"Even the keenest minds and wisest heads will have need of strong backs and skilled arms... I have both. I have slain those who have wronged me and slain those who have challenged those I ally with. I have been underestimated by enemies... I live. They're dead. " Staryth answers reflecting on how everything he has said is true.
"Indeed," Calla says, her voice seeming even colder than usual. "These are mine, and I would keep us together. if House Vonnarc will have us, we will serve it and bring glory to it. You say we fled from above, as if that were a sign of weakness, but the truth is we were able to return to this home when far too many lie dead because of their own weakness and stupidity. I shall not cringe and grovel, like a darkmantle faced with a bright light, when our mere presence here is testament to our abilities."
The woman looked unimpressed at your answers, lips sneering a little when Quevven spoke of being freeswords. Her eyebrows lifted slightly at Arca's spell, however, and she seemed to give some decent weight to Calumny's words.
In all, the interview went as well as could be expected. When the first round of answers had been given, she turned to Calumny, evidently deciding that this strong female was the leader of your little band of merry murderers.
"Well, we have sellswords enough that I can't fault you for your profession, though exiles from a House with no name worth mentioning would do well to keep that fact to themselves. Still, we could use the extra hands, I suppose, as long as you aren't too squeamish. Unlike this one." She pointed at Gadak.
"What cause do you have to travel with him? Is Gadak expecting some tribute? Fealty? Help in his little plans?" What would you say, Calumny of No House Worth Mentioning, if I asked you to kill him?"
Undamesta doesn't really expect you to kill Gadak, though she wouldn't likely punish you if you did. It is yet another test.
"I would say it would be a waste. I'm sure he wishes something, because that is the way our those who were not lucky enough to be born to rule. But what I care about is what use he may provide me. I have learned not to squander what is provided, for even sunlight may be helpful -- if only to blind our enemies. For now, he has brought us here, and we'll see how useful that may be."
"Very well then. Gadak, see them to the servants' quarters and get them a room. I am sure that they won't mind bunking five to a room, given how close they are. Give them a tour and make sure they know the rules of the house. Do not bother me again, today. I have to work with one of the scullery girls. She has some rather painful lessons to learn about her station, and I am looking forward to taking my time delivering them."
With that curt dismissal, Undamesta swept out of the room. Gadak looked at you with a smile on his indigo face, and motioned for you to follow. After leading you through a confusing arrangements of rooms, hallways, and side corridors, Gadak ushered you in to the servants' quarters. This area consisted of six rooms, each housing beds for three to seven people, and a small common room. Gadak moved to one of the rooms, and after a quick discussion with the two drow inside, helped them relocate their meager belongings to another room, then indicated that this room would now be yours.
The room was small, barely large enough for the three bunk beds and three chests. There was enough room to get between the bunks, but only if you turned sideways. At best, it was a place to sleep, and not much else. There would be no privacy within the room, but at least you had a room to yourselves. The chests had no locks.
Gadak left to let you gt yourselves situated, and was back a little while later with signet rings and badges identical to his own. "Here you go. You are now officially members of the household. Wear the badge and ring everywhere you go in the House and in the city. Intruders are tortured to death, and an excuse of "I forgot to wear my badge" is seen as evidence that you are too stupid to live on your own, anyways. Sometimes the servants play pranks on each other, but no one will touch someone else's badge or ring. If caught, the best they could hope to get away with is a flogging. At worst, there is torture unto death or even being turned into a drider!"
Gadak shuddered at this last, and then brightened. "Are you ready for your tour now?"
Arca dutifully first admires and then puts on his new signet and pins the badge to his robe, muttering to himself as he does. "Now would be good, would it not, my dear sisters and brothers?"
"Indeed. You may show us the premises," Calla assents as she dons the badge and ring.
"As good as any," Staryth put his ring and badge as well.
Kel also dons her ring and badge while resisting the urge to suggest they don't need any stinking badges.
Gadak took you in tow once more, showing you the parts of the House that the servants had ready access to. As he did so, he also explained the rules of the House: never meet the Matron Mother's eyes, or those of her children; never refuse a direct order from any of the Elder or Lesser nobles, or those of the Slavemother; and, of course, never embarrass the House in public. There were many more rules, most of which involved things like how low to bow, when to fawn, and when to fight, but by and large these were just variations on the first three.
One bit of information that Gadak let slip was that a servant, and a rather high-level one at that, was caught a decade ago praying to a god of the Light. He was executed of course, and his holy symbols destroyed, but it brought the First Daughter's wrath down on all the slaves. It had blown over eventually, though public chapel attendance was now mandatory amongst the slaves and servants.
Gadak was very clear that there were indeed differences between slaves and servants. Slaves, like the dozen or so troglodytes in residence, were property of the House, must be supervised by a member of the House, and could never leave. Servants, like you, were members of the House, though at the lowest level had some autonomy, and freedom to roam the city when not on duty. Yes, the hours were long and grueling, but there was freedom of a sort.
The cartmaster showed you all around the servants' quarters, the kitchens, slave quarters, dining areas, ballroom (a peek through a servant's entrance covered by a tapestry), and several other rooms. The House was indeed quite large, built from imposing black rock and lit by eerie purple flames in braziers and sconces. You notce that every door Gadak approaches, he first touches with his ring before opening it. Gadak explained that there were three types of doors in the House. Iron doors were accessible by anyone with a House signet ring, such as the ones you wear. Doors sheathed in other materials or intricately carved runes were Noble doors, and could only be opened by amulets worn by family nobles, and those few servitors of high enough rank to serve them. Then there were the Matron's doors. Those were only on the second floor, where none but the Matron Mother and her First Children were allowed. Being spotted unescorted on the second floor of the House was cause for execution by torture.
With that cheery news, Gadak brought you back to the servants' quarters where you would be staying and told you that the Slavemother would be in soon to assign your duties.
"Just to be absolutely sure, to whom is the House chapel dedicated?" Arca asks. "I would hate to make a faux pas. And is there any chance I might have laboratory access during my free time? Now that we are once again in the heart of civilization, I should like to advance my learning. And third, is there anywhere for my brother Staryth to get a drink?"
The Wizard grins at the Barbarian. "I swear I could hear his liver crying out for quality booze the whole time we were stuck out in the Sunlit Lands."
Calla nods at Arca's question.
"Who are our current political rivals?", Quevven asks. "Obviously, any other House is a potential threat, but who is currently at our throats? And has there been any change in who we have allied with?"
"How much may we order about the slaves ourselves?" Staryth asks. Secretly he wonders if there are any worth rescuing before this is said and done, "And are they all trogs?" A disdainful sniff.
"What houses should be careful around in the city?" Kel inquires, echoing Quevven's concerns, "Surely we have enemies among the other families."
"The House chapel is dedicated to Areshkagal, who has aided our family in many ways over the last few centuries. Our closest allies, if such a phrase can be used, is House Azrinae, though their power has waned significantly in the forays to the surface world. I would consider House Vexidyre to be our biggest rival in the city now, though our successes and those of the Azrinae have set those puffed up merchants back on their heels.
I imagine that if you prove yourself to the Slavemother, she will allow you a space to craft your poisons, though if I were you I wouldn't try anything complex on your own before getting explicit permission. The salves are there for the House's benefit, and not your own. If you are given duties that require you to interact with the slaves, you will most likely simply tell Verez, their foreman, and he make sure it gets done.
You will have adequate supplies of wine delivered with your meals, though I caution you not to get drunk. Even the slightest slip of a tongue can cost you that member, or worse."
As Gadak was speaking, there came the sounds of footfalls in the corridor outside. Moments later, Slavemother Undamesta appeared in the doorway and sneered.
"Do you have them acclimated Gadak? It is time to get to work. Remember the House rule: If you don't work, you don't eat. Now, I have need of three house servitors and three guard servitors. If you have a preference, choose quickly. Otherwise I will just assign whomever I choose."
"Guard, may it please you," Arca says. "I enjoy adding my magic to the strength of warriors in defense."
"House servitor, if it please you, Slavemother," Quevven said. "I should like to acquaint myself with the noble house I now serve."
"I believe the guard ranks are where I can rise fastest" Staryth says
"I also am most suited for guard work," Calla says.
"House servitor, slavemother, I am ready to work" Kel volunteers.
The Slavemother looked neither impressed, nor upset. In a flat tone she said, "Fine. You three in the Guard, and the other two with the House. Gadak, take our newest House servitors to the kitchens. The food there has been less than favorable recently, and Mellios lost some of her staff to floggings. She could use the help today. The rest of you come with me. Oh, and leave your belongings here. There will be no room for them in the kitchens or on the wall. Those serving the Guard should, of course, take their weapons."
Kelendra and Bruendor followed Gadak to the kitchens, while the other three went to the guardhouse with Undamesta.
Arriving in the kitchens with Gadak, you see the first plump drow you have ever laid eyes on. Her waspish tongue was in full force as she castigated a scullery boy for chipping a dish. She was in the midst of explaining how painful it would be do wash dishes with his fingernails pulled out when Gadak cleared his throat. The woman stopped in mid-harrange and glared suspiciously at Gadak.
"What do you want, Gadak? I've no time to get scraps together for those vile lizards you tow around. I've got meals to prepare, a veritable mountain of crockery to wash, and precious few hands to do it all with."
Gadak smiled at her. "Well, Mellios, that is what I am here about. I think you'll be ready to kiss me stupid when I tell you that I have two new recruits for you today. Slavemother Undamesta wants to see how these two do in the kitchens today before trying them out on other duties. You two, this is Mellios. She's run this kitchen for more than sixty years, and is the best cook I know. She's a bit of a gossip, but she also has a sharp tongue. Don't get on her bad side, or the Slavemother will be giving you a lashing, and not with her tongue. Good day!"
Gadak left quickly, leaving you to Mellios' tender mercies. Not so tender, as it turned out. Within moments Kelendra was washing dishes and Bruendor was turning out a dark dough into small loaves.
The Slavemother took you through the winding hallways to the guard barracks. There, she motioned over a male drow who looked as if he had taken an entire drawer full of cutlery to the face at one point.
"Drovoanis, here are some new recruits for you to replace that last drafting. Let's try and keep these around a little longer than the last ones, yes?"
Without another word, she left you. The male drow looked you up and down, looked at your weapons, then looked back at your faces. "You're obviously a fighter, as are you," he said, looking at Lefrik and Calla, "but I can't tell what you are. Some sort of scout? Never mind. You'll start on the wall, like all the others, paired with one of my own so no one who hasn't proved their loyalty to the House gets ideas about letting in someone who doesn't belong. I'm Paingiver Drovanis - yes, Paingiver, want to add to your misery by laughing at my name? I thought not. I run the House Guard, and you'll do as I say, how I say, and when I say. Is that clear? Don't give me any lip, or you'll end up like Disakav over there."
He pointed to a young female drow, who opened her mouth and waved the stump of her tongue at you, while making an obviously rude gesture.
"You got anything to say? Now's the time. If not, get to your posts. Someone show the new meat to the guard posts on the eastern wall."
"I should like to explain to you that I am a wizard," Arca says in a calm and non-confrontational manner. "But I am used to working together with warriors in military situations, and will do my duty as directed. I neither ask nor seek any special consideration, I merely wish to let you know how my talents might be best used. My usefulness as a scout would be limited... but I might be able to make up for that if I might have access to a laboratory and some alchemical resources for a day or two. I could get some very excellent scouts to serve this House."
Quevven bows to Mellios, opening his mouth to say something unctuously flattering, but the rotund dark elf starts in before he can say anything. He bites his tongue, answering all her orders with a sharp "At once, Matron Mellios," before continuing his work.
While he's unused to the work in the kitchen, he quickly adapts, forming the bread into loaves and cutting cave vegetables into suitable portions for cooking.
Calla silently takes up her guard post.
Without another word, she left you. The male drow looked you up and down, looked at your weapons, then looked back at your faces. "You're obviously a fighter, as are you," he said, looking at Lefrik and Calla, "but I can't tell what you are. Some sort of scout? Never mind. You'll start on the wall, like all the others, paired with one of my own so no one who hasn't proved their loyalty to the House gets ideas about letting in someone who doesn't belong. I'm Paingiver Drovanis - yes, Paingiver, want to add to your misery by laughing at my name? I thought not. I run the House Guard, and you'll do as I say, how I say, and when I say. Is that clear? Don't give me any lip, or you'll end up like Disakav over there."He pointed to a young female drow, who opened her mouth and waved the stump of her tongue at you, while making an obviously rude gesture.
"You got anything to say? Now's the time. If not, get to your posts. Someone show the new meat to the guard posts on the eastern wall."
He looks at the young female drow, "Yes. One question. Am I allowed to break her fingers if she makes that gesture towards me?"
"No fighting in the ranks. You think I need my already short-handed posting throwing each other off the walls? You have a problem with it, deal with it yourself, but nothing that would keep her from showing up for duty."
The three new guards were assigned their watch partners, and each headed to watchposts on the walls. The duty was boring, and your eight- hour shifts were only made interesting though whatever conversation you could elicit from your watch partner. Arca was paired up with the tongueless woman, Disakav. Staryth with Covakis, a skilled archer and somewhat of a braggart. Callumny with Immanis, a hulking brute of a dark elf, whose sole vocabulary appeared to consist of grunts and shrugs.
Kelendra spent the day up to her elbows in hot, soapy water. When the water cooled, Mellios sent a scullery boy - she just called him "boy"; you never learned his name that first day - to fetch water which was boiled and added to the scrub vats. Kelendra somehow managed not to drop or chip any of the crockery, and Mellios was pleased with her work.
Quevvan turned out to be fairly skilled in the kitchen, much to everyone's surprise. His loaves were uniform in size and shape, his knife work precise, and he seemed to have a knack for sauces. Mellios gazed at him admiringly after tasting a sauce he had concocted out of mushroom stems and a wine that had gone a little sour.
Your shifts ended at roughly the same times, and you met back in your cramped room, worn and exhausted from the day's work. It wasn't that it was more difficult than hiking through a jungle, or climbing cliffs, just different.
When alone with Disakav, Arca engages her in Sakvroth, the Drow sign language: "I am sure you must speak this. If an enemy comes, how do you prefer to handle it? Should I let you take first assault and back you up with precisely targeted spells, or do you want me to open up with wide-area destruction and give you pick of the wounded? Do you enjoy summoned backup? Magical defences? Illusions to confuse enemies? I would like for us to work together effectively."
Quevven smiled to himself when Mellios' back is turned to him, and her attention was upon excoriating Boy for some imagined slight. Both he and Kelendra were scoring points with their immediate overseer, though he had to be prepared for the long con. It's the Golden Goblin all over again, he thought. We know we're working for the enemy, we just need to keep working for them without drawing too much suspicion.
Upon return to the communal bunk, Quevven reclines on his bunk, stretching his back. "Ooof, stiff back," he complains, massaging the muscles. "You wouldn't think that bending over a cutting board all day would be hard work. Anything interesting happen on watch?"
After a time, his voice lowers to a conspiratorial whisper. "We need intel, but we need to move carefully, especially during these early days. Gadak was kind enough to give us a tour of the House, but we don't have access to most of it. At the least, we're going to need a Noble's amulet to get past Noble doors, but that's not something we need to worry about now. For now, it might be worthwhile to find out who's in the House with us - who's scheming against whom, and who is desperate enough to use deniable assets like ourselves to do their dirty work. We might also want to find out the state of the other Houses, and see what's going on here in Zirnakaynin."
"Maybe I should try to talk my skills as a craftsman up, get access to their labs? Surely Drow enjoy cheaply-priced magic items as well..."
"At least I don't have to wear that stupid succubus outfit." Kel smiles ruefully, "But I have much more appreciation for those that worked in the back of the house at the Golden Goblin. Who knew that hot water all day would actually make your hands dry." She holds up her red, tender hands.
"The servant said Mellios was a gossip, and she's been the head cook for 60 years. If we can get on her good side I don't think there would be a better source of information about what happens in these halls. She probably knows things that have escaped even the head mother's attention."
Calla lets out an appreciative grunt of her own as she realizes her guard partner will be blessedly silent, standing watch as he should.
At some point, she does taciturnly ask, ""What the Hells should we be watching for exactly?"
"My fellow guard doesn't seem to have mastered Undercommon all that well, but I can try to find out what if anything he knows. Maybe he's heard of this Allevrah."
"I imagine Allevrah's name would be well-known," Quevven says. "Someone as highly placed in the enemy camp as her that switches sides - and races, I still can't get over that - like that doesn't go unnoticed."
anklebiter
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bruendor
kelendra
anklebiter
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anklebiter
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The next few days followed much of the same pattern, with Anklebiter, Lefrik, and Calla standing watch, while Kelendra and Bruendor grew more comfortable in the kitchen setting. Of course, not everything was all roses and sunshine. Bruendor burned the bread on the second day and earned a tongue thrashing from the cook. That was nothing compared to Kelendra dropping an entire stack of plates, which shattered on the stone kitchen floor. She only barely escaped a flogging with that one. And Anklebiter, caught up in his musings on arcane theory, completely missed seeing Second Son Tiryin approaching the gate, and made the noble wait before issuing the orders to open the gate. The chewing out he earned for that one might as well have been a flogging.
Calla continues to try to establish a rapport with Immanis.
She growls as Tiryin approaches.
"So many people coming and going. Surely they have somewhere else to be rather than bothering us, no?"
Later, she grunts quietly as Anklebiter gets chewed out.
"It's good to work with someone who appreciates the value of silence and doesn't need to blather on endlessly about every little thought that crosses his head. True professionals can be so hard to find."
Next time he was with Covakis, Startyh asks the braggart, "You certainly boast of your skills well to me, but do our superiors know of them? What's the best shot you've ever made in their service that they could see??"
Arca considers - and pays a visit to the Slavemother before his shift.
"Madame, apologies again for my lapse yesterday. If you will indulge me, I believe that I can head off future lapses and make up for my failure - and maybe open up a new line of revenue for the House! All I would need is a day of time and access to a laboratory and some basic components, and my effectiveness as a guard shall be almost tripled! And if you like the fruits of my labour, I should be happy to make more..."
"I once shot down a bloodbat in flight from over 200 paces. Paingiver called it one of the finest shots he'd ever seen. Then chewed me out for wasting ammunition and put me on extra duties."
The man shrugged, careful to portray the usual soldier's lot in life.
Slavemother Undamesta scowled at Arca as he approached her. But, she did listen to his proposition.
"You are telling me that you would use your skills to craft items for the House, at no charge to us? And all you would need is unfettered access to a laboratory and a raft of components that could ostensibly be used to threaten this House or benefit it in some unstated way? You have nerve, I will give you that. Still, there could be great utility here."
"Fine, I will have Neskir give you access to one of his laboratories. He will observe and will inform me of any improprieties you might be up to. If your product is as good as you think, perhaps Paingiver can spare you from normal duties."
Arca smiles.
"If this House shelters my family, provides for our upkeep, and is also willing to provide the components for my crafting... then it would be worse than churlish for me to ask for more. I shall craft a simple, standard sample of my Art, first. It will take me only one day. If you are pleased, I can make more... advanced specimens."
Provided Arca is shown to Neskir, and the laboratory, the Drow Wizard observes the appropriate niceties, but then promptly gets to work. The Wizard cuts his fingers with a keen Drow dagger, blends ashes and clay with spring water and kneads them, letting his vitae mix with the whole.
Arca takes a mandrake root out of his pack, places it in a bowl and shapes the fruits of his kneading and blending around it, using the root as a skeleton. His hands continue to bleed, trails of dark blood running through the resulting mannikin as if becoming its own blood.
While the mannikin dries, Arca quickly and skillfully blends various chemicals in a large, glass jug. Although he never lights any fire underneath, the dark chemicals start to bubble and steam, vapours coloured white, green and inky black following each other in waves. The liquid seethes dark green, paler bubbles breaking on its surface.
"Now," the Dark Elf whispers, his voice eager -- and he lets the mannikin sink into the bottle.
Hands held over the jug, blood still trickling from his wounds, Arca chants spells in a dark, sibilant voice. One spell, and the chemicals turn opaque, the mannikin lost to sight. Two spells, and the liquid turns still as glass, but inky black. A third spell... and a hush falls over the work table.
Arca stands still, staring into the bottle... and slowly, a dark smile grows on his lips. Something stirs inside the jug, the alchemical liquid sloshing and rippling -- and a small hand grasps the glass edge. A hand the colour of indigo...
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A tiny creature, looking for all the world like a diminutive Drow female -- apart from a few... small differences -- pulls her upper body up and over the edge of the jug and for a few moments just hangs there, body labouring as if exhausted. The effect is oddly like the hatching of a butterfly, an illusion only strengthened when the creature spreads wings feathered black and white, like those of a magpie, to let them dry.
A wiggle, a lurch, and the homunculus -- Magpie, her name was Magpie of the A-RCH-series -- pulls her whole body over the edge of the jug. A strong tail lashes, the wings flap frenziedly, and the creature lands on the work table. Crimson eyes regard Arca, thoughts moving in their depths like shadows, and then she performs a sinuous bow.
'Master,' the creature thinks at the creature in front of her. 'I am ready to serve.'
Receiving a telepathic command, the homunculus takes wing and lands on Arca's shoulder, awaiting whatever comes next...
"Fast, mobile, observant and stealthy," Arca explains to Neskir while chucking Magpie affectionately under the chin. "Useful as spies, scouts and guards. They do not grow bored. They do not need food, nor drink, nor sleep. For a slightly higher price in components and an extra day per unit, they can be given voices, so they may serve as messengers as well. Numerous uses for peacetime and wartime."
'Not to mention for gathering information and keeping cavey while we are moving around in this House,' he admits to himself.
While he works in the kitchens, Quevven attempts to engage Mellios in conversation. "So, Mellios, how did you come to manage the kitchens? Did you always work here, and work your way into the position? Or were you assigned here by a superior?" While he keeps the matron distracted with conversation, he glances to Kelendra, then to the childling that Mellios called Boy.
"Yes, Mellios," Kel chimes in, "You must have seen many things in your time. Break the monotony of work with some stories, and surely I'll break fewer plates."
"I once shot down a bloodbat in flight from over 200 paces. Paingiver called it one of the finest shots he'd ever seen. Then chewed me out for wasting ammunition and put me on extra duties."
The man shrugged, careful to portray the usual soldier's lot in life.
"He could have at least brought you a drink," Wryly sympathetic, "200 paces? Damn."