RP:Drow Posturing, Surface Appearances

Part of the Surface Tension Arc

Synopsis: Ah Kelay Tavern, the crossroads of factions, perspectives, trade, allies, and foes alike. Thus it should come as no surprise that Donatien, Daath, Gevurah, and Laezila should find themselves at this junction at the same time. Gevurah looks to speak to Daath. Daath looks to close a an amulet transaction with Donatien, who looks to harm Gevurah, who would like to harm him back. But that trifecta of harm or indifference takes a back seat to Laezila, who arrives to steal Gevurah away to the First Daughter's satisfaction. The drow women leave to discuss mutually beneficial political ambitions, a topic on which the drow necromancer, Daath, is wholly indifferent.

Kelay Tavern

Donatien pushes the door open to the tavern, with Bathroy right behind, the man walks through the tavern room weaving through the tables until he makes his way to the counter and places an order for a pitcher of water. Then he moves to a chair and pulls out a medium sized coin pouch and sets it on the table and pulls out a pair of flasks laying them next to the purse while waiting on the water.

Daath sits at a table that currently houses a rather large tome, a bottle of wine imported from Vailkrin and numerous objects of his chosen craft. As usual, the dark elf's attention is upon the book of long forgotten knowledge that rests in front of him. And another familiar sight can be seen, as his servant Sonya stands beside her master, assuming the position of aid steward over the master necromancer. Any whose gaze lingers upon her are drawn in by an otherwordly power, as she embodies the most carnal desires of ones inner most thoughts. So to some she seems a fair skinned, blonde haired beauty, while to others a dark skinned woman from the desert. Such is the nature of the Headmaster's servant. What she truly is remains a mystery, as Daath has yet to tell anyone. For now he seems content with researching the mysteries of the tome he has currently, his eyes never leaving the aged pages of the ancient text.

Gevurah and part of her entourage enter the tavern several minutes after Donatien. She is flanked by a pair of rogues, while the remaining three wait outside. The two who enter with her disburse to opposite corners of the pub and stand sentry. The one rogue who spies Donatien’s face is new to the party, and thus cannot possibly recognize him from Gevurah’s last encounter with the death knight. The priestess walks over to Daath and stands silently by his table but within his peripheral vision, granting him a moment to finish his passage before they engage in whatever business she wishes to discuss. It’s a habit the scholarly nobles of House D’Artes have developed over the decades, each of them understanding how frustrating it is to be abruptly interrupted while deep in study.

Donatien 's eyes followed Gevurah as she walks into the room. He offers a slight smile but shakes it off as the water he had ordered appears. The elf priestess is given a nod as she pulls the water close to her and pours in contents from the coin pouch. Silver dust leaves the bag and flows into the water instantly dropping to the bottom of the glass container. She then begins to chant a prayer that would be recognizable to Gevurah as creating unholy water. Donatien’s eyes fall to Sonya a nod would be offered once the servant would look his way.

Gevurah actively tries to avoid looking at Sonya. The servant’s beauty disturbs her. She tries to focus on Daath instead, but Bathroy’s familiar voice and chanting distracts her. She glances over at Donatien and Bathroy and visibly bristles. She mutters in drow loud enough for Daath to hear, “Those two jesters again. I’ve run into them before. They are an enemy to the drow.” She leaves Daath’s table before he can answer. She crosses over towards Donatien and Bathroy but keeps more than an arm’s length distance away. “Is that water for me?” she accuses in her mother tongue. “We have unfinished business.”

Donatien 's attention is drawn away from Sonya and watches as Gevurah he looks the prietess over and shakes his head. “Not for you, but if you're thirsty, I'm sure I could find something for you to drink.” Bathroy continues on her spell work ignoring the other priestess the water in the pitcher begins to swirl on its own creating a vortex inside of the glass container causing the silver dust to vanish like sugar into tea and still the vortex continues to spin faster and faster.

Daath would have finished his passage even if the female drow would disturb him, such is the discipline of the master necromancer. But, as it happens he has reached a spot that is best suited to stop upon, and closes the overly large tome that elders were often fond of with a resounding "thud!" that sends a waft of decay sweeping over the immediate area. Raising his gaze to Donatien as Gevurah mentions he is an enemy to the drow, he responds back to the woman as he hands the book to Sonya with. " You mean he is -your- enemy? As I have business to finish with the man, and as I know he is no enemy of mine." To that same effect the magus reaches into his robe to bring out three amulets, no longer covered in blood, but looking as if newly forged, as life pulsates through it as the ancient magic has been resurrected by the magus. " Do me a favor, Daughter of D'Artes, and remember the drow are not one people, and the enemy of House D'Artes, or perhaps just its daughter, does not mean they are the enemy of House D'Jiv'Undus, or more so, myself." There is no hiding the the disdain in his voice while dealing with the female. Tiphareth was his master in the mage's guild, and his superior in the same aspect now that he is Archmage, but that is where the ties end. The affairs of the first house of Trist'Oth are their own. But, going to business, the Headmaster of the Necromancer's Guild says to the drow in disguise. " I've completed the task assigned, and I am sure you will be pleased." Sonya watches the actions of the undead priestess, fully capable of defending herself and her master if the need arises.

Gevurah sets the scene for Laezila’s benefit.Three of Gevurah’s entourage stand outside the tavern. Two are posted in opposite corners into the pub, keeping watch but not engaged. Gevurah addresses Donatien and his undead priestess with evident malice. When Daath addresses her, she resists the urge to roll her eyes at his posturing. “I owe you no favors. Perhaps too much exposure to the surface has eroded your understanding of how things work below.” She scowls as she watches Daath work in the service of this outsider. Second-hand embarrassment overtakes her at the sight of a drow noble, of the third house no less, turning a shade obsequious. It’s disgusting.

Laezila 's entry was made apparent at this time that Gevurah scowled (at least, the scowling in response to Daath's service to an outsider) by the parting of the hinged threshold so that the door swung ajar to allow to pass a sizable entourage of House D'l'Sel D'issan drow. Allowed passage by the guards of the First Daughter by virtue of the noble that the accompanied and her station, the first two to enter were large, muscled and almost barbaric-looking drow of obvious lycanthrope taint, each wielding impressively-large axes. Their march ended just within the tavern proper and to take up a rigid and Praetorian-esque stance on either side of the oak threshold, and the next to enter was the matron herself. Virtually a teenager among her kind, the startlingly small-statured woman still commanded an aura of respect by not only her enigmatic nature (a point evident by her faceless ivory mask that offered only bright, blue eyes to be seen) but also the relative danger that she seemed to emanate. Long, near-bare and slender legs marked graceful step after step, and each further incursion into the tavern made apparent there were more guards with her. Two more, in fact, who entered behind their lady, and were more lithe, athletic, and fanged drow. They had curved, long blades, and took up position a step behind and to either side of Laezila D'l'Sel D'issan. Her gaze took in the sight before her, but instead of any introductions (she was the highest ranking Drow present), it danced in linger upon Gevurah and a gloved hand outstretched in beckoning. "Lady Gevurah, on the surface, a rare treat. Come, join me." Despite the apparent friendliness in her tone, her eyes betrayed no emotion save a cold and calculating cunning.

Donatien 's eyes turn toward the woman who had entered and is barely unable to control the laugh that threatens to let loose. The Dark haired, gray eyed pseudo-drow turns his attention to Daath and a nod of greeting is given as he stands and offers a gauntlet covered hand to shake, then to take hold of the amulets that were presented. He lifts one to his eyes and examines it, letting it spin around to catch the reflecting light. He mumbles silently enough for the master mage to hear. “Perhaps we should offer these to the ladies, as a gift. I feel it fits their personal style and everything.”

Daath allows a single white brow to loft up as Donatien says his piece, and in turn offers a slight shrug of his shoulders as he replies with. " They are yours to do whatever you wish to do, and as I have completed the task given, I only expect the offered payment in return." Given the fact two female drow of opposing houses were present, most male drow would either be very weary in their presence or attempt to lash out and eliminate them upon the spot. Such was the drow way. But, Daath's concern for drow politics was non existent these days. He has outgrown the cat and mouse game of plots, lies and murder in the pursuit of a would be power in the name of a goddess he gives two flying hells less for, especially since her power has waned after her temple was sealed when the patrons took power. The quest to obtain arcane mastery in his chosen profession was his life, and his dealings with the enemies of others houses was soley due to his role as Headmaster of the Necromancer's Guild. So as Sonya hands the Pendants backs to their rightful owner, he says. " I've left the notes taken about the items with the amulets themselves, and I hope you can read abyssal script?"

Gevurah‘s guards have been allowing any non-threat entry, to be sure, but Laezila is right to claim special treatment both because of her rank and because of her amicable relationship with Gevurah, of which the guards are well aware. Gevurah nods her head slightly to Laezila in acknowledgment of her welcome presence. Her tone and expression mirror the Matron’s exactly. “Matron Laezila. Indeed, my excursion to the surface has proved to be lengthier than I anticipated, but just as grating as expected.” She hesitates in following Laezila only long enough to send a glare at Donatien, warning him off any gift-giving ambitions. No thanks. With her attention duly back on Laezila, she continues engaging in the politics Daath so obtusely rejects to his detriment. “Your timing is auspicious. I have news.”

Laezila did not know Donatien, and thus didn't give his words or expression a second-thought. The young and enigmatic drow matron simply did not feel threatened in the slightest by the presence of whatever-house Daath was in or the bumbling male he was with. Instead, her entire attention remained affixed to Gevurah; her eyes gave away only that feeling of being meticulously analyzed and scrutinized in a manner was entirely cold and calculating. "News?" She asked, though this was all part of the game -chances are that she already knew whatever it was that was going to be revealed by Gevurah. Though there was always that chance of being surprised -there was almost an anticipation of being such in the mind of that masked teenager, as her gloved hand sought to entwine with Gevurah's like surface girls and their own fake friendships. "You do not like the surface? Disappointing -I particularly like the sky."

Donatien looks over the amulets and gives a nod and hands them to Bathroy for her to pocket them, he digs through his own pockets and produces a coin pouch looking similar to the one already on the table. “Your payment, and my thanks. The script wont be an issue, there are a few who I think these would look good upon,” he turns his head toward Gevurah and then back to Daath. “But that calls for another day and time. But that day is not today, for today calls for something quite different I am sure my travels with require me to seek out your skills again, and when I do. I'll come with coin. Until then Magister keep well”

Daath utterly disregards the relics of a time long passed as they prattle on like girls discussing the latest gossip. Such was the manner of drow women, and such was a thing that no longer mattered to one in a position such as him. The deathknight though, does interest him, as discover of what the items were cause a great many thoughts to pass through his brilliant mind. The coin is taken by Sonya, who then returns to her place by the Headmaster's side, as the magus himself says. " I shall, and I look forward to your work." A sly smile is offered of a knowing nature that only the two of them would understand. Again, this was the surface world, where Matron Mothers hold no sway. So boasts and inflated egos mean little to either of these men. With that, Daath returns to his own studies, satisfied that the transaction was complete.

Gevurah stiffens when Laezila takes her arm. The Matron insists on doing this every time they meet, and Gevurah seems to be incapable of growing accustomed to it. She wasn’t held much as a child, what with her father dying when she was still young and Tiphareth being Tiphareth. “The night sky can be quite beautiful. The day’s sky is rather boring.” She waves a hand towards the tavern message board. “Also boring for the most part. Though I suppose the most recent postings concerning our interests on the surface warrant at least cursory attention. I trust you’ve been updated about that. I’d like to include you in my efforts to that end, but that conversation warrants more private quarters.”

Laezila , were one to voice their suspicions, might wonder if Laezila found amusement in the way that Gevurah stiffened when the matron took her arm. "Of course, of course. You know that I will aid you however I am able. Lead the way?"

Waist-High Stone Wall

Gevurah walks stiffly beside Laezila and remains silent until they reach a clearing far from the bustle of Kelay. Three of her rogues scout the woods for spies. Only after they signal the all-clear does Gevurah address the matron in drow. “I fear this Pelarin may be but only one example of a shift-tiding against the drow territory on the surface. Our race’s occupation has been relatively peaceful in recent years, and thus an entire generation of surface dwellers has grown up without the fear of the drow engraved in their souls. Pelarin himself is a dragon, gold or silver if my guess meets its mark. (Drow plans REDACTED)” To the point, as is the D’Artes way.

Laezila only released the stiff woman once they had been signaled the all-clear, but only in order to twist in her piwafwi to do so; this way she faced the taller, likely older First Daughter from behind that white and faceless mask. The eyes of azure, a rare trait among the race so accustomed to dwelling beneath the surface, meticulously analyzed the other woman in complete scrutiny, as if to discern not only her words and anticipate her intent, but also as if she could see before her the inner mechanics and ambitions of Keter's daughter. Finally, after several long moments of silence, the enigmatic matron said, "He is but one foe."

/ nods to concede Laezila’s point. “Yes, he is, but a formidable one, not only because of his race, but also because of his ability to rally others to his misguided cause. In the past year I have borne witness to a growing movement that dares to foolishly oppose us. An elf dared enter the tunnel and attack me. She fled before I could finish her, but that stupid bravery is evidence to a lack of fear of the drow. I found, and disposed of, a human thief disguised in Trist’oth Tavern. Sylvan Elders in Frostmaw sent an assassin into Trist’oth, who of course I captured, but the boldness is nonetheless noteworthy. I can no longer ignore these incidents as isolated efforts. (Drow plans REDACTED)” ” She pauses before tacking on, “(Drow plans REDACTED)” ” She states this as if it were a commonly understood fact.

Laezila gave a prompt nod, before leaning in to mimic offering the woman a kiss to either cheek, as if she could through her mask. "Of course. I shall do what I can to support this."

Gevurah stiffly leans into each gesture of affection half a second too late. Awkward. “Thank you. I should return to the Underdark now. May Vak-” She refrains from her unholy good bye. “Until next time.”