzior thought to himself, stirring distant memories of a long time ago and pondered. The ghost of a gray elf, although it is hard to tell from his current appearance stood tall for an elf, faintly visible in the darkness of this unlit world, his ancient and artistic armour clad solidly over his ethereal form, his faintly-glowing ice-blue eyes peering through the iceslits of his interlocking armour, with his hefty and equally artistic axe strapped to the armour's back, sharp-edged and with a slightly macabre apperance to it, as if darkness is drawn to it ever so slightly with a faintly green crystal attached to the side of it, he ignored the ioun stone that orbited his head slightly. The spectral icicles that somewhat indicate how he died shifted as he moved slightly, some phasing through his armour ever so slightly but most were good enough to not, his pale ethereal flesh very faintly visible through the armour. He has an old-looking longbow strapped to his back with a well-made quiver although they do not appear to have been used in quite a while, his flowing and rich-looking cloak, lined with silver (and with strange symbols stitched onto it) obscuring a lot of things on his back.

He contemplated for a brief moment before pulling some of his rags and miscellaneous clothes around him roughly, concealing most of his undeath unless he wished to unleash it.

He floated lazily forward and achieved a very good mimickery of walking as he stealthily approached the city, pondering whether to go through the gate, or if it locked, likely come from above, in the darker areas so detection would be less likely.

He pondered what this all meant, what was happening and if this was his purpose after all, as he does occasionally.

He glances off into the distance using his Life Sense to spot the glowing bright lights that are given off by the souls of the living for signs of any creatures about, specifically guarding the gates or visible from here, in the streets or visible due to the light shining out of windows or the like.

[Althorn Sunstealer]

“You have made a half dead musician very happy” Madrean said, pulling his Bandoleer over his shoulder, and taking the neck of his lute in hand. Taking the proffered scroll, he opened it and skimmed over the mystic script. Working through the pronunciation of some of the longer words, Madrean made sure nothing would go wrong with the casting.

The bard had described himself as half dead, and indeed he looked it. Until Mandahras had somehow managed to free him from the half dragons curse, he had intended to be it. His normally pink, well-groomed, soft looking body was unnaturally gaunt and thin from a weak of self-induced starvation. The outlines of bones were visible under his skin, and the pangs of hunger were becoming slightly annoying. He would have to do something about that when he was free.

“If we ever meet again… well, to be candid, I’ll probably be very upset.” Madrean says, magicing his clothing to appear commonplace with a word and a wave of his hand. “I plan to go to a place where I never have to see any of your depressingly violent and perverted race again.” He says as an explanation. “Still, you have done me a good turn so if ever we meet again, I’ll see about doing something nice for you. Maybe I’ll write a poem about you or something. Probably not though, You’re not the sort who generally gets poems written about them. Well, good bye, and I hope you don’t die too horribly.” Ending on this encouraging note, Madrean says the few magic words the spell required and teleported to the bedroom of a fellow Musician and friend, a Half Drow girl named Luca.
_________________
Pain heals,
Chicks dig scars,
Glory, lasts for ever

[Arzarael, Archfiend]

DM: +1000 RPXP to Nyves, Madrean and Kalizor.

~Nyves~
The half-elf finished his drawing and he put it into his folder in time to observe a hobgoblin wrapped in a rat-bitten leather jacket staggering to the counter. The creature set down a patched bag of holding and from it, Nyves glimpsed a glitter of silver. Castiza, a middle-aged woman, with wispy auburn hair and a fiery glint in her eyes stood behind the counter, and she gestured Nyves over.

"It's okay, Tiger. Harl's brought something that you oughta see."

~Madrean~
"I'm already dead, rivvil, and if mistress sees you again, you may well join me." Mandahras' last words sounded faint to the bard's ears as he completed the last syllable of the spell and with a sudden lurching sensation, he found himself on the peeling floorboards of Luca's bedroom, conveniently located in a derelict house near the market district. The room was rather untidy, with garments and scrunched up parchments everywhere and even though a score was half-penned out on the corner desk, nobody appeared to be home.

~Kalizor~
The west and southern fringes of Ehlas Valune glowed the brightest with life energy and even though the streets seemed to be relatively deserted, it was quite apparent that folk liked to conduct their business unseen by mortal eyes. That knowledge however, didn't help Kalizor as he drifted closer to the gates on the Western side of the city. An adamantine gate with spidersilk walls prevented unlawful entry and two stalagmite pillars served as towerposts for a multitude of archers whose vitality gave away their shadowy positions to the ghost's all-seeing eyes. A few lizard riders nervously paced the gates and Kalizor was greeted by a loud order barked nervously in Undercommon. "Who goes there?! What is your purpose?"
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Unique Outsider
Level 10 PLUSHIE Moderator
CR: 45
-Arzarael, Archfiend

[AbuDhabi]

NYVES

"Did he now?" Nyves said in his usual lazy, drawn-out speech, raising an eyebrow. He smiled politely at the retired adventuress, and nodded, leaning on the counter. "Very well - if you believe that I ought to see something, then by all means, it seems that I ought. What is this object?"
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[Althorn Sunstealer]

Picking up one of the random peaces of crumpled up parchment, Madrean uncrumples it and sits down at the desk. Picking up the pen, the bard begins slowly, carefully to write a strange mixture of nonsensical phrases and random jibber jabber.
_________________
Pain heals,
Chicks dig scars,
Glory, lasts for ever

[ilovefire]

Liandri

Liandri put away the half-drunk bottle of wine, thinking. Nan had a point, indeed. "Taklin!" She called for her dwarven companion, waiting for his appearance. As soon as he enter the room, she would say, "Hello--break out the map--let's see if we've got any cells near Melazin. If we do, we're heading that way to keep an eye on things."

[Arzarael, Archfiend]

DM: Know (Nobles and Royalty), Know (History) or Know (Local) check from Liandri.

~Nyves~
What dropped from the bag weren't coins as Nyves had expected but rather, a large black sapphire necklace with a long chain of finely crafted mithril. An image of an inverted sword spider adorned the gem and the half-elf recognised it as the insignia of House Vae, the former First House which fell only a few weeks ago. "Harl's filched it from some no-good drow peddler." Explained Castiza, counting up five stacks of a hundred platinum and sweeping into the hobgoblin's purse. "Lotsa stuff like that tends to show up when a House falls. Looters, victors, survivors. Decide trinkets aren't safe to keep so they ditch 'em quick." Nyves knew Castiza as a fencer of underhand goods which few would dare to hold. In the City of the Drow, where intrigue and treachery are the only laws observed by the nobles, possessing heirlooms bearing the insignia of fallen houses could warrant a quick death.

"But the thing's darn powerful. I know you want to get of here, Tiger. I think the thing could do the trick if you've got the right sister-items."
_________________
Unique Outsider
Level 10 PLUSHIE Moderator
CR: 45
-Arzarael, Archfiend

[Arzarael, Archfiend]

~Madrean~
Even as Madrean scribbled on the piece of parchment, he felt his stomach churn from hunger. He had been in this house before and from his experiences, Luca didn't eat a home, preferring to dine at her workplace, a small restaurant somewhere in the Marketplace. In fact, it was he who had found the job for her, using his many contacts amongst the nobles to secure the position. Half-drow were considered second-class citizens in Ehlas Valune and well-paying work was difficult to find, even for a beautiful young woman like Luca.
_________________
Unique Outsider
Level 10 PLUSHIE Moderator
CR: 45
-Arzarael, Archfiend

[ilovefire]

Liandri

Knowledge (History): 1d20(2)+18=20

[Attilla]

Kalzior ((It's Kalzior, curse you!))

Kalzior glanced at the person addressing him, touching upon the ground. Speaking in a slightly echoing voice, as if distant.

"I am but a traveller, seeking entry to this fine city. Would you deny a mere traveller such a boon?" he spoke in his echoing voice, in Undercommon

[AbuDhabi]

NYVES

"What does it... do?" Nyves peered at the sapphire necklace. He wondered who it used to belong to, of House Vae - not that it mattered, just an idle thought. "From your words," he went on, "I gather that you wish to be rid of this particular item, no doubt via an exchange of some sort?"
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[Arzarael, Archfiend]

DM: Sorry. I post late.

~Nyves~
"Not quite," Said Castiza, lifting the necklace from the table. "Y'know how you can't normally teleport away from this city without a portal? I think this thing can get you out of here, assuming you have two other items in the same set. Audriniel Vae used them to get her Psion Killers out to the surface." Even though Nyves hadn't spent too long in Ehlas Valune, he knew enough personalities to recognise Audriniel Vae. She was the Chapel Keeper of the Fallen House, as well as a skilled artificer who made numerous ingenious constructs. The giant ruby monstrosities known as Psion Killers were her speciality but even they didn't protect her when a summoned Balor ripped her in two.

~Kalzior~
"The city's under lockdown," Said the guard, a prefect judging by his uniform and the silver lapel pinned on his piwafwi. "Matron Phaeryl's not letting any mercenaries into the city. Which House do you serve?"

DM: Know (Local) or Know (Nobles and Royalty) from Kalzior.

~Liandri~
The name, Melazin Di'Tanaz'riit has been a prominent one throughout Ehlas Valune for at least the last two centuries. A powerful high priestess of Lolth, Melazin was the first daughter of Matron Phaeryl and she had her ambitions quashed for the better part by her overbearing mother. Liandri knew that it was only a matter of time before the priestess deposed Phaeryl and took on the mantle of Matron Mother of the First House.

"Ain't got none cells, milady," Said Taklin, rolling out a vellum map of the city with red flags pinned to indicate cells of resistance. "Tha's near tha' noble 'ouses, tha' Melazin an' its too dangerous to have'em spy on her."
_________________
Unique Outsider
Level 10 PLUSHIE Moderator
CR: 45
-Arzarael, Archfiend

[AbuDhabi]

NYVES

"I see..." Nyves considered, rubbing his unshaven chin. The inability to use teleportation in the city reminded him of another place, which everyone versed in the planes knew, and he understood that there were many similarities - particularly the cosmopolitan natures of both aglomerations. More importantly, being able to use a portal to exit would be rather convenient, indeed. "Then it would appear that I must work to obtain the two remaining pieces of the set. I would conjecture that you could tell me where to find them? Even if not, I would welcome information on what they are, specifically."
_________________

[Arzarael, Archfiend]

~Nyves~
"Dunno who has the others but I reckon they're definately still in the city. One of them's a pair of silver anklets and the other's a ring. Both have black sapphires with the Vae spider. I can bet good money some noble bitch has her hands on one, though."
_________________
Unique Outsider
Level 10 PLUSHIE Moderator
CR: 45
-Arzarael, Archfiend

[Attilla]

Kalzior

Knowledge: History = d20 + 14 = 7 + 14 = 21
Knowledge: Religion = d20 + 14 = 1 + 14 = 15
Knowledge: Nobility and Royalty = d20 + 4 = 18 + 4 = 22
Knowledge: Locall = d20 + 4 = 14 + 4 = 18

[AbuDhabi]

NYVES

"Interesting..." Nyves said, nodding slightly. "Hm... Do you, perchance, have a contact who might know more? I'm certainly willing to this a try," he added, being truthful. There was something alluring in going on a scavenger hunt such as this, even with the danger involved in it.
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[ilovefire]

Liandri

Liandri nodded at Taklin. "Hmm. Well, we would want a foothold near the noble houses eventually. Get ready to go--we leave for that area soon." With this, she started to gather her things, and prepare to leave, as well as tell the leader of this cell where they were going and what they were doing.

[Althorn Sunstealer]

Finishing up his cipher and leaving it unsigned, Madrean reads it over to make sure that he wrote it right. This was a particularly tough interesting cipher, and he became quickly bored and trusted that he got it right the first time. Pushing away from the desk, he wove an illusion around himself, so as to appear as an old Darkelven Spinster. In this new form, he left the apartment, and headed for the Slave district.

Behind him, lying on the table was the letter. When fully translated, it read:

Mine is love
Almost gone
Dead on hope
Ribbon broke
Eternal in stone
Always alone
Never to be
Madrean me

Slave, find, help.

_________________
Pain heals,
Chicks dig scars,
Glory, lasts for ever

[Arzarael, Archfiend]

DM: +300XP to Nyves, Liandri. +500XP for Madrean.

~Kalzior~
The ghost recalled from the recesses of his memory that drow cities were governed by a complicated system of Houses and status. The eight foremost houses form the ruling council but it is the First House, usually the most poweful in the city, which holds the most clout. He knew that Matron Phaeryl, of House Di'Tanaz'riit wrested control of the city mere weeks before and in her paranoia, she decreed that non-aligned mercenaries could not enter the city for fear of leading an uprising.

~Nyves~
"Yeah, I've got a few contacts but they're bleeding drow. Can't trust them to work with something like that. They'll probably filch it off you once you're finished." Castiza appeared to mull over her thoughts for a moment, tapping her fingers against the counter until finally, she relented. "I guess if you're really desperate though, you oughta try these. Prath Meranlar, a junior wizard in the Mage's Quarter. Quild, a male stripper in the Merchant's Quarter. Urgolth, some freak who makes magic around these parts. Gimme a pencil. I'll write it down."

~Liandri~
Taklin packed in record time and before Liandri was even at the door of the safehouse, he was already there with his shield and waraxe ready.
"So we're off to tha' Nobles. Are we bringin' anyone else along?"

~Madrean~
Madrean made his way past the Market square, to the narrow roads that wove around the derelict shacks and graffitied buildings of the slum districts that that nobles liked to refer to as the Slave Quarters. Of course, the bard knew from experience that not all the area's inhabitants were slaves. Several of his musician friends were forced to dwell there when their funds ran low and he knew many of the buildings were homes to drow commoners, servants and prostitutes who were unable to climb the social ladder. Indeed, the district was one of the few that retained a vestige of life after the Di'Tanaz'riit lockdown and the sight of goblinoids, humans and a few duergar chowing down something spicy at a streetside stall reminded him how hungry he really was. He was in luck, for he spotted "The Andor's Ruin", a stalagmite building reputed to be one of the better inns around these parts.
_________________
Unique Outsider
Level 10 PLUSHIE Moderator
CR: 45
-Arzarael, Archfiend

[AbuDhabi]

NYVES

"Of course," said Nyves, collecting the pencil resting on his ear and handing it to Castiza. "I appreciate your help. It is going to be somewhat of a pain, having to deal with the dark ones. In fact, I am reasonably sure some foul play will be involved, but that likely cannot be helped," he shrugged. "I'm not in a terrible hurry, either - but I cannot help feeling that the present situation is going to get more 'interesting' sometime soon, if you know what I mean," Nyves briefly raised his eyebrows. "Tensions run high and it seems to me that some factions are going to make their own moves before Di'Tanaz'Riit is able to achieve stability."
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[Attilla]

Kalzior

Kalzior did not shift his stance at all as his voice plainly stated.

"Di'Tanaz'riit. Now cease to bar my way, lest you incur the matron's wrath."

He said, his voice gaining a slight but subtle edge of menace.

Bluff check: 1d20+10 = 14 + 10 = 24
Intimidate check: 1d20+22 = 17 + 22 = 39

[Althorn Sunstealer]

Slinging his Lute, Madrean slips his fingers into a rectangular shaped sleeve in his Bandoleer, and pulls out the thin silver harmonica that the pocket held. He had not used it for some time, the simple clean music it produced not being what the nobles he had previously catered had longed for. Even so, this was to be his instrument of choice for the time he would spend in the slave quarters, for its clear, slightly mournful tone had a poignant, heartwarming effect on those of humble origins. Stepping into the bar, he dismissed the spells wrapping him in illusion. He seated himself by the door, and began to play a slow, mournful piece which tore at ones heart.

Haronica music warms the hearts of commoners and other folk of humble statin. Thus,a successful perform check in such company grants the musician a +4 bonus on Bluff, Diplomacy, Disguise, and Gather Info checks toward any of those listeners for 1d6 hours. It also shifts the attitude of those listeners of common standing one catigory in the performers favor. Friendly to helpful and all that.

Perform (wind instruments)
18+37=55
_________________
Pain heals,
Chicks dig scars,
Glory, lasts for ever

[ilovefire]

Liandri

Liandri shakes her head. "Too dangerous. Once we get closer, though, we'll want to disguise ourselves--you mind acting as a slave for awhile?"