Calla frowns but sets aside her morningstar and longbow, maintaining her whip, 2 daggers and hand crossbow.
Arca hands over his shortsword, smirking a bit.
"How fortuitous you'd mention the master of your establishment," he says in honeyed tones. "For he's just the man we're here to see. Isn't that right, elder sister?"
He gently elbows Calla in the side.
"We've a bit of a business proposition for him, see? Tell him we can speed up the process by 10% and shave 20% off the costs of production of most, ah, 'recreational alchemicals'. And we heard he's got the market and the cash for it."
"As you wish," Quevven says, removing his weapons yet again, sans the cold iron dagger strapped to his belt. "Though if anyone besides me touches them, I will know, and heads will roll."
Kel puts her morningstar in the rack as requested and then looks around the establishment.
He sets aside his axe and while he's a lusty lad, he doesn't have to fake a sense of unease, this level of debauchery seems almost desperate, maybe even a bit sick of the soul. Everything about the drow feels wrong.
"The Boss is upstairs, in his office. I do not think he wishes to be disturbed at the moment." A scream somewhere between pleasure and pain rang out from teh upstairs balcony, and the doorkeeper grinned. In fact, I am quite sure of it. Enjoy the Kiss, and I will see that the Boss is informed of your business desires as soon as he is available once more. In fact, have a drink on the house while you wait."
The doorkeeper gestured to one of the scantily-clad barkeepers and made a series of intricate gestures. The barkeep nodded his head in affirmation, and the doorkeeper waved you on your way.
"Is everyone in this city like Undamesta?" Arca whispers to his brothers and sisters, rolling his eyes at the sounds from upstairs in a humorous fashion when he is reasonably sure that none of the staff can see or overhear. "I'd like to suggest we don't drink anything while we're here. Too many chances of spiked drinks."
Kel shares a suspicious look with her companions as they are kept waiting.
"I'd be disappointed if the drinks weren't laced with narcotics," Quevven says quietly. "It'd be the worst den of sin ever if they didn't." He does, however, accept a glass of red wine, pretending to sip at it over the course of the wait.
"Don't drink it!" Kel hisses
"Oh? What about the Golden Goblin?" Arca asks, chuckling. "Last we were there, I do not recall anyone lacing the beer with pesh or the like."
"We took in refugees after Skyfall, I'm pretty sure that knocks us out of the running for 'den of sin'."
Arca cocks his head .... and gives Quevven a genuine smile.
"We did well that day, my brother," he whispers, lightly punching Quevven in the shoulder. "All of us. Mother would be proud."
He does take a drink, but doesn't drink it... not yet anyway
If we make it so obvious we are not from here, we'll be picked out as easily as we were by Alicavniss. It can't be worse than anything Father doled out, after all...
Calla downs the drink in a single gulp.
She gives a hard stare to her companions, especially the idiots talking about life on the surface in the midst of this wretched hive of scum and villainy.
Calla and Kelendra looked at the doorkeeper as he explained the Master's unavailability, but the man seemed sincere, as did the continued moans and screams from upstairs. Anklebiter thought he might be able to gather intelligence from the hand signals, but they weren't using any gestures he was familiar with. Finally, you all made you way over to the bar, suffering the press of bodies, leers, and occasional wandering hands with varying degrees of grace and ill manner. The barkeep was happy to pour your drinks, though no one seemed all that interested in drinking.
Your whispered conversations were unlikely to be heard in the raucous noise of the tavern, but one of the barkeeps was standing watching the five of you, continually running a gray towel into a glass that looked dirtier after the cloth's passing, not cleaner.
"You will keep that hand off my backside unless you want me to cut it off, stew it and eat it," Arca tells one of the friskier Drow males -- all while smiling sweetly.
The next moment, he turns that smile on the bartender watching them.... and lets it expand into a wide, wide grin.
Kel stays alert for pickpockets as they wait.
Calla waits as patiently as she's capable, keeping a subtle eye of her own on the barkeep. She's fine with the rest of the debauchery.
Calistria would be proud. Perhaps they still honor her in some way.
"Tell me," Quevven says to the barkeep. "How long have you worked for your master? He certainly seems to have...specific tastes."
The barkeep smiled at Quevven and replied. "Oh, no more than a decade or so. Still working off some old debts. Word of advice, don't ever get in over your head with him, or he'll have you working your ass off until your debt it paid off."
Calla watched the non-talkative barkeep with a subtle eye, and she noticed that he elf's lips kept moving. It was almost as if the barkeep was talking to someone. Calla couldn't make out the words, though.
Calla leans over to Arca, putting her arm around the fellow drow. She whispers in his ear, doing her best to make sure no one else can hear.
"The bartender over there is watching us, and is either talking to himself or someone else here. Probably Orvignato, if I had to guess."
Arca glances at the bartender out of the corner of his eye while smiling and nodding at Calla.
Despite his prodigious ability to decipher new languages, Anklebiter cannot make out what the barkeep is muttering. Either it is in a language he does not recognize, or some form of code. Either way, it is concerning.
Arca leans over to Calla, puts an arm over her shoulder and whispers something into her ear: "Laugh after I've told you. I can't make heads nor tails of what he's saying. Might be a strange language, might be code. Whatever it is, it's a problem. Now laugh like I told you a joke."
Call barks out a laugh, a rare sound that's about as grating and cruel as you might expect.
"Then we should assume our true purpose here may be known. Anything less and we're already prepared," she replies. "Let the others know."
Arca moves over to the others and whispers to each in turn, warning them of his findings.
Quevven nods, mentally noting the exits and what sort of security would be between him and freedom. For now, though, their cover was not blown, and he remains cool.
Kel curses inwardly. I knew it! Desna bless us, may we ever see the stars again
He laughs when told 'the joke' , eyes searching not so much for lip reading or the liike, but for anythings that might be used for cover or weapons
Lefrik found plenty of sources of cover and weapons, mostly heavy clay tankards or thick tables. even as he and Calla scan the bar area, they notice some thugs clad in leather armor with chainmail beneath. Each had a club or stout stick capped with an iron ferrule. They drank and laughed with the other patrons, but it was pretty clear that they were nowhere near as inebriated or high as the rest of the clientele.
From above, the shrieks and moans had finally stopped, their absence making the overall din of the place seem louder in comparison.
"Bloody finally," Anklebiter mutters to the others. "Let's get this done."
The Wizard looks around for the Drow the group spoke to before, so they can get down to business....
Calla nods at Arca's comment and maintains her state of wariness.
"We have business to take care of," she mutters.
"Let's keep an exit plan in mind, we still need to leave afterwards."
Calla will surreptitiously look around for other means of egress than the way they came in.
Arca leads the way back to the doorkeeper.
"Business now? Or does your boss have another pretty he wants to break to the saddle before we can talk?"
Calla sees that there are no other means of egress from the main room. There is likely a service entrance in the kitchen area, but that isn't visible from the bar. There also do not appear to be any windows. Likely the locals put up with the Kiss only because it contains its revelries to the interior of the building.
The doorkeeper just smiled at Anklebiter's words and shook his head. "If the Boss wants to see you, then he will let you know. Go back and finish your drink and try and at least look like you are enjoying yourself."
It was about ten minutes later when one of the thugs dressed as partiers showed up to escort you upstairs. Up on the balcony, the smoke is thinner, and you can breathe without that annoying tickle in the back of your throat. On the second floor, you can see that the upper level is divided into curtained off rooms. One of the nearest has the curtain thrown back to reveal a small chamber with a bed and little else. The bed had restraints at both head and foot, which were currently occupied. A thin drow female was spread eagled, face down on the mattress, her pelvis arched into the air by a small cushion placed under her hips. Her face was turned towards the door, and as she caught you looking, she gave what she clearly thought was a seductive smile and licked her lips suggestively.
Your guide saw your stares and smiled too, though his was business of a different sort. well, perhaps the other side of the same coin. "If you want to spend some time with the girls after, it'll be a hundred gold, and a hundred deposit, just in case. I can see to it that Keldendra puts on a good show." He waggled his eyebrows at Kelendra as he emphasized the sex slave's name, making you wonder if the similarity in names was truly a coincidence.
He motioned you to another door to the side, which had a pair of thugs openly armed with shortswords and loaded crossbows standing to either side. He knocked three times, and at a gruff voiced response, opened the door and bade you enter.
Arca calmly walks into Keldendra's room -- and pokes her in the ribs before rejoining the others.
"Nah," he says, airily. "I like mine with a bit more meat on them. Don't know about you, but I hate getting poked by a ribcage just when I'm right in the middle of a moment. I'd probably have to buy this one off you and fatten her up some before I'd be interested in going a few rounds. Oh, sorry. How much would that be? One copper for feeling up a rib and one copper deposit?"
Giving the door guards a nod and a smile, Arca opens the door and lets it swing inward before going through.
Calla keeps her usual steely glare in place as she ascends the stairs, a smirk crossing her lips at the slave's name.
Assuming she doesn't see anything obviously waiting to kill them all when the door open, she enters with her usual confidence combined with wariness.
"What makes you think I like girls?", Quevven replies coolly to the guide in response before turning his attention back to the business at hand. He surveys the two drow toughs, mentally noting their position and armament for the inevitable conflict, and warily entered behind Calumny.
Kel makes a note of the guard's leering demeanor. He'll be the first to burn with star fire
"You do not like girls? No worries, there's men down the hall on the right. You a top or bottom?"
The man shrugged off any implied threat or protestations. It simply wasn't his job.
Calla looked inside the door to see what looked like a combination office and living space. The area was partitioned by a curtain that was currently open, revealing the round bed in the far chamber. Overlooking the bad was the enormous head of a giant centipede, easily the size of a, ox's skull. It's glossy black eyes stared across the room at whoever stood int he doorway. It was an impressive sight, as it was surely meant to be.
Around the room were more trophies of similar nature - drow hands, dwarf skulls, fleshwarped limbs, the carapace of something hooked and spiny. To the right sat a large desk flanked by wooden chairs and bookcases. Behind the desk stood a heavy iron safe. Sitting at the desk was a burly looking drow, huge for the normally petite race. He had the look of a well-muscled man gone slightly to fat, though the impression he gave was that there was still plenty of muscle under the padding. Perched on his shoulder was a fist-sized spider of the orange and black variety that you have come to know well as virulent poisoners.
"Come in, come in. My people tell me you've important business to discuss. Let's have it then. I'm a busy man." The man's speech threw you off for a moment. You weren't sure why for several moments until you realized that Orvignato was the first drow you had met that spoke with contractions.
"You!" Calla barks to Arca. "Show the man what we have..."