RP:Trusting The Enemy

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc

Part of the Agitation Arc

Summary: Gevurah, matron of the drow, finds Khitti and her 'manservant' Brand to discuss the possibility of her going to the Plane of Shadows with them.

Majestic Gardens, Rynvale Island

Khitti somehow managed to con Brand into coming to the gardens. It took a hell of a lot of bribing with three bottles of whiskey, a huge steak dinner, and the promise of banana whiskey pancakes in the morning. She’d gotten all gussied up in a nice little black dress that ended a few inches above the knee with black lace sleeves, a red sash across the waist, and red boots to match. There was makeup too. Oh my. But this definitely wasn’t a date; Khitti’d told the Catalian that a hell of a lot over the course of the hour that it took for them to get dinner, and for her to get ready. Her favorite dress was still ripped from the Amarrah encounter, she claimed! And the lace sleeves helped to cover up the majority of that tattoo, except for the bit that circled her neck anyway. Well, now the pair was out on their walk, that was totally still -not a date-, and the redhead was peering over the side of the fountain at the waterlilies and fish within, “Still can’t believe you almost frakkin’ left me out in zhe ocean. Now I’m gonna owe Kree some life debt or somethin’ because -he- had to save me.”

Gevurah rarely visits the surface, and rarer still this far flung island across the ocean. Things drow don’t like: the sun, oceans, boats, sharing boats with others, others, elven towns, the elves that live in them, gardens. And yet Gevurah braved all of that to meet with/ambush this ‘Khitti’. She air quotes the name in her mind every time she thinks it. Gevurah, whose command of the common language is conversational but far from native, looked the name up in a common language dictionary, found ‘kitty’, and has been mentally air-quoting the name ever since. Still, puzzling naming conventions aside, the High Priestess of Vakmatharas felt the trip an imperative; the window of opportunity to visit the shadow plane was closing. The fact that House D’Artes doesn’t retain a shadow-stepper powerful enough to cross portals may be confusing at first blush, but it needn’t be. That’s a truly powerful mage, hard to control, and the drow only retain what they can control. Trust is a foreign word. Literally. The drow don’t have a native word for ‘trust.’ They use the common word for ‘trust,’ often hissed distrustfully. And so Gevurah approaches this very powerful shadow stepper (she assumes) with a proposition that offers her some mutual assurances; trust not needed. She waits until her spies report back that Khitti is relatively alone, in the company of another in whose company she is often spied, name unknown. Gevurah enters the garden alone in full blown noble drow regalia: full skirt, corset, jewelry, choker bearing the emblem of House D’Artes, piwafwi, and spookily silent boots. “Are you Khitti,” Gevurah speaks the question like a statement, because she already knows the answer, and because she doesn’t ask questions of those she assumes to be her subordinates. Her lips twitch into something approximating a smile, as is customary on the surface when greeting strangers. She gives up before succeeding. Screw surfacer customs. Arriving without her full escort is concession enough to these people. She ignores Brand, assuming he is Khitti’s manservant.

“There was a lot goin’ on! I may be your frakkin’ babysitter as long as you’ve got Lemoncakes in you, but it’s not -my- fault you got it into your noggin to go for a swim. Just be glad someone noticed.” Brand is on the defensive. This is a common enough occurrence, Khitti being as… labile as she is. That’s puttin’ it generously, he thinks, and side-eyes the redhead. He’s too caught up in his excuses -- and too busy expecting threats from Khitti or ‘Lemoncakes’ within -- to look for threats from without; as such, Gevurah sneaks up on him easily. Welp. They’ve not even heard whatever it is this drow wants and the sneakiness has already made him cross, not that that takes much. He says nothing once the drow has made her appearance and her ‘question’, but simply observes. (Khitti ought to take the lead here anyway, from what little he knows of drow culture). Drow clothing customs, noble or otherwise, are lost on the man, but the name dropping is clue enough that this is no random passerby. She knows who Khitti is -- the vampiress has been drawing a lot of attention of late, but what concern should any of it be to drow? Plus, drow don’t tend to just go out for a nice stroll on the surface, do they? Not that he’s seen, anyway. Curious. In short, he’s sizing Gevurah up as quickly as he can, running through potential scenarios and trying to anticipate what this is about before it can be stated plainly with words or (hopefully not) weapons.

Khitti hated the Underdark. Not that she’d really seen any of it, mind you, because she’d probably be dead or something, but you know what else lives in that neck of the woods besides Drow? Mind flayers. On top of that, she didn’t much care of that Laezila woman either after she’d been turned by Larewen. She was too bitey for her own damned good and needed to be put out of her (and everyone else’s) misery. So, it’s safe to say her thoughts towards Gevurah sneaking up behind her and Brand weren’t the most pleasant, but she managed to keep those all tucked in her mind and not let them spill out into the open air--though some of those unsavory thoughts might happen to saunter their way over the psychic blood-link between her and the Catalian. “Um.” The spider emblem on the drow matron’s necklace was spied, and the self-proclaimed ‘Mother and Queen of Spiders’ narrowed her eyes at the female, that air of ‘you’re all dirt and I hate you’ definitely noted. “Yes...and I’m thinkin’ you must be someone of ‘great importance’ vith zhat manner of dress and zhe vay you carry yourself. Vhat do you vant vith me?” There’s a straightening of her back, and a sort of darkness crossed her features that all vampires seemed to be able to do to make themselves seem more imposing despite whatever their height might be. Oh, she could definitely do the high and mighty act too.

Gevurah picks up on Brand’s posturing and suspicion and concludes he must be Khitti’s bodyguard. Still not worthy of an introduction. Also, side note, Gevurah also doesn’t care much about the Laezila traitor. Twinsies! The First Daughter of Trist’oth does nothing to temper her air of ‘you’re all dirt and I hate you.’ Well spotted. “Gevurah D’Artes.” Pause for gasps/awe/maybe bowing. The noble sees no need to squash down Khitti’s high and mighty attitude. The vampire was, after all, someone who can allegedly enter the shadow plane. That sort of power has earned the right to peacock and puff chests with the likes of Gevurah. “I hear whispers that you have reason, and means, to enter the Vale of Shadows soon.” She speaks with a heavy accent that’s all sharp, angular consonants and swallowed vowels. “A dangerous expedition, and one I can make easier. Grant me entry to the shadow plane, and exit, and I shall put my power to use in your mission as well.” Gevurah only has a hazy idea of what that mission is. Kill… a thing? Really, it doesn’t matter to Gevurah what Khitti wants; the drow needs a portal.

Okay. So the drow isn’t trying to kill them. (Yet.) Brand supposes that’s something. His name isn’t asked of him, and so he’s more than happy to leave it unmentioned. He’s not looking to be well known, by the drow least of all. And there’s a different question that needs answering, though he’d wager that he won’t get a straight answer. Still, sometimes something meaningful can be gleaned even from an evasive reply. “The Shadow Plane’s, as you say, a dangerous place. So I’ve gotta ask the obvious: what’s in it for you?”

Khitti grinned at Gevurah’s offer. Wait, she grinned? That’s, uh, kind of weird, to be honest. Side-eyeing Brand, and letting him speak her thoughts, she’d add soon after, “My zhoughts are his. Vhat’s in it for you, Matron?” She’s done some reading, clearly. There wasn’t a whole lot of info up top here--not that she actually went looking for drow stuff anyway--but what she did find was the basics about any city, like who ran it and such. “I might be needing some help, actually. Need to make a portal big enough to fit an entire ship zhrough out in Chartsend. Haven’t heard from zhe other person zhat vas supposed to be helping me--not zhat I give a damn about zhat idiot anyway--but between zhat and zhe extra people coming along, I don’t zhink I’ll be able to do it by myself.” She pauses, lace-covered arms folding over her chest, “I don’t normally do business vith your sort, mostly because I haven’t seen naught but zhat crazy bitch Laezila around here, but if you’re villing to tame your murderous tendencies and offer something pretty damned decent in return, I might let you go.” No mention of Khitti’s own murderous tendencies are made. She doesn’t have any. Totally. Nope. Nuh uh.

Gevurah scans the bodyguard from head to toe when he dares speak. Khitti doesn’t reprimand him and so the drow assumes this is acceptable by his mistress. When Gevurah answers Brand, she addresses Khitti, aka the true inquirer speaking through the Brand mouthpiece (alternative drow facts). “A way in.” Then Khitti reiterates the question, indicating this terse reply isn’t enough. “Gloomglut. I need to kill one or two, more if I have the time. Harvesting their bodies.” And the energy? And luck? Ambitious. “I am sure you listen of the creature summoned last year in Xalious by necromancers.” Occasionally Gevurah’s grammar in the common tongue is lacking. She’s not linguist. The dark arts are more important. “The locals in Xalious called it the shade nightmare. I have studied it up close and researched in our superior libraries to discover its origins and species. I believe it is either from the shadow plane, or, perhaps, from another plane but related to that plane and kin to the gloomglut. They have similar properties, such as the gluttony.” Then Khitti mentions Laezila (through the accommodating powers of the RP magic wand) and Gevurah cackles. “That traitor still walks. I left her for dead. Next time I stab her heart, cut it out, and burn it. No mistakes.” She waves both hands between herself and Khitti, palms up and open, to indicate that she holds no weapons and casts no spells--it is the drow signal of truce.

Brand turns to Khitti as Gevurah speaks, and it’s clear that he’s deferring to her judgment. Their relationship is more complicated than could be seen through the drow cultural lens, but Gevurah actually isn’t too far off in this one instance. When it comes to matters of the Shadow Plane or necromancy, the Catalian -does- act more or less subordinate. He just knows enough to know what he doesn’t know, y’know? Plus, whether he’d admit it aloud or not, Khitti has really come into her own of late. She doesn’t need him pointing out every pitfall along her path so much anymore. When Gevurah makes her gesture of truce, Brand relaxes his posture just slightly to something more open and trusting. It’s an entirely conscious shift. Brand, like the drow, trusts no one, not really -- but he can pretend, for the sake of an ally. It all depends on where Khitti wants to take this.

Khitti let out a cackle of her own. “Zhe -Gloomglut-?!” Okay, so it’s more than a cackle. It’s actually kind of one of those insane bouts of laughter that could probably span a good ten minutes or so. She even has to hold onto Brand’s shoulder to keep herself from doubling over onto the ground. Once she’s finally finish, Khitti wipes the tears from her eyes, “Oh man, Gevurah. You’re hilarious.” Of course, she knew Gevurah was serious, but, when was the next time she’d get to interact with someone of her kind and make fun of them? “But, yes, I’ve heard of zhe abomination, pretty sure it happened vhen I vas locked up in a dragon’s cave, zhough.” The vampiress shrugged, giving off a sort of c'est la vie vibe with regards to -that- whole mess of a situation. “A truce is great and all, but Laezila’s not really my concern. As far as I know, she’s probably off playing feral vampire child in zhe voods somewhere. I can guarantee, zhough, zhat if you kill her, she von’t be missed. At least, not by me, anyway.” The redhead fell silent then, a hand coming to her chin as she studied the matron, “Hm. I don’t know. I’m zhinking zhat zhings are rather lacking on your end. If you vant a Gloomglut or several, zhan zhen means you’ll be vanting zhe spell to get zhere -and- zhat, my pretty little drow queen, is vhere it gets difficult. Ve’re not going zhrough Frostmaw again, ve’re going zhrough a portal zhrough Chartsend and I doubt you vant to make zhat trek all by yourself, ‘cause you sure as hell are not bringing any drow vith you. Pretty sure I know a certain FireSword Guy zhat’d have my head on a spike if I let zhat happen.” She’d side-eyed Brand carefully, the redhead a little more serious now, “But, I’m zhinking, zhat if you help me get zhere and get back, plus a little extra, I’m zhinking I might be able to get you vhere you vant to go. You can have all zhe frakking Gloomglut you vant, provided you don’t let ‘em loose on zhe surface. Keep all zhat down below.”

Gevurah scowls as Khitti laughs, though she can't quite place why the vampire is laughing. Is it because te gloomglut are fearsome, or because they are easy to harvest? The High Priestess would prefer the latter, as she only wants these gloomglut as a component in spellcrafting to possibly kill the shade nightmare. Khitti mentions being locked in a cave and the drowess, completely indifferent to Khitti's history, doesn't ask. As for Laezila, the former matron is inconsequential right now too. The shade abomination commands the First Daughter's full attention. "What do you need from me to help you get there and back. And what do you have in mind when you ask for 'a little extra.'"

Welp. That does it. Of all things, -this- is what finally breaks Khitti’s brain. Or at least, that’s what Brand finds himself thinking, staring somewhat uncomfortably at the vampiress as she leans on him and doubles over in hoots of laughter. It is clear in his expression that he has no more idea why she finds the idea so hilarious than Gevurah does. “You’ll want to make sure you’ve actually got a way to kill ‘em or at least snare ‘em, if you’re goin’ that far by yourself,” is Brand’s comment once Khitti has reclaimed what exists of her sanity and given her conditions (vague though they may be) for accompanying them to the Shadow Plane. “They’re tougher than your standard fare here. Resistant to spells and steel alike -- at least, as far as we managed to try before goin’ for Plan B and gettin’ the frak outta there.” It’s not stated out of care for Gevurah’s well-being so much as a desire to keep the Gloomglut from an easy meal -- especially if it ends up on this side of the portal. “Might wanna give Lionel a head’s up, too. In case one gets loose.” These last few words are to Khitti. He’s only barely masked the implication that he thinks the drow wouldn’t be above loosing a Gloomglut in Lithrydel for the laughs. That’s what drow do, right? His limited exposure to them so far, more hearsay than actual experience, has left the whole race something akin to a children’s book villain in his mind: perpetually up to no good, but also too ineffectual to be worth much more than a wary glance. (It’s a good thing Gevurah can’t read minds.)

Khitti hadn’t lost her mind just yet, but Lionel was sure to think so when she got around to telling him that she’d be allowing the matron of the Underdark to join them. She was all sorts of composed when she finally spoke up again, “Help me channel open zhe portal. I need one large enough for a ship. A big ship. If you’ve been following me around long enough to corner me, I’m sure you’ve seen us about zhere.” Brand’s new pride and joy, The Tranquility, wasn’t hard to miss out there on the docks. “I don’t expect zhere to be much fighting hopefully, but you do your part to keep us all safe--and zhat means no stabbing, maiming, and general murdering of our crew--and you’ll get your very own portal in Frostmaw. As for zhe ‘little extra’, let’s just say you’ll owe me. I’m sure someone of your stature’s got all sorts of connections should zhe need arise. You do all of zhat for me, and I von’t tell zhe upside of Lithrydel zhat zhe high and mighty Matron had to sink so low as to come crawling to commoners, non-drow no less, for help-- in addition to you getting your Gloomglut, of course.” Khitti, that’s, uh, that’s called ‘blackmail’. It appears that she damn well knew it too, considering the fact that a bit of a wicked grin just so happened to sweep across her features the moment she offered the terms and conditions.

Gevurah squints at Brand's suggestion that Khitti or she, the First Daughter of House D'Artes (the D'Artes clan are quite proud of this), should alert that puffed-up famous surfacer, Lionel, about the gloomglut's presence in this plane, incase of...what? In Gevurah's view (up for debate), if the D'Artes Estate cannot contain a gloomglut then what chance would some surfacer have? Brand's suspicion that she may want to loose a gloomglut on the surface for fun doesn't even cross her mind. There really is a shade nightmare so powerful and alien that it's got a drow as arrogant as Gevurah quaking in her boots. She's got follow up questions for Brand the Manservant, but they'll wait until Gevurah is done 'negotiating' with his mistress. Drow negotiation often entails blackmail, and thus Gevurah meets Khitti's with an insipid smile. "That's agreeable," says a woman whose word isn't worth the dust under Khitti's boot. Brand's cartoon villain view of drow isn't too far off. They have one allegiance: to their agenda, and thankfully for all parties involved, Gevurah's and Khitti's agendas currently align. She turns to Brand now and asks in statements: "So you have fought the gloomglut," she says to Brand. "What injures them best. What is there anatomy like. How do they attack."

Somehow, Brand has room to be surprised. This is far from the Khitti he once held so much disdain for, and he’s not quite sure when it all took place. In combat she’s improved by leaps and bounds, sure, but where she used to be quite the socially anxious creature (and kin to Dominic in that respect), she’s now handling this ‘negotiation’ with all the prowess of the best of any of the Daggers. (Is that really a -good- thing? Dominic asks internally and is thoroughly ignored. Not now, kid, the adults are talking.) Regardless of the moral implications, Brand can’t help but beam with pride a little -- on the inside, where no one can see. Well, Khitti might get a whiff of it over that blood-link, but Brand reserves the right to plausible deniability. Anyway, Gevurah’s not-questions finally draw the Catalian out of his thoughts (and it’s then he finally realizes, alas, he’s been doing that thinking thing again. Curses. That never leads to good things). “Er. Well, as I said, nothin’ we tried was all that effective on them. They’re giant, and plenty fat, as you might expect from the name, but they’re pretty gorram fast despite that. Don’t get touched by the frost they breathe -- seems likely they freeze their prey and then eat ‘em at their leisure.” Raising hand to chin in a pondering gesture, the man eyed Khitti. [That book Emeritus gave you, did it have anything else on the Gloomglut? Maybe something in there about how to kill ‘em?] The thought is spilled over their psychic link, this time intentionally. Best not to give Gevurah information about the existence of that book, in case she were to get… ideas.

The von Schreier woman wasn’t -always- socially anxious, thankyouverymuch. How the hell do you think she survived this long? She has damn good reasons to be hesitant around people, especially those with authority. But, nowadays, she’s got no effs to give--specifically, when it comes to people as she’s met with more than her fair share of well...let’s call them ‘douchecanoes’. For awhile there, that blonde standing next to her was at the top of her list. My, my, how things have changed. A mildly concerned side-eye and a raised eyebrow is given to Brand as she sensed that weird bit of pride spilling over. Just -what- the hell was going on in his head right now? There’s an eyeroll for him, and then Khitti’s turning her attention back to the matron. “And, I mean it. You may be zhe first drow I’ve encountered personally, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you get away vith not keeping your side of zhe bargain, matron or not. It’s not hard to find one’s vay down into zhe Underdark.” The look on her face now meant she was deadly serious; this woman wasn’t going to doublecross her at all and if she tried, there’d more than likely be another war to deal with. She eased a little as Brand was asked (or told, rather) her inquiries, and then he too sent his own line of questioning over their link. [I didn’t exactly read up on it, seeing as how ve’re not going back zhere.] The redhead sighed heavily, a hand coming to her face to rub her eyes with mild irritation, “I vill do zhe research needed on zhe Gloomglut and get back to you on it. At zhe very least, I vill give you zhe details before your portal is opened. Like Brand said, zhey’re resistant to nearly everything and ve’re gonna need a Plan B in zhe off chance zhat -something- bad happens.” Because something bad -always- happens. “Ve’re leaving zhe 21st of zhis month in Chartsend. Be zhere, help us, you get your cannibals. I’d send vord to you like I am every other person zhat’s coming to help, but I don’t expect zhat zhere’s a mailbox sitting outside every hole in zhe ground for zhe whole of zhe drow society.” Well, now her evening was somewhat ruined--then again, an evening with Brand never seems to go well anyway. Especially lately, with as much time as they’ve been spending together. Sigh.

Would that Gevurah could read minds, she would certainly devise plans for a promising book, but alas Brand and Khitti's secret stays safe. She nods at Brand's response. Frost breath, noted. Despite her best efforts not to, she suddenly thinks that perhap bringing Lanlan along would be a good idea, then immediately loathes herself for even -privately- acknowledging the Second Patron has his uses. Gevurah opens her palms again to indicate she holds no weapons and is casting no spells. "I have no plan to cheat on the deal." This is true, but how can Khitti verify that? This is one significant drawback to constantly doing as one pleases and having no sense of honor: no one trusts you. "I will be pleased by any research you share." 'Pleased by' is drow for 'grateful', but the word grateful eludes Gevurah's tongue (and mind; her common is rusty). "If your mission is as dangerous as you say, I advise we bring Patron Lanlan of House D'l'sel D'issan. He is also a member of your mage's guild." 'Your' here refers to all surfacers. "He could be useful to you." And Gevurah, though she'd never admit it. In truth, she wants Lanlan more for her own sake that Khitti's. The High Priestess nods at the date and location. "Any -sealed- letters addressed to me at any Temple of Vakmatharas will eventually find their way to me, though it may take a few days. If you need to reach me urgently, can you Descant through blood--or bone?" She isn't quite sure if she's using the right common word for a specific spell used to comminucate across long distances through another medium, like pools of water or mirrors. Each spellcrafter creates a temporary connection between mirrors or pools of blood to speak to each other. "If so..." Gevurah reaches into her bottomless satchel and pulls out a small stone bead. "Drop this into your spellcraft and it will connect you to the D'Artes shrine of Vakmatharas." A more direct method would be to use a piece of Gevurah's hair, connecting Khitti directly to Gevurah, but fat chance would Gevurah give Khitti her own hair. It could be used in any spell, and the distrust runs both ways.

Brand hears out Gevurah and eyes Khitti sidelong. “Not -our- Mage’s Guild,” he says, thoroughly misinterpreting the drow’s meaning. There’s an idea, though. They should make their own, independent, super-cool Mage’s Guild. With blackjack and hookers. (Not that there’s anything -wrong- with the present Mage’s Guild, per se, it’s just that Brand would sooner be independent or a leader than a follower, and -- and now, he’s on a thought tangent again. Dammit.) “But sure, I s’pose we’ve not brought them in on much of the action up to this point, have we?” That’s because most of the action has been, in fact, -re-action to Amarrah’s antics, but, well, details schmetails.

“She means zhe Mage’s Guild in Xalious. You know, zhe one neither of us vant anything to do vith.” Except, now she -did- have something to do with it, mostly, as she’d been added to the roster of the necromancer’s guild before they left Frostmaw. Silence gives way, as Khitti ponders over the possibility of adding someone else to their ranks, the vampiress crossing lace-covered arms over her chest. “No, “ she’d finally say, flatly, her tone growing colder as she speaks further. “You, and only you, are to be zhe only drow zhat sets foot on zhat vessel.” There’s a pause, so that Gevurah might focus her attention solely on Khitti now. “If I so much as get a whiff of dark magic vhen it’s not needed, or perhaps a bit a poison on your veapons should zhey come unsheathed, or if I even hear a single, solitary prayer to Vakmathras himself, zhere’ll be no plank-walking for you. No fiery end, zhat Brand or I could surely give. I’ll make use of you as a fighter if zhe need arises, but you’ll be quite dead, under my control, and your death god’ll have one less devotee.” The bead was taken and eyed with careful scrutiny before her fingers would curl around it. “Yeah. I’ll be sure to do zhat if it’s needed.” A ritual of blood and bone? That should be easy enough, right? No need to tell Gevurah that she really only just started reading about necromancy not long ago. “I’m zhinking zhat you should probably be on your vay zhen. I imagine you’ve got quite zhe journey before zhe sun comes up. Lucky for you, ve’ll be leaving early enough zhat you von’t need to bring a pair of sunglasses.” A slight jab at drow and their not-so-loving relationship with the sun. In another life, Khitti would probably make an alright drow, what with all this blackmailing and coldness she’s been giving to Gevurah.

Gevurah arches a brow and glares at Khitti as she continues to accuse her of treachery, now with threats. The drow don't take threats lightly, but she still needs Khitti for the portal. "Your paranoia reveals that you fear me. That's smart." She grins predatorially. "But I'm not planning on double crossing you. When it comes to your mission, as you wish, Lanlan need not come." Meaning the mission leaving Chartsend. "But he is coming to my mission to capture a gloomglut and you will open a portal for us as agreed upon, or you better hope your bite is as fierce as your bark." Khitti closes the meeting and Gevurah nods to solidify their mutual understanding. If there's nothing more to discuss, she signals in the dark and a black, giant lizard arrives at her side. She mounts it and leaves by way of slithering up and over the garden wall. Just before she clears the wall she activates her piwafwi's enchantment and resembles a strangely moving shadow, her form diffused in the dim so she is all but invisible.