The morning dawns cool and clear.
A breeze is blowing in off the Serene Sea as you make your way up the gangplank, to the rather grandiose ship lying at anchor. The ship's name is painted on the hull in gold leaf: Kaye's Folly.
And why not? After all, Baron Kaye is the ship's owner, he's the owner of the island - Kaye's Island, of course.
The Baron himself is standing on deck, overseeing the loading of luggage and some 'small essentials' from a comfortable distance. He's a tall man, running to fat and balding, but with a genial smile on his face... and a beautiful Drow girl in maid's livery hanging off him the whole time, cooing and stroking his face.
The Baron's other guests for the festive opening of the Island resort are already on deck; one a man who appears to be not older than the Baron, but who has clearly gone deeper to seed and is accompanied by a hard-faced thug in leather armour; the other, a handsome dandy of a man in fine, dark silk and velvet.
As the ship is getting ready for departure, dark-robed men with beards you could hide a badger in are convening on the dock. In a happier world, these might be thieves or members of some criminal consortium. Unfortunately, this is not such a world. This is , and the men approaching the vessel are priests of Kebal, carrying their traditional aspergilliums full of unholy water.
Selann is the last of the guests to make his way onto the ship, and he is barely in time to avoid what comes next: the Kebalite priests raise their aspergilliums against Kaye's Folly
and such slaves as are still struggling to get aboard, and start splashing them all with unholy water while they bellow and bray, their voices a discordant chorus that sends sleepy seagulls screaming towards the horizon:
The slaves hurry to finish preparations, and the gangplank is drawn up.
rarely has strong winds anymore, but the sails are raised anyway, just in case. Belowdeck, there is a mighty groan and the sound of a steady drumbeat, as slaves take up the oars that will provide the majority of the ship's propulsion.
Baron Kay strikes a dramatic pose next to the steering wheel and raises a glass of wine to all ... three ... of his guests.
"Gentlemen! Welcome aboard my humble little ship. Pray let us ignore the talk of naysayers; ahead lie only the most delectable of good times. After a leisurely boat ride, we will arrive at Kaye's Island, where awaits the grandest pleasure-palace of our Age. Pray accept your glasses, and let us toast an interlude of soul-soothing excess, to wipe away the burdens and sorrows of hum-drum everyday life. Gentlemen... Welcome to my Happy Island Getaway!"
Willowy Drow maidens make their way onto deck, carrying fluted glasses and bottles of wine as dark as night, yet as effervescent as champagne.
"Dear guest," the one proferring the glass murmurs, her eyes downcast. "Your Luggage has been brought to your cabin. Would the honoured guest enjoy some… company this evening?"
"I want you to read the omens," he whispers. "Read the cards, talk to your guiding spirits, do whatever you have to. I need to know if this is going to work or not!"His Drow concubine purrs something comforting and brushes his cheek with her lips...
"Don't just stand there lazing about!" she hisses, white eyes sparking red. "Go down to the galley and tell Cook we're ready for the first round of snacks, then come bring some. Hurry! You know how Hedonists get if they need to wait for their food!"
It seems she has not realized you're an intruder, at least...
Arriving barely ahead of the Kebalist mob, Selann ducks their attacks. He considers showing the holy symbol that he wears under his shirt, but decides to avoid the conflict. The ship gets underway and the fools are left on the pier, aft of the ship and no longer a danger.
Selann smiles as the lovely Drow maidens bring him some wine. The expected luxury is already starting just like their host had suggested. He sips the wine with a slight smile, not knowing what a "good" wine would taste like.... or above average wine. He pauses for a moment or two trying to remember the last time he had wine. It had been.... average, and sour. He wonders what the servers that carried 'his luggage' thought of the rather slight load that was his. He hadn't the time or resources to make any pretense of riches, and his pack showed obvious wear. While he had also turned over most of his weapons, he had kept his dagger and belt pouches. Certain things had to remain within his reach.
When the offer is fairly openly stated for 'company' for the evening he almost loses his composure. While he was aware of such activity, he had never had the coin or the desire for such. He pauses for a moment to regain his calm and consider his words for an answer. "Thank you for the offer young lady, but I would likely be poor company myself for anyone tasked with the duty. I am little more than a traveling healer, not of the aristocracy. I am used to a hard bed, or bare ground, and always alone. 'Company' would just cause me to lose sleep." He pauses, and lowers his own voice to barely audible, "Unless there is a maiden that would want to avoid a guest and just get a good sleep. I wouldn't mind that."
Lledrith is a good enough mimic to blend into a crowd and her plan to simply blend into the staff works well enough. The humans are always a disorganized mess and can't tell one drow from the next - the large number of drow women both makes her job easier and hardens her resolve to take out her target.
Unfortunately her plan to look like she's just standing at attention didn't work out too well as some orders are barked at her.
Patience. Learn. Just don't become a slave again.
She nods once and starts trying to find the kitchen by spotting the flow of servants and trying to trace them back to wherever the food may be coming from. If she can find it, she steps in and looks around quietly to see if there are any prepared snack plates she can just grab and move with.
Zhen'ka bows deeply, their nose nearly to the floor. Speaking from this position of obeisance come the soft, melodic voice: "Of course, my Lord. I have, of course, thrown the bones in your name and the spirits confirm your health and prosperity. It is a crude method, however. Might I offer a closer reading of the cards for you later this evening, or will you be ... otherwise occupied?"
Straightening, all traces of the smirk wiped clean from their face, Zhen'ka keeps their gaze firmly on Baron Kaye's elbow, awaiting his leave to go or follow.
The Drow maiden's lips quirk in a saucy smile, and it seems she is just about to say something when she notices something behind you. Immediately, she ducks her head in a deep bow and edges back away from you. Her comrade with the bottle has already vanished.
Turning, you find yourself face-to-face with a middle-aged man whose greasy, shoulder-length hair does not hide his receding hairline. His skin is easily as oily as his hair, and beaded with sweat - you suspect this is not due to the weather, but rather to the paunch you can easily discern under his clothes of gold brocade and silk. A sickly scent surrounds the man like a miasma; a mixture of perfume and unwashed flesh.
Surprisingly sharp eyes gaze at you from a slack-cheeked face.
In the face of this obviously wealthy and overly self-indulgent man, you almost fail to notice the hard-faced thug standing a respectful three paces behind him. Almost, but not quite. This second man has the knife-scarred face of a back alley mugger and the eyes of a contract killer.
"She looked quite good," the fat man says, his voice smooth and faintly accented. "If you don't want her, feel free to send her to me. Well, even if you do decide to have her entertain you, feel free to send her to me once you've had your fill."
The man smiles; a singularly unpleasant sight. Next, he extends a pasty hand, golden rings with gemstones sparkling on every digit.
"Doctor Baje, at your service. Though not really; I doubt you've the money to hire my services, if your clothes are anything to go by. Still, it looks like we're going to be spending some time together, so I thought I'd make your acquaintance."
He glances over his shoulder at the thug.
"That's Edgar. He doesn't talk much, but I keep him for his ability to break people's legs with his bare hands and to carry my Luggage, not to carry a conversation."
You duck your head before the irate server, and go about the task of finding the kitchen. Or is that supposed to be the galley, seeing as you're on board a ship at sea…?
Several other Drow lead you down the stairs, into the bowels of the ship. Here, the dull thunder of the drums that help the rowing-slaves keep their rhythm sounds much louder; you could swear you can feel every beat in your bones.
Through a warren of narrow passages, you follow your unknowing guides, and breathe a sigh of relief when you arrive at a surprisingly clean and spacious room, which smells of good cooking and spices.
A rotund little human in a white apron and hat is moving from frying-pan to oven, taking out little dishes and setting others to boil or fry. A large table already stands full of silver- and gold-plated platters of delicacies.
"And here's another one," a laconic voice says as soon as you enter the galley. "Damn long-ears. Ship's got more of 'em than rats."
You nearly jump out of your skin and spin in place, to see that another human male is leaning against the galley wall, right beside the door. He's clearly edging up on middle age and resenting it. In contrast to the bustling cook, his clothes are dishevelled and he spreads a faint, sour odour which suggests he has skipped too many baths. He has large, scarred hands that suggest he either does a lot of work with them or gets into a lot of fights. His face could be peeled off and mounted as the personification of weary cynicism and disappointment with life.
"Oh, leave the poor girl be, Shamus," the cook says, tut-tutting.
He takes a moment to pat your hand, then deftly puts one of the trays in it, one full of little… things… made of sugar and yellow and green marzepan.
"Alright, dear?" the cook says, giving you a wrinkle-faced smile. "Best not keep the customers waiting. Mind you come back here after shift ends; I'll get dinner started for you girls soonest."
"Not my health, you fool, the business venture!" Baron Kaye sighs, his eyes rolling beseechingly towards the heavens. "We need to make a profit on this business, or else I'm going to have to start selling off assets to keep us out of the poor house!"
He gives you a stern glare and waves his index finger at you.
"Assets like the house servants! Ahh, I really want you to go and do another augury, but... Ahhh… No. No! Get down to the deck and start entertaining the guests, I've got all the girls running for dainties and drinks. Remember, be charming, be polite, be friendly, and be efficient.
We're playing cards in the drawing room tonight, I want you to talk all those wallets - customers, I said customers - talk all the customers into attending."
The willowy Drowmaid on the Baron's arm gives you a small, smug smile.
"Maybe 'e should be our dealer for tonight, Milord," she suggests in her deep, purring voice. "Let him play 'is little card tricks to ply the money out of that 'orrid Dr. Baje's pockets."
She gives a small, delightful shudder.
"That man, 'e gives me the cold shudders!" she complains.
"Now, now, Yvin, my sweet," the Baron says, and he places a kiss on the Drow girl's knuckles. "If his money keeps us all out of the dock, we can stand Dr. Baje a bit longer."
The Baron's eyes, suddenly sharp as knives, move across the deck until they land on the guests. "Baje is already talking to that prize winner. Zhen'ka, go. I want them all playing tonight. Oh -- and be careful of Count Lenker. I've already told the girls not to make him any offers, make sure you don't say anything to him he could interpret as one. He has … a reputation all his own. He likes to hurt his pretties."
Selann nods to the other man, shifting his shoulders just enough to allow the top of his holy symbol to be visible for a moment. He tugs at his shirt to cover it again, then reaches a hand toward the man. "Doctor Baje? Hopefully nobody here will need any services, yours or mine. This is supposed to be a vacation. But you have the right about my clothing. I've traveled quite extensively lately and most everything I have with me is as worn as my mood. I'm hoping for a good relaxing time."
He nods toward the thug, "Edgar. Good to know. A good bodyguard is always good to have around, especially if the Kebalites make trouble, or the Despised Ones decide to rise from their proper place." Turning back to the Doctor he grins, "As to the drow girl, I find that as I've aged I have less interest in the species. But, as she has run off, if you really want her now perhaps your guard could fetch her. If she returns to me, perhaps I'll direct her your way. Do you know where your cabin is? However, I'd recommend not damaging her. She looked a bit fragile and our host might not want his servants broken."
Bowing low once more, Zhen'ka murmurs "Oh course, my lord."
As the Baron turns away, the dusky red tiefling unfolds and assiduously straightens their silver-trimmed, sky-blue robes. Self-consciously, they reach up between swept-back horns to adjust their skull-cap, ensuring it is tugged low over their forehead. Turning, then, to look toward the main deck and the Baron's guests, Zhen'ka spots the doctor and Selann already in conversation.
Unhurriedly, taking care not to trip, but also unconcernedly, they walk over to the two men. Bowing to a perfect 45 degrees: "Good afternoon, my lords. I bear the greetings and welcome of my master, Baron Kaye. Welcome aboard the 'Folly! The Baron and his household look forward to entertaining you for the next few days. To wit, we hope to see you at the card table this evening! If you are skilled, perhaps you will walk away even richer than you are now" (with this last, they subtly wink at Selann)
After this little speech, Zhen'ka will wait politely in case either guest has any questions, before offering to show the men to their room.
Slightly surprised, but also gratified, to be interrupted by the tiefling, Selann watches and listens closely to the words and body language.
"Excellent! That sounds like an interesting diversion... However, I may be relegated to a gallery area to watch as I have no experience or skill with cards. But I am sure that the good doctor here will be a shining example to all of us about how the game is played. Am I right Doctor Baje?"
"Might I know your name sir? I might want to mention it to the lord for the information that you have provided."
Lledrith is well-used to abuse from humans and politely ignores Shamus, as she receives the tray from the cook.
"These look good enough they'll be gone in seconds. I'm sure I'll see you again soon enough." She returns the wink in what she hopes is a coquettish manner. Never trust a human, but they can know things, and friends will speak. Presenting a stony-face to Shamus, she makes her way back out.
Once in the hallways she starts moving with the composed hate of a veteran servant, but takes her moments to build a mental map of the ship whenever unobserved. Any information can lead her to her target.
Selann will notice only that this is just another day in the life of a servant - Zhen'ka is not particularly perturbed, and is simply carrying out their master's orders: be courteous, be polite, make the guests happy and comfortable. You can tell they are a bit wary around Doctor Baje, however.
Bowing to Selann again in thanks: "I am Zhen'ka, the lord Baron's seer. Please feel free to call on me if I may be of service to you. As for cards," and here the right side of their face twitches in a smile, "I'm sure my lord and the good Doctor would be quite happy to teach you the game."
Dr. Baje smiles and … chuckles at Zhen'ka's comment. It's a singularly phlegmy, ghastly noise.
"Oh, yes. I excel at teaching," he says to Selann. "And don't worry too much about stake money, my good fellow. There are other ways to settle debts."
His watery eyes look at something beyond the two of you, and his ugly smile widens.
"Here's a man who knows all about alternative forms of payment. Isn't that right, old boy?"
- - - - - - - - - - - -
The first Selann notices Count Lenker's presence is when the man's well-manicured hand fall on his shoulder.
The second is when the scent of his aftershave wafts around him.
Zhen'ka finds himself surprised as well; he could have sworn the infamous Hedonist was standing at the ship's railing just a moment ago!
"Really now, Baje, old boy," the nobleman drawls, his voice pleasantly masculine and amused. "No telling your wicked tales to people I haven't been introduced to yet; you'll rob me of the chance to shock them myself!"
Smiling, not moving his hand an inch, the Count addresses Selann: "Count Lenker. Charmed. So, what brought you to this dreary little boat-ride?"
The nobleman flicks a charming, but slightly less smoldery smile Zhen'ka's way. "I think there's going to be a bit of a chill in the air soon. Brandy, I think. Three glasses; one for me, one for my friend here, and one for the good doctor."
"Oho," Dr. Baje wheezes. "So I'm not a friend. Sensible, I know, but still. Do you know, Lenker, this man doesn't have much money to his name, but he may still be joining us for cards tonight?"
The Count's charming smile widens to a tigreish grin.
"Really! Perhaps you'd like a loan, my dear fellow?"
It's easy enough for you to build a mental map of the ship - at least, the parts where you're allowed to go.
You 'mistakenly' peer in at the access to the lower deck, where the galley-slaves are straining to move the ship to the beat of a drum, but there's a male Drow with a club on guard.
He isn't rude about it, per say, but the way he shakes his head and waves you to move on says that he is not about to let sentiment about sharing a species interfere with his job to keep unauthorized personnel out of the lower deck.
The middle deck apparently includes the kitche, several luxury suites for the guests, and a fair number of servants' quarters. You might be surprised at the seeming egalitarianism, but a few discrete glances soon tell you that the servants' quarters are repurposed cupboards and storage rooms -- and of course the rich and selfish want their servants to be available at a moment's notice.
Coming back out on deck, you can see the three guests standing in a small huddle with a Tiefling...
Selann feels the hand grasp his shoulder and he tenses for just a second, wanting to reach for a weapon but knowing he can't. He realizes that it isn't an attack, at least not a real physical danger.... when he smells the acidic odor of the Count's aftershave. He gasps quietly for a second or two, getting used to the smell to regain his normal ability to breathe while he absorbs the information granted by the repartee of the men before even thinking of joining. "Count Lenker. Many thanks for your hosting this event. As to what brought me here? Well, it would be too long of a story for relating here. Let me just say that as a guest speaker at a temple of the Goddess of Life I happened to be at just the right place at just the right time to help a young lord that was seriously injured. The lad would likely have lost both of his legs had I not been there, with the skills of a professional chirurgeon. Now I'm not referring to any magikal skills, I haven't any. But when the noble clergy are too busy, or just not around, sometimes we old practitioners just have to do what we can. Anyway, the lad was so happy to be saved from his injury that he pressed the ticket on to me as payment. I'm not usually one for such luxury as I was told this would be, or such as I've seen here, but I just felt that I had to come along." When the brandy arrives he takes a very small sip. It wasn't a drink that he was familiar with, and after the first sip he decided that he wouldn't become familiar with it....
"A loan? I'm really not familiar with such things, but from a purely numerical standpoint it hardly makes any sense. Initially it sounds like the intent is to give me a chance, that I wouldn't have otherwise, to win some money, either from you or anyone else playing. However, since I know little about the game, how to win or the odds of the different options, there is little chance that I could win, so you would more than likely win your money back or the good doctor here would take it. Then I have the same resources that I have now but I owe you the stake that you loaned me. And how would I repay that? My speaking engagements at the temples grant me a relatively comfortable life, but hardly what one would call riches.... So barring a loan, perhaps there might be some way to 'earn' a stake at the table?"
Clocking what she's seen, Lledrith sweeps out onto the deck with her tray of canapes ready to be gobbled up. She moves over to the guests huddled with the tiefling, cheating the goodies away from her so she can take a bit to properly listen in on what's being discussed. While doing so, she assumes her best "servant at attention" stance, something she's learned since she was a little girl.
Usually unflappable, Zhen'ka registers surprise at the sudden appearance of the Count with a slight widening and rapid blinking of the eyes, and a quick half-step back, before recovering.
Masking a grimace at being ordered about like the wait staff, Zhen'ka nonetheless performs a stiff half-bow before stalking off to fetch brandy at the bar. Returning with the drinks in time to hear Selann asking about "earning a stake," the tiefling decides to stick around This ought to be amusing... and backs up to stand next to the drow servant who's just arrived.