Calas stays as close to the matron and his aunt as he can as they run.
I swear we closed that passage... How did they find us?
Saving his breath for running Hakk tries to keep up with his cousin Calas and stay near his mother and the matron.
Turning he tries his wand again at the closest pursuer!
But is too distracted to use it effectively!
Letting the others proceed Mourn'Draxil did as he could to cover everyone's withdrawel staying behind just for one second to withdraw a fused grenade lighting it and rolling it torwards their pursuers. . .
[spoiler=FUSE GRENADE
Price 100 gp; Weight 1 lb.
This hollow clay container holds a small charge of black power and a slow-burning fuse. Lighting the fuse is a move action; 1d3 rounds later the grenade explodes, dealing 2d6 points of bludgeoning damage and 1d6 points of fire damage in a 10-foot-radius burst (Reflex DC 15 halves). You throw a fuse grenade as if it were a splash weapon. Crafting this item is a DC 25 Craft (alchemy) check. [/spoiler]
"I don't recognize this cave system! Does anybody know where we are or where we are ...heading?
We need to find a place to defend ourselves or escape! We cannot run...forever!"
As they hurry down the dark and mysterious tunnel, Nathaniel searches the walls, ceilings, and support beams for any that may easily come loose.
Reaching into a pouch at his belt, Phae draws forth a small stone about the size of gold piece. He concentrates and suddenly the tunnel is plunged into deepest blackness. The then tosses the stone as far back behind him as possible
"The portal we're looking for shouldn't be far– but we need to get through without letting them in as well,"
Vantrag says to the others as she leads them down the tunnel. She glances around hurriedly trying to spot the concealed exit which she knows is there somewhere just ahead.
As the group rushes forward they use every means at their disposal, and the enemy returns the favor.
But their efforts can't quite clear the path enough to get a positive visual before Vantrag finds the expertly chiseled and concealed door. She whispers the pass words and the rocks melt before you. What one was nonmagical rock became a door. You tumble through and the stone closes behind you.
There in the dark, you suddenly smell fruits and cooking meats. Then your ears are assailed with the cacophony of the Bazaar. You have gone from your House to the Bazaar in a matter of steps.
It takes you a second to get your bearings. Looking up, you see one stalactite directly above you that is darker than the others. Your house is dark and silent as your House literally disappears.
Putting away his wand, Hakk nervously glances around for anything out of the ordinary. He tries to hunch downward so as not to stand out too much. If he sees anyone selling a heavy cloak he'll buy one and try to cover up his uniqueness.
"We need to get the matron and my mother to the Spider Queen's Temple! They can heal them there!"
"And we have to get out of this very public place as quickly as we can... we are obvious targets here as soon as word of what happened gets out, if it hasn't already."
Again it seemed he needed to point out what should be obvious.
"I am sure the priestesses are known for their mercy and kindness. No doubt they would not take advantage of two weakened and vulnerable priestesses which a rival house will pay just about anything to be rid of. After all, their existence dooms them as surely as your own. No, they certainly would not take advantage of such a treasure walking into their midst. I would suggest you approach the council first, they can arrange anything and are duty bound to punish failure rather then take advantage of it, in order to seal your rivals fate. If that is the route you choose. As for myself, I think now is the time to part ways."
He had no intention of binding himself to these politics that were not his concern or to his benefit. He would have to find a safe place for himself while he contacted his masters. With any luck they would ask he return, at worst he may be assigned to Sorcre or another drow house.
Calas frowns at Vicalan as he voices his fickleness.
"If you think you will be able to leave just yet, you're wrong. Whether you like it or not, you're associated with the house. The council is a good idea though."
Then, looking at Phaenox. "What about your family, would they be willing and able to help us?"
Nathaniel shakes the cobwebs from his head.
I hate magic.
He looks around. He hears the busy sounds of a marketplace.
He turns to Calas.
Sounds like we are not all friends here?
Vantrag paces anxiously as she hears the argument from the others.
"The priestesses will most likely take advantage of us. The council will be the most impartial and they will punish our enemies for their actions -- but do they have the ability to heal the matron and Severance? Most likely not. No, what we need is an ally, someone who could be trusted or bribed to keep us hidden for a short time, but also has power to figure out what is wrong with our priestesses, or at least somehow stave off their affliction..."
Hakk scoffs.
"The only ones here with enough power to do that is Bregan D'aerthe or Sorcere."
Hakk then grimaces and drools at Vicalan.
"I don't trust Sorcere. For obvious reasons. The mercenaries are at least honest to the gold they are paid."
It seemed his gift of sound reason was needed yet again before his departure.
"Mercenaries are indeed honest to gold. Do you have enough on you to say outbid your rivals. Does a crippled house's word carry much weight when it promises gold to these honest mercenaries? Would they not make so much more by capturing you and offering your lives to these rivals? Considering that their very existence is dependent on your deaths?"
His void like eyes and unreadable expression stare back at Hakk as he speaks before turning to Vantrag.
"Unless I am mistaken, your council is made up of the most powerful matrons in the city. It is common for matron's to be priestesses correct? If it is beyond their clerical abilities, then perhaps their magic inclined sons should be able to. As I said earlier, Nopos had he survived seemed capable of removing their affliction."
Not that he thought the former eldest son would have been much inclined to do so.
"If your council can not cure them or summon someone who can. I doubt anyone in your city capable."
He doubted very much that a weaker house in the rankings that was far from a seat on the council would be able to overpower those at the top in any terms. Not if this city was anything like his own home, only the most powerful mages reached the council. It took real personal power to rule in Sshamath. Politics were nothing without ability.
Vantrag, you know of a vendor here in the Bazaar who is closely tied to your House. He is a labor broker and construction contractor. He is also an Orc from the surface. He can be trusted.
Azzra'el sighs and shifts his burden slightly to ease the strain on his back and shoulders. "Let's make a decision and quickly, whatever it might be. She isn't that heavy, but I'm not that strong. I think the council is a dicey proposition as we don't know how many councilors might be allied with our enemies. Perhaps the mercenaries might be a good choice, but we have little to offer them at present. And just starting our own house from scratch might be an interesting option, but we don't have a lot to work with here... And we would have to gain a lot of power very quickly to avoid being wiped out by our enemies who will surely know, or be able to find out, that we have formed this new house from the remnants of house Kewadin. It seems we have several options, none of them very good. Any other suggestions?"
Nathaniel looks around--impatiently--as the drow seem to be discussing something.
I suggest we find a safe place to hold up for now. Then figure out your next move.
Crossing his larger set of arms across his chest, he points at the matron and his mother with his childlike smaller hands.
"We are survivors! That in itself is valuable! Its against the law to openly attack another house directly in Menzoberanzan
without sanction from the council! The ONLY way you can get away with it is if you can do it completely and fast enough so that
no one notices or finds evidence! We are not only proof of our enemies failure, but are proof Lolth favors our house still!"
At the mention of Lolth your vision flashes before your eyes again, the massive spider on the infinite web.
Vantrag blinks and looks around at the others noticing most of them also with similar looks of confusion. "Did you all see that? The Spider Queen..." she trails off and frowns. "Are we truly favored by Lolth?"
"Aye, I saw it too... a sign no doubt... trust in Her... and our ways... let's go to the council, and lay bare this failed attempt to kill our House. While the Matron lives that is... "
Raising a fist, Hakk gives a grisly smile.
"See! She not only favors us, this could be a test! Those of you who have no direct ties to Kewadin think hard on this:
You are a witness now to our house falling and our survival. The situation, and Lolth herself, has bound you to
us whether you like it or not. Staying with us may not guarantee survival, but sticking with us and helping us
in this situation seems to be the will of the goddess herself! Leave if you wish, but you will openly risk HER ire if
it is not HER will."
Vantrag gives Hakk an approving look and then addresses the others. "We need to get the matron and Severance to safety, quickly, but we also need to talk to the council as soon as possible. Some of us should take our priestesses to Torak's - he is an orc merchant that has his shop nearby - we've dealt with him in the past and he'll shelter us for now." She goes on to give directions to the place.
"Myself and the other house nobles should head to the council as quickly as possible and tell them of what's occurred. We'll request their aid and hopefully, bring down the council's wrath upon those who thought they could destroy House Kewadin." She gives a grim smile and directs the group.
Hakk shakes his head.
"I won't leave my mother or the matron with just commoners. Besides I stick out like a nine-legged spider!
Go and convince the council. I will protect my family until I die."
"Acting Matron."
He began giving her just as perfect a bow as he would her mother.
"Your will is my command... perhaps we should all see this orc first and perhaps change clothing.
He began pointing to the house colored tabard uniform he wore, certainly the others wore the coloring of the house, blending in would be a good thing.
and do we wish to at least make contact with any mercenaries? I could wander that way and see what I hear, unless you wish me to stay close to you and guard you from dangers. Your will is my command as I have said.
As if he cared about the attention of Lolth or any god for that matter. Their was a reason he was not a priest and his magic was his own. He was not the sort to lean or borrow power from others, he commanded it. Not only that he did not trust such fickle things, not when he knew better.
"It is simple enough to cast illusions into the minds of others for a powerful mage. As I am no priest, I can only count on my knowledge as a wizard. So I am more inclined to think that way."
His clothes shift into plain dark robes, he pockets the mask.
"Now if you will excuse me. I am going to go find a room for myself and go about my business. My obligations to your House died with Nopos. I have no reason or inclination to remained involved with you. Farewell."
He was no fanatic and he would not be lumped into things by such. What did a goddess care for a mere male, the inferior gender by their own doctrine. If he was of such little value then surely he was not needed or worth the effort. The others may be used to taking orders by those of lesser ability, he was not. They had learned not a thing, their way is exactly what allowed their house to be wiped out down to less then a dozen formerly from hundreds. Was their attacker even considered and reflected upon, a house that dealt with surfacer's and unconventional methods for their ascension. Those that did not adapt and learn were doomed to perish, House Kewadin deserved to fall. They did not ask for his help, they demanded and threatened for it. They did not even offer anything in return, typical spider kissers.
Azzra'el considers Vicalan's farewell and shrugs. "That is your choice, Vic. Do be cautious out there, as your once-relationship with Nopos might still linger enough to threaten you, however not from us, unless my aunt disagrees with me. I bear you no ill will. Go where thou willst and be safe."
Calas smiled as everyone came together... well most everyone.
Lolth's favored... Never thought I'd be one of her favored.
Then seeing Nathaniel's impatience, Calas realized no one had translated for him.
"We are going taking the Matron and my aunt to a trusted ally to protect them while the rest of us talk to the council," he said to Nathaniel.
Then turning to his aunt Vantrag, "If Hakk is staying with the matron then I'll stay with you aunt. As the acting Matron someone needs to make sure you don't get assaulted."
Nathaniel frowns.
I trust that once we safely tucked your women away, that we will be going to talk to this council?
Phaenox listens to all the banter, arguing, posturing, etc, silently, judging them. Vicalan was the one found most wanting, but that was no surprise. However, he thought he had a good way to possibly convince the mage to stay.
"Vicalan, while I do not know you all that well, you have much wisdom and have offered sound advise since our House's fall. Would you consider staying with us an advisor and perhaps eventually House Mage, should Noppos indeed be dead and unwilling to return?"
Vicalan had spied Phaenox casting a spell. He knew the spell, he was trying to get an idea of his desires. The spell was rebuffed by Vicalan's mental defenses, the mages of Sshamath were well trained. It was a pointless spell, his desire was clear enough with his words. He had nothing to gain as things stood and only now upon his departure he seemed to have some value, to little.
"Set your house in order, go to the council with all haste. If you survive and find yourself in need of a mage. Then I am open to considering an arrangement. But you have made no case for me to risk my life by remaining."
Vicalan - You depart into the chaos of the Bazaar. It's not hard to find your bearings. Where are you off to?
The rest of you- You know you must make it to this orc without getting spotted at the very least. What do you do?
Nathaniel looks around as the big drow departs.
Not a good sign.
He turns to Calas.
How far is this trusted ally? Perhaps, we may need to hide in a wagon or something to make it there?
Nathaniel points to their clothing.
We do stick out a bit. Well, you drow do. No One really pays attentions to slaves. Do they.
The ship isn't far, but you will have to cross a very busy intersection to get there. You actually stand in his old shop. He just moved to a new location less than a week ago.
Vantrag- You know that the escape route was due to be moved to his new shop as soon as a shipment of rare components arrived. It's expected any day.
"Suit yourself," Vantrag replies archly to the departing Vicalan. Better to have him out of here so that there'll be less of this squabbling.
"The portal should have dropped us directly in the middle of his shop, but he's moved recently and we hadn't updated our escape route yet," Vantrag explains. "It's just across the road... but you're right that we are quite distinctive. I have magic which solves that problem for myself. The rest of you will have to change your clothing."
Sighing Hakk will try to find a heavier shadow among the tents, coughs up his problem.
"Can Someone just give me, or buy me, a heavy cloak? I will do my best to be as unnoticed as possible, but I cannot help my distinctive size and features."
Azzra'el pulls out his disguise kit and covers his house insignia by turning his tunic inside out and throwing a costume vest over it, and a dark colored cloak over all. It's fast ...
but not very effective...
Saeras finally snaps out of his own thoughts. Seeing his work literally disappear from the "sky" was disconcerting to say the least. But this too is an opportunity. I *shall* make it so! First things first; he didn't want to look like a wanted man. It helped that he wasn't actually a noble decked out in insignias or signet rings or such, but still he did not have time to make as complete adjustments as he really wished for.
There. This will have to do. He removed his Sleeves of Many Garments too - their magic would surely help, but someone else needed them more. And if Hakk was spotted it would take much for someone to put two and two together. With a nod and perfectly neutral 'here' he handed them to the demon.
He's mostly fur, a loincloth, and an adventurer's sash to carry stuff. Is that enough to fashion a cloak from using the sleeves?
These translucent cloth tubes easily fit over their wearer’s arms.
The wearer of these sleeves can, when she slips them on, choose to transform the appearance of her current garments into any other non-magical set of clothing. These new clothes fit her perfectly and are always clean and mended unless she specifically designates otherwise. When she removes the sleeves, her clothes revert to their original form.
Calas wills his sleeves to change his clothing to something more common. The clothes shift until they match the attire of those in the market. Then he removed the mask he had lifted from one of their assailants, stowing it for later.
"Don't mind him aunt, he's just a grump. Lead the way once you're ready.'
Then responding to the half-orc in common, "Do you really want to meet with the council? You? A slave?"
Calas frowned at that last... Something doesn't sound right about that.
Nathaniel just shrugs his massive shoulders.
One place to die is the same as another.
Hakk will put on the offered sleeves and cover himself in a stain-spotted heavy hooded robe of a diseased leper. Drow tend to avoid the diseased and Hakk is hoping that will help him here for now.
The party wraps itself in whatever scraps of anything they can find to disguise themselves and departs for the Orc's stall. The noise is oppressive when compared to the general silence of your House. A glace at Narbondel reveals that you were unconscious for several hours. It's glowing flame burns near the top of it's massive form.
You reach the shop without being obviously spotted or called out and the Orc ushers you in.
Tank de Spider Queen yous be here! He says in heavily accented Common. When yer House went dark I was worried. Come!
He ushers you back to a hidden room with modest but comfortable furnishings.
Vicalan - You head out and weave your way through the crowd. You pass stalls selling everything imaginable and a few things that never occurred to you to sell. It's quite a walk to one of the more respectable magic shops. The portal had put you in the lower scale end of the Bazaar, the area that any mage of power would avoid.
You manage to make it to the Gilded Web with only one new stain that Prestidigitation just won't clean. The proprietor is a low born drow in traditional wizard's robes with ink-stained hands. He looks up from a sheaf of spell scrolls as you enter.
Welcome! What can I do for you!
He notes the scrolls and mage, giving a nod of respect before speaking.
"I would like a private room."
First he would get settled then he would get to work on the captured familiar. After that who knew, he supposed he could look for work or see about plying his talents in trade.
Saeras lets himself be lead into the warm, comfortable and most importantly safe room. Just for the moment he could easily see how *some* pesky lower lifeforms could be useful, if not even preferable, in freedom. Luckily the weakness quickly passed before his heart bled dry; now that would be a fizzling finale! No, there was sweet delicious vengeance to be had. And after that an even sweeter climb up the ladder of power.
"Now; whom to beseech the council?" he asked once everyone had a small chance to catch their breath, his eyes firmly set on Vantrag.