Schemes in Shadows: Dealings in the Dark

[Chirp]

Schemes in Shadows
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Dealings in the Dark

The gardens of House Ru'Vanus. They are known throughout Balverzie as a place of unrivaled beauty, acknowledged even by it's rivals. Many other houses have attempted to copy or out do the splendor of the gardens, but none have ever come close. Resting high above the streets of the city on a series of elaborate terraces and balconies that ring the exterior of the House Ru'Vanus estate, the gardens are a paradise of exotic underdark foliage. Great ferns of purple and blue shades unfold their massive fronds over delicate patches of viridian and aqua lichen beds. Stands of bio-luminescent mushrooms grow in carefully tended patterns around dark pools of clear water whose surfaces ripple as finely carved fountains flow into them. Pathways of finely crushed quartz wind serpentine patterns through the gardens, leading past crystalline formations and ending in large, black iron gazebos covered in white flowering vines.

It is within one of these beautiful gazebos that a gathering of house nobility has been called. A message from none other than Matron Visrillia has summoned a number of the house's members together beneath the lavender glow of a waning Drathirandon. The interior of the gazebo has been laid out as if for a party. A small table set with fluted glasses and a decanter of fine wine rests in the center of the floor, along with trays of honeyed cakes and finger sandwiches. The twisting iron benches are covered by fine white, spider-silk cloth, and a number of female lizardfolk slaves, Matron Visrillia's current favorites, stand silently nearby, heads bowed. and waiting to serve. In one corner, a silver harp magically plays itself, thrumming softly in the silent garden as the nobles gather to await the arrival of their matron.

[Iceseer]

Spirrysn was not known for being late. In fact you could usually see him right as soon as the party of meeting started. This was typical for him as hated missing out on something vital to his future missions. He didn't have much of a social life anyway. He lived for his upcoming mission and his house and that was all that is important to him. He always ate slowly to listen to the conversation that others were having. This time he was eating a honey cake due to his affinity of the treat. He was sitting on the left side of the table.

[esorscher]

Phyrra sat in her usual place at Matron Visilla's table, at the left hand of the matron's empty chair. She knows better than to partake of the offered food and drink, yet, having witnessed Visilla's closed-doors appraisals of those who eat before they do business. While she waits, considering what business the matron may have summoned her for that would warrant such circumstance for its discussion, she looks over the others assembled for some clue as to the nature of the work. Their obvious arms and armor indicate a lack of subtlety to the mission, as does the presence of a drider, who piques Phyrra's curiosity by her appearance as well as their shared history, although even a passive observer would infer that their paths diverged at some point in the past. "Lolth blesses you," Phyrra says, opening conversation before the matron arrives, then pauses before asking, "Why?"

[Shveiran]

One does not answer to a summoning of his matron dressed in armor: it's rude, and therefore dangerous. It would imply that the House is not safe from outside threats, which is insulting toward both Matron Visillia and the ones responsible for security... which ultimately include Filvendor himself.
It is an insult Filvendor cannot afford to give.

And thus he joins the meeting leaving behind his shield and leather, adorned in silk and trinkets, wrapped in shades of black and blue. While his armaments are closer than it might seem, he still feels naked without his steel. His walk is as graceful as that of an any courtier, but there is a certain callousness to his stance and poise; a hinted suggestion that this is not his place.
It is something that usually doesn't happen when he joins external social gatherings, but that just as surely manifests within the House: like many things in his life, Filvendor both craves and hates this summonings, as they are both symbols of a certain favor before the Matron and bringers of uncertainty and change. Change is not, usually, for the best.

So he sits, patiently waiting, offering polite answers to pointless conversations.
It takes some of his restraint not to frown at the question of Lady Phyrra. What does she mean, why?
Is she trying to divine the reason behind the Goddess' decisions? That is foolish at best, and heretical at worst.
Unless she means to ask why she was chosen to become a drider? The question was rather vague, but then again, he knows some favor asking questions such as these to study the reaction of the other person... Phyrra never seemed that kind of skilled conversationist, but then again, this is a world rich in deceipt.

Remaining silent, he listens on.

[Player_One]

Illiarhyl arrived in the gardens in full armor and carrying her scythe, just as she appeared everywhere she went. As a paladin of the Hidden Fang she was on a constant vigil against the foes of Lolth, and none were above suspicion, not even her own house. It had actually been several months since she had last been to the estate and walked these gardens, her duties to the church having kept her away on various missions purging the city of heretics. Now, as her spider legs crunched cross the crushed quartz paths she took in the opulent sights and silently seethed. She hated this place. True it was beautiful, but in her mind it spoke of a family trying to raise itself above the beauty of the goddess, and worse that it was her own family.

Arriving at the gazebo she stands to the right of the matron's empty chair. As the youngest daughter of Vissilia she was the highest ranking member of the house at this meeting, and she regarded the others gathered with a mild disdain. none of them were of the church. They had all chosen self interest and personal pursuits over the worship of the goddess, and to Illiarhyl that was just as sinful as open blasphemy. She decided not to grant them the pleasure of her conversation, and silently raised a glass of wine to her lips. That is when she heard Phyrra speak and she turned her sharp silver eyes to regard her. Phyrra was the worst among the gathering in Illiarhyl's eyes. A female drow who had forsaken the gifts of Lolth to pursue arcane magic instead. It was an affront to their very culture.

The impertinant question brings restrained fire to the drider's eyes but she answers softly, "Why does Lolth show me favor? Because I am a chosen warrior of the spider goddess my dear Phyrra," her words drip like sugared venom, "I believe a better question would be, why not you?" she brings her glass up to painted lips and sips her wine, regarding the other female with the same regard she might show an insect.

[esorscher]

"Because I never sought them," Phyrra says wryly, purposefully antagonistic. "A better question would have been: what did you do to earn these gifts, but that lacked the pith I was looking for." She is, of course, hoping to elicit some story from the Drider, a tale of bravery or intrigue that might reveal something of her character. "How did you become chosen?"

[kinem]

Kazzid purposefully arrives just a little later than most of the others, but not so late as to seem rude. Any meeting is potentially dangerous, so he prefers to let others be the scouts. This is especially true in regards to the food: The honey cakes and wine are already being eaten and drunk, so they are probably not poisoned.

The drow warmage does wear his chain shirt armor, justified because the meeting might be a call to action, prudent because it might be a trap.

"Greetings."

He pours himself some wine as he observes the others.

[Shveiran]

The warrior's eyes contemplates the gardens, outwardly ignoring Illiarhyl's and Phyrra's arguing.
Only a fool would get involved in a fight between two powerful female drow, and even more so when there is nothing to gain.
He finds little reason to like either of them: the former is just short of heresy, and is a living reminder of how there is a very different degree of freedom of speech among the two genders; truly, for a man to say such things would be a very fast way to find himself on top of an altar.
The first, however, is a dangerous zealot.
Filvendor is religious (as much as a man humanly can), but Lolth established rules for the society: he accepts how the game works, and intends to play. The paladin shows only contempt for it all, claiming a direct link with the Goddess herself.
He very much hopes that fate is kind enough to grant a different daughter to inherit the Matron's cloak... otherwise, he fears Illiarhyl will be the House's doom.

He has better opinion for the other two... or rather, less reason to fear. Spirrysn is doubtlessly competent, at least, and appears loyal.
Kazzid's cautiousness, however, betrays weakness.
From his armor, to the habit of coming late just in case... can he not see that, in trying to avoyd risk, he invites tragedy? How long is it going to be before his paranoia makes an apprentice bold enough to remove him from the game, to rise in his stead?
Spellcasters. They spend so much time gazing into the fabric of the universe, they no longer understand basic facts.

There is only one person that matters... and she has yet to make her appearance.

[Player_One]

Illiarhyl keeps a pleasant smile on her face even as she seethes with anger. To question the decisions of Lolth in such a way! Were Phyrra of any other house, Illiarhyl would have removed her head already. But even in her blasphemous pursuit of the arcane, the other female was an undeniable asset to the house, and had obviously at the least gained Matron Vissilia's favor to have been summoned to this meeting. Instead she finishes her wine, "Dear Phyrra. Why do you ask such things you already know? I was born to serve the goddess, and my service grants me favor. Unlike those who toil in lesser arts and dirty themselves among the low born," this comment she directs both at Phyrra and the others gathered around the table.

Her eyes come to rest on Kazzid as he arrives and utters his insipid greeting, "You are late," she chides cooly, "Is the summons of your matron so inconsequential to you that you would drag your feet and waste the time of your betters?" She of course would have said the same to whomever had arrived last, he was just the unfortunate target of the ire Phyrra had ignited in her.

[esorscher]

Phyrra smirks, but says nothing, Illiarhyl having reacted precisely as she expected her to. Although outwardly she appears chastised and silenced, she is inwardly satisfied. Despite their years apart and the consequences of their respective journeys into adulthood, the same girl she had known as a child still dwelled within the drider before her now. Let her cousin set herself apart from the others--it only makes her more of a target.

[kinem]

Kazzid knows that he can't afford to antagonize the drider, so he smiles.

"I am sure that you don't mean to imply that the meeting already started without our matron present. Before coming here I walked the grounds to make sure all is well. I wouldn't want any inconveniences to our business here after all."

[Shveiran]

"It sounds as if you doubt the security of your own House, Wizard" Filvendor states politely, still gazing in the distance of the garden and sitting composedly, astaining from partaking in the refreshments.
"Perhaps you'd care to rephrase that?"

[Chirp]

The crunching of the crushed quartz path announces the approach of two new arrivals to the gathering, and the cool, stern voice of Matron Vissilia cuts through the chatter, "Still your tongues. Your bickering is shameful," she speaks as she steps up into the gazebo. The matron of House Ru'Vanus is a beautiful, intimidating woman. Her white hair hangs to her ankles and is woven with strands of silver wire, strings of pearls and pinned with obsidian needles. Her outfit is a regal gown, part evening wear part clerical vestments displaying the many sigils nd charms of her station as a high priestess of Lolth. The most unusual thing about her though is her stature. Despite being more than double the age of anyone else present at the meeting, she stands no higher than four foot ten and could easily be mistaken for a child at a distance. The petite matron passes her gaze across the assembled drow disapprovingly before moving to her seat.

Matron Vissilia is not alone, however, as she arrives. Following a few steps behind her is the tall, regal figure of a tiefling. his deep red skin, twisting horns and long tail mark him clearly of the fiend -blooded race, and he is adorned in a fine suit of black silk and gold buttons. His black hair is slicked back and oiled, as is the short black goatee on his chin, and he gives the assembled drow a dashing smile as he leans on a black cane topped by a silver scorpion. His gaze lingers for a moment on the drider present, and his smile almost falters at the sight, but he manages to keep his composure as he takes a seat at the table opposite the matron.

Vissilia takes a glass of wine and then motions to her guest, "Please Lord Ashure, help yourself to some refreshments," she offers cordially, much more politely than one might expect for a matron addressing a male of a lesser race. She then looks to the others gathered in the gazebo, "Seat yourselves," she orders those who have not taken a seat at the table. She takes a sandwich and nibbles at it, obviously in no rush to get to the purpose of this meeting or to explain who her guest is.

[Shveiran]

As she arrives, Filvendor rises to offer the Matron a courtly, silent bow. Then, once she accomodates herself, sits himself once more.
The newcomer is not a visage he recognizes... his fist guess is a favored slave, perhaps and advisor or a sage of great renown that the Matron has recently acquired.
Once she introduces him, though, an ally seems a much more likely guess. If that is so, he must be from outside the city... for how could a male tiefling hold any relevant position within Balverzie?

He offers Lord Ashure a respectful nod, befitting a guest of the Matron, then take a sandwich himself and slowly nibbles it. If the Matron wishes to take her time, standing still and waiting would be rude. And he has no intention to indulge in the wine... alcool numbs the mind and shakes the hand.

[Iceseer]

After standing t up to give the matron a bow and the servant a nod. Spirrysn didn't really care why the fiddling an inferior species was here but it seemed the matron favored him so he would act kind to him when he talked to him. He started nibbling on a honey cake because he wanted to.

[esorscher]

Phyrra remains seated and continues to not eat or drink, watching the matron and the tiefling with curiosity and suspicion.

[kinem]

Good timing, matron Kazzid thinks as her arrival distracts from the others' questioning of him.

He bows, nods to the guest as he sees others doing, and takes a seat.

His reaction to the drider was odd ...

[Player_One]

Illiarhyl's grip tightens on her scythe at Kazzid's response and she is ready to strike the insolent male down when Matron Vissilia arrives with her guest. She frowns at the sight but bites her tongue as the matron takes her seat and invites this Lord Ashure to eat. Unable to sit herself, Illiarhyl stands silently beside her mother for several minutes, glaring at the tiefling sitting cross the table. Finally, when it is clear Vissilia has no intention of explaining the purpose of this meeting, she speaks up, "Mother," the word almost sounds like an insult, "Why have you called me from my duties? And who is this...person?" she spits the word person, obviously resisting the urge to call him something far worse.

[Chirp]

Matron Vissilia finishes her sandwich and turns a cool gaze on her daughter, "Illiarhyl dear you really must learn patience. It is obvious why you were unsuited to the cloistered life of a proper priestess," she comments in a nonchalant manner before addressing all those gathered at the table, "Allow me to properly introduce Lord Ashure, favored son of the Iron Clan and a member of the ruling council in the City Below," at the introduction the tiefling man bows his head in greeting to the assembled drow before Matron Vissilia continues, "He and I have come to an agreement that will provide this house with valuable allies and resources, contingent on a very simple exchange. This arrangement, of course, is best kept secret from the other houses in Balverzie," she looks around to each of drow at the table, her gaze making it clear that should this secret be spoken of beyond this meeting, the loose tongue would undoubtedly be the least of what will be taken from the traitor. She then goes on, "In less than an hour, Drathirandon will grow dark, and a special shipment will leave the docks on the Serpent's Tongue. I have summoned you," she looks at Illiarhyl but is clearly addressing all of those assembled, "To ensure this shipment is delivered swiftly and secretly to it's destination in the Barren Narrows."

It is here that Lord Ashure chimes in, his smooth baritone voice as slick as his oiled hair, "A team of my best soldiers will be there to accept the delivery and provide you with the requested payment," he smiles and sips his glass of wine.

Matron Vissilia nods and returns his smile, "Indeed. You will gather the payment and return it to me," she instructs, "I have already seen the payment and personally secured it in a special chest, sealed by my own hand. When you receive the chest, do ensure that the seals have not been broken," she offers Lord Ashure a polite smile, lifting her glass to him, and the tiefling noble returns the gesture, a mutual understanding that betrayal would carry a heavy price. Matron Vissilia then continues, "Do not open the chest," she warns, "The same is true for the shipment you are to escort. Lord Ashure has placed his own seals upon it and they should remain unbroken until his men take possession. Am I understood?"

[Iceseer]

Spirrysn was quiet during the monologue of the matron. Waiting only to send an obvious agreement that he understood the situation. Why the tiefling wanted these drow to take it instead of his own men he would never know. Perhaps it really wasn't the tiefling's in the first place. He had no room to judge of course. Finally when the matron was done he said I understand and shall use my abilities to have it go as smoothly as possible.

[Shveiran]

Less than an hour means no one among us will have time to make any sort of preparation. Filvendor reasons in his mind Matron Vissilia, like all women, is prone to occasionally cause unnecessary complications for her subjects. She does not do so, however, whenever it matters. This means she values our ability to respond at our best less important for the defense of the chest than it is secrecy regarding its existence.
With this little time, any of us who'd have an hard time to betray the secret even if we were agents of other forces.
Combined with a few other details, this seems to point toward a likely picture: the Matron has either recovered an important asset, or surrendered one that the House possessed, in exchange for the alliance. An asset so valuable that Lord Ashure's alliance relies on its delivery, and that many other parties are likely to desire, should they know of it.
This intuitions, even if correct, do little to change the substance of the mission.
Protect the chest, deliver it safely, retrieve payment and bring it back.

"Your will is our bond, Mistress." Filvendor replies deferentially.

[esorscher]

Although somewhat put off by not knowing the nature of the cargo or payment they will be transporting, Phyrra has only once made the mistake of questioning her Matron, and that was as a child. The memory of the pain is enough to keep her from doing so again--and, perhaps, she recognizes as an adult looking back on her life, connected to her own fascination with the sensory experience. She says nothing, beyond a simple, "Yes, my Matron."

[kinem]

Kazzid says "Yes, Mistress. I understand."

Of course, there is much about this that he has yet to understand, but no reason to tell the others that.

[Player_One]

Illiarhyl remains silent as her mother explains the situation, folding her arms across her chest as she listens, "Interesting. An alliance with a ruling member of Tal'Gurath. It is no wonder she wishes to keep these dealings a secret. If anyone outside the house found out they would stop at no ends to ruin the alliance. The same must be true of this Lord Ashure. His city is notorious for not taking sides, yet here he is making deals with us," the drider casts her gaze from Matron Vissilia to Lord Ashure and back, "Each must have something the other desperately wants. Something more than simply an alliance," when her mother asks if they understand Illiarhyl nods and steps back from the table, "Of course mother. If that is all we should leave immediately."

[kinem]

If the Matron dismisses the group, Kazzid will get up and bow, go to gather his belongings and meet the others to head out.

[esorscher]

Phyrra nods, and having no further questions, departs with the group after gathering her things.

[Shveiran]

Filvendor stands and graciously bows, then takes his leave.
Making a quick stop in his quarters, he takes off and neatly folds his cloak and clothes, stashing them in the bag of holding. He puts on his adventuring gear: practical boots, resistant and silent clothes, magical leather gloves.
He puts on his light armor, buckles his sheathed sword around his waist, and hangs his shield on his back.
Then, he sets out to join the others.

[Chirp]

Matron Vissilia makes no comment as the group stand and begin to file out, focusing her attention on her wine and her guest as the two begin a quiet conversation concerning the details of their coming alliance and the benefits each will gain through the union of House Ru'Vanus and the Iron Clan of Tal'Gurath.

The group exits the estate onto the dark, silent streets of Balverzie's upper district, known as the Walled City, where the most powerful houses maintain their grand sets of power. High above the lavender glow of Drathirandon has already begun to dim significantly, and in a few short minutes the city will be plunged into the utter darkness of the Killing Time. Already the streets are all but empty, as few are foolish enough to wander about during the hours when the great time keeper is dark, and the group passes only a few low born drow and shuffling slaves carrying out menial tasks as they make their way down through the city to the Dark Waters district.

This section of the city extends out into the waters of the Murkdeep, suspended above the dark surface on stilts and platforms. Narrow walkways wind their way along the edges of warehouses, brothels, gambling dens and alehouses, while wide canals of chill water replace the stone streets found elsewhere in Balverzie. In the Dark Water district, flat barges and elegant gondolas drift up and down the canals, ferrying cargo and passengers.

The group passes over an arching stone bridge that spans the main canal and moves down onto the expansive wharf that makes up the eastern boarder of Balverzie. Here, long wooden docks reach out like skeletal fingers into the Murkdeep, and dozens of barges and keel boats are anchored alongside them. Most are dark and abandoned at this hour, save for a few bugbear guards stationed here and there who make a pointed show of turning away from the group of noble drow and pretending not to see them. However, as the group approaches the dock where Matron Vissilia informed them her cargo would be waiting, they see a bit of a commotion.

The Matron's barge is tied where it should be, it's flat deck dominated by a tarp covered crate, and two nervous looking grey scaled lizardfolk slaves stand at the stern clutching pole oars. The lizardfolk are staring up a group of three drow and six armed quaggoths who are standing on the docks. One of the drow, a tall, muscular male in silver chainmail, seems to be addressing them, and as the group approaches they catch what he is saying, "I asked you what you are doing here slaves. There are no shipments autherized to leave port until Drathirandon's new light. Answer me or I'll have you both flayed alive." the male speaks with the haughty tone of a noble born drow.

[Shveiran]

Filvendor watches this new development, his left arm (bearing his shield) moving slightly to rest his hand on the scabbard... not yet a threatening pose, simply a mean to be ready when (if?) things will start to move quickly.

Given their numbers, he estimates they won't be able to intimidite them with idle threats... not without some answers. Their best bet, he feels, is to rely on Illiarhyl's appearance to quell any desire to intrude forth.

However, it is a dangerous game. She is likely the only one able to command their leave, but also extremely recognizable. Dispersing them without attracting attention is going to be a dangerous game... one he quite simply don't trust the drider to play correctly.

Focusing his attention on the three drows, he tries to assess the situation... perhaps, if he can quickly recognize who they are dealing with, the paladin or Phyrra might be able to pull this off.


Knowledge (royalty and nobility)
[roll0]
Knowledge (local)
[roll1]

[Chirp]

Appraising the three drow males Filvendor quickly gathers information about who they are. Though he does not know any of them by name, he does recognize the insignia displayed on their gear. It is the sigil of house Dorwennen, eleventh house of Balverzie and the house with the most influence over the Dark Water district. Though they hold a lower rank in the city, Dorwennen controls the docks and thus a great deal of the trade in Balverzie. the only thing that has kept them from gaining rank is their brute force tactics and lack of guile, making them very easy to out maneuver politically. Judging by his silver chainmail and the amethyst pendant around his neck, Filvendor can conclude that the leader of this group is likely a member of House Dorwennen's ruling family. Possibly one of the youngest sons.

[Shveiran]

Slightly uncertain about the best way to advise the paladin, Filvendor whispers making sure both she and Phyrra can hear. The other two are capable, but in the end, much like himself, they have no say in the chosen approach.
Such is the way of the drow, and there is no point in wishing otherwise... no more than there is wishing for water not to be wet.

"Mistresses, the one talking is of Dorwennen blood, and the rest likely his entourage. Their House control most of the docks, and if they were to understand how important is the cargo, there is no doubt their family could make our travels troublesome. Their disappearance would not go unnoticed, as well.
They tend to be very direct and brutish in their tactics, though... perhaps we should try to trick them and avert attentions? Matron Vissilia was quite adamant that we should keep a low profile... "

[Player_One]

Illiarhyl scowls at the sight of the three drow and their slaves hassling the lizardfolk on the boat and her grip tightens on her scyth. She wants to rush forward and carve them down, but common sense stays her had. They are on a secret mission for the matron. One they can not afford to fail, and one that must remain secret, especially from rival houses. Thus she straightens her back and calmly walks forward calling out, "You there! What do you think you are doing?" she addresses the apparent leader of the group and ignores the rest as if they were inconsequential. As she draws close she makes sure her holy symbol is clearly visible on her breast, Stand aside. These slaves belong to me," she glares at the leader of the group distastefully.

God paladins get no social skills except diplomacy. It sucks!! I feel like I should at least have intimidate as a paladin of tyranny :smallmad:

Charisma check: [roll0]
first roll, nat one. and we are off to a great start. :smallfrown: