RP:Drow Comedy
Summary: Lanlan and Gevurah enjoy drow entertainment at the Trist'oth Arena. They watch starving fight for a scrap of food. They each bet on who they believe will win then immediately start cheating by using their magical gifts to help their chosen champion. The spectacle ends with the two bet-upon contestants biting into food -- or so they think. It's an illusion cast by Lanlan. They bite into rocks and shatter their teeth. The arena erupts in laughter, including the two nobles.
Trist'oth Arena
Lanlan was usually not appearing in the same places as commoners, because nobles are so vastly different that they don't even appreciate people killing each other in the same way. Him showing up to watch was actually a great favor to the other peons, and certainly to the slaves dying for a morsel. It demonstrated that even though his seat was much higher and better, he wasn't yet to such an elevated position of nobility that you couldn't see how high above you he was. He's so high right now. Not too high to see the abnormally gaunt looking shadow gnome fall out of a cage and chained to an equally emaciated regular gnome. On the other side, the regular arena entrance barfed up A dwarf and a duergar similarly linked. When the quadrio comes to its senses, a spotlight is shown on a delicious looking and enormous plate of food in the middle. Each could probably dash toward the meal and get some bites, but then they wouldn't be able to get the giant fork and knife magnetized to two opposing walls. Also a spotlight is on Lanlan so everyone can see how above them he is.
Gevurah frequents the arena more than most nobles and whenever she has the spare time, which without a war raging is more than usual these days. She arrives fashionably late to the topmost and centermost booth reserved for nobility. No spotlight shines on her box today. She came purely for entertainment and prefers to keep a low profile. However, that’s seemingly impossible as a coterie of D’Artes servants and guards bustle through the stands and in the corridors connecting the nobility boxes. One such servant arrives at Lanlan’s booth with a note from Gevurah. Reddish silver ink on black paper reads, “Long time since I have seen you last. You are invited to watch the spectacle from the D’Artes box. I hope you accept for both our houses have much to gain from our continued alliance. ~ Gevurah” In her booth, Gevurah drinks dark wine and eats pickled dates. She watches the sport attentively from her maroon, cushioned armchair. Four chairs populate the box. The other three are empty. Servants and guards stand.
Lanlan obviously intends to watch from the D'Artes box, and easily finds his way over as peons make a path. The silvery moonlight that's been illuminating him and the battlefield the whole time follows him and in fact leads a few feet in front of him all the way into Gevurah's bubble of personal space. His eyes aren't as good for darkness as most of the denizens this far down. He sits in the one closest to her and holds out his hand expectantly for some pickled dates. "I hope the ugly one wins. Actually, I know it will." Lanlan watches as attentively as her. So far, neither has made much of a move against the other, some bullying on the part of the darker races; they already appear more reliant on adrenaline than intelligence. But each 'team' has figured that they should work together; at least as long as they're in chains. "I'll make a deal with you, Gevie. If my guy wins, you tell me how you stole Laezila's pyromancy." Lanlan pointed down into the battle, and according to this cue, the shadow gnome was draped in purple for just long enough for it to be noticed. That's his guy.
Gevurah nods her head to Lanlan in greeting as he makes himself comfortable. Normally she would like a bit more pomp and circumstance when meeting other Trist’oth dignitaries, but for the moment she is content for a low key affair. They are, after all, at the arena to have a good time. He holds his hand out and a servant steps forward to grab dates with ornately carved silver chopsticks and deftly picks up one date and deposits it in his hand. Her calls her Gevie again and she audible hisses and scowls. “It’s still Gevurah to you,” she murmurs. “Oh, a betting drow, I see. Very well. And if I win, you will give me 50 of your House’s soldiers.” It’s no secret House D’Artes suffered a terrible loss during the war. The Second House withdrew its force early and sustained less casualties. It seems like Gevurah already has another war in mind, potentially. She points at the duergar on the opposite team. “I choose him.” The duergar’s silhouette illuminates in faerie fire. She whispers an incantation, invoking the power of Vakmatharas and suddenly the duergar looks healthier. His steps and reflexes come quicker and his strength is demonstrably improved as he picks up a boulder and chucks it at the gnome team. Gevurah smirks.
Lanlan isn't surprised she started cheating, only that she did so before him. The gnomes each try to run away in opposite directions, the shadow gnome has a bit more strength to him, however, and jerks the twerp right into the way of the boulder. He's visibly rocked, and stumbles around, becoming a relatively heavy liability. As if Lanlan didn't think little enough of gnomes. He averts his gaze towards Gevurah, "You want some of my "abominations"? You must be afraid of something if you'd stoop so low." Not low enough to give him a date with her own hand though. He chuckles a little when she scowls at his nickname, watching powerful people squirm was some kind of fetish for him. "It's a deal. I suppose we should define the victor by he who gets to eat? Oh, and no outright murder, that's not fair." No sooner has he finished talking than he starts imposing his own machinations on the event, curling his fingers delicately towards the victims and churning out an illusive eruption of baby spiders from the mouth of the goodly dwarf, they spread over him, covering him in writhing shadows and fear, before spreading to her man. The shadow gnome grabbed the big knife off the wall and started wedging it between the links of his chain while the other guys were confused.
Gevurah finishes her glass of wine and waves a hand along the stem to signal to a servant to pour for her another serving. After doing so the servant approaches Lanlan with a glass as well. “I’m never afraid. And I don’t stoop. I simply don’t care too much about the composition of the foot soldiers. They’re chattel.” Just as Lanlan is saying outright murder is unfair Gevurah is whispering a death spell. It’s a slower spell, and Lanlan’s spiders have plenty of time to torture the dwarf and duergar duo. However, soon the dwarf is freed from his living nightmare when he drops dead. She lifts her glass to her lips, whispers, “Oops” then downs half the glass. Her ‘champion’ duergar alternates between swatting away spiders and hacking off the dwarf’s hand at the wrist to free himself from the deadweight. Lanlan’s illusion proves a proficient distraction and the going is slow.
Lanlan doesn't take a glass this time. She probably secretly had it poisoned so he would lose. "You don't care who their parents are or what diseases they carry? Fine, but that's not what I thought you would say." He leans forward, thinking this is taking too long. The longer the fight goes on without him having already won, the more he might not win after all. Eager for the ending, he becomes visibly anxious, so much so that he calls out to the contestants rather abruptly, "First one to eat gets to live!" Well the shadow gnome already had a knife in his hand, and meat attached at his wrist. The regular gnome was already addled and had no chance. The shadow gnome stabbed him in the belly and sunk his gnarly teeth into his neck like a wildcat to tear off a bloody chunk.
Gevurah spares Lanlan an arched glance. “What did you think I would say.” In her brief distraction she almost misses how the shadow gnome attempts to cannibalize the gnome. She leaps to her feet and extends a hand forward towards the shadow gnome. A black ball of lightning explodes from her palm and collides with the shadow gnome’s back, paralyzing him completely. He falls over, curled and stiff like a dead roach, though he isn’t dead. Gevurah competes fiercely, no matter how trivial the game. She sits back down and slaps the arm of her chair nearest Lanlan. “You have no honor do you?” she says with an appreciative grin. It certainly made her heart beat faster, forced her onto her feet to react. Her gaze remains firmly glued to the arena now. “No cheating,” she says with an unusual playfulness that is more akin to a cat with a dead mouse than a dog with a bone. She takes a date in her palm and rubs it several times as she whispers an incantation. It rots quickly until it is nothing but decay and mold,then eventually dust. Then she whispers a second spell and blows the sweet-smelling dust towards the arena. A supernatural wind carries the dust to the fallen gnome and rots it quickly so that the shadow gnome cannot eat it again. The paralysis wears off. As for the duergar, he doesn’t try to eat the dead dwarf. Either he’s too scared of the spiders, or too stupid to figure it out (or too squeamish about eating dwarves?) At any rate, he’s at least hacked off the dwarf’s hand and freed himself. He now looks to the meal at the center of the arena. He is just as far from it as the shadow gnome is. The two remaining combatants look at each other, hesitate, then break into a sprint towards the food to get there first.
Lanlan pouts and slams his back against his seat, coming so close! He's barely paying attention to their conversation, having so much more interest in this 'sport' than he expected he would. "Something...more disappointing." At this point, Lanlan doesn't do anything else but let them charge in at the big platter in the middle. It's big enough for both of them. But just in case, at the last second he slaps his hand over Gevurah's to try and stop her from casting anymore evilness down there. "Just watch what happens." Each dark creature slams into the delicious pile of food, and each grabs a hunk just big enough to wrap their teeth over and then crunch. Then all their teeth shatter and fall out as the poor slobs sob together over their cruel and duplicitous captors. After all the big feast was just a bunch of rocks. It was better than he hoped, he can't help but turn to Gevurah and shriek with laughter until he falls against the railing and probably dies out of breathlessness. But then comes back to life.
Gevurah hisses when Lanlan dares touch her and back hands his hand away as a warning not to do it again. Idiot. Her guards tense at the interaction, but settle back into their sentry positions as it becomes clear Lanlan is absorbed in the battle and Gevurah does not intend to fight him. The friction eases quickly as the great joke is revealed. Gevurah laughs with abandon for the first time in months. It’s such a brilliant joke! Starving slaves! So desperate for food! So hungry and hopeful! Then the illusion of mercy is dispeled and they chatter the only weapon left to them, their bite. Truly toothless; pathetic. Gevurah’s cheeks hurt from smiling. Her stomach aches from the laughing. The entire crowd erupt with laughter too. Rarely do drow laugh together like this. It’s truly a gift from the Second House. The slaves aren’t laughing though. They writher in pain and sob uncontrollably as they continue to suffer their ill fates. Their only sin was being born to the wrong caste. Hilarious!
Lanlan ends up sitting on the ground with his back against the railing. One last peek at the slaves before they get taken away and the second to last chuckle at their expense. One of the servants helps him up as he raises his hand to them and he appears so full of dignity and elegance once more. "Gevurah, I won. In that last moment I did see my gnome swallow a whitish, yellowish pebble." He reflects. "Maybe it was a tooth." Thus follows the last chuckle.
Gevurah purses her lips at Lanlan’s declaration of victory, but her glowing red eyes betray her levity as they shine with amusement. In the distance she spies Andon D’Chath and notices the time. “We can debate who won some other time.” When you live as long as the drow do, few things seem urgent. “I have somewhere to be. Do be sure to visit House D’Artes soon.” She rises and her entourage hum to life to facilitate her departure. “We can debate the winner then, and I have other matters I would like to bring to your attention as well. May Vakmatharas guide your blade,” she says by way of goodbye. Lanlan is free to stay and dine on the snacks and wine if he so pleases. Nothing of value is in the booth. One servant remains behind to tend to the D’Artes guest if he so chooses to stay.
Lanlan sits and waits for her to leave, not wanting to appear as if he would follow her. "As you wish, and as always I value your company." Curious of what matters she may be referring to, and uncomfortable that whatever the news is got to her first. "Not all drow live long. But fine."