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When push came to shove, Chao proved to be a disappointment. He sighs. "I was so hoping you'd be more of a challenge." He was quite familiar with Lorelei's spell (having used it many times himself), but any self-respecting battle dancer should have no problem keeping his feet even on such a slick surface. Ah, well. A kill's a kill. He keeps his knife trained on the fallen woman, trying to stay out of reach of Dron's deadly spear.
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Segovax bellows and swings as he flies into a rage. Ragnar brings his tower shield round to meet the oversized falchion with a rather matter-of-fact grunt... but Segovax seems more a force of nature than any mere mortal as the sheer power of his blow crashes through the Ulfen’s best efforts at defense and carves open the man’s chest, even as it sends him spinning to the sand where he lays, moaning gently and bleeding out. A spray of blood splatters across the nearest palus... and the Chelish woman lurking behind it! The watching drow point and laugh and applaud... Segovax’s buxom fan bouncing up and down as she claps her hands together excitedly,
‘Ooh,’ she exclaims, a grin on her lips, ‘he’s such a brute!’
Moments later, Jade completes casting the spell she’d been quietly incanting since the match began, enlarging to match Segovax’s giant stature as she strides across to where Dron’s maneuvering to skewer himself a halfling. One unceremonious chop with the jade giantess’s sword proves enough to slice the man’s spear-arm off at the shoulder, and continue through to take his right leg at the thigh too: a brief expression of uncomprehending terror can be seen on Dron’s face within his helm as he pivots in place (spraying Lorelei, Radric, Chao, and Jade herself with blood as he flails about for a second) before crashing lifeless to the sand... The audience murmur their appreciation, with one older and rather portly drow man commenting,
‘Look – they have a female one too!’
Now covered in both grease and blood, the thoroughly humiliated Chao finally looks to be regaining her footing... only for a swift but deadly slice from Radric’s kukri to open her stomach and send her back to her hands and knees with an agonized scream! One of the comments that can be heard drifting down from the observers is,
‘Look there! That little one certainly has form!’
From behind what little safety a humble palus offers, Aspexia levels her rudem again, another gout of flame catching Segovax across the chest... ... Though the audience clap and call out their approval of the display, an expression somewhere between disbelief and utter horror crosses Aspexia's face as Segovax still refuses to fall! Backing off slowly, she glances at the rudem in her hand,
‘It... it just... um... it just went off...’ she offers weakly, letting the mystically carved wooden club slip from her fingers to the sand as she keeps backing off, holding two fingers high above her in the traditional gesture of submission as she peers past Segovax towards Loscivia, pleading for her life. The Mistress of the House doesn’t look happy with the Chelish woman’s actions... but the audience seem to have warmed to her, laughing and calling for her to be spared... so Loscivia gives a ‘thumbs up’, and gestures towards two of the guards to remove Aspexia from the yard.
Leaving Nathrae to dispatch the fallen retiarius, Kyzrak bounds towards the Taldans. Vors, distracted by his own attempts to hack pieces off Hull, only notices the drow male’s approach at the last moment, his attempt to reposition his shield proving too slow as the tip of one of Kyzrak’s swords scores a deep cut across his ribs. Hearing his partner’s cry of pain, Narsius also turns to face the drow...
With rapidly dwindling targets, Lorelei steps across the sands to hurl a blob of protoplasm even as Ivan bellows and charges the Taldans: in rapid succession Ivan’s helmeted head smacks into Narsius’s gut, lifting the scizore and hurling him a good ten feet, past the pali and Hull, to impact on the far wall of the training yard... only to be stuck there as Lorelei’s protoplasm bursts across his chest with an acidic sizzle... The comments from the watching elite seem to appreciate Lorelei’s efforts... but are less enthusiastic about Ivan, with... ‘Ugh – no style at all!’ and ‘A battering ram... all a dwarf is good for, really...’ amongst the more polite offerings...
Luckily for the overall mood of the event, Nathrae soon turns the audience’s attention away from dwarves and their utter dwarfishness, as her dramatic execution of Xabala finally manages to properly crack the hedonistic ennui of drow elite as they break out in heartfelt cheers, whoops of delight, and pound their appreciation out on the top of the balcony railing with their fists!
‘Nathrae! Nathrae! ’
Ah, well. A kill's a kill.
Following Nathrae’s display Radric glances towards Loscivia to confirm her ‘thumbs down’ judgement, then pulls Chao’s head back and slices open her throat with his kukri... which helps keep the cheers going on a while longer...
Writhing and grimacing in pain, Narsius tries desperately to scrape the acidic protoplasm off his chest with his scizore... but then lets slip another yell as Hull adds insult to injury by blasting another bolt of acid across the man... For his part, Vors takes a mighty, but inaccurate, swing at Kyzrak, completely failing to connect as the handsome drow man neatly sidesteps the blow. Glancing around, as if suddenly realising he’s the last man standing on his side, the thraex mimics Aspexia’s earlier actions, throwing down his falcata and shield and raising his fingers in appeal to Loscivia...
‘Enough!’ declares the Mistress of the House, ending the match. Her guests offer appreciative applause and shower compliments upon her and the quality of her stock, which Loscivia takes with a smile for a few moments, before raising her hands for silence and directing her guests to retire to the comforts of the villa for refreshments and entertainment. As they shuffle out (with the odd parting word of praise or two for their favourites amongst the new recruits) Loscivia calls down to Pharnox,
‘Have our victors bathed and oiled, then brought to the villa for display. See the injured to the healer...’ her eyes narrow as she turns and points towards Vors, ‘...and see that man sold to the fleshcrafters!’
‘Mother.’ Pharnox dutifully bows his head, although Loscivia’s already turned to stride after her guests. With a resigned sigh, Pharnox directs the guards to seize Vors (who gets hauled away screaming in a panic), and a few slaves to peel Narsius off the wall and take him and a barely-alive Ragnar to the ludus’s healer. Other slaves he tasks with clearing away the dead and collecting the weapons and armour off the gladiators. As things calm down, spells start to wear off, and the recruits get herded towards the communal bath, Pharnox takes a moment to single two of them out,
‘Segovax, Radric,’ he says as he steps over, ‘good job, both of you. Mother’s guests may be impressed by the flash and bang of a few cheap conjurer’s tricks, but I didn’t miss that you two were the ones who showed the skill to plant a blade where it did the most damage. You certainly go about it different ways, but power or grace, you’ve both got the martial skill that makes you potential champions of the arena.’
The recruits get a short time to see themselves bathed , oiled, and dressed in the bare minimum (loincloths, plus breastbands for the women) before Pharnox reappears with a few guards to escort them into the presence of their betters...
*****
In the villa:
Led through the rock tunnels of the ludus, and up a set of rough-hewn spiral stairs, you emerge to witness your first view of the palatial villa that exists above: floors, walls, and ceilings of polished black marble, with fluted columns and mosaic-tiled pools. Colourful silks drape from the walls and between pillars, and here and there are dotted life-sized bronze statues on black marble plinths, each one depicting an athletic nude figure posed dramatically and wielding gladiatorial weapons. Good-looking, collared, surface-world slaves of various races (clad in little more than yourselves) bearing bowls of food or amphorae of wine glide between guests to offer repast or refill proffered goblets. For their part the guests stand talking and laughing in small groups, or lounging on cushion-strewn couches. Pharnox indicates for you to line up along one wall, facing into the room, and the bustle of conversation soon dies down as the guests notice your arrival and begin to drift over. Loscivia herself glances over and gestures towards you all,
‘Honoured guests, please, take a closer look at the recruits you’ve seen fight today. I’m sure you’ll agree that there’s at least one or two future champions amongst them. I wouldn’t presume to tell such pillars of the community as yourselves your business, but...’ she smiles a wide smile and inclines her head in a less-than-sincerely humble bow, ‘... I for one doubt that the price of hiring such stock is likely to go down...’
The guests laugh at Loscivia’s comments, even as they move close to look over the... ‘stock’... as Loscivia so eloquently put it, talking amongst themselves and about you, rather than to you...
... After a while, the handsome drow man clad in the toga of pink and red silks (the one who retorted to Segovax’s buxom admirer at the start of the fight) speaks up,
‘It seems clear that the two to watch are the daughter of Flauros,’ he gestures towards Nathrae, and receives many nods and comments of agreement from his fellow guests, ‘and the brute,’ he indicates Segovax... then rolls his eyes as the buxom drow lady squeals with delight and claps her hands together. Moving quickly on, he turns to Loscivia, ‘It would certainly retain my interest to see these two matched...’
Loscivia smiles,
‘Of course. If you wish to hire them for your House’s upcoming games, then I’m sure we can...’
The man shakes his head,
‘Oh no... any such business can wait. I was suggesting we see them paired here, tonight, in a more... sensual... context...’
There’s the briefest of pauses as Loscivia’s smile momentarily fades, but it quickly returns as she inclines her head slightly once more,
‘Well then,’ she replies, her tone measured, ‘I’ll leave you in the more than capable hands of my daughter,’she indicates Ilvaria, ‘whilst I attend to more... mundane... business.’
As Loscivia takes her leave, the toga-clad man moves to Ilvaria’s side,
‘Well then, First Daughter,’ his tone is just shy of mocking as he addresses her, ‘how shall we pair the others?’
Ilvaria seems lost in thought for a moment as she scrutinises you all, then cautiously starts to reply,
‘Well... Lorelei and Kyzrak...’ she begins, but is interrupted as the toga-clad man pantomimes a yawn,
‘Oh... how very pedestrian...’ he comments loudly... Ilvaria scowls, but quickly recovers, as she continues,
‘... would, of course, be of no interest... so... Lorelei and... Ivan,’
‘The dwarf?’ the toga-clad man exclaims, even as there are a few disgusted gasps from the crowd, ‘How grotesque! I love it!’
Smiling at the praise, Ilvaria throws caution to the wind as she presses on,
‘Jade with Radric... and Hull...’ the toga-clad man beams, and laughter ripples through the other guests. Ilvaria’s eyes come to rest on Kyzrak, and she concludes, ‘... and him... I’ll take care of privately...’
‘Marvellous!’ declares the toga-clad instigator of the idea... but Pharnox steps forward, barely concealed anger on his face, to address his sister in a harsh whisper,
‘Ilvaria! Stop this! These are gladiators, warriors, not... not your playthings! I won’t let you...’
He trails off as Ilvaria rounds on him furiously,
‘You won’t what? Brother...’ she fairly spits the word, as if it were the lowest of all insults. Pharnox winces, but bites his tongue, as Ilvaria gives a snort of indignation, ‘Oh, fine!’ she declares, turning towards you all, ‘But for all you know, brother dear, you’re precious fighting stock will happily volunteer...’
As they are bathed and left alone the only thing Ivan mutters when the halfing is near is
Dangit, ye didn't have ta kill her did ye she was the only decent one o' that lot by me reckoning.
Ivan wears the same scowl he had in the arena, though for all everyone else knows that's the normal facial expression all dwarves wear.
ye got te be kidin' me. Fightin' an' killin' is one thing. But this is bloody disgusting. Dangit
Ivan would play along, though he doesn't show much enthusiasm
Lorelei cannot keep a look of total disgust from crossing her face as she looks at the dwarf after hearing the First Daughter's orders. I cannot believe she is telling me to debase myself by having relations of any kind with a DWARF?! I would love to throw a ball of protoplasm in her face for even suggesting such a thing, but if the guests are not pleased, then surely they will report to Loscivia and I could end up punished.
So fearing punishment, Lorelei will indulge in the guest's whims, though she will insist on being on top since she refuses to be beneath such a lowly creature. She will also indulge in some castings of dancing lights and prestidigitation to highlight her spectacular body and does her best to ignore what it is that she is having sex with.
The cheering crowd puts a genuine smile on Nathrae's face. It's only when Loscivia calls for an end to the spectacle that she snaps to attention. She humbly accepts the praise heaped upon her by those who admired her performance, but walks up to Segovax's side as the gladiators start being led away for the post-combat celebration.
"Flauros respects those who dare his fiery wrath, Segovax. Well done." She says in Undercommon. She knows the half-orc can't really understand her, but at least the hand charged with healing energy on his arm could get her point across.
She gives him a thumbs up as his burns heal instantly. She also takes the time to look him over as she walks back to the communal pool... trying not to be caught staring.
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Once everyone is clean, oiled up and dressed, Nathrae takes her place against the wall of the lavish room. She gives a slight nod and smirk at those who have taken the most notice of her performance in the arena.
It's only when the nobles propose pairing (or, in one case, a three-way match, so to speak) them off that she lets her composure slip. The idea of bedding Seg in front of all the guests gives her butterflies in her stomach, and Ilvaria's suggestion, coupled with the idea of Lorelei... ugh, coupling... with the dwarf makes her cringe, but seeing her take to it gives Nathrae more resolve.
With that, she practically jumps on Segovax...
...and gives it her all.
Where once the thought of such a tryst would have been abominable and anathema to her and her kind, her new demonic patron Secothbenoth would delight in such a display. She writhes appreciably with Radric, being seen to enjoy the tryst...
Well, this was something Nathrae wasn't used to. While she occasionally enjoyed the company of one of House Caldrana's slaves after a particularly good year, the experience wasn't nearly as entertaining--all they ever did was lie back and let her have her way with them.
This was decidedly different--power. Endurance. Sheer enthusiasm. Nathrae does her best to match Segovax, grinding, sweating, even going so far as to bite his shoulders & neck and claw at his back. By the time the two are finished, she's shuddering and gasping in pleasure, still coming down from her last peak.
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Seeing an opening as Chao struggles to her feet, he darts his knife in and slices her across her abdomen. She falls to the ground, her entrails spilling out of her. Thankful that Dron had been disposed of by his allies, he turns to Loscivia for the thumbs-down. Seeing it, he grabs Chao by the hair and lifts her head. He could tell she was still breathing, although she wouldn't be for much longer even if he let her lie. This was the part he'd been dreading. Killing is one thing, but killing helpless victims for no reason was quite another. His patron would not approve, and he'd have to pray for forgiveness later. He hopes that, since he had little choice in the matter, She would understand. He opens Chao's throat and lets the body drop to the greasy sand.
*****
The events following the battle passed in a blur. Pharnox recognized his prowess, some accolades were showered on the group (mostly on Nathrae and Segovax), and they were cleaned up and led around. Before he knows it, he's on display before some nobles being told he's to engage in a ménage-a-trois with Hull and the female half-orc. Silently, he groans. He doesn't relish the thought of sharing a partner, even with another halfling. Worse, she's bigger than both of them. He looks over at Lorelei, who's being paired with the dwarf. Why, oh why, couldn't that have been me? He'd never been jealous of a dwarf before, and finds himself wishing, for the first time in his life, he hadn't been born so small. He does his best to enjoy himself with Jade (mostly pretending Hull isn't with them), if only for the sake of the show.
Well, that went easily enough; maybe I have a future in Father's footsteps after all, Hull thought as he bathed. All of a sudden, he heard the male half-orc addressing him. "Gratitude is unnecessary. Victory is all that matters, and we were more likely to achieve it with that spell on you than on someone else.".
Later, when he finds out he will be "performing" with the other halfling and Jade, he decides to make the best out of the situation. Apparently, it shows.
Kyzrak ground his teeth as Vors avoided his planned demise. A sidelong glance at the balcony told him what he wanted to know - their patrons were not impressed. As the match was called, he stood back, not even having worked up a sweat with his paltry performance. To his relief, the crowd (and Loscivia) didn't seem as disgusted with him as with Ivan and Vors. I'd best up my game in our next bout, or I may share Vors' fate, he thought angrily, scowling at the Taldan as he was dragged off screaming. That is definitely not the plan.
Still, his perversely good humor couldn't be suppressed for long, and he was no longer frowning by the time they were done bathing. He spared a moment to give a nod of respect to Nathrae and Segovax, whose performance had made the crowd scream with glee. Dangerous foes, should we be pitted against each other.
***
When Ilvaria paired off the recruits, it was all Kyzrak could do not to laugh out loud. The expressions on their faces... priceless! Instead he managed to contain himself to a wide smirk and a quiet chuckle as his fellows approached their duty with a wide variance of enthusiasm. He quickly swallowed his open amusement when Ilvaria picked him aside from the rest. It wouldn't do for her to think he was laughing at her! A chance to make an impression! Don't screw this one up, Kyzrak. Gladiators have much more enjoyable lives than fleshcrafted horrors. Flexing his muscles ever so slightly, he padded obediently after Ilvaria when she came to lead him away.
To Ivan's luck and pleasant surprise, he decided the elf woman wasn't to bad.
bah, no dwarf that's fer sure. But she ain't to bad at what she does. Maybe if there was a nice little beard... THE BLOODY HELL AM I TALKIN' BOUT DANGIT! YE DURNED FOOL OF A DWARF IVAN.
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Nathrae and Segovax’s enthusiastic exertions soon get the crowd worked up enough to abandon the usual carefully crafted social thrusts and parries of quip and witty observation and beautifully barbed not quite insult that pass between drow peers, to instead shout out bawdy encouragement to the couple (as if they needed it... ), pour wine over the entwined embodiments of physical perfection and (for a few of the more daring) take the opportunity to even (with Ilvaria’s readily granted permission) touch the gladiators themselves...
The guests observing Lorelei and Ivan are a little more refined, as the comments bounce between open and lustful appreciation of Lorelei (a particularly gorgeous individual, even amongst a race of beautiful people), and hilarity at Ivan’s demonstration of ‘typical dwarven technique’... ...
Those watching the ménage-à-trois seem to shift between confusion, delighted enlightenment, and general amusement... and soon wagers are being made and coin exchanging hands as the guests try to predict who will be doing what to whom and in what position...
The instigator of the lewd demonstrations – the toga clad drow man – seems genuinely delighted by all the displays, moving between them, calling out praise and appreciation, and encouraging the ‘performers’ and audience both.
Ilvaria waits around long enough to make sure that the guests... and the toga-clad man in particular... are satisfied, that the food and wine are plentiful and flowing, that music is playing and everyone is well attended and enjoying themselves... then crooks her finger towards Kyzrak and leads the way to her private chambers...
Over the course of the evening, the gladiators (although occupied) have the opportunity to make some observations of the guests, maybe put names to faces, and generally try to get a sense of how things are...
The remainder of the two dozen guests are either minor members of noble Houses, or wealthy common drow – in either case, the type of people who may not be in a position to sponsor games themselves, but whose words tend to find the ears of those who do... Segovax’s buxom fan is amongst the latter type: a wealthy breeder of riding lizards for the elite, who goes by the name ‘Adindra’ who, by the sounds of things, is a keen fan of the games (and the men who play them – the bigger and more brutish, the better, to her tastes...).
Meanwhile...
‘Mother reserves all the guards for her own use, you see,’ she comments to you as you accompany her, clearly not bothered at the idea of being overheard, ‘but wouldn’t be seen dead with a mere slave... although,’ she adds, pausing thoughtfully for a moment as you reach the intricately carved ebony door to her private rooms, ‘come to think of it, there are seldom any slaves that... pretty...’ she smiles at you through thick lashes as she pushes open the door and heads in.
While well-furnished – with a carved wooden four-poster bed complete with silk sheets and drapes, an ornate dressing table (strewn with cosmetics and perfumes) with a large silver mirror, several chests for clothes (and lockboxes for jewellery) and, through a open doorway, what looks to be a private bathing pool – it still somehow seems more Spartan than, perhaps, the girl’s personality would suggest. As you close the door, Ilvaria moves over to the bed, kneels down...
... then stands and turns, two wooden practice swords in her hands. The seemingly casual sensuality to her poise and movements is gone, metamorphosed into a dangerous grace as she adopts a stance which suggests more training than you’d have expected and tosses one of the sword to you, keeping the other held in a basic swordsman’s grip in her own hand.
‘Now,’ she declares firmly, ‘whilst the rest of the household is distracted, we’ve got a chance to practice...’ her eyes narrow as her voice adopts a threatening tone, ‘... you understand that if you tell a soul about this I’ll have to kill you, yes?,’ she waits a moment for your acknowledgement , before nodding, a determined look on her face, and stepping into a beginners series of cuts and thrusts...
... Hours later, and you’re both exhausted – Ilvaria proving quite a skilled pupil, physically weak, but nimble, dextrous... and quite determined. Replacing the practice swords in their hiding place under her bed, she turns back to you,
‘Not a word, Kyzrak – to anyone – understand? Feel free to imply we had a romantic liaison, but confirm nothing... tell people I’d kill you if you gave details... which is, after all, true...’
Suddenly she smiles, standing on tip-toes to plant a kiss on your cheek, before moving to the door – seemingly the embodiment of decadent excess once more – and patting you a swat on the rear with her hand as she ushers you out...
Hours later the revelry has finally died down. Kyzrak is ushered back to join the rest of the group by a tired but satisfied looking Ilvaria, and the guards escort you back down stairs... away from the opulence of the villa, to the grim stone of the ludus...
... although some things have changed, as you’re led, not to the stinking, cramped, recruits’ cage, but to the communal dormitories of the gladiators. Here there are several rooms off one central corridor, each looking to house two or three, with raised stone shelves with straw pallets for sleeping, bowls for washing and buckets for waste, and even small wooden chests for a few personal items near each bed. The barred metal doors, of course, lock from the outside, but no-one seems to have bothered to do so. It’s not the heady heights of the private cells reserved for the ludus champions... at least, not yet... but it’s a definite improvement. Several of the other gladiators (those who didn’t face you in the demonstration) approach to offer congratulations... although several more just try to ignore you all and remain asleep. Ragnar and Narsius are absent, but you do spot Aspexia lying face-first atop her bed in one room, alone, her naked back cross-hatched with fresh red welts from a recent whipping...
‘Find a bed,’ one of your guard escort orders, ‘sleep... don’t cause any trouble.’ He reaches into a belt pouch and pulls out a handful of silver coins, which he passes out to you: twenty each to Nathrae and Segovax, and ten each to the rest of you, ‘Compliments of Ilvaria,’ he explains, ‘in appreciation of your... performances tonight...’ He turns to go, but a whispered comment from one of his fellows causes him to pause, take something from the man, then turn to Hull and pass him... his pet armadillo! ‘Your responsibility,’ the guard mutters, then heads off...
It's obvious to anyone watching her that observing the guests hadn't even crossed Nathrae's mind. She's too busy bringing herself to climax over... and over... and over again. Let the politics fall by the wayside--she is so far beneath the nobles that she hardly even matters. In this case, literally.
She does get the sense, however, that she is, perhaps, one of a few slaves really enjoying themselves here.
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Hours later, reeking of wine, sweat and sex, she walks with the other gladiators back to the ludus, her head held high. She takes the money offered to her by the guard with a grateful nod.
She does share whatever room Lorelei picks, flopping onto the straw mat and staring at the ceiling with a giddy grin. What can she say--she's a simple woman, with simple tastes.
She glances over at Lorelei, her grin still on her face. "Well... that was... a workout, wasn't it?"
Lorelei manages to keep her face pleasant looking during the rest of the evening at the villa, though she does not offer much in the way of conversation as she is still inwardly seething about having to have relations with a dwarf in front of everyone.
On the way back down the the ludus, she glares angrily over at Ivan a few times, but remains silent. Lorelei is pleased when they reach the ludus and discover their upgraded rooms. Ignoring the other gladiators offering their compliments, she will enter the first room she comes to and takes a bunk, laying face down on it and not really caring at the moment who else chooses to enter and be roommates with her.
After Nathrae speak, Lorelei looks over to her, glad at least to have a decent roommate. "The fight was definitely a workout. What happened after though...."
Lorelei gives a full body shudder as she thinks about it. "I cannot believe what the first daughter ordered. I mean seriously, forced to be with a dwarf. In front of all those people? I will never live down this humiliation, not even if I manage to fulfill my contract."
Lorelei compulsively casts Prestidigitation upon herself several times.
Nathrae's face falls. "Yes, I noticed... though, for what it's worth, you performed admirably." She says, looking down at the mat. She's still trying to catch her breath.
After Lorelei starts casting her Prestidigitation spells, Nathrae sits up, watching the magic work. Soon enough, Lorelei's skin bears no evidence whatsoever of the whole affair. "Would you mind sending a couple of those spells my way? Please?" She asks, nodding at her wine-stained (among other things) body, looking a bit sheepish.
Lorelei gives a little sniff. "Of course I performed admirably, regardless of the undesirable circumstances."
Looking over at Nathrae and feeling a brief and unfamiliar jolt of sympathy, Lorelei will do as she asked. "There, though now that we are clean, I think I should take of this bedding as well, no telling who has been on it before us."
Soon enough, Lorelei and Nathrae are both cleaned and pleasantly scented, as is their bedding.
Nathrae sighs as she feels Lorelei's magic get to work, scrubbing her clean. "My thanks." She smiles, crossing her legs and leaning back.
After a couple more castings, their bedding is more pleasant to sit on than before. "Ahh..." Nathrae lies down on her bedding, looking at the ceiling.
"It's better than what I had before I came here..."
can it be?! IT IS! Pure stone! No sand, no blood, sweat or droppins' of gods knows what!
Ivan runs to the nearest "bed" and brushes the straw away onto the floor.
bloody nuisance and pesky durned straw. Naught but ichtin' an' a scratchin' bring ye.
He will then sit and play with the silver in his hand. Letting the feel of it return to him.
not gold,no. But its a durned good start.
He will sit there running his fingers over the silver and listening for any conversation he can overhear.
"I had much better than this once, but my stupid family couldn't even pull off a coupe against another noble house. So I am here instead of being just outright killed instead. Though at least if I were dead I wouldn't have been forced to have sex with a..a..dwarf."
Lorelei shudders again at the memory of it and looks over at Nathrae. "I'd like to see that oh so important first daughter suffer a little humiliation for her stupid idea."
Lorelei looks at Nathrae carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. This could be very bad for me if Nathrae turns out to be a tattler...
"I had much better than this once, but my stupid family couldn't even pull off a coupe against another noble house. So I am here instead of being just outright killed instead. Though at least if I were dead I wouldn't have been forced to have sex with a..a..dwarf."
Nathrae's expression gradually turns serious as she looks Lorelei over. The memory of her and the dwarf together wasn't a pleasant one for her either. "I'm not surprised--I don't think you reached climax once the whole evening. At least the male would have been more bearable." Nathrae turns one palm upward, her hand glowing a soft orange. "Did it hurt? Physically, I mean?"
"I'd like to see that oh so important first daughter suffer a little humiliation for her stupid idea."
Nathrae's hand stops glowing and she leans forward. She smiles.
"I imagine many here would agree with you." She whispers, looking Lorelei intently in the eye. "Myself included."
As you talk Ivan chuckles to himself.
oy, tweren'nt much easier on me ye durned elf.
A smirk grows on his face
In undercommom.
oy! I know it was amazing fer yeself and all, but ye ain't got to speak in some fancy words I don't understand just te tell others how amazing a dwarf is! It might make em a wee bit jealous. Everyone saw how much fun ye had ain't got te rub it in there faces lass! BWAHAHA!
A secret training bout? Even the knowledge that Lascivia would likely kill him for it couldn't stem Kyzrak's mirth. So Ilvaria thought she could learn to fight from her mother's slaves, eh? And if she was happy enough with the results, there might be a place on her staff for an old mentor... Risky, but then, he was a gladiator. What wasn't?
Besides, refusing would not only be less fun, it would likely see him killed.
With a grin and a gesture inviting Ilvaria to attack, he began to set her through the steps he himself had been taught long ago, before his abrupt removal from his House. All the same, he couldn't resist teasing the drow woman a little, finding excuses to press his flesh to hers.
Lodged in the cell beside the other drow (the better to overhear any plotting), Kyzrak whistled a jaunty tune as he lay with his arms crossed behind his head. He noted the passing of the dwarf and one of the orc-bloods, but his mind was elsewhere as he imagined grandiose destinies of his own... until the dwarf spoke up.
Then he couldn't resist a chuckle and leaning against the wall to watch the conversation play out! "That must have been a sight to see," he said with a cheery grin, not elaborating on whether he meant because of Lorelei's beauty or the grotesquerie of her pairing with Ivan.
In an unprecedented feat for a drow, Lorelei's faces a bright red in a combination of embarrassment and anger as she hears the dwarf speaking in undercommon.
"Amazing?! The only thing amazing was that I didn't kill you afterwards for touching me. From here on out, you just keep your hands off of me, you damn, dirty dwarf!"
Lorelei flips over onto her stomach and sobs into her mattress.
Nathrae shoots a quick glare out the cell door in the direction of the dwarf's voice. She opens her mouth to retort, but is cut off by Lorelei's outburst.
Seeing Lorelei crying into her mattress is... something new, certainly. Seeing such a strong female before her breaking down makes Nathrae bite her lip in discomfort.
Oh... how am I supposed to deal with this?
She tentatively reaches out and touches Lorelei's hand.
"How badly did it hurt?" Her hand is once again enveloped in a soft orange glow.
Lorelei sniffles and looks up at Nathrae, still speaking in Elven since no one else but the drow have shown any sign of being able to speak it.
"Apparently dwarves are broad everywhere. It was twice as wide as any drow male I've ever been with. I don't even know how I managed to get it in."
Lorelei moves back up into a sitting position to talk with Nathrae. "The humiliation still hurts worse than any ache from the act though."
Nathrae looks down at Lorelei's loincloth briefly before looking back into her eyes. She offers the sorceress a sympathetic look.
"At least I can help with the aches." Her glowing hand gently clasps Lorelei's, letting a surge of healing warmth flow into her.
"How does that feel?" Nathrae asks, her power spent.
After his less then stellar performance, Hull takes the money he is offered, collects Rich, and heads to find a room that is currently unoccupied. He curls up with Rich and tries to go to sleep.
[ignore if cannot use untrained]
with Rann
Crocus is exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally - she barely has any idea of what is going on around her, either with her fellow slaves or their captors.
She apologizes to the two halflings for her inability to get "in the mood" appropriately, but hopes she at least caught the attention of her fellow Silken Sinner - taking care to make lewd gestures and subtle murmurings at the most perverse and untoward moments.
Upon receipt of her useless silver Crocus stows it in her breastband, then takes her place on the floor of a cell with Ivan. She takes the straw he disdains and attempts to make a small nest/mat to lie in and on.
The upper world is gone to her now, the dappled shade and twilight of the forest a mere memory. She is in a new world now. And it will see her rise.
Ivan eyes the orc as she walks in, and makes a nest of sorts to sit upon.
in under-common
Not that I don't enjoy the company, but wouldn't ye have a better time with that orc rager... what did they call em.. ah! Sevogax I'm thinkin'.
he then takes a moment to regard Segovax
in common
we were jus' talkin' 'bout how amazing dwarves are at the act me boy. I think I was a wee bit big! she could barely walk! BWAHAHAHA I think they were discussin' it a moment ago.
[ooc]Yep, that did it.[\ooc]
A look of pure fury comes over Lorelei's face as she hears the dwarfs latest comment. She gets off her bunk rather stiffly and with her hands clenched in fists, she marches out of her cell and into the dwarfs, not even paying attention to anyone else.
Designing to speak in common to ensure that there is no misunderstanding. "Do not ever speak of me in such a fashion and never speak of that act again!" Lorelei will then slap the dwarf across the face and stalk back to her bed if no one stops her.
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The effort of putting on a good show takes its toll on Radric's senses, and he remains completely oblivious to the social/political intricacies of their audience. He does notice that the nobles don't speak the grunts and growls of the guards and slavemasters, but a more civilized tongue that sounds suspiciously like that of the surface elves. A bit ironic, that.
He takes the silver and better quarters offered to him later eagerly, and the approval of the older gladiators with grace. He talks with those who will talk back, trying to make some friends around the place. Without any other distractions, he doesn't fail to notice some of the things that had changed among their little group-- Lorelei had not taken well to her tryst with the dwarf (Thank Sarenrae!), and seemed to resent him. The other drow female and the big half-orc looked like young lovers, at least as much as the stoic tower of a creature could look like a lover. The drow male had been led off by Ilvaria... for what, goddess only knew, but Radric could guess. For himself, he was no longer sure what to think about Crocus, and couldn't quite get a read on her either.
"Open your eyes, stoneskull," he says to Ivan. "She hated it. None of us had any choice, but I wouldn't brag about it or she'll hate you too. In that arena we're supposed to have each other's backs... you don't want more enemies than you've already got."
EDIT: He could hardly get the words out of his mouth before Lorelei came storming over. "Whoops... Too late."
Crocus will watch the drow minx's performance and physical strike on the dwarf with dull interest.
Then she will roll over, and over her shoulder comment:
"Well, that was her climax Ivan."
Ivan's eyes Widen when the drow stalks into the room.
common
Uh-oh, I think I found a button.
WHAM
as she walks off Ivan yells back, still rubbing his cheek.
WOOO Now we're talkin'! Feisty! ya know, I actually like that!
after a moments thought.
And don't ye worry, I won't let anyone know ye enjoyed relations with a dwarf! Think O' that as an offerin' of..... acquaintanceship.
he looks too Crocus and murmurs quietly.
Aye. That it be lass.
He then beckons Radric to come close as he can and mutters.
Aye, I know. But I want most of them guards and upper elflings to think o' me as nothin' but a dry, harsh, dwarf. Ifin' ye'd believe that and not let any o' them know.
Ivan rubs his cheek again.
Convincing her of that now though may be difficult... Ah well. He passes the halfing a wink and lets out a chuckle.
then, takes up a dwarvish song, in his native tongue.
Tap all caskets and find us your stash
Who calls the round? Whose wallet is heavy?
How many pints can this tummy here levy?
Beer, cider, spirits and ales
Listen to the drunk dwarf tell his tall tales
Loosen your belts, cups in the air
The liquor flows free and the barrels won’t care
And all call:
O, ho, finish in one
Down, down
Until it’s all gone!
Hoorah!
Pour another cup, mine appears to be dry
Don’t say there’s no more or a dwarf might cry
All sing along now and sway side to side
No single voice is too ugly to hide
Cheer all ye up, no reason to look grim
There’s no need for dwarven waistlines to be slim
Never mind the weak-stomached one’s snore
Full round bellies make grave spirits soar!
And all call:
O, ho, finish in one
Down, down
Until it’s all gone!
Hoorah!
By Brodon’s beard, another two glasses
Didn’t those bosoms just grow on them lasses?
Sweet lady friend mine, won’t you join me?
My lap is empty and the brandy’s for free
Sorry love, didn’t mean to be rude
No telling the stories when a dwarf’s in the mood
But truth be told I’d not ever chose you
Over a pint of my sweet sacred brew
And all call:
O, ho, finish in one
Down, down
Until it’s all gone!
Hoorah!
Was that a pink elephant that just flew past?
Funny the shadows that cider kegs cast!
Pardon that noise, didn’t mean to offend
There’s no hic-up a bloody good belch won’t mend
Laughing eyes wat’ry and heads a’ swimming
Look at your red nose dwarf! And stop that grinning!
We’ll stack them mugs unto the ceiling
Of their seats the dwarves are keeling
And all call:
O, ho, finish in one
Down, down
Until it’s all gone!
Hoorah!
song comes from- Adrian H. Wood
then lets out a hearty goodnight and lays down for some sleep.
Nathrae follows and watches Lorelei slap the crude dwarf in the face with a smile. Between her healing spell and the dwarf being put in his place, it brought her some semblance of comfort.
"Feel better?" She asks Lorelei in Elven when she returns.
"A little bit, yeah. Thanks for following me in there. Though now it sounds like he is trying to croak out a song in his coarse language. Ugh, how are we supposed to get any slap tonight?"
Lorelei lays back on her bed with her hands over her ears.