Seemingly a bit disappointed at the absence of any blood, brain or drow ears newly decorating the table, Cirok buys another round for himself and Gadak.
I have half a mind to go slit both those minions throats and dump the bodies at this guy's front door myself.
The Rogue winks.
Only get one first impression afterall.
Maybe wrap them prettily with flowers.
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I think it's time for us to go back to the House, Gaddak whispers. Anyway, if you don't want to upset the Slavemother.
On the way back, you are stopped again by a drow patrol. It seems your company has attracted some attention... Or not? Do you really stand out or is it just paranoia? Colgrim's manners. Velath's aloofness. And many other things that you may not notice and that betrays you away as outsiders... Why were you stopped? Who knows. In any case, rings with the symbol of the House Vonnarc help to solve the problem quickly.
Otherwise, the return to the estate is uneventful, as is the subsequent night. However, each of you is tormented by nightmares. These are not chase scenes or some kind of coherent plot... Rather, a general feeling of anxiety and some kind of indistinct otherworldly whisper on the verge of perception... You wake up refreshed physically, but the aftertaste of anxiety remains on your soul, although it is not possible to remember what exactly you dreamed.
At the distribution of "morning" tasks, you again see that drow on the X-shaped structure. On his back, which has just begun to heal, new traces of whipping are visible. Catching your eye, a Gadak who happened to be nearby grins. He got it for not going to work, haha. A one-way ticket for most. It seems to me that he will be a drider soon. And no sympathy from your charioteer, who is now being assigned to take something somewhere...
Soryan is sent to be a messenger inside the house, mainly to pass errands or small parcels from some higher-ranking servants than himself to others.
Cirok is sent to the stalls of the riding lizards. Troglodytes do the dirtiest work there, but there is still a lot more...
Colgrim, Velath and Cuthalian are sent to different parts of the territory to patrol or stand guard in a particular place.
Colgrim holds himself all haughty and snooty, looking disdainfully at the drow as they look him over. When they get back, he deals with the anxiety by getting drunk and passing out in bed(Ale, the best sleeptime aid)
During the 'day' he girds himself for yet another boring patrol.
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Cirok winks at Gadak. Finishes his brandy. And calmly (arrogantly) Strides out to the stables with the group.
I am thinking of setting those gentlemen up for slaughter and murder, if anyone cares to not be around the stables tomorrow.
The grinning Rogue doesn't seem to be joking.
Sometime we'll into the late morning, a few troglodytes, along with a high ranking guardsman lizard mount were found murdered in the stables of House Vonnarc.....
Witnesses swear they seen a drow known to frequent a seedy establishment in Drashes. He is known to have two other close associates....
Later that evening, Cirok returns to their rooms. The Rogue is seen holding a sack and some tools.
So, anything new?
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The consequences are not long in coming. On the one hand, it's hard to say that the murder of three troglodytes particularly worries at least someone in House Vonnarc (besides the troglodyte people themselves). On the other hand, this drow was not recognized, and it seems he is not a member of the House... It is unclear how he arrived and how he disappeared...
Each of those who worked in the stable or were supposed to work there is interrogated, as well as a considerable number of guards. The turn also comes to Cirok . Slavemother Undamesta is in the presence of six guards, and she is clearly very annoyed.
You're involved in this somehow, I know. Tell the whole truth, otherwise your torment will be worse than you can imagine.
Cirok only bows to the Slavemother.
If you deem me useful, may I suggest usingme?
Cirok doesn't bother to lie. If she asks forthwith he will admit to having some fun and testing the security of House Vonnarc.
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And she asks... Cirok's attentive eye couldn't miss that Slavemother was taken aback for a moment by such directness. However, the surprise was so short... This slight turbidity was replaced by another, more natural state - anger.
Well, brave... you'll get your reward. Her eyes squint dangerously. Take him to the Second Daughter.
The guards surround Cirok and demand that he hand over his weapons - the only way he can appear before one of the heirs of the House Vonnarc.
...
You are led by corridors deep into the estate of House Vonnarc and Undameta opens some doors with a personal ring, which are located in the noble part of the house.
You pass through a creepy corridor in which there are six monsters on chains, similar to a melted candle or a crumpled mass of meat with terrible mouths and something like tentacles. It is obvious that these creatures are in terrible pain and are full of insane rage. They rush at you, but the chains prevent them from reaching those who walk along this otherwise rather luxurious corridor lined with ornate works of art and do not leave the lush blood-red carpet.
It's not pleasant for you to look at these monsters, but your knees suddenly become a little wobbly when you realize that each of the freaks has an elven name and the place of capture and occupation is indicated before he/she became this monster. These are your fellow doomed elves from the surface, or rather what's left of them, and you've been to some of the places they were abducted from...
Obviously, this atrocity is considered art here.
Meanwhile, you go up to the second floor. Undamesta stops at one of the doors and knocks hesitantly. An irritated shout from there makes her flinch slightly. She opens the door and quietly informs that she has brought the right person. Enter, you hear the response and you are led inside.
You are brought to the temple of Areshkagal, but different than you have been - clearly for the nobles. It is smaller, but more richly furnished. In addition, there is a rack of a very sophisticated device covered in dried blood. And there is a priestess. A drow, not white-haired, but rather blonde, with overly simpering manners and eyes glowing with madness.
Undress him and tie him up! The voice is both whiny, hysterical and shrill. A disgusting combination... She squeezes the whip so that the knuckles change their color. She does not look at Сirok - only at the golden bas-relief of Areshkagal. O Master of Riddles, O Faceless Sphinx, O Lord of Greed!!! I call to you, the Second Daughter begins to howl…
Undamesta gives you a look devoid of even a hint of sympathy and slightly nods her head towards the rack, clearly hinting that it would be better for you if you undress yourself and let yourself be shackled… The guards put their hands on their weapons. They obviously don't expect you to make suicidal attempts to get out of here by force, but they are still ready for it.
Cirok grins as he complies.
Foreplay is an art indeed.
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Cirok spends the next hours in terrible agony. All drow are characterized by cruelty, but the Second Daughter is truly insane in her sadism. She tortures you terribly with a whip, stretched on the rack and unable to dodge. She clearly has decades or even centuries of experience in how and in which places to hit so that it causes special suffering. She severely mutilates and disfigures you, heals with magic so that you can survive under new tortures and mutilates again. There is nothing pleasant about it, and if you were going to let go of barbs or look cool, then incredible pain breaks this plan very quickly. One could say that it pleases at least that you and the Second Daughter are alone and there are no witnesses to this, but in the name of the ancient elven gods, after ten minutes of agony, it becomes absolutely irrelevant... She ignores any attempts to talk to her as if she doesn't notice it, and judging by the empty glass eyes, it looks like the truth. The last thing you have time to think before slipping into the darkness of final loss of consciousness is that she didn't say a word about troglodytes. She probably doesn't even know about this incident-when could she have been informed? She's not doing it as a punishment, she's doing it for nothing. Such a detached thought that has nothing to do with a broken body...
After an uneventful day of gliding through House Vonnarc with parcels and publications, missives and messages, letters and lithographs, Soryan Dirge heads back to his allies private room to compare mental notes with his fellow insurgents on the who's who and where's where of the abyssal house of riddles and evil.
He didn't really have the opportunity to start any dialogue or diplomacy, carrying his drafts and documents, but he at least knows a few more names and a few more rooms. Hopefully his Elven comrades fated better.
Back in the room he waits, perusing his spellbook and arcane research, after checking for eavesdropping eyes and ears, of course.
Colgrim wakes up when Soryan enters. So how did your day go? Just boring patrols and nothing special. Hrumph...So we still be thinking of something to do, Dern shame I was never into this skulking about and greasing palms. We'd need Cirok for that. Speaking of which, have you seen him?
Ego is the toy that we play with...
This along with a plethora of litany lying to him his entire life.
Humor oly masks the pain.
The straight irony rings wrongly with each torture, torment, transcribe.
Cirok Brokencrown follows the yellow brick road back to Kansas....errr...to his apartments once allowed, able and alone....
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You all gather in your room, and when you are already starting to worry about where Cirok is, the door opens and two guards bring in the bloody, mutilated body of your comrade. His skin, including his face, is all cut into thin strips. He's unconscious. The third guard brings Cirok's things in and throws them on the first bed. He is the last one to leave and throws over his shoulder, Slavemother asked me to tell that the property of the Vonnarc House should not spoil other property of the Vonnarc House without the permission of the owners. The guardian doesn't seem to care about the meaning of these words.
Surely you are looking at this in mild shock, because the work and duty of all the rest of you passed without incident. Сolgrim, Velath and Cuthalian carried the usual soldier's routine, Soryan spent the day as he described above... And here it is.
Again, after re-checking for eavesdroppers, Soryan Dirge begins administering the graceful, Elven magic of his Wand of healing upon Cirok Brokencrown.
He answers Colgrim Barrelhouse as he tends to Cirok, "I learned a bit more about the various corridors and rooms of this place, and I was able to briefly meet a few others -- though was not able to really push it beyond anything superficial. Truthfully, the day was not as successful as I would have liked, but alas, we only just started.
"Fear not, though, my ally and 'Son-of-Stone,'" he looks down at Cirok, "I'm confident that your particular set of skills will be of absolute necessity long before our quest comes to its end.
"Hopefully when he awakens, Cirok can give us better news than it looks right now. In the meantime," he allows his gaze to shift to the closed door from which the guard exited, "we are quote: "The property of The Vonnarc House" and ought to make sure we behave accordingly. .... Our quest here is far too important, methinks, than to allow impatience push us to recklessness."
Chagrined, Soryan Dirge looks to his allies, "Is anyone skilled in the Healing arts?" And he wields his happy stick again.
Colgrim glares bloody murder at the drow as they drag Cirok in and he is speechless at seeing his condition. What in the Abyss happened to him? What did he do?
Cuthalian! Get over here and help Colgrim attempts to do what he can.
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Cuthalian moves to the Cirok and pulls out his holy symbol, saying his prayer as quietly as he can he consumes one of his prepared spells to call forth healing (invisibility purge for cure serious). As Cirok comes to he says, "It would appear you have made a friend." Not happy with the initial level of healing he again sacrifices a spell (blinding ray for cure moderate) and applies that healing as well.
Just what did you stumble into, Cirok?
Cirok lazily lifts a lid. White eye staring blankly. His mouth attempts to form words. He struggles.
I may need a minute....
The Rogue passes back out for another 2 hours before waking and pantomimeing water. After a few hesitant sips, Cirok splashes the rest over his face.
He screams. And passes out for another 20 minutes, before relaying his experience with the higher upside.
They suck.
After sleeping and preparing spells, Soryan Dirge looks at the still-bruised Cirok Brokencrown. "Well, I suggest we go back to Zirnakaynin and the fighting pits, anyway. Cirok and I can stay with Gadak and pursue a dialogue with the underworld bosses while Colgrim, Velath and Cuthalian fight in the pits. .... I know the arena stooges want all of us to fight but, my vote is that it should just be you guys while Cirok and I make contacts. What do you guys think?"
I don't know if Cirok can make it, they mangled his guts and bones just what in all hells did you do? Colgrim is stumped.
Cirok stays bedridden for a few days....
The Rogue smiles at Colgrim.
I attempted to setup those folks from the meet, but somehow it still landed on us.
He then frowns.
The b*$*& stole my Amulet. Need to slice her throat while I reprocess my property.
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A new day is coming. Cirok is tormented by terrible nightmares, and several times his screams wake you all up. Unfortunately (or fortunately), he cannot tell what exactly he dreamed. But the next day comes, and you all, including your wounded comrade, go to work.
Сirok is sent to run back and forth with small tasks. Help here, help there Colgrim is sent as a guard to the wall , while Velath is sent on a boring patrol .
Soryan is brought to a completely new place - the kitchen. And not just to the kitchen, but to cook food for the nobility of the Vonnarc House! Your work is monitored by several guards, and this is led by a very nasty male drow with a whip, who ordered you to call him just the Chief. He is ready to hit you for any reason and does it several times without a reason. And he is constantly yelling. In such conditions, it is necessary to show culinary skills - excuses, as always, will not be accepted .
But the most interesting thing happens with Cuthalian. The Paingiver calls the warrior when he is sent to the exercises, and informs him that he has an important task. The news about how smartly he dealt with other soldiers in training battles a couple of days ago flew around the whole House, and now the Second Son, Tiryin Vonnarc, is calling Cuthalian as a sparring partner. Most likely it will be a combat weapon. Look. He steps very close and speaks in a low and hoarse voice. If you let yourself be killed, it will be unpleasant. But if you even scratch the Second Son, you will be tortured and turned into a drider at best... He pauses. But this game should be difficult and interesting for him at the same time.
Tiryin Vonnarc turns out to be an arrogant and incredibly proud drow. A couple of times contemptuously saying in different ways that this worm could not be the one who beat those guys, he still goes out to a training fight with you, naked to the waist. He skillfully fends with strange twin blades, and you understand that despite all the arrogance and narcissism, he is really a good fighter.
Well, your task is to dodge his attacks and do your own well, but not too well. A deadly and dangerous dance, perhaps one of the most dangerous in your life. No, you've met scarier enemies, but you've never had to walk on a razor's edge while fighting...
Colgrim can't decide if he is lucky or cursed to just plod the walls and tries to recall the militia training that encouraged such tedium.
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Soryan Dirge has no problem playing whipping-boy for the chef, "Chief" and stutters over himself while saying things like, "Yes Sir, I mean 'Chef' -- I mean 'Chief' -- sorry Sir. I mean Chef, I mean Chief." And other constant and apologetic obsiquious'isms: "Should I stir the pot, now, Sir Chef, I mean Sir Chief? .... Oh brilliant command Master Sir, I mean Master Chef, I mean Chief. You are the mostest smartest Sir Chef, I mean Sir Chief, ever." He especially goes overboard with this when it's obvious that "Chief" is making a dumb mistake (under- or over-cooking, or too much or too little spice or what not: "You are such an amazing Chief, Mister Chef -- I mean -- amazing Sir, My Chief!" And if, during the cooking hours, others visit the kitchen, Soryan Dirge proudly and loudly announces the genius of "Chef" -- I mean, "Chief" and points out the brilliancies, especially when they are blunders, of The Kitchen master. Finally, if he thinks he can get away with it, Soryan Dirge goes so far as to compliment and congratulate "Sir" -- I mean, "Chef" or "Chief" at commanding so awesome a responsibility as the House Vonnarc, um, kitchen. And I act as though the kitchen chief, or boss, must be even more important than the High Clerics and Arch Wizards and Toilet-Scrubbers and Lizard-Pooper-Scoopers, and it is an honor, an honor, to have been whipped and lashed and belittled by such a grand and powerful cook, I mean Sir. I mean Chief. Sorry.
Cirok is seen attempting to preform his various tasks, along with seemingly impromptu mopping.
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Tiryin Vonnarc fastidiously wipes the blood from the sword. What a pathetic slug you are... And you too! He throws last phrase to the Paingiver. Are your warriors so weak that he can defeat them? Pffff. You should all be flogged, and it is better to sell into slavery to our enemies, so that they die of anger when they would send you to attack. But I don't have time, I'm too busy with the affairs of the Vonnarc House. At this, the Second Son goes deep into the estate. The chief of the guard just shrugs his shoulders - it doesn't seem like he attaches much importance to this drow's moods when he's not around.
Soryan, your behavior monstrously infuriates the Chef, he tells you to shut up several times and receives in response new fawning "how do you say Sir Chef, that is, the boss Chef...". He lashes you several times, but in the end he just starts to shy away. It seems he just doesn't know how to react and wants to fall into the ground, and even when you do something wrong, he prefers not to notice it, taking out his irritation in triple volume on other kitchen workers.
The duty / work of the others pass without incident.
I'm going to go crazy just standing around. Something needs to die, me or some other thing is just fine.
Cirok weakly grins at Colgrim.
I know a gal.
Tell me more. Only Colgrim would actually take this seriously.
Soryan Dirge just smirks at Cirok and Colgrim. "Yeah, right."
He keeps rubbing the back of his neck where 'Chief' burnt him earlier with a fiery lash; the soft skin is still quite tender. "Well, are we ready to get Gadak and go out to Zirnakaynin -- you'll have to remind me of the day we're suppose to make our way back to the fighting pits; this whole Darklands thing is throwing off my sense of relativity -- do we go back today, or tomorrow after chores?"
He reaches back to the burn on his neck again -- it's almost like perseveration -- but turns sympathetically to where Velath Tel'Quessir has been sleeping. "He's been out quite a while now, hasn't he." It's not a question, just one of those statements one makes when stating the obvious. Soryan Dirge kneels by the Paladin and presses the back of his hand gently on Velath's forehead and cheek, as if he has some kind of notion to feel for fever, or clamminess, or something. It's a gesture he's seen actual healers do and so mimics it out of concern.
He rubs the stinging on the back of his neck again, "I think I ought to rest for a few minutes myself."
Cirok gathers his gear, as he swears, causes, curses all drow.
Some pretty princess stole my f&&&ing Necklace! I want it back! So, whomever is assigned to the b!~**, make note of its whereabouts.
The angry (definitely still sore) rogue glances at Soryan Dirge.
Nice rash. Makes you look a bit rough.
"Yeah," Soryan Dirge winces as he rubs his neck and lies down, "But it could be worse, you know, at least I didn't lose anything of value," and he smiles in unkind jest as he rests for however long he's able. "Don't fret, Brokencrown, we'll get your Necklace back in time. After all, we are 'Blood Currency'!"
Don't shirk your scars, at least it can remind you of the one you need to revenge yourself on. Colgrim points at his scars. Make them suffer ten fold
Well lwr's stop lollygaggong and head out. I've been itching for a scrap since just standing around has me bored. Plus I need to get some good ale and there is just wine here.
"Let me have a look at that wound, Cuthalion... Ah. It's not too bad, especially compared to Colgrim after a scrap."