RP:Emilia's Death Wish

Synopsis: Gevurah and Emilia coincide during rare visits to Trist'oth Tavern. As Gevurah attends to personal clandestine matters, Emilia scouts the tavern for a drow item to take as a prize to satisfy the requirements of a quest. One of Gevurah's entourage identifies Emilia as a surface dweller and rallies several drow to attack. During the skirmish, Emilia drops a drow spellbook which greatly interests Gevurah. Using flash and smoke bombs, Emilia escapes the male combatants. A hunting party chases her through the Underdark and the farmer escapes narrowly with an NPC's dagger embedded in her hand as a prize.

Trist'oth Tavern

Emilia should not be here within this tavern filled with the very race that she was very much afraid of after having been previously kidnapped and enslaved by one of the males, but she was here to obtain something that would prove she was capable enough of venturing here and living to tell the tale. Long blonde curls had been pulled back into two tight braids against her scalp while the length fell along her back to rest just above her waist. Loose curls would not be so easy to hide. The human was wearing a black cloak with a hood that was drawn up over her head enough that it hide her freckled face from view of the dark skinned patrons. Beneath the cloak she wore her normal farm attire that consisted of a long sleeve-button down blue plaid shirt with denim jeans tucked into worn leather boots, of which one held a dagger tucked neatly into. Her hands were covered by thin black leather gloves to keep the color of those tan freckle dusted hands concealed. On her back was a dark wood bow that she never left home without, especially now as she entered the underdark tavern. Taking in a deep breath the farm girl held it while she slowly and carefully started to weave her way around those gathered in the establishment toward the bar to possibly order a drink.

Gevurah never patrons the tavern for the purpose of drink. She rarely visits the tavern at all. An entourage of drow assassins travels with the drow noble. Their presence signifies her rank as effectively as the House D’Artes insignia that she displays, or the finely tailored and enchanted attire she wears. The entourage filters into the tavern before and after the priestess, choosing strategic sentry positions from which they’ll feign ease as they keep vigil over their mistress. None of them drink. The only light in the tavern is faerie light, and it illuminates everything with a cold, pale glow in tune with the stony ambience of drow civilization. Gevurah sits at an already occupied table. The occupant sits with his back to her and does not greet her. A member of her entourage brings them two empty tankards. They pantomime interest in the drinks, and perform deceitful sleights of hand over the mouth of the tankards for purposes unseen. They wait, never engaging, never looking at the other’s features. As she waits, Gevurah notices the peculiar movements of the hooded figure at the bar; movements which are atypical of the drow. Gevurah stares at Emilia in excess of 10 seconds, a signal for one of her entourage to take a keen interest in Emilia and discover her identity. An assassin subtly tries to close the distance between himself and Emilia without betraying his position and intention.

Emilia walked with light steps that barely made any sound as she travel between the drow, around the tables and chairs to the bar. Beneath that cloak of hers she was holding her hands together with thumbs slowly twiddling. A nervous habit of the farm girls. While she moved her breathing was shallow with slow inhale and exhales through her nose. Keeping calm was proving to be harder than it sounded. The sound of two drow getting into a verbal fight off to her side made her more uneasy than she already was. Reaching the bar she closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, and held it for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. Don’t slip up. Was the only thing that mattered at this moment to the human as one wrong movement could blow her cover and reveal to an entire establishment of drow that there was a very tiny underweight human in their midst. Though she was standing there at the bar the cloaked woman did not order a drink, not yet. Instead, she slipped gloved hands free from the fabric in order to tug that hood down a little farther. With her hands hidden back within the depths of the cloth Emi turned those hidden bright blue eyes away from the bar to glance around. It was now that she noticed the priestess woman and her accompaniment who had entered behind her. That could be a problem, a very big one. Her glance at Gevurah didn’t last long as she continued to look around the building. Planning ways out as she tried to count just how outnumbered she was. She never noticed the assassin that was sent to discover who she was. For him, it is possible that in her movements to look around those fairy lights would catch just right to shine on those bright blue eyes beneath the hood that clearly marked her as non-drow folk.

The assassin recognizes Emilia to be less than drow (also known as ‘non-drow’). That is all the information he needs to decide whether or not to strike at the stranger. If Emilia were a drow, then he would wait for the consent and permission of his mistress before acting violently, which is his preferred action in 100% of situations. Unfortunately for the fair-skinned, obviously non-drow intruder, the assassin does not need to ask for permission to mutilate, torture, maim, and kill (in no particular order though he prefers to kill last) this freakishly pale and bafflingly stupid surface dweller. The assassin lashes out to rob Emilia of her hood and reveal her identity to his kin. Whether or not he succeeds, he proclaims to the tavern at large “A gift from the dark god!” He wastes no time in enjoying this gift, which consists of slashing at Emilia’s chest with a dagger that seemed to materialize from the darkness itself. Several of his kin are quick to join him in good, traditional, wholesome drow fun. Gevurah leans into her chair with her back to the wall and smiles at the spectacle. This is Trist’oth during peace, she reflects, and the spectacle reinforces why Trist’oth peace is worth preserving - a conveniently easy philosophy when you’re a noble in the first house.

Emilia had not traveled here unprepared for what might come should the drow figure out she was a human. As she stood there watching the tavern she was a bit surprised that by now one of them had not caught on. They were not stupid creatures, she knew this. In this moment of thought about lasting longer hidden than she had figured a hand lashed out yanking that fabric off her head. Without the hood to hide those delicate human features she was, to the above ground, a pretty face. Blonde curls falling free from the braids to frame the side of a slight tanned and freckled covered face. Blue eyes bright and all too easily read as a brief moment of panic flashed. She was exposed. Reaching up to untie the pesky cloak that constricted her movements the female sustained a slash across the back of her hand from that blade. The cloak fell to the floor along with a book that had been at tied to her waist. Black leather with writing the human couldn’t read skidded across the floor toward the priestess. Tucked in her sleeves were small smoke balls that she’d acquired from a friend. Letting her hand drop to the ground quickly allowing one to fall free from her sleeve against the ground. Contact with the floor had the ball bursting open to allow a sudden flash of smoke to fill the immediate area. Quick on her feet the blonde, under cover of the smoke, moved to get away from the assassin and his drow kin that had joined at him. Slipping under a now vacant table the blonde did not wait to see how long they would be distracted by the sudden fog. She moved for another table, trying to remain out of sight with the low ground travel.

Gevurah glances down at the book near her feet. Her station in drow society necessitates an obsessive dose of paranoia. Recklessly touching unknown items, especially those brought in from the surface under unusual circumstance, does not beget a long drow life. Thus, Gevurah exercises caution and mutters a basic detect magic spell to glean more information about the book. Soon after completing the spell, the smoke bomb’s flash temporarily blinds and irritates her eyes. She hisses, and goads on the attacking drow in their language. “Finish it already!” The posse of would-be torturers are momentarily blinded by the brief flash, and more than momentarily enraged. Several of the combatants are trained in blind fighting and stab in Emilia’s direction (it is a lucky thing she ducked), while other drow move to block exits. Soon the drow regain their vision. The fog does little to thwart the drows’ infravision. Through the smoke they can still easily discern Emilia’s heat signature. The assassin which discovered Emilia throws a dagger at her cut hand with the aim to stun. Pinning the appendage would be difficult given the stone floor. Another combatant fires a crossbow aimed at Emilia’s chest. Gevurah, too preoccupied with the enigmatic book, lets the male drow enjoy themselves without her participation.

Emilia was glad that for a moment the drow had been blinded by the initial flash from the little smoke bomb thing. Next time she’d just acquire flash ones instead of the ones that came with the fog added to them. The farm girl had moved from one table to the next to another in the time it took for them to recover from the bright light. This placed her close to an exit, just a well-planned dash away. The book that had hit the ground was bound in a dark black leather with silver writing etched into the cover. No magic was on the book. The human was magicless after all. It was harmless to the priestess. Inside the pages were old. The stains to the pages enough to gage it was very old. If the dark skinned woman was not careful the parchment would crumble beneath her fingers. The writing on the page was written in, what Emi guessed, was drow. Her reason for being stupid enough to come down to the underdark to begin with. A loud shriek of pain as the thrown dagger caught her sliced hand, impaling itself through the appendage, lucky for her it was a stone floor leaving her with just the dagger stuck through her hand. Perfect, she could return the drow blade to Satoshi to prove she’d been down here. A quick throw of another smoke ball that hit the ground with another blazing bright flash. The arrow shot her way missed, skimming along her left arm grazing through the fabric and flesh beneath it. Using her time wisely the blonde threw the dagger she’d pulled free from her boot at the drow that’d shot the arrow her way with poor aim through the light and smoke. A well maneuvered dash from under the table to the exit she was nearest to. A violent shove of the drow guarding it while he was blinded to quickly and barely slip out alive.

Gevurah picks up the book and uses it to shield her hand as she fishes something out of her table companion’s tankard. “Stop her! She’s a thief!” she shouts in drow just as the second flash of light temporarily blinds her. The drow don’t need any more encouragement to chase the human through the Underdark. Their aggression doesn’t end with the walls of the tavern. An informal hunting party has already assembled and chases Emilia through the Underdark, though larceny isn’t their main motivator. Let’s hope Emilia can run.