Looking up, Rayka smiles. It will be challenging but she is certain that Obella would be up for the task. A rope thrown down and she'd be able to join her friend.
Rayka breathes deeply, relishing in the wonderful scents. This was the Sothis she knew and loved. She loathes the thought of going back inside but knows that it would be severely frowned upon if she misses the grand entrance of her hosts. She knows she has to make a little bit of an appearance at the party before she's able to disappear again.
Rayka ducks back inside and the clean scents of the high desert are replaced with the smells of a kitchen. Boiling grease, unwashed bodies, baking bread and fresh cut vegetables. She passes through this back into the main room.
The brawler sees the room is far more filled now, many guests must have arrived during her brief look outside. The vast majority of them are Chelish nobles, in various stages of finery. Red cloaks, heavy woolen clothes, glittering jewelry. Some however are Osirions.
Collaborators Rayka thinks to herself.
They seem to be the richest merchants and high placed governmental officials, those who had the most to gain by dancing (literally and figuratively) with the new powers in the land. To Rayka's disdain, they are dressed in the same outlandish and forgien clothes as the occupiers.
Rayka barely has time to register this, when a hole opens in the ceiling. A cunningly hidden trap door opens and a platform begins to descend, right into the middle of the dance floor. There are a few gasps and murmurs from the crowd, presumably from first timer visitors.
Standing on the slowly descending platform are the Lord and Lady Incunus, standing proud and tall. Both are regal as emperors and put the other assembled nobility to shame. The Lord's muscles ripple under what is almost but not quite ceremonial armor, with glittering greaves and arm guards. A massive sword hangs at his waist, and a dagger at his belt. Dark hair slicked back to reveal a strong proud face, eyes hard and cold.
His wife outstrips even him. Her blood red robe is floor length, pristine and blinding in shade. Her exposed neck is snowy white, unlined and strong. She bears no weapons but her hands faintly glow with arcane power, just a hint of the fire concealed beneath. Her hair is wrapped in elaborate folds and swirls, streaked with red dye, as if it were bleeding. Her commanding gaze sweeps the room, lingering on some, passing over others. Whens he spots Rayka she smiles, revealing sharp white teeth.
The platform hits the floor with a loud thump, causing all the magical lamps to jump once. Both Chelish nobles step off and the platform rattles back into the ceiling, hidden from view. Lady Inucus waves her hand and suddenly the room is full of the rich scent of incense and cederwood.
"Greetings, honored guests." She says, voice high and clear. A strangely beautiful voice and yet...artificial. Rayka wonders if it is magically enhanced. "I am pleased, despite certain recent circumstances, that we were able to host this event."
"As some of you may know, one of my trusted servants met his end this morning on the streets of this city. Likely killed by some street thug." However, he cutting eyes scan the crowd. No, she believed the plot had started with someone here.
"Even worse, I myself was attacked yesterday, in broad daylight." She pauses, to allow for the polite gasps and murmurs of astonishment although everyone surely knew that gossip by now. The rites of Chelish polite society seem entrenched.
She waves hand for silence and goes on, "But I was saved, and the method of my saving should give all of us hope. Our mission here is working, our dreams are becoming reality. Civilization and honor are making inroads at last, through our example."
Without warning she points to Rayka and says, 'Come here, child."
Rayka can't decide if she dislikes the occupiers more or the collaborators. She comes to the conclusion that the collaborators hold more of her dislike because they betrayed Sothis by supporting the Chelish. She memorizes as many merchants' faces as she can and plans to tell Anax and the others to see if they could be boycotted somehow after this was all over. Nothing hurt more than taking away what they loved and they obviously loved money because they had sold Sothis out.
As much as she wants to hate every moment of the party, she can't help but admire the show put on by Lord and Lady Iuncus when they appear. She can't even begin to fathom the money a contraption like that cost and then she wonders how often it is actually used. She really can't comprehend the mind set of someone who has so much money that it can be spent on such trivial things without a second thought. It is truly baffling to the brawler. But the display is amazing to say the least and they are most dazzling in their finery. A show of power without drawing a weapon.
Rayka watches the show that is Chelish polite society oooh and aaah and gasp at the appropriate times. A well orchestrated masterpiece with Lady Iuncus as the conductor. But then everything comes to a screeching halt as Lady Iuncus points her finger at Rayka and all eyes turn towards her. The brawler feels like she's been punched in the stomach even though she had expected some sort of public thank you.
Swallowing hard she slowly takes a few steps forward, hoping that this isn't some cruel test that she's about to fail.
Rayka moves forward into the subtle ring of colored light that shines on the Iuncus couple. She feels like a dirty, ill-behaved child standing next to the glowing pair, in her second hand clothes and tanned, callused skin.
As she steps forward the Lady gestures to her, voice rising. "This is my rescuer." There are a few titters of laughter throughout the crowd but the Lady does not join them.
Instead her voice grows stern, "I was not in any real danger of course. My magical prowess is proof against such simple assaults." There is a glow of white light around her as she speaks, growing in intensity until it is like a penumbra of flickering white flame. "But we should take note, my allies. This native was willing to risk her life to save me. Clearly she has understood our mission and our importance to her homeland. Victory over the hearts and minds of Osirion lay within our grasp."
She turns to Rayka and nods her head, clearly dismissing the brawler. A few Chelish heads turn to see if Rayka will say anything despite the curt dismissal.
For someone who was so well informed of the world around her, Rayka is pleasantly surprised at how Lady Iuncus has completely misread her and her motives. Rayka figures she chose to see what best fit her narrative and so the brawler plays her part of cowed native.
Instead of saving Lady Iuncus' life, Rayka views it more as having saved the life of the female bard that day and she takes comfort in that. She doubts that that woman had known about the Lady's magical talents and they surely would have made an example of her that day had they managed to catch her. She holds on to that feeling and takes pride in that rather than in what the Chelish may think.
She desperately wants to ask Lady Iuncus what exactly their mission is and to tell her that Osiris doesn't need them but she knows better. She can tell that some of the others want her to speak but she knows her place. She was spoken about and not to and so to speak would be folly. That and she doesn't trust herself not to say something disrespectful. She bites the inside of her cheek to make sure she says nothing she'll regret and then quickly takes her leave from the light.
Rayka steps out of that intimidating glare of lights and lets out a deep sigh in the shadows.
Lady Iuncus ignores her and instead smiles to the assembled nobles. 'But, come, let us forget our troubles for a time. We have gathered for merriment! Bard." She gestures toward Henri, who is standing on stage, instrument in hand. He somehow manages to look servile and impressive at the same time, a chained masterpiece.
"The time has come for music!" She spreads her fingers and there is a flash of white light then Henri begins to play, soft music filling the room. The nobles break up into small groups, talking and jesting.
The Lord and Lady head toward a table, eyes everywhere, obviously gathering much just from the placement and composition of the various groups. Rayka has never seen a general but she imagines that is how the warrior Pharaohs of old looked at battlefields.
Rayka stands awkwardly at the side feeling very self-conscious. She watches the Iuncus duo watching the rest of the room. She wishes she could see what they did when they observe the room.
She's pretty sure that it is too early in the evening for her to disappear and so she listens to Henri play and amuses herself by making up stories about the people in her mind. Most of the stories are not flattering in the least. Her stomach rumbles and she wishes that they had started with food rather than music.
Rayka looks around but sees no food being served. Drinks however are both served and available at a simple bar (behind which sits the casks she helped load). A prim looking Chelish servant, surely imported, serves drinks while looking down his nose at everyone.
Henri, and the band, strike up a lively tune. Various Chelish couples move onto he dance floor and begin dancing. it is a whirling, graceful display of glittery jewelry, flowing robes and intricate footwork. Despite herself Rayka is impressed although it all seems a bit shallow and effete to the brawler. How many of these people could take a punch to the jaw or survive one day on the streets outside?
A voice startles her out of her reverie. "So, you saved the life of the Lady?" Rayka turns and finds herself face to face with a young nobleman, dressed in a very ugly yellow color. His black hair is slicked back and he has a fencing rapier at his hips. Beside him stands a frail looking girl, with wide eyes and a hand pressed tastefully to her mouth in pretended shock.
"Are you a fighter then?" he says, a swagger in his step.
"Um, yes. I grabbed the woman who tried to hurt the Lady and dragged her away." She shrugs like it was nothing out of the ordinary. "I can fight - you kind of have to when you live on the streets - but it ain't what I do. I ain't a soldier or nothin'."
She motions to his rapier, "How about you? Is that for use or show?"
The young man chuckles derisively when Rayka comments on his sword. Behind him the young woman simpers at the remark.
"Enough to show you this, street rat." he pulls out the sword in a practiced smooth motion. He takes the razor tip and presses it against Rayka's leg, just enough to cut the fabric.
"Not used to steel, eh? They probably just use old sticks 'on the street'. Have you ever even seen a sword before?" he laughs and turns slightly to the woman. "It is amazing what pests crawl into people's houses, eh?"
Rayka pushes her anger down but can't seem to stop the reflexive fisting of her hands. She has a mental argument with herself for a moment where part of her wants to disarm him and part of her just wants to get through the night unnoticed. In the end she sides with not wanting to endanger the real reason for her being here. It would do her no good to embarrass this noble and have him trying to get back at her all evening. If he needed to feel dominant over her then she'd have to let him. Apparently it wasn't enough for him to know he is her social better.
Rayka tries to keep an innocent tone to her voice as she answers his question. "I've seen swords before but never one so shiny and undented before. Usually the ones I've seen on the street have been used a lot. And you'd be surprised how effective a stick can be if it's big enough. It can be both shield and weapon."
She ignores his jab about being a pest. He'd already called her a rat so there was no misunderstanding his thoughts on her worth. Hoping that they would just go away and leave her in peace she says, "The music's nice. I'm sure your wife would like you to dance with her." Turning to the woman she asks, "Right?"
The man looks ready to go on, but when Rayka says the word wife, the woman lights up. Beaming she rushes forward and catches his arm, saying in a girlish tone, 'Oh Marcellus, she says we look like a couple! Isn't that sweet?" Her eyes are full of cowlike adoration as she clings to him.
The young man looks to the woman and Rayka, then back again,. Clearly his desire to further taunt the brawler is warring with his attention to the Chelish lady. Finally the latter wins out. He sheathes his sword with a sigh and turns to the other, leaving Rayka alone.
The brawler moves away, gauging the room. Rayka judges it is still early to slip away, the party just starting. Still, many of them are drinking quickly so soon the place should get more chaotic.
As she wanders she edges near two heavy-set men at a table arguing with each other.
"Leaving her around was a mistake. She is an obvious rallying point for the locals." The one says, with the air of an old argument re-heated.
'And what, do you want us to send assassins into her palace, that we helped build, and kill her? The greatest hero this land has?" The other says mildly, sipping from a wine glass.
Rayka resists the urge to wave at the young man as he's dragged away by the girl. She looks sadly at the cut in her clothes and sighs.
Her ears perk up as she hears the men arguing.
'Well no, not assassins.." the first man says but is cut off by the other.
"Assuming you could even find any willing to take the job. Have you met the woman? She is formidable indeed. Mostly likely however you sent would come home in a box." he snorts, "One doesn't stop a Spawn of Rovagug without knowing how to take care of yourself in a fight."
The other man waves his hand, "Shalina didn't fight it, she just stopped it from waking. Don't start buying into the stories the commoners tell each other. She isn't that speical."
The other man takes a long sip of win and then says, "Regardless, she could be a potent symbol. Why do you think we built her a palace and leave her be? So far she has been quiet enough, helping that monk with his trainees, re-starting a few old god churches with that knight of hers. Harmless."
"For now." The other man says darkly, 'I've heard rumors of what Inck is up to..."
The other man's face grows red with anger and he hisses, 'Shut up you fool! This is an open party! Idiot, you'll get us all flayed speaking like that."
The man looks around in panic and spots Rayka. He growls, 'What are you doing standing there girl. Eavesdropping on your betters?" His voice is angry but there is fear mixed in. He is genuinely afraid of Rayka overhearing them.
Rayka can't believe what she's hearing. How could anyone want to hurt Shalina? The brawler's stomach flipped. If they went after Shalina then they would also be going after Ankraten. She couldn't have that. As soon as this was done she would need to warn them.
The anger that flares in the Chelish man at the mention of Inck sears the name into her mind. If mentioning it out loud causes that kind of response, it was worth sharing and this way she may actually be able to talk to Ankraten. At that point her mind begins to wander on to a much more enjoyable topic until the man's voice brings her back to the present.
Wide-eyed she stammers, "No...no, sir. I ain't droppin' no eaves. Just on my way to get a drink. I got distracted by the dancin' an' the music. Sorry to have upset you, sir. I'll be gettin' that drink now. Can I bring you one?"
Rayka's rustic accent and offer to serve him seems to put the man at ease. Clearly this is what he expects from a Osirion street urchin turned 'guest'.
"No, just leave us alone, girl." And he stares at Rayka until she wanders off.
Ahead the music pauses as Henri takes a brief break. The musician grabs a jug and begins hitting it hard, obviously working up quite the thirst.
Rayka starts moving towards Henri. Even if it is for just a moment, she wants to see a friendly face. That and she wants to make sure he doesn't overdo it with the drink. He still has a lot of evening to play for yet.
Even though she knows she'll get attitude from the Chelish serving the drinks, she goes over to get one anyways before joining Henri.
She sidles up to the bard. "Everyone seems to be enjoyin' themselves. The music is quite lovely." She leans over and whispers, "How long does the dancin' go on for?"
Henri wipes his face, gleaming with sweat. Apparently playing music is hard work, which is something Rayka had never thought of before tonight.
"Hours. The Chelish really go in for it. This will last until midnight, then they break off into smaller groups to eat and plot against each other. At least that is how it usually goes. I saw you were hitting it off with a young lord there. How did it go?"
Rayka looks at Henri strangely. "If you call him cuttin' a hole in my best clothes hittin' it off, then yes."
The brawler surveys the room again and gives an exasperated sigh. "I can't hang around here for hours." She then looks around again before lowering her voice and leaning in to whisper to Henri, "But if the music goes on 'til at least midnight then that'll give me time to get the others set up."
Henri laughs, 'I was being sarcastic. But to come off with nothing but a torn dress isn't bad, for dealing with Chelish nobles. Remember, if any of these people wish it, they can have our eyes plucked out or our tongue torn off."
Rayka scans the room and sees thee head servant eyeing her beadily from across the room. He seems quite ready to accuse her of stealing the silverware or something.
"Do you need a distraction/" Henri mutters back, voice low.
Henri may have laughed but his last comment gets Rayka heated. She hisses fiercely, "They can try but they'd lose a few eyes and ears in the process themselves."
She sighs as she spots the servant staring at her. She murmurs, "I most definitely need a distraction. That servant just won't leave me alone."
Henri ponders this, 'How big of a distraction do you need?" he pauses and says, "How much of a risk should I run, on a scale of one to ten?" The young musician looks so earnest, so willing to help something bigger them himself.
"Risk? Preferably none...but I would say somewhere between gettin' that servant's attention off me and you not gettin' flayed alive."
Rayka knows that Henri wants to help but she also doesn't want him taking unnecessary risks. "I can't do this without you but I also don't want anythin' bad happenin' to you. Be careful."
Henri looks at Rayka with a small smiles, 'Everything has risks, Rayka. We just have to be sure it is worth taking them." he winks, "Make it worth it."
Then, he stands up straight and, to Rayka's horror, locks eyes with the suspicious servant. Projecting a swagger into his tone, he points a finger at the man and shouts, "Servant, more wine! Playing is thirsty work!" He grins to himself, striking a pose worthy of a victorious athlete or conquering hero. Proud, strong, confident.
The servant raises an eyebrow but brings over a cup of fine red wine. Henri takes it and swills it dramatically before tossing it aside, letting the glass smash to the stone floor.
"Ladies and gentlemen, our next selection will be from Varisisa! Prepare yourself!" A rumor of whispers and hushed conversations rushes through the crowd as Henri turns to the other performers briefly.
The talk is still swirling when Henri turns back, spares a single wink at Rayka, then takes center stage. He stands at ease, contrapposto, eyes smoldering into the middle distance. The drunken artists is gone, replaced by a vigorous and electric manly figure and everyone's attention is riveted. The room falls utterly silent as all eyes turn to him and even the most scheming Chelish halts their plots.
In that quiet, Henri slowly starts to tap his foot. It is a slow and steady beat, hard heel of solid wood,a loud thumping rhythm. It grows louder and louder, then Henri starts to clap his hands in sync with the rhythm, careful and slow.
All eyes remain transfixed, as the band starts to clap behind him, all in that same sync. Slowly Rayka realizes the pace is slowly rising, gradually speeding up. However, at this point it is still slow and steady.
Henri's voice suddenly breaks into a flowing and exotic language. The forgien syllables instantly transport everyone, even provincial Rayka, to a distant land full of traveling wagons, dusky sunsets and hidden secrets. Henri's words and the rhythmic stamping recalls the fabled wealth and history of that storied and distant land, long coveted by the greedy Chelish. Even Rayka feels the pulls however, as the pace slowly increases, growing louder, faster.
The musician raises his hands, and captivated, various Chelish take the floor, moving in stately time to the music. Smiling, Henri claps along, encouraging the crowd to join in. Many do, and the music slowly builds, a rising tempo. Henri's voice enters a new verse, full of fire and vigor, the struggle of man against a wild and windswept nature. The stamping of feet and clapping of hands fills the dance hall as the intensity increases.
More dancers join in, as the music rises. Their movements become faster, more fluid, twirling and swirling about each other.
'Aah! Faster!" Henri cries in Common, and the band increases the tempo again.
Chelish wheel and swirl, some even ducking under others or jumping outstretched legs. The clapping reaches a fever pitch, as the audience can barely keep up to the manic band. Streaming with sweat Henri seems to have no trouble conducting the madness, jumping and clapping to the music. Indeed, he even sounds, "More!" Pushing the dancers and the performers alike to the limit, as the rising rhythm seems to shake the very manor. A chaotic mix of figures and forms fills the dance floor, as even the Lord and Lady sweep onto it, joining into the festive spirit.
Rayka watches Henri in fascination as he transforms before her eyes. She is finding him full of surprises. He seems to be part of a lifestyle that she truly knew nothing about.
As the music starts and begins to crescendo, she finds herself being pulled in. The music and dancing is mesmerizing but her task weighs heavier on her than her need for enjoyment. She begins to back into the shadows at the edge of the room and moves quietly towards the kitchen. When this was all over, she would get Henri to play for them and they would have their own party.
Once she gets to the kitchen, the noise of the food being prepared almost drowns out the music that follows her. She moves purposefully towards the back door, fresh air, and hopefully Obella.
Rayka edges away from the party, the music and frantic dancing growing quieter. The kitchen is nearly empty as nearly all the servants have moved toward the door, drawn by the exotic sounds. The strange foreign melodies follows Rayka like a shadow as she slips past the roaring stoves, bubbling soups and cooling pies. Jars of canned fruit twinkle in the firelight, a feast beyond anything she had ever seen. Entire roast birds, salted ox, even a spitted and stuffed crocodile on a massive silver tray. This display could have fed her entire quarter for a week. How many kids would go to bed hungry tonight? How many men would struggle for hours for just a bit of bread? How much of this bounty would be wasted by drunk Chelish nobles?
Rayka pushes outside, the night air cool and wet from the canal. Buzzing insects swirl around her chased by bats and nightjars. The city around her is quiet and dark, with honest people weary in their beds. There is no sign of Obella, as far as she can tell.
Rayka spends a moment marveling how the boisterous music inside and the the quiet dark outside could both generate similar pleasant feelings. They couldn't be more different and yet she would gladly sit for hours experiencing both.
She waits for a moment to see if Obella would show herself. When that didn't happen she whispers into the darkness, "Knne"..."Knne."
There is no response out of the velvet blackness that surrounds Rayka. Where was Obella? Surely everything was all right....wasn't it? Despite her self, it was all too easy to imagine her friend trapped somewhere, in danger, being hurt...
"Hey!" Rayka nearly jumps out of her skin as a masculine voices shouts to her. Looking she sees a Chelish guard poke his head around the corner of the building. He is wearing the rough and tumble clothes of the mercenary gang, not the experienced guards. When she turns he goes on, 'All alone out here? Not big on dancing?"
Heart pounding, Rayka takes a few deep breaths and reminds herself that she's allowed to be where she is. She shakes her head, "Not much dancin' on the streets so no, I ain't big on dancin'. And it's suffocatin'ly hot inside. Just gettin' some air and waitin' for the food to be served."
The man smiles knowingly and walks closer, more like a casual stroll then a patrol. Ryaka suddenly has a bad feeling about this. The men had hardly been subtle at the front gate in broad daylight. Alone, in a darkened area next to the canal?
The man grins, showing grimy brown teeth in dim moonlight. ""Just getting some air. Of course. All that music must have gotten you worked up...need to relax." he ventures nearer, obviously intended to grab Rayka's arm (or something like it).
Growing up on the street, Rayka was not unfamiliar with such behavior. But she was far from a shrinking violet and she was not going to let someone so revolting keep her from everything they'd planned.
Rayka instinctively shifts into a defensive position. "I will break whatever body part you touch me with. Then, if you're lucky, I throw you into the canal to contend with the reptiles. But I think it would be much more entertainin' to drag you back inside and let the Chelish use you for their entertainment. I hear they enjoy causin' others pain. Or...you continue on your patrol, go back to your post, and forget you saw me."
The man's grin grows wider, "My, my, aren't you a fiery one. Now, you don't mean all of that do you? Just playing hard to get." He reaches for Rayka's arm, hand moving suddenly.
Rayka dodges him easily, a lifetime of training in wrestling making the move second nature. The guard seems puzzled but not put off and moves in again.
Rayka is surprised that he keeps advancing. So when he reaches for her arm, she instinctively reacts by throwing a punch towards his nose. However her surprise, or maybe the dark, seems to negatively affect her aim.
As he laughs at her punch attempt, she grabs his wrist and twists it behind his body as she moves in behind him. She applies the right amount of pressure upwards knowing that a little more will snap his arm. The laugh soon turns into a grunt of pain. She immobilizes his other hand by pulling it behind him as well.
"You ain't touched me yet which is the only reason I ain't breakin' your arm. This is your last chance to walk away 'cause I can assure you, I ain't playin' hard to get. So think hard. Are you goin' into the water with a broken arm? Or back onto patrol with a sore arm?"
"Gods woman, not so tight!" the man hisses in pain, nearly doubled over as Rayka wrenches his arm back. The guard looks pathetic, knees bent, face taut in pain as Rayka easily masters him.
"All right, all right, I get it!" He grunts out, "Just let me go, woman." He bites back a curse as his arm grates against the socket.
Rayka pushes him forward while she releases his arms. He stumbles a bit but doesn't fall. She never lets her guard down in case he still decides to try something in retaliation. Some men didn't like it when their egos were bruised.
"Good choice. Now get goin'. And you can consider the back of the manor secure. If I see you again I won't respond so kindly."
The man grabs his shoulder, massaging it. "I get it...I get it, woman." He grits his teeth in obvious pain. "If you call that kind...you are a demon, girl. It'll get you into trouble some day, you mark my words." Spitting a few more quiet curses he hurries off, rounding the corner.
Then Rayka hears another voice and nearly jumps out of her skin. "You should have broken his arm and thrown him into the canal, Rayka."
It takes a moment for Rayka to recognize Obella's voice, coming from the canal at her feet. Peering down, Rayka can see a small dark shape treading water, hair floating like a lilypad. Besides her is another shape and the voice of Nefti floats up, 'With our luck, she'd have thrown him on top of us."
The two emerge from the water, dripping wet. Obella is carrying a small waterproof bag and her usual gear. 'How is the party going?" She asks, wiping water out of her short hair.
"I'm sure you wouldn't be callin' me a demon if I was a man instead of a woman. But tell yourself and your friends whatever you need to."
Rayka gasps at the voice in the dark before recognition takes hold. "You're goin' to give me a heart attack! But I'm really glad to hear your voice."
Then she shakes her head, "He would have made too much noise in the water. And a missin' guard may have raised an alarm or brought more of 'em lookin'.
Rayka reaches a hand down to help the women up. "Swell. The party is goin' swell. I was paraded out as proof that their mission in Sothis is succeedin'. Then some Chelish dandy cut my clothes with his sword for fun. The servant we ran into durin' our look about recognized me and wouldn't leave me alone so Henri provided a diversion so I could slip out here."
The brawler points upwards. "We need to get up there. Obella, you think you can climb it and throw a rope down?"
"Sounds like you have been having a fun evening." Obella says, looking up at the wall, peering at the black hole of the crane entrance point.
"I think so." The halfling squats down and rubs some grimy dirt into her palms, then without further ado, begins free climbing the rough walls of the manor. While it looks steep and smooth to Rayka, the halfling seems to find hidden handholds and is soon scurrying up the side of the building.
Nefti watches then says, "So the Chelish suspect nothing?"
The depth of Obella's talents never ceases to amaze Rayka. She is content to watch her friend in silence but Nefti's voice cuts the darkness.
"I figure if the Chelish suspected then I would be dead. Or more likely on display and in a lot of pain while they torture me relentlessly as part of the entertainment. I think they have dismissed me as a conquered local who welcomes their help." Rayka pauses, "The one who does suspect me is the servant. But he just thinks I'm goin' to steal the silverware."
Nefti sniffs, 'Or they just wanted to find your accomplices and catch you in the act. Like a mouse playing with their prey."
Before the cleric can go on with her dark imaginings, a rope comes slithering down from overhead. Above, Obella is barely visible, a dark outline against the shadow of the building.
Rayka grabs the rope and starts to haul herself up. With the rope, it becomes a matter of strength, not climbing skill, and Rayka does fine. Hand over hand she pulls herself up, Nefti doing the same below showing a surprising amount of strength herself.
Soon all three of them are standing on a narrow ledge, the crane sticking out next to them. The way into the manor is a black hole, an abyss of inky blackness, swallowing all light and revealing nothing inside.
'Who goes first?" Nefti whispers.
Rayka tries to calm Nefti's fears, "I'd be very surprised if they thought I was smart enough to have accomplices. They saw me as only a step above a trained monkey."
As soon as Nefti finishes climbing up after Rayka, the brawler pulls the rope up after them.
"I should go first in case there's trouble. But I won't touch any doors until Obella can take a look at them in case there's traps." Rayka moves closer to the opening, "Do either of you have a light?"
Rayka, holding her stone in hand, unlight as of yet. The interior is a black void, and Rayka is unable to see much by the dim moonlight overhead. The air wafting out of the manor is dry and musty though, reminding her of old storage rooms and back warehouses. It is a world away from the mixture of smells below, the sweat of bodies, Chelish perfume and cooking grease. Cocking her ears, she can hear, faintly, the sounds of music below.
"We can't hang here all night, Rayka." Nefti says, sounding irritated.
Rayka sticks to the wall and moves inside the void. As soon as she's next to the wall, she unleashes her ioun torch to circle her head.
One hand on the wall for guidance, Rayka moves inside, stepping lightly. As she enters the blackness, the brawler feels boards under her feet. They are rough and simply cut, not like the polished floors of hardwoods below. Whatever is inside, it isn't nearly as fancy as the lower levels of the manor home.
Rayka activates her light, and it is like an explosion in the dark space. Shapes and colors materialize all round her, as if conjured there by magic.
Blinking, Rayka gets her bearings. It appears to be a large wharehosue of some type. The space is filled with crates and boxes, some closed, others open and revealing all types of supplies. Canteens of water, shovels, food, endless coils of rope and chains. One wall is lined with all types of wagons are carts, everything looking well used, and dusty with sand. It becomes clear to Rayka that this room is filled with supplies needed for treasure hunting in the deep desert. This must be where the Chelish organize their plundering raids to loot and steal Rayka's nation's heritage.
Looking around Rayka doesn't spot any artifacts, artwork or any of the loot. It must be stored elsewhere. the room is so full she can't see all of it from where she stands, her view blocked by various wagons or stacked materials. She doesn't see anyone from her current position.
From the space behind her she hears Obella breathe, "We are coming in."
Rayka's hands clenched into fists as she took in the scope of the ransacking equipment. She waits for Obella and Nefti to join her before saying, "If we can set multiple fires, this should be where one of 'em is set. We should destroy the equipment they're usin' to despoil the land. It may not stop 'em but it'll definitely slow 'em down."
Now that they had light to see by, Rayka looks for a way out.