Madchën Sabina's page

At the words of Sandru and Ianez, the proud Sabina's cheeks flush crimson.

She throws herself into the battle with savagery and vigor.

The front line of undead reaches your location.

"The undead is here," Madam Sabina says gravely. She gives a short bark and snaps her fingers. Her drow minions emerge from the shadows and stand around her. Some wield weapons, others are spellcasters. "Ho!" She gives a wave of command. Aside from Volst's skeletons, the drow form the first defensive perimeter around the prisms. They advance slowly, weaving spells and shrouding the battlefield with darkness.

...the drow merchant, Madchën Sabina...

The assistant tells you that the tunics sell for 10 gp each, but at a discounted cost of 7 gp for you. Madam Sabina expresses pleasure that you stopped by, excuses herself, and disappears into a back room momentarily. The assistant busies herself with preparing your purchase. It inadvertently happens that the ledger is left out on the counter, open for all to see. If you try to look at it, the salesgirl would know, unless you weren't obvious about it. It's unlikely that she'll leave and give you a moment alone with the receipts.

You may either bluff the salesgirl and make a Bluff check to examine the ledger, or take the ledger and replace it again quickly, (a trained Sleight of Hand check).

The drider takes in Caromarc's appearance; it looks like she is half-startled, half-contemplating what she can take from it for her next design. She gets a hard look to her face. "Ah! I may have soul of shopkeeper and artist, but I am not cleric. Now we talk religion? Well..." She picks up a long, pearl-tipped hatpin, rolls it between her fingers. "Most people are unsuited for anything except be devoured by spider-goddess. Existence is brutal, unforgiving, eat or be eaten. Whatever happens, stay on guard, climb to the top." She holds the hatpin poised like a tiny pretend dagger.

"Whatever happens." In her voice is a note of fear.

The proprietress is delighted at La Siréene's news. "A success for us both!"

And then she betrays her previous edict, and can't resist gushing. "You be pleased to know, our business relationship doing well. You are valued customer. I don't mind telling, special order I made for client...so nice! They love so much. I never make anything like it before." She wants to lapse into Undercommon, but struggles to say it in the Common tongue. "One-of-a...kind!"

"Made of materials from the dragon!" she proudly announces.

Sabina chokes down an age-old hatred, and forces a collegial smile for Quinn.

At Ianez's query, her face twitches. She appears to debate something in her head, then decides to speak. "You are man who knows language of drow. I respect. I appreciate your candor."

She circles the archaeologist and peers at him closely. The jointed legs glide over each other. "But there is other side to drow. Know when to hold tongue. I serve very high-end, wealthy clients. It was project for one of these..."ค่าคอมมิชชั่นพิเศษ." For business purpose, I keep information confidential. You understand."

"Too bad about doctor. I know nothing about."

Sabina reaches out and straightens Blackacre's lapel. She smiles. Her eyes flash. "And you tell them who the clothes you wear made? You bring ชื่อเสียงที่ดี to Sabina's name?"

Gracias por el aviso.

The tall, pretentious drow woman, who opened the door last time, lifts the latch and admits you into the antechamber. The music in the shop isn't playing, and it is quiet. She distributes the aerosol canisters so you can spray your shoes and walk easily on the cobwebbed floor. Once you reach the main part of the shop, you're left to wait for several minutes before your hostess finally appears.

Madchën sidles out from the back of the shop. "ยินดีต้อนรับกลับ เพื่อน. How was your party?"

Sabina gives a perfunctory order to one of her clerks. She wraps her legs around the dragon's carcass and rises back into the gloom of the rafters.

The thin drow girl addresses your party. "คุณม่ายเห็นคุณทำการก่อสร้าง ใช้ที่นี่เป็นเวิร์กช็อปชั่วคราว."

The drider circles the dragon's body, her long, jointed legs cascading over each other. The way she moves is both creepy and beautiful. She raises a diamond-encrusted loupe to her right eye, and inspects the dragon closely. Her eyes run back and forth, back and forth across its body. She smooths her hand over it, assessing the quality of the hide.

"Is very unusual," she says. "It seems หนึ่งของ-a-ตอง."

She casts detect magic on it. A sharp intake of breath. She orders her clerks to truss the corpse and move it to one of the back areas.

"I like this hide. I make nice dragonscale items with it."

Sabina brings out the ledger. She speaks decisively. "I offer you line of credit. 45,000 gold. Or I pay you directly, if you wish."

A short while later...

Sabina looks at you with disbelief. "What is this you have brought the here to my shop?!"

The shopkeep is bewildered by the gesture. Even so, she hugs La Siréene, raises her up towards her, smells her hair, and squeezes her arm.

...as if testing the meat on her bones...*whistles*

Madchën doesn't understand Sandru's expression of thanks. She responds with a confused nod.

She warms to Ianez's flattery, reaches out, and pinches his cheek.

"I have a wonderful scythe you might be interested in," Madchën replies to Caromarc.

She rings up the sale of arrows to Quinn.

Madchën is impressed by what she perceives is a shared pretension. "The fragrance is rich with Eastern spices. The leaves are fermented to create balanced taste. If I guess, it is blend of leaves from the middle of the tobacco plant, lighter in color and flavor than those exposed to sunlight at the top of the plant, and leaves from the bottom of the plant, which are weaker in flavor but have a nice burn. But then, from little we know of the wayang race, they are creatures of shadow, like the drow. Um...คุณดีอาจสงสัยว่า ภายใต้สภาพสิ่งแวดล้อมเช่นชนิดของใบไม้อยู่ในวงแหวน."

"I'll just say...you can't actually buy it. You have to 'โน้มน้าว' a wayang to give it to you."

"But like I said, worst case scenario, there's always the dwarf with the shop. รวม!"

One of the drow displays a selection of crossbow bolts.

She is willing to share whatever facts would be helpful, but has nothing to add that would be of much use.

Madchën is surprised by the generous offer of the talking houseplant. She quickly hides her reaction. "If you come across interesting materials I can use for my trade, let me know."

"Oh, you mean food, water...necessities?" She motions to her helpers. "If I need to, I'll just eat one of them."

It's unclear whether she is joking.

"Yes, we do," Madchën says to Blackacre, and points for an employee to retrieve said bullets. "As for tobacconists, there is dwarf with shop in town." She wrinkles her nose in disgust at the thought.

"Between you and me, this is the best." She stuffs into your hand a small, folded piece of paper with a wad of tobacco in it. The plant is spicy and aromatic. "This is tobacco from a real wayang. Hard to find, but if you can, definitely worth beating the creature senseless so you can take some and give it a try."

Madchën answers Sandru. "All this upheaval is bad for business. If someone doing this on purpose, they have crossed me and they will pay."

"I enjoy dark. Easier for illusion. But I don't need this random chaos."

Madchën looks slightly annoyed at Sandru, as if he was a houseplant that suddenly magically gained speech and started talking. She cocks her head to one side and raises a long fingertip to her temple.

"There are many drow in this region, yes."

The Lyrune-Quah arrow gives off a soft bluish-white glow. "These are interesting," Madchën says. "You do not shoot from bow. If you have one in your possession, it give you...what is phrase...จิตวิญญาณของเผ่า."

She confirms that they sell arrows that do bludgeoning damage; these are standard and quite inexpensive.

As Madchën allows Quinn to inspect the arrows, she looks past him at Sandru a couple of times. The expression on her face reads that she wonders if she underestimated him and is questioning first impressions.

One of the clerks brings out a display case of arrow samples. Inside, lays an arrow with a crescent-moon shaped fletching. Madchën takes it and rotates it in her fingers. "Right now, these are popular. Arrows of the Lyrune-Quah tribe of Varisia. Only better. Made of the finest-quality materials." The clerk opens a different case. It contains standard arrows in different colors ranging from silver and black to a blend of peacock greens and blues. "Or we have these that are still nice, but less expensive."

You can tell Madchën bristles at Quinn's questioning, yet maintains her composure and chooses to bite her tongue. "The drow are masters of trickery and deceit. This is very strong magic. It will last for your purposes."

"หยิ่งแบบปกติ! ตัดออกลิ้นของเขา!" one of the other drow hisses from the shadows. Madam Sabina shoots them a sharp look. Or is it a knowing one?

"Now, now," she says. "Let's pretend that wasn't just said." She presses her palms together. "Where were we? Oh, yes. The subject of cost. 2,000 gold. Which is a steal. And if you ever tell anyone I sold to you for so low, I will hunt you down and have you killed."

"And wherever you're going, I want free advertising. You tell people that you're wearing my clothes."

Madchën takes the gold from La Siréene. "Your payment is...how do you say...ยอมรับได้."

She claps to summon one of her underlings. "ขายแหวน," she says.

As she listens to Ianez, her eyes smile like a pleased cat. "Your travels sound so interesting, adventurer! Sure that everyone wants to hear such tales of the drow!"

You receive your baths and shaves, etc. When Madchën is done glamering your armor, you stand and look in the mirrors of the shop and see your new looks.

Madchën looks at Quinn. "I heard what you say. The only atrocity is clothes you are wearing to come in here." The other drow laugh.

"Look, I deal with all of you. Even you. We can provide the bath, shave, and manicure. I look at you, I think, 'They can not be affording my clothes.' But we will work around that."

She walks among you, directing her staff to take your measurements. "You see, the basis for the glamourous is the glamer. You do not have to be the fashion, you just have to seem the fashion. We bend the light around you and...voila!"

She waves a hand at Caromarc; he appears outfitted in a luxurious black coat with tails, polished black dress shoes, a top hat, and a cane.

"Glamer!"

She strides on her eight legs over to La Siréene and sidles up against her. "There is the hope for you yet, my dear. We will dress you like a proper woman."

And thus, Madchën sets to work with the rest of her staff, working the glamer and getting all of you prepared for your social occasion. As the drow works, she says to Ianez, "You say you learn language of drow before. Tell me about that."

She descends from the shadows: a drider flexing her legs as she works a strand of silk from her spinneret. Madchën moves surprisingly fast, given the huge bulk of her body. The humanoid half looks like a mature, dusky-skinned, elegant, drow woman, hair swept up, with fashionable bangs, lots of dark eye makeup and lips stained red. On her arms, she wears bangles and silver clasp bracelets.

Madchën gives a couple of snaps. The girl with the pesh raises her eyebrows, a show of petulant offendedness, sets the tray down and steps back to the shadows. Her boss barks at her to move faster. The proprietress makes her way around the room: she snubs her nose at Sandru...

"ฉันไม่ทำกุศลทำงานปกติ." (said to herself quietly under her breath)

...flares her eyes hatefully at Quinn (recognizing he is half elven)...

"ลูกของคนโกหก!"

...she regards Blackacre curiously, steps back, strokes her chin, thoughtfully takes in Caromarc's appearance...

"อาจมีปัญหาที่อาจเกิดขึ้น."

...at the last, setting upon La Siréene and Ianez; here her eyes fill with delight...

"คุณพูดภาษาของ ได้ไหม อย่างไรงาม!"

...then, back to Caromarc. "I will speak the Common now," Madchën says. "I must tell you, I do not normally outfit people who are not on my list of clients. There is a reason Madchën Sabina is considered exclusive!" She looks with chagrin toward the front of the store. "But since the whole world is suddenly under siege, apparently, even a fashion scion such as myself must bend the rules a little bit...for good of business. Not much people coming in except you. You mention you need dressed for a party? Let me see what I can do for you."