The carriage was a rickety, rusted, ill used, barely held together piece of junk.
Every cobblestone along the street that was remotely uneven sent one of the looser, front wheels jittering madly and the entire body of the wagon itself shuddering. It looked as if it might collapse under its heavy burden of supplies at any moment. Suliss?urn felt her skin twitch as horse pelts covered in flies every time the wagon wheezed and heaved. Every time it did she was sure she and her traveling companions both felt their hearts stop and the fear of being caught leapt into their throats as bitter as bile. The street itself was such a place as to make no comfort in their fears either. No torch light burned here in these streets, where the businesses (if someone would even call the whore shops, slave traders, dubious pawn shops and taverns that made most of their money through their ill used wenches, businesses) and taverns built nearly on top of one another. Ruins and ashes of burned down buildings (no doubt set afire by their competition) became the building blocks for other establishments, alleyways that could get you killed just as soon as screwed were narrow and deadly here. The only light came from the older, more disreputable establishments; oily, greasy, half broken lamps that only served to lighten a crooked stone stair way and over used, tired prostitutes that few people worth a spit would even touch.
If the carriage set the groups teeth on edge, this part of town did, too.
But months of careful information gathering, of preparation and of waiting had brought them all to this route. Suliss?urn, Skikudis, Orlek, Vharcan and Nataya trundled along in various states of misery along with the cart.
Nataya was nearly nude and chained to the cart like some beast of burden. It had taken nearly four weeks of ceaseless haggling and more than a few knock down, dragged out actual fights to convince Orlak to let his adopted daughter even play the part of human slave. Dirt was artfully smudged in places to keep her moderately decent, while the torn tatters of some dress kept the rest of her from being out right naked. A collar (one which Suliss?urn produced with enough ease to make several eyes avert uncomfortably) clasped seemingly firmly around Nataya?s pale neck had the obvious markings of once being in the Underdark. A house glyph, scratched out and marred on purpose rested along the side of her collar: enough of a mark should a drow look, and if they did bother to look?giving a slave anymore than a passing glance would be unusual at best. Counting on drow cruelty and racism was perhaps, the one thing they could do.
And so it had been suggested by Nataya herself as well as Vharcan that the lot of them dress like Lloth worshippers delivering supplies to the underground temple being slowly, but surely built (and nearly finished now) far below Rhydin city. The idea had originally been shot down, with more heated arguments and mainly with the loud protest of Orlek, who refused to let his precious daughter out of his sight.
Nataya, who refused to let an opportunity rife with the chance of adventure and treasure (keyword: treasure) let pass her by.
Vharcan?well he just wanted to rip out a few females? hearts and neither Suliss? nor Skikudis wanted to think drow on the surface were so dull that such a preposterous plan would work.
But the more they thought about it?the more the bodies of light elves, dwarves, gnomes, humans?those destitute and forgotten? The more they washed up in Rhydins gutters and sewers mysteriously. The more supplies that should have been routed to starving farmers suffering drought or orphaned children were stolen and, the more no one else seemed to see it. Or want to see it. How packs and roving meandering gatherings of drow and their violence was increasing.
How the chaos was growing worse and, how, now masked behind a war?bodies were turning up even more frequently as eyes had turned away from the small clues ever present.
The signs of Lloth?s attempt to manifest her presence in this realm became too overwhelming for the three drow that had done everything they could to get away from her, her worshippers, and all she represented. It was too much. They refused to let it happen.
Orlak came because Nataya wished to come, Nataya wished to come because her greed was too great. Vharcan, Suliss? and even Skikudis could not (begrudgingly) disagree that a dwarf with a pair of axes and a suit of armor hidden in a supply barrel, who knew how to use them, was not a valuable asset to any fight.
The fact that a Faerun God or two had shown up to caution Suliss? herself as well as explain how the drow?s uncut ruby had kind of, sort of, ended up being the ill formed creation of a baby god did help. But surprisingly for Suliss, not as much as the addition of a dwarf.
And so here they were. Orlak and Nataya, naked and pulling a cart like animals through the street, garnering only quick, frightened looks that lasted seconds as they went, for on either side of the wagon were two drow females. A tall one fit in gleaming mithril head to toe in sharp, curving spikes that made her look like some twisted version of a dark knight, and a shorter female with golden eyes outfit in a mithril suit tinted to look like it had been bled on so much it turned red. Her suit?s spikes were neither ornate nor twisted, but obvious and outright. Her helm, pulled over her face had been shaped by an expert smith?s hand to look like the grinning caricature of death. Neither of them inspired anyone to want to ask questions, let alone remotely stare at them too long for fear the one with the golden eyes would eat their hearts.
Nobody paid attention to the small, delicate drow male that pulled up the rear of the wagon in long, black coat. Vharcan thought that was just fine, thanks, and grinned the entire time from his perch within the wagon.
Nataya for what seemed the hundredth time groaned and hissed under her breath, ?Do we have to pull it with him in it??
Suliss? gave a smooth roll of her eyes about to ensure no one was within earshot and then growled. ?Xas, he is playing his part. He is a house male, for mating. They are delicate and shouldn?t be taxed with walking too far it??
??Ruins their feet. Yes, yes, I get it,? Nataya moaned. ?But what about my feet??
?Ssst,? Skikudis rolled her eyes. ?Are you going to whine the entire way there over a cart, because there are worse things to complain about where we are going.?
?Don?t ye speak to her like that,? the dwarf finally growled.
?I just loooooooooooooove midnight strolls, don?t you?? Piped up Vharcan from the back.
Suliss?urn felt her skin twitch for what seemed like as many times as Nataya moaned about the wagon and hissed, ?I hate all of you?? she might have said more but suddenly the shadows had become much longer in the tooth than the previous.
They plunged the wagons? lower wheels, ?slaves? and drows feet in such inky darkness that not even Suliss, Skikudis nor Vharcan could see through it. The three drow shared a knowing look with one another and then let their faces go slack. Orlek and Nataya dropped their heads immediately while the two drow women faced forward, went on guard and laid their hands on their weapons. Vharcan however, flopped dramatically on a barrel and looked bored.
?Telanth l'listra wiles xor el,? came a rasping female voice in the gathering gloom of utter black before them, and that is when all of them knew, for ill or good?it was too late to turn back now.
Every cobblestone along the street that was remotely uneven sent one of the looser, front wheels jittering madly and the entire body of the wagon itself shuddering. It looked as if it might collapse under its heavy burden of supplies at any moment. Suliss?urn felt her skin twitch as horse pelts covered in flies every time the wagon wheezed and heaved. Every time it did she was sure she and her traveling companions both felt their hearts stop and the fear of being caught leapt into their throats as bitter as bile. The street itself was such a place as to make no comfort in their fears either. No torch light burned here in these streets, where the businesses (if someone would even call the whore shops, slave traders, dubious pawn shops and taverns that made most of their money through their ill used wenches, businesses) and taverns built nearly on top of one another. Ruins and ashes of burned down buildings (no doubt set afire by their competition) became the building blocks for other establishments, alleyways that could get you killed just as soon as screwed were narrow and deadly here. The only light came from the older, more disreputable establishments; oily, greasy, half broken lamps that only served to lighten a crooked stone stair way and over used, tired prostitutes that few people worth a spit would even touch.
If the carriage set the groups teeth on edge, this part of town did, too.
But months of careful information gathering, of preparation and of waiting had brought them all to this route. Suliss?urn, Skikudis, Orlek, Vharcan and Nataya trundled along in various states of misery along with the cart.
Nataya was nearly nude and chained to the cart like some beast of burden. It had taken nearly four weeks of ceaseless haggling and more than a few knock down, dragged out actual fights to convince Orlak to let his adopted daughter even play the part of human slave. Dirt was artfully smudged in places to keep her moderately decent, while the torn tatters of some dress kept the rest of her from being out right naked. A collar (one which Suliss?urn produced with enough ease to make several eyes avert uncomfortably) clasped seemingly firmly around Nataya?s pale neck had the obvious markings of once being in the Underdark. A house glyph, scratched out and marred on purpose rested along the side of her collar: enough of a mark should a drow look, and if they did bother to look?giving a slave anymore than a passing glance would be unusual at best. Counting on drow cruelty and racism was perhaps, the one thing they could do.
And so it had been suggested by Nataya herself as well as Vharcan that the lot of them dress like Lloth worshippers delivering supplies to the underground temple being slowly, but surely built (and nearly finished now) far below Rhydin city. The idea had originally been shot down, with more heated arguments and mainly with the loud protest of Orlek, who refused to let his precious daughter out of his sight.
Nataya, who refused to let an opportunity rife with the chance of adventure and treasure (keyword: treasure) let pass her by.
Vharcan?well he just wanted to rip out a few females? hearts and neither Suliss? nor Skikudis wanted to think drow on the surface were so dull that such a preposterous plan would work.
But the more they thought about it?the more the bodies of light elves, dwarves, gnomes, humans?those destitute and forgotten? The more they washed up in Rhydins gutters and sewers mysteriously. The more supplies that should have been routed to starving farmers suffering drought or orphaned children were stolen and, the more no one else seemed to see it. Or want to see it. How packs and roving meandering gatherings of drow and their violence was increasing.
How the chaos was growing worse and, how, now masked behind a war?bodies were turning up even more frequently as eyes had turned away from the small clues ever present.
The signs of Lloth?s attempt to manifest her presence in this realm became too overwhelming for the three drow that had done everything they could to get away from her, her worshippers, and all she represented. It was too much. They refused to let it happen.
Orlak came because Nataya wished to come, Nataya wished to come because her greed was too great. Vharcan, Suliss? and even Skikudis could not (begrudgingly) disagree that a dwarf with a pair of axes and a suit of armor hidden in a supply barrel, who knew how to use them, was not a valuable asset to any fight.
The fact that a Faerun God or two had shown up to caution Suliss? herself as well as explain how the drow?s uncut ruby had kind of, sort of, ended up being the ill formed creation of a baby god did help. But surprisingly for Suliss, not as much as the addition of a dwarf.
And so here they were. Orlak and Nataya, naked and pulling a cart like animals through the street, garnering only quick, frightened looks that lasted seconds as they went, for on either side of the wagon were two drow females. A tall one fit in gleaming mithril head to toe in sharp, curving spikes that made her look like some twisted version of a dark knight, and a shorter female with golden eyes outfit in a mithril suit tinted to look like it had been bled on so much it turned red. Her suit?s spikes were neither ornate nor twisted, but obvious and outright. Her helm, pulled over her face had been shaped by an expert smith?s hand to look like the grinning caricature of death. Neither of them inspired anyone to want to ask questions, let alone remotely stare at them too long for fear the one with the golden eyes would eat their hearts.
Nobody paid attention to the small, delicate drow male that pulled up the rear of the wagon in long, black coat. Vharcan thought that was just fine, thanks, and grinned the entire time from his perch within the wagon.
Nataya for what seemed the hundredth time groaned and hissed under her breath, ?Do we have to pull it with him in it??
Suliss? gave a smooth roll of her eyes about to ensure no one was within earshot and then growled. ?Xas, he is playing his part. He is a house male, for mating. They are delicate and shouldn?t be taxed with walking too far it??
??Ruins their feet. Yes, yes, I get it,? Nataya moaned. ?But what about my feet??
?Ssst,? Skikudis rolled her eyes. ?Are you going to whine the entire way there over a cart, because there are worse things to complain about where we are going.?
?Don?t ye speak to her like that,? the dwarf finally growled.
?I just loooooooooooooove midnight strolls, don?t you?? Piped up Vharcan from the back.
Suliss?urn felt her skin twitch for what seemed like as many times as Nataya moaned about the wagon and hissed, ?I hate all of you?? she might have said more but suddenly the shadows had become much longer in the tooth than the previous.
They plunged the wagons? lower wheels, ?slaves? and drows feet in such inky darkness that not even Suliss, Skikudis nor Vharcan could see through it. The three drow shared a knowing look with one another and then let their faces go slack. Orlek and Nataya dropped their heads immediately while the two drow women faced forward, went on guard and laid their hands on their weapons. Vharcan however, flopped dramatically on a barrel and looked bored.
?Telanth l'listra wiles xor el,? came a rasping female voice in the gathering gloom of utter black before them, and that is when all of them knew, for ill or good?it was too late to turn back now.