RP:Assignment 1: Capture Batgirl
Part of the Surface Tension Arc
Synopsis: Styx and Gevurah meet in the Drow Embassy. Vakko is also present. Gevurah enlists Styx as an assassin in her service and assigns Styx her first mission: to capture the creature that has slain drow on Kelay Way alive. Styx boldly asks that her daggers be returned to her. Gevurah denies the request through some temperamental drama, but offers replacement daggers in exchange for this service. Styx asks Gevurah to lead her in prayer to Vakmatharas, and Gevurah indulges the request. Gevurah grills Vakko to determine his motives and worth.
Drow Embassy
Styx slows her pace down as she enters the room to the drow embassy. She finally lowered her hood as she walked through the deligates. Styx turned, just in time to see Vakko here to meet her. Not particularly surprised, she greeted him with a placid expression. "Perhaps she will be here this time" Styx said in a cold monotone. The half elven orc did her best not to show irritation.
Vakko was leaning easily against the wall next to the entrance, his hands resting on the hilts of his sabers, the hood of his long coat pulled low to cast his face in shadow. He was wearing his surface gear, something he knew would most likely raise a few questions from the always inquisitive high priestess, judging from the near interrogation he got when she first saw him with his swords A smile play across his face as she did not seem surprised that he had made it here first, much like at the forest when she broke free of the underdark. “Well we all have our own ways.” He pulls himself from the wall and pulls his hood back. “She should be here soon. Nobles love their punctuality.”
“When it suits us,” Gevurah corrects. Flanked by her entourage, she parades into the room. Red eyes glow from Styx to Vakko then back to Styx. “You have come here several times. Your patience shall be rewarded.” She stops beneath a portrait of the First Patron Tiphareth, though it’s really a portrait of the mind-flayer skull the Patron wears fondly (or paranoically if you’re so inclined an opinion.) Her eyes narrow slightly on Vakko. “I ask you to hunt the prisoner, and you befriend her instead. I am starting to doubt that you chased her at all.” Her glare leaves him and settles on Styx, the motive for Gevurah’s visit to the Embassy today. “If he did truly chase you, and you did truly escape him, then I am pleased to have you in my service. I’d like to know if the surface elves’ leaders contacted you after you escaped this drow mercenary of lesser skill.”
Styx would have been beaming with confidence if she was an idiot, and not a skilled killer. Although the genuine look of surprise could not be kept from reaching Styx's face. Well at least she saw Gevurah again. Just as a familiar cold tingle started tickling Styx's spine. She quickly hid her emotion, however beneath an apathetic visage. "He did not assist my ascension to the surface." Styx stated, plainly. "And I convinced the leaders that I failed the mission and died." Styx concluded with a tone of finality. She was, in some odd way, happy to see the priestess this time around. But it didn't show.
Vakko put a slightly hurt look on his face at the accusations. “High priestess you make it sound as if I carried her from the city myself. I am not that nice a person I am afraid. “ He had followed her from the city and got ahead of her and picked the right exit, the most direct route to the surface and waited for her to appear. “But she is a slippery one, for being a half orc. Normally they are brutish and clumsy. She is rather good at stealth. Better than some of your own guard.” He looks to the youngest pair and gives a flamboyant exacerbated bow, after all a commoner must bow to a noble.
Gevurah holds up a hand to silence Vakko as he speaks. Not interested; though she doesn’t talk over him and his words do reach her ears as a matter of scientific fact. What happens in the mind between those ears remains unknown. Her younger guard, however, do perk up and puff out in the wake of Vakko’s insult. The youngest swipes a slimy green mushroom from the desk and pegs it at Vakko’s head. Gevurah, for her part, is already speaking to Styx and thoroughly uninterested. The High Priestess scans Styx from head to toe in search of lies, deceit, or a card up a sleeve. Finding nothing yet, she continues, “I have a job for you. There is a creature said to stalk the Sage Forest that I need captured, alive, and brought to me in Trist’oth. It is said to be female and in possession of drow and draconian features. Some describe its wings as bat-like. It is an able combatant, who has already killed several drow soldiers. I am told it favors aerial strikes, so be alert to the skies. You may take along your new ally,” her hand waves dismissively towards Vakko, “if you wish.”
Styx felt a pang of remembrance as Gevurah describes the creature. Could it be? The snarling shadow met on the road one fateful day. Styx glanced at Vakko, and then gazed back at Gevurah. "I have seen this creature. Once." Damn bounties being brought back alive. Styx felt like a jailer, not an assassin. "I will attempt to bring her alive. My skills are best suited to kill." Styx gave a slight bow to Gevurah. "There will be an extra fee for a live target." Styx said, knowing Gevurah would make the promise. "I have a small request." Styx said after a pause. "That I may visit with you in the Underdark next time."
Vakko takes the strike of the mushroom with a smile, his hand clenching the hidden dagger, playing out rather playful images of the small throwing dagger protruding from the man childs face. But alas attacking one of her guards may very well be slightly detrimental to the mercenary so he simply widens that mocking smile. “Let us hope your blades are as skilled as your fungal weaponry.” He will kill that one someday. His attention then shifts back to the high priestess and the assassin as the job was given. He has heard a lot about this drow draconian and could not wait to meet it, she sounded so interesting. A brow arches slightly as Styx claims to know the creature that Gevurah is hunting. It did slightly amuse the mercenary that the high priestess of Trist’oth is putting forth all this effort to fine a single half breed that killed a handful of drow soldiers. That can happen on a walk through a drow market. But alas a job is a job. Then the half orcs want to visit the underdark, without the chains he was sure was an interesting one.
Gevurah smiles thinly when Styx recognizes the description. “I expect you to find this creature again. The additional fee can be negotiated, but is, in principle, acceptable.” Nobles are rich, but they don’t stay rich by throwing away dumb money at greedy daggers. Her grin wanes as Styx continues to blab on. This is the problem with treating subordinates with an ounce of respect. It ain’t easy being noble. “Would your request have anything to do with those daggers you misplaced on your last visit to the Underdark?” False cordiality drips from her canines like venom. In that tone lurks a dare: a dare to defy this new narrative Gevurah has composed. Stolen daggers are now misplaced. An imprisonment is now a visit. Even the youngest of her guard, fantasizing about his own dagger in Vakko’s face, is brought to nervous attention.
Styx nodded. "Yes, I wanted to negotiate an exchange. Rather than money, I require my weapons returned to me." Styx noted the change in Gevurah's attitude She started to shorten her statements. Less uninteresting information. Styx glanced at the younger drow, then glanced at Vakko. She briefly turned her attention just long enough to flick a pebble for Vakko's head to attempt to diffuse any possibly building tension.
Vakko, without even looking, snatched the pebble from the air, never taking those two tone eyes from the young assassin. That looked slowly shifted to the other assassin nearest to him. The young foolish drow who hide in a noble house. Yes it was dangerous for drow in their own city, that is why the noble’s build their houses and form their guards, and those guards think they are safe by the name alone. But it was much more dangerous to be a commoner in the drow city. And danger breeds strength in many ways. The normal playfulness slowly bleeds from the face of the mercenary and his true drow comes out, a wicked smile promising the most lingering and painful of deaths for the young drow and any and all that stand in the way. He even takes a slight step towards the man, as if daring him to do something to touch off this little game.
“YOU LOST YOUR DAGGERS!” Her voice explodes at a decibel beyond the range of the drow larynx. Its magical baritone slaps the stone and flesh in the room. It is felt in the chest as much as it is heard. Gevurah’s shadow stretches and grows behind her, impressing upon the others an improbable growth spurt. She appears to grow taller by inches. Her lips flirt with a snarl that never quite manifests. Perhaps Vakko can give Styx a lesson in drow culture. When a Noble invents a story to explain something that happened, everyone else just agrees to that story and accepts it as fact. It’s the new truth. That’s how the drow deal with things. Lesson # 2: Drow nobles are temperamental, and their social skills are often poor. Gevurah lets the silence din loudly in everyone’s ears, and only as that din dies down and her shadow and shape shrink to their natural size, does she speak again. “But I understand that a well-equipped sell sword serves me best.” She hisses on the final ‘s.’ “I may find something suitable for you yet. You may bring this creature as far as the entrance of Trist’oth, and there my men shall receive you and the prisoner. The prisoner will be taken, and I shall meet with you. I trust that is satisfactory.”
Styx reacted immediately when she heard Gevurah's booming voice. Her hand clamped on both daggers she had as replacements and unsheathed them with no thought to translate whether this would be a good idea or not. Styx raised her arms defensively, as if to protect herself from something thrown. Shortly after the last syllable was uttered, Styx opened her eyes to find that Gevurah's entourage was armed as well. Unless Vakko took this as an opportunity to make some kind of move, Styx sheathed her weapons. Styx did not understand this new narrative. "I assumed you, of all, would have the resources to locate such a blessed item." Styx said, pointedly, attempting to stab holes in Gevurah's narrative. Styx sighed heavily, pushing down whatever feelings she was starting to develop. Styx calmed herself and finally refocused her attention on Gevurah. She lets the final statement from Gevurah hang with neither an affirmation or denial. "In Vakmarathas' name..." Styx said after a very long, thoughtful pause. "May I pray with you?" She asked, actually curious in how Gevurah revered the death lord.
Vakko was unmoved by the booming magical shockwave that was emitted when the high priestess lost her temper. As the waves of magic rolled over him a subtle nearly unseen glow would take up over select runes on his coat, the light would roll over him as the shockwaves did, the coat, an item to protect from magical attacks did its job keeping its owner from magical harm. His ear twitched at the sound of blades slipping free of sheaths and he growled in frustration as his attention had to be pulled away from young assassin to more pressing matters. In the blink of an eye he spun, in the same move snapped the saber from his left hip free of its sheath and its point found itself resting between the shoulder blades of the half orc. He whispers something to her, in a low tone that not even the surrounding elves could pick up. He also spoke the whisper in a broken kind of high elven. When the blades went away his was pulled away from her, but not slipped away. Taking a step back he spun the saber and rested it against his shoulder. Looking over Styx’s shoulder to Gevurah he inclined his head slightly, silently imparting that he would teach the half orc manners.
Gevurah takes note of Vakko’s runes, but lifts her attention away from him quickly. Styx’s response appeases her. “If I find them, I shall let you know.” That’s unlikely, but there is something to be said for a soothed High Priestess. She hesitates before answering Styx’s much more acceptable request. It’s unorthodox to pray with another race, but this is an Embassy after all. “...Yes, alright. Briefly, for my day must see to other responsibilities.” To Vakko she signals ~Don’t leave.~ She leads Styx in a small prayer, eyes open as is the drow way. Drows don’t close their eyes except to blink and sleep, and even then only one eye at a time, or so the maxim goes. Her palms take turns in facing different directions: up, down, left, right, and all the spokes in between, for Vakmatharas is everywhere and can be felt from any direction. She prays for death to unfurl its plague according to His wisdom. She prays for hers and Styx’s blessing to be his lethal hands in this plane. The prayer concludes with a blessing over the assassin’s assigned mission, so that she may be successful and only kill Slytheria if Vakmatharas deems the timing appropriate.
Styx feels the eyes of Vakmarathas. She felt closer to the divine than ever with Gevurah leading the prayer. She felt his will, his power flowing throughout the embassy. It was a rush, and Styx watched Gevurah carefully, noting the ritualistic patterns made, and about half way through the prayer, she joined Gevurah. Inspired by the divine, Styx was almost a mirror to Gevurah's movements. Her lips silently follow the words of the prayer and at the end, Styx seemed sated. "Thank you." she said moments after the end. Styx felt the power draw away slowly as the prayer ended.
Vakko watched the silent signal from Gevurah and gave a slight nod as he stood back as the pair started to pray, rolling his saber he slid it easily back home into its sheath. He did not takes his eyes for the pair as they prayed, concerned that if he did he would not be able to stop himself from killing a goodly number of her assassins. He was slightly frayed for some reason and needed some time to gather himself. As they prayed he meditated, looking to get his calm and that aloof mask of playfulness. As the prayers ended his attention refocused on them, awaiting for what happened next.
Gevurah takes a moment to come out of the prayer. Her expression and posture are lax now, especially compared to Vakko’s alrtness. The drowess grins genuinely at Styx’s reverence for the God of Death. “When we first met, I doubted the strength of your faith. I believe you true to Vakmatharas now.” She pauses considerably, eying Styx before muttering, “You have chosen well. Before you go, I need only to know your name.”
Styx moved forward, closing the distance between herself and the priestess. "To all, I am known as Styx." And in a moment of trust, she leaned in close to Gevurah, uttering the rest of her statement in the strictest confidence. Styx's own relaxed demeanor might indicate no threat as she approached Gevurah. The assassin was extremely careful, however, not to directly touch the drow noble.
Styx whispered to you, "My true name is [redacted: drow sekritz]. Only followers of the true path can know this.""
Vakko tightened his grips on the hilts of his sabers as she neared Gevurah, drow do not usually allow such closeness, he was more worried about any rash action from the assassins from the first house than any threat to the high priestess, she can more than enough take care of herself. But he did not step any closer to the pair.
Gevurah trusted her own instinct that Styx would not strike, but did not trust Styx. Stiff, she leans away from Styx. Her defensive hand glows hotly red between them, but does not touch the assassin. She bares her teeth, but does not growl. The invasion of her personal space chafes both her and her alert guard. Thankfully, the moment passes quickly without any further escalation and the room resumes its post-prayer zen. The High Priestess nods to the information shared and excuses Styx. “You did well in telling me. You may go now.” Once Styx has left, Gevurah regards Vakko keenly without saying a word. The stare holds for elongated seconds that bleed into a minute, and possibly more.
Styx bows respectfully as she steps back away from Gevurah. She almost didn't want to leave, but within moments, Styx vanished from the embassy. She had a task after all.
Vakko found his smile again as Styx passed him and left the embassy, Oh the joy of that silent stare from the high priestess of the god of death, arguably the most powerful female in the whole of the Trist’oth. And she only had eyes for him. That thought made his smile grow a little more. But then again that could mean a very unpleasant thing was in his very present future. Keeping his fears to himself he simply stood there in silence, his hands easing their holds on the sabers, about as much of a relaxed stance she will get from him.
Gevurah looks for Vakko’s motive, but he gives her none. None of his actions have been wholly wrong, but some of his choices can cut a suspicious line. She relents her scrutiny with a harsh huff. “You could be useful to me, if I knew what game you’re playing. I want to know what you are after.” She waves a hand in the direction Styx went. “I want to know why she is now more at ease around you, and why you came here today.”
Vakko seems to relax about as much as any drow would in this situation when the gaze of Gevurah left him in that boring judging manner. “I told you when you first sought me out in the tavern, High priestess. I look for what entertains me, I came to the surface to see what I could find that brought me entertainment. That is why I sell my sword. To meet and kill interesting people, I fear you are delving too deeply into my actions, trying to find some hidden meaning in what I do. I simply follow what entertains me. You have a mission to find a draconian that killed a handful of drow. Not so great a feat but you have your reasons to find this creature. I am interested in seeing those reasons out as they may prove entertaining to me.” His gaze shifts to the assassins gathered. “And a few of your minions have stopped entertaining me.” He left that to be taken as she pleases.
Gevurah lips form a thin line. A drow without ulterior motive beyond entertainment is not a drow Gevurah understands. This is certainly a first if it were true, but the noble struggles to believe it could be so simple. Things are never this simple in the world of intrigue and nobles. “If your interests are purely entertainment, then you are better off owning a tavern or traveling as one of those lame bards.” Her jaw pulses twice as she idly grinds and tenses her jaw. He has a way of getting under her skin just enough to irritate, but not enough to invite her malice. On the other hand, he is always quick to arm himself against those who threaten her, as though an extension of her guard. Perhaps that is enough to believe that for the moment he does not move against her. “If Styx tells you anything about this Dread Master, you will tell it to me. If she seems obsessive to you about the fate of her lost daggers, you will also tell me about that. The mission to capture the winged beast is hers, but if you find yourself in her company...” She snarls at the thought of cross-race fraternization. Commoners are truly disgusting. “...Do see to it that the creature is brought to me. And if you do suddenly learn of your own ambitions, it would be wise to share those with me as well. Good eve. Vakmatharas guide your sword.” She crosses towards the entrance to the Underdark, but pauses just before leaving. She speaks over her shoulder at Vakko. “Oh, and if one of my guard should suddenly cease to be, I would not object to you auditioning for the position to replace him.” She sends a glare towards the food-flinging adolescent that sends a shiver down his spine.
Vakko found it quite useful, his status as a commoner. He could pass many scrutinizes as a simply cast off, if he acts the roll of a more classic commoner and not a highly trained killer. And this allowed freedom of sorts has given him the time needed to make quite a little power base for himself. Her orders are met with a slight nod. “I will do what I can, I do so love to see that smile on your face.” He grins at her allowance of one loss to her little group. He will not let that slip through his fingers. His own aspirations are there, hidden deep in the core of the drow, under the seemingly goofish antics of the mercenary. He will be the good drow for the high priestess, if for nothing more than she always sends him to the most interesting places. With her slipping back to the underdark with her assassins in toe, he would turn and head back into the dwarven complex that houses the embassies. Following the path Styx had taken, apparently to engage in cross race fraternization.