Cold blue light suffuses the Baroness's audience chamber, seeping from braziers filled with incense. Demonic visages, chiseled from black and crimson stone, leer from all angles at the room's occupants. The Baroness lounges on her throne in the center, flanked by a pair of stern guards. Below, the sounds of the kobold slaves of Vothys toiling in the pits mingles with the occasional yowl of a shaokyri, a drow hunting leopard.
The Baroness dresses in glittering mithral chain mail, with black metallic boots, gauntlets, and corset. Her enchanted blade, Khazid'hea, leans against the throne, softly glowing with pale light. Behind her are her advisers, Tethyr Quoll, the captain of the guard, and Andaria, the Baroness's lesser-born half-sister and resident poison expert. A handful of simpering nobles stand and sit around the room, fellow exiles from Taaryssia, watching adopted children of the Baroness with interest. Amongst them, somewhere unseen, is the Baroness's assassin, Zethra Morgus.
“I have an errand for you," The Baroness begins, the trace of a smile showing on her face. "The svirfneblen quarrytown of Fasturvalt has two things I desire – stone and slaves. You will seize them for me. I have assembled an army of a hundred fine warriors. I put them under your command. That should be more than enough soldiers to brush aside their pitiful defenses. Even better their ruler, Lord Geirni, is a simpleton who believes he can placate us with treaties and supplications."
"My generosity does not cease there. I have gift for you. These jewels summon forth elementals from the Plane of Fire for about a minute I’m told. You can either shatter them and command the elementals directly or set them as traps. Amusing little toys to be sure. Use them to burn the gnomish armory. The potions will keep you in good health. See how much I care for you, my children,” she says with a smirk. A pampered courtier presents you with a small chest containing three fist-sized rubies and three potions.
"This errand should be simple enough even for you. Do this and return to me. Unless you have any questions, you are dismissed."
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Siobhan, leading the way as always, curtsies gracefully to her 'aunt', hoping that all her siblings have retained enough sense to do the same. "Your generosity is great indeed my Lady Baroness. We shall follow your orders with all the ability at our command."
Knowing full well that their aunt lacks both patience and subtlty Siobhan simply curtsies again and begins to back away down the audience hall. "Hurk'kagg, get the box!" she snaps, praying that her siblings agree that questions at this point will simply make them look weak.
Once outside the audience chamber she turns and signals rapidly to the rest. Practise ground. Speak privately. Now!
Arcavic, standing a step behind and to the left of his sister, Siobhan, bows at the same time she curtsies. He allows her to speak to the Baroness, since he always seemed to say exactly what was needed to aggravate the woman. He bowed as he left the room, and followed Siobhan out. At her signal, he began moving towards the practice ground, stretching his arms and shoulders as he did so, as though preparing for a workout.
Pretending to listen to the Baroness yammer on, T'unavor's eyes flick back and forth between her and Andaria. He'd never been entirely sure what to think of her - she's still alive, but she can't be that competent or the siblings would have all died of a mysterious illness years ago. Besides, she smells like perfume.
At the 'gifts', his eyes narrowed slightly. Still he made a half-hearted bow and swept out of the room - nodding at his sister and turning to take a more circuitous route to the practice ground.
Lahrehn was towards the middle of the group when listening to the Baroness. It wasn't hard for him to focus, but yet his presence was unnerving to most people but the other Vytharia. Even though none of his mutations were visible most of the time - as this exact moment - yet, any drow would feel the influence of fleshwarping upon the crazy dark elf.
When she finished debriefing the mission, Lahrehn let the others speak, as usual. He'd expect his sisters to speak, as supposed, and then politely greet the Baroness and silently remove himself from her presence. His movements didn't carry any hidden meaning and were truly perfect in a sense of respect; yet, the stigma of his insanity would innundate the room as a pale and saddening aura, making hard to concentrate.
After leaving the room, he simply followed with the others. While crossing the bystanders and guards, he'd look them deeply in the eyes, with a sad expression, as if draining their very souls. Internally, he was disappointed with potential being wasted. Extra arms, eyes and ears would make them much better defenders of the underground realms.
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Marching down to the practise ground without glancing either left or right Siobhan looks every inch the drow noble, or at least, she hopes she does. Her dress is long and flowing in the current fashion but lacks the plunging neckline favoured by the Baroness and many other highborn women. Instead Sio had opted for a narrow waist and a long leg slit only - exposing smooth skin but not actually showing anything. The narrow black band, chased with gold around her throat helps to highlight the curve of her neck and her dark hair is pinned high on her head to complement this.
When the siblings meet on the practise ground, Siobhan immediately sits down on a bench to make it harder for any spy to make out what she was saying as she gestures her siblings in around her. Taking a moment to rearrange her skirts she cant help but reflect for a moment. We've all come so far. So much survived and we are stronger for it - this is the opportunity we've been waiting for.
Once everyone is gathered around she speaks, quietly, now that they have this mission everything she is about to suggest is treason - not that that's unusual in itself but extra care should always be taken in adverse circumstances.
"This is it sisters and brothers. This is our chance. Our dear Aunt" the last words drip with more venom then Lahrehn after an accident in T'unavor and Sorala's workshop. "has just given us everything we could possibly need. An excuse to leave the city, a place rich in resources and slaves, and an army to take it! This is almost too perfect - which worries me. The Baroness must have an angle here, one more complex than simply what she said in the throne room. It is a test at least, but a test of our loyalty or of our resourcefulness? That is the question." She pauses, looking around each of her siblings and finally at Hurk'kagg, who looms over her slight form even more now that she is sitting.
"We need to make a show of following her orders, but we will also need to secure our own position. Firstly that will mean taking effective control of those hundred warriors. Arcavic, Hurk'kagg; the two of you should be able to take on any of her soldiers if it comes to a contest of strength. That means we simply need a general. Sisters - will any of you take this role?" She looks at Sh'assaria particularly, she's always been the most martial of the sisters and Ssarilla's unique skills might not be looked on kindly. "As for the rest of us, what else do we need to cover? We all have our own talents - how are we going to make a success of this and what do we need to know?" She looks around again, holding each persons eyes in turn "This will be the biggest heist we've ever pulled - we do it right."
Sh'assaria arrived slightly later than the others, slipping into the hall at the last possible moment. To avoid attracting attention to herself, she remained quiet during the briefing; although she has a few questions for Auntie dearest, but not ones that would be useful to ask ("what's with all this display of generosity?" is right up there, along with "what sort of trap is this?"). She therefore bides her time, watching the old witch carefully to see if she can gauge anything.
Even for a drow, Sh'assaria reads people well.
At the practice ground, she waits; partly for darling Siobhan to stop talking, and partly to see what the others have to say for themselves...
With a sinister grin, Arcavic says, "I have no issue teaching the soldiers their place - and any who think Hurk'kagg here less than them simply because he isn't Drow will have a rude awakening."
"As to what we need to know, I would be unsurprised if the gnome ruler, Lord Geirni, is a far more shrewd and capable ruler than the Baroness has told us. Likely she sends us because she knows there is a trap, and wants to us to either be killed or disgraced. The caution and guidance provided by you, my dear sisters, will be crucial in avoiding such a result."
He speaks the last bit with sincerity - he knows he doesn't have the skill or inclination to see through all of the machinations and webs the Baroness could spin.
Sitting down cross-legged in the dirt, careless of the state it leaves his robes in, T'unavor speaks in a harsh whisper.
"A test? I do not think this is a test - I think this is our dearest adopted mother finally playing her hand. She means to kill us."
Then again, T'unavor always thinks someone's trying to kill them.
"If we die in battle, so much the better, but if not there will be men of hers among the soldiers, trusted men. Arrows and daggers will find our backs in the midst of combat, and I don't doubt there are more layers to this plan. Speaking of, Hurk'kragg - give me the potions. We will see if they are what she said they are."
Un-stoppering them, T'unavor wafts the smell towards him delicately.
Standing before the Baroness the hairy goblin-brute clenches his bear-trap of a jaw as he successfully stifles a yawn.
Mistress woke Hurk'kagg for this? Dokk-elvr talk-talk-talk...
He snaps from his musings as Siobhan orders him to collect the box. Eyes reverently upon the floor, the bugbear lumbers forward and takes the box of gifts.
Gems like blood and things to drink. Nott for me. N'er for Hurk'kagg.
As his mistress and her kin exit, Hurk'kagg watches for any potential threat following her.
Satisfied nothing is forthcoming, the hairy brute reverently retreats - baleful eyes looking to the floor as he does...
As the drow siblings engage in discussion led by Siobhan, the massive guardian stoically waits and listens; When she directly addresses the group, Hurk'kagg innately senses the firebrand tone in his Mistress and unconsciously shuffles back a step.
His ears swivel and perk up at the mention of sowing the seeds of discord and death amongst both the diep gnomiz and dokk elves alike, before meeting Arcavic's unexpected compliment with a toothy grin - it was rare the clinical warrior praised any prowess outwith his own. Hurk'kagg enjoyed the gift, as fleeting as it was.
Galvanised by the passionate plotting the bugbear mulls speaking out, but any words are silenced when the rasping whisper of T'unavor bade him being the potions.
Dutifully (and promptly) he hands the vials to the dangerous poisoner.
At the practice ground, she waits; partly for darling Siobhan to stop talking, and partly to see what the others have to say for themselves...
Sorala keeps to the margins during the Baroness' meeting, flitting through the simpering court, clutching her dirt-streaked dress in her hands. Her friend, Hastur the scorpion, perched on her shoulder, and twittered its legs with excitement.
We'll see the world, dearie! What lovely dark days we will have with your family! Too bad your father couldn't see you now, on the precipice of such a great journey.
The scorpion grew still, statue-like on its perch. Be careful of course. Such magnanimity as your auntie possesses comes with invisible strings...
As the others gathered behind their eldest and left the room, Sorala stepped forward and spoke, her voice soft, almost a whisper.
"Auntie, I have some questions. How many gnomes live in Faustervault? What are their great loves in life, these creatures? I am afraid I've never spoke with one before. What keeps them awake at night, the thing that causes them to stare at the back of their eyelids, sweating under their sheets?"
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T'uavor was always the one that Sorala felt most comfortable with. They did share similar interests after all. Though the girl had no illusions that her brother felt the same. Still, Sorala sat in the dirt next to her brother, petting her friend scorpion as it drew little interconnected circles with its pincers.
The creature started with one, and then another. Seven circles, bound. An eighth, not connected, but nearby.
As it finished the eighth circle, the little creature began to scribble more circles, frantic with its pinchers. Moving quickly around the seven and one, the scorpion soon had the seven and one surrounded. The message was clear to Sorala.
"No doubt Auntie is setting herself up to prosper under many different circumstances. If we attack Faustervault and die, she has ridden herself of an obligation and a potential rival."
"If we succeed, then I fear T'uavor is correct. We will find an assassin - or assassins - in our midst, and someone more... controllable will be instituted to lead Faustervault."
"Of course, we can spoil Auntie's plan. Betray the betrayer. Find our assassins and wipe them from the map."
Running her hand over some of the scorpion's circles, Sorala then pauses before absently wiping her hand on her dress.
"If their leader was not a simpleton, then the end game would simply be our deaths, at the hand of a capable military mind. But I think our Auntie speaks true regarding this Geirni, because I think Aunti was true about her desires. She does want Faustervault. And thus, I think this Geirni can be exploited."
"We should leave the soldiers outside the city, and enter as diplomats. Let's see what this Geirni has to offer us, and probe Faustervault for weakness. If we are successful, Faustervault will open to our armies like a maiden on her wedding's eve."
Ssarilla hardly listened while "aunty" spoke. The moment the hag came within sight mother had started screaming profanities within her mind and it required all her focus to keep herself from uttering.
Mother calmed down a bit the moment they all left the room. She simply mumbled now instead of screaming. It was a welcome change.
"I'd worry if there wasn't at least some trickery involved here." She sits down and starts focusing her will in order to expel mother from her mind.
The moment the phantom arrives in the material world she rambles, "Must kill her. When I get my hands around her throat. Despicable harlot." When she realises she is summoned and sees Ssarilla's eyes fixed upon her she falls silent, instead casting baleful glances in the general direction of the baroness's quarters.
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"Always lovely to see you too Mother." Siobhan responds drily when their youngest sister adds her own personal curse to the conversation.
"So we are agreed that there will be treachery. We must purge the army - ensure we know everything there is to know about each and every one of them. Sh'assaria, this will need to be your job, you are the most perceptive of us all. If anyone can find the loyalists it will be you." The fact that Sh'assaria is the only good Wicked Grace opponent Sio has confirms this fact, the others are too easy to bluff.
"So Sh'assaria you will take control of the army. Arcavic, Lahrehn, Hurk'kagg you go with her. Any trouble or dissent should be dealt with. T'unavor, back them up. We need your mind on this and once the traitors are identified it will be your job to neutralise them."
Re-focusing on her remaining sisters Siobhan takes a moment to pause before speaking. "I think you may well be right Sorala. Entering as diplomats before trying to attack makes good sense for sure. Before that though we need information. I saw you speak to Aunty - we need to take that information and build on it. We need maps of this 'Faustervault', we need maps of the Darklands to get there. The army may also need provisions. This is our job." Her hand wave encompasses herself and her two sisters. "Sorala, follow up on your information. Go to the library - charm, threaten, steal. It doesn't matter how you get the information, just do it. Ssarilla - stay here. We need to have a talk with mother."
As Hurk'kagg stood watching and listening, the massive bugbear idly scratched at a hairy arm crisscrossed with brand marks and old scars.
All the talk of murder and massacres was music to the dread brute's notched ears, but mention of the gnomes was making him hungry...
Licking his drooling chops, he eyes Sorala's little scorpion ritually moving nearby.
Gud eating on big ones. Juicy claw meat... Nott that one. Bad ju-ju.
At The Mistress' orders Hurk'kagg nods reverently, and finally speaks;
"Hurk'kagg deal with truble Mistress. Fear then butcher. I know this."
"Mother" gave Siobhan a vile look as she ordered Ssarilla to stay but quickly fixates her gaze in the baroness' general direction once more.
"You do remember it isn't truly mother, don't you? Not entirely at least. It is but a shred of her consciousness, or subconsciousness more likely." She gave the phantom an appreciative smile though saying it was warm would be wrong. "All that remains of her memories are vague imprints of how they made her feel. The amount of things she truly remembers is minimal."
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Her reasons are crystal clear, sister... - said Lahrehn finally, with his same old inconstant voice - ... Mother didn't hate only the Baroness, you see.
He circles his arms around, while smiling on a sinister fashion.
This thing isn't her, though. It's a fitting afterlife, probably. I'm sure there's a laugh somewhere for us to find.
He gently taps Hurk'kagg on the shoulder. The big creature was, for the twisted fleshwarper, almost as much a brother as the others.
Come, big guy. - he says, and then bows to Sh'assaria, giving his sister passage.
Although he wasn't particularly "close" to any sibling - given the very nature of his fractured mind - he recognized they both had a lot of similarities. They both enjoyed summoning some big hairy fiendish arachnida, for example, although Lahrehn's had a tendency to have human ears, nonfunctional heads and wolf tails.
"Sorala, follow up on your information. Go to the library - charm, threaten, steal. It doesn't matter how you get the information, just do it. Ssarilla - stay here. We need to have a talk with mother."
Laying her hand in the dirt, Hastur nimbly moves up the girl's fingers, then wrist and arm, and perches on Sorala's shoulder.
Twisting her body, Sorala stands in one continuous motion, and walks wordlessly towards the library.
The Baroness regards Sorala cooly before responding. "Our last information regarding Fasturvalt is that it is a small town of no more than 500 gnomes. As to what they fear?" The noble ponders for a moment. "What do all mortals fear? Death. Pain. Loss. Oblivion. These things are the currency of our empire. You should understand how to use them."
One of the many drow secrets in the Upper Azathyr is the knowledge of a minor passage that bypasses the enormity of the bizarre fungal jungle to the east, directly connecting Vothys to the svirfneblin town of Fasturvalt. Without this tunnel, your forces would have to venture into the weird wilderness of the Azathyr and risk its bizarre inhabitants and constant complications.
Your army awaits you on this dark road, called mena doelyn in the Elvish tongue (literally "hidden path"). Its ends sealed by secret doors camouflaged to appear as native stone, the 96-mile path is narrow and cramped, but remarkably cleared of debris and stone, making the journey surprisingly easy for cavern travel.
After several days travel, you arrive at a large cavern attached to the dark road. One hundred drow soldiers camp here, arranged in a loosely-disciplined bivouac. As you enter the cave, a trio of soldiers approach, a sergeant at their front. He bows his head and raises a fist to his heart. "Satha serith azbarial, my ladies and lords. We have awaited your arrival."
Sh'assaria nods back at Lahrehn, acknowledging his unspoken remarks; and at Siobhan. "The Baroness plans to betray us, it's obvious, darling. I don't know how, though. I'd imagine those soldiers have some orders - or the upper command have orders - not to let us survive the fighting."
She looks thoughtful. "Do we kill off the officers in advance and take over, or do we use them and kill them off during the fight?"
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Sh'assaria is glad to get out of Vothys; there are some parts of the Azathyr that she knows, having left it several times on various personal assignments, and her surefootedness on the rough terrain is readily apparent. The rarity of travelling in company (and company that is highly unlikely to betray her) brings a rare smile to her face. "We should do this more often."
At the agreed meeting spot, Sh'assaria steps forward. "Satha serith azbarial, sergeant. Report. What are your numbers, arms, and officers?"
When she meets the upper command, she looks at them closely, trying to gauge their loyalties.
Hurk'kagg lopes alongside Lahrehn, his eyes narrowed as they approach the assembled troops.
His nose wheezes lightly as he sniffs and tastes the air.
Pretty-pretty soldats. Fight pretty too. Not like bugge-beran. We fight ugly.
The hulking goblinoid mugs a needle toothed grin and looks to the male drow for direction.
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Sh'assaria nods back at Lahrehn, acknowledging his unspoken remarks; and at Siobhan. "The Baroness plans to betray us, it's obvious, darling. I don't know how, though. I'd imagine those soldiers have some orders - or the upper command have orders - not to let us survive the fighting."
She looks thoughtful. "Do we kill off the officers in advance and take over, or do we use them and kill them off during the fight?"
"I suggest we leave that for the moment, dearest sister. Let us meet with them and gauge their loyalties before we commit to a course of action. We are are not hot-headed slaves - it may be that loyalties can be bought by means other than blood. I do not intend for all of us to end up in a melee with the army, otherwise what is the point of having them, so we may be able to tempt some of them into over-committing themselves."
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Sh'assaria is glad to get out of Vothys; there are some parts of the Azathyr that she knows, having left it several times on various personal assignments, and her surefootedness on the rough terrain is readily apparent. The rarity of travelling in company (and company that is highly unlikely to betray her) brings a rare smile to her face. "We should do this more often."
Siobhan seems much less keen than her sister on the prospect of doing "this" more often. Despite Hurk'kagg carrying her various goods, mostly valuable clothing, she does not find the journey easy - and clearly relishes the travel far less than some of her siblings. When they reach the meeting point Siobhan stays back and lets Sh'assaria take the lead as they had agreed.
Arcavic finds the journey to the rendezvous point quite pleasant. The armor he'd had stolen from the armory allowed him to easily move, and if it wasn't as sturdy as he preferred, it at least offered fairly good protection. Although he knows some of his siblings are not as pleased about the trek as him, he sees no reason for that to dampen his enjoyment. He will take the time to help along any who need it, however - they are his siblings, after all.
He allows Sh'assaria to take the lead, although he examines the warriors with a critical eye, looking for signs of any who don't seem to be taking their duties seriously.
Moving lithely over the rocky terrain, T'unavor mulled over their predicament. The potions were real, to the best of my knowledge, so the gems, then, are the trap.
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Arriving at the camp along with the rest of him, T'unavor's eyes flicked towards the sergeant before he moved off to the side. Better to walk the camp now, before word filters through that we've formally arrived.
Bowing to her "aunt," Sorala makes her way from the chamber. "I think I understand, Auntie. Thank you for your advice."
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Sorala keeps to the shadows as they make their journey, her feet bare, the woman barely showing any discomfort as she walks.
At the encampment, Sorala watches the sergeant, her head cocked, with great curiosity. He was certainly the first suspect, though if Auntie was a good schemer she'd use someone a little less obvious. Still, due diligence was needed. A promotion was in order upon their demise, perhaps?
"Tell me, sergeant, will you be staying close to us during the fighting?"
Ssarilla had dismissed mother's phantom before they started moving again, knowing it would just put the soldiers off.
When they arrived at the army she just remained silent and just walked along the rows, starting with what appeared to be the officers. Her sisters would do the talking but she'd inspect them.
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Lahrehn stops by Hurk'kagg and Sh'assaria, deeply looking in the eyes of the officers - almost to an uncomfortable level.
The drow doesn't say anything when his siblings question the soldiers, instead preferring to imagine what an full fleshwarped army would be capable of.
"We are one hundred strong. Ten squads of ten, each led by a sergeant like myself. My name is Yazzyr and I am at your service." The sergeant salutes again.
Yazzyr stiffens at Sorala's question; the implication is clear. "I will fight wherever I am commanded, my lady."
Hurk'kagg lurks in the background, his ears twitch at the various speeches and words asked and given, and indigo nose wrinkles as he takes in the numerous scents of the camp.
The brute stifles a relaxed yawn, trying to focus instead on the potential of a signal from one of the siblings to hurt or break someone or something...
Sh'assaria nods in satisfaction, returning to her siblings to make a report. "They are as loyal to Auntie dearest as could be expected." For drow. The caveat is unspoken, but clearly there nonetheless.
She looks thoughtfully at the force at their disposal - disposal being the operative word. Who will be disposing of whom? Plots within plots, wheels within wheels... Time to make sacrifices - or BE the sacrifice. She smiles. It's delightful. "How do we want to do this? More information is always good to have. IF this Geirni is as gullible a fool as Auntie was suggesting, we might be able to parley our way in for a quick looksee, before opening the gate for our troops on the way out."
She delicately wrinkles her nose. "Of course, that assumes that Auntie WAS telling the truth, although I don't exactly fancy trusting my life on that idea."
If I may, dearest... - said Lahrehn, when they left the presence of the soldiers - ... I believe you're right to be concerned. Maybe we could send a scout, somehow? Someone who could maybe take the appearance of the pests, of maybe someone enough stealthy? For the second option, I'd probably send a selected expendable soldier.
He thought for some moments.
As for the first option, maybe T'uvanor has some potion or extract that could allow him something like that?
Arcavic notes the locations of each of the squads, and says, "Tell me, Yazzyr, how experienced are these soldiers? Have they fought many battles?"
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If I may, dearest... - said Lahrehn, when they left the presence of the soldiers - ... I believe you're right to be concerned. Maybe we could send a scout, somehow? Someone who could maybe take the appearance of the pests, of maybe someone enough stealthy? For the second option, I'd probably send a selected expendable soldier.
He thought for some moments.
As for the first option, maybe T'uvanor has some potion or extract that could allow him something like that?
"I will lead a diplomatic mission if that is what we seek. As to a scout - well none of us fit that description so it would have to be a soldier. Ask the sargeant for his recommendation - we will learn about him from his choice whatever the result." Siobhan pauses and the conversation flows past her for a short time.
"I will take Hurk'kagg of course. Arcavic - you will cut a fine figure if we need to negotiate, will you come as well? I think the rest of you would be best placed outside, we won't be able to get a large group inside regardless and I like the idea of leaving the army without supervision very little. Would it be worth offering this little Lord Aunties gems? T'uvanor, what did you make of them? If they are a trap then its better that we not be the ones to trigger it but I'd be loath to give up an advantage if our dear relative is being sincere. Nevertheless we should send out scouts, if we can cause a distraction for them, so much the better. If thye surrender then excellent, if not then we can test our new troops."
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At mention of his name the hairy brute moves to where his Mistress holds centre stage.
As he mulls the words negotiate and diplomatic his ears flatten in a sign of disappointment.
Mistress not saying nice words. Like kill. hurt. maim. skin. She did say cutta-fine-figure...
Hurk'kagg nods silently and grins, then offers further service as he is want to do;
"Mistress. Hurk'kagg can cut gnomiz into fine figures too. Carve any shape you bid."
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Sh'assaria looks doubtfully at the hulking bugbear. "Are you sure you want to take him with you, darling? I mean, he's a malevolent sadist who's committed countless depraved atrocities without fear, conscience or pity out of unthinking, slavish loyalty to you - and our dark Patron knows we could do with a few more minions like that - but his presence doesn't really say 'diplomatic mission,' does it? I doubt he'd know what an envoy was if he picked one out of his teeth."
Transferring her gaze to Siobhan, she switches to their native language.
She delicately represses a shudder.
"I can send mother in. She can easily pass for a ghost if needed. It just means I need to remain hidden at the town's outskirts or risk losing contact." It was a suggestion but even if none approved she'd do it.
"I'd also like to join the meeting. Mother would of course remain bottled up during that."
Her eyes then shifted from Siobhan to Sh'assaria and back.
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"Hurk'kagg knows when to kill and when not to, and if these gnomes are belligerent, or stupid, then he will be our most effective visual deterrent." Her smile as she addresses the bugbear could almost be described as fond, meaning less predatory than usual. "No carving yet Hurk'kagg. I need to talk to them first. If they are fools then you can skin them and carve me some new shapes."
Turning to Ssarilla she continues. "Very well. Will you be able to send mother out to investigate while you come or not? She might gather useful intelligence. Now, anyone else wish to join us?"
After receiving her siblings responses Siobhan nods and looks at her oldest sister. "Watch yourself sister. I may be facing the gnomes, but you face the greater enemy I suspect. For the Patron and Vytharia."
Sorala lingers by her sisters. She wanted, very much, to see this Fastervault, but knew that her place was not in a diplomatic envoy. Sighing, she turned at looked to the army. Where was that sergeant? Perhaps she could whittle away the time terrifying and threatening the man.
"Good luck, sisters and brothers. I'll keep our soldiers company."
Sh'assaria squeezes her eyes shut in disgust.
"I'd rather find some slaves for him indulge his cravings every once in a while."
"Besides, it never hurts to have some variety on hand."
Her smile is absolutely wicked as she finishes, leaving the conversation hanging wide enough for a horde of Driders to pass through.
"Eeeeew - that was a mental image I did NOT need! Bad enough knowing the lesser races exist, without thinking what they get up to! And Sio, darling, there's depraved, and then there's just... tacky. Remember what Mother said: if you want to be a noble, you need to have a little class."
Having said her piece, she nods at Siobhan - "For the Patron and Vytharia" - and goes to make sure the soldiers are ready for the assault.
"As for mother, I think she can walk around while we talk but I'm not quite sure it would be as productive. I can't project my senses to her while we're doing negotiations."
Standing off in the corner, T'unavor rolls his eyes. "A disguise? No, but that will hardly matter if the svirfneblin never see me. As for the gems -" his eyes shift to the soldiers, and he steps closer to the others. "I believe they are trapped, but it is beyond my ability to prove. Trading them may be ill-advised."
"Take Hur'kagg - better to have and not need than need and not have. I will lead the scouts and open the gates; we can all meet in their leader's hut. This would leave Lahren and Sorala with the soldiery - Arcavic, you may wish to stay as well. You have more experience at command than either of them."
"Your soldiers are well-experienced, Darklord." Yazzyr replies. "Seasoned on raids and against the surface and the duergar. They will not disappoint you."
"If I might be so bold, Darkness," he interjects, turning to Siobhan. "Our maps show a cache of supplies in the tunnels south of Fasturvalt. It would seem that a Darklord with visions of conquest left them in case he decided to capture the town. If a diplomatic mission is the decided course of action, perhaps we could send our force to secure them?"
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Siobhan eyes Yazzyr cooly, before turning to Sh'assaria and making a small "your choice" gesture. Having decided that her sister was to be leader of the army Siobhan appreciates the importance of supporting that decision at all times. "My sister is your commander Sargeant, address your suggestions to her."
Before leaving, he will take the time to tell Sh'assaria, "Take care. These soldiers are experienced and well-disciplined, but each squad isolates itself from the others. The squad have spent much time fighting on their own, I would suspect, and may not have great rapport with each other in battle. Perhaps you can find a way to encourage cooperation, sister."
Sh'assaria looks keenly at Yazzyr for a moment, before rolling her bare shouders. "I agree, Sergeant. Make it so. But my brother is correct: the squads must cooperate in the assault, or they will all die separately."
She nods. Time is pressing. "Let us move."