"That is, if I am not mistaken," Sornnolu answers, "our half-sister." He doesn't seem pleased by this revelation. "Her mother is a half-dragon, who I was certain had died during our primary expansion onto the surface." It was a more polite way of saying invasion.
Ilpholin said it was enchantment. And just like she did back in the park, she continues to ignore Rebo's OOC text protesting otherwise.
Great, more competition. Though this one wasn't even full drow. And it seems obvious she wasn't invited the normal way. Perhaps here to make a proclamation or a gift to the matron? "Shall I greet her or do you have other arrangements in mind?"
__________________
There is happiness for those who accept their fate.
There is glory for those who resist their fate.
"Perhaps it would be best if you greeted them. I fear I have left Master Aleth waiting for too long." Sornnolu nods politely, bidding Ilpholin goodbye, before returning to his previous conversational partner. "I apologize for all of the interruptions. And yes, before you ask, that is yet another of my sisters. I think. In actuality she shouldn't be alive. I don't trust this." Which was why he was keeping his distance for now.
Inala almost sighs with exasperation, instead she keeps her face care. Really, was it to much to ask to do a simple business transaction without some hussie or goblin interrupting? Honestly. She bows to the woman, Salmon or something, smiling.
"The pleasure is mine. My name is Inala Aleth. You said you were a business partner of the Lord? What pray, tell do you manage?"
It was an innocent enough question. One completely devoid of scorn or sarcasm.
[Xar'Cha Palace - With Magtok]
"You could say that I'm in the business of transportation of goods, among other things." Samona says pleasantly. The way she speaks suggests there's certainly more to it than simply moving goods from one place to the other, however. "Maggy here has been a great asset to my operations."
[Xar'Cha Palace - With the Eldritch Abominations!]
Ryldolin continues to stay silent for the moment. He's mostly recovered from his earlier shock. This is still weird as heck, but he can roll with it.
"In my experience," Endrik says, "heroes are never chosen. You may hear stories about chosen ones and saviors of the world, but that is all they are. Just stories. If one wants to be great, one must fight for it, every step of the way, clawing and scrabbling and making their way, slowly, to the top of the pile. Then begins the struggle to stay there, to prevent others from clawing and scrabbling over top of you."
The paladin has seen a lot. It's made him somewhat cynical, to say the least. "The Exalted, as you tell it, clearly have great power. What have they done to earn it? What systems are in place to prevent the abuse of that power?"
"In order to have received the power of an Exaltation," Shrike explains, "you must have already proven yourself a Hero. Solar Exaltations only come to those who have already done great and mighty things - they are both a reward, and an exhortation to do better. A young girl, for instance, who stood up against the Stormmaidens despite her fear, who told them that the ship she was aboard was under her protection and told them exactly what they could do with their desire to sink it - she would likely become Exalted."
The redhead pauses for a moment before continuing.
"As for protection against its abuse...that would be the role of the Sidereal Exalted, the weavers of Destiny and keepers of the Celestial Bureaucracy. They...do not always choose the optimal means of protection, however."
From her expression, it's clear this is a sore point.
As soon as eyes are off Raven she slinks off somewhere out of sight. Despite her mother admonishing her to be sociable Raven really doesn't mix very well with parties of any kind. Far too awkward.
As for Sadei...
Her dress is all scrunched up on her neck like some sort of absurdly frilly collar. Makes her look rather silly and she isn't terribly pleased about it. Of course there's no way the dress would be able to fit her as she is right now. And if she tried to force it the poor thing would be ruined.
She coughs politely to get the boy's attention.
"Umm... sorry about all of that..."
__________________
Warning! Random Encounter™ detected!
Spoiler
Zee is a perfectly normal human female. You suspect nothing!
Winifred 'Freddie' Fredrick
Souls Nommed: 657
Days Since Last Nomming: 0
Ilpholin will approach Irzayle and Aly'ithra, giving a very slight bow as she does. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting. I'm Ilpholin Xar'cha." Ilpholin says, the tone practiced but the enthusiasm lacking.
"Who might you be?"
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There is happiness for those who accept their fate.
There is glory for those who resist their fate.
Would you like to find your family members first? They are not hard to spot. Or perhaps mingle a bit?
So many interesting things to see and people to speak with. So many silky threads to weave. But first, a new person to contend with. And a Xar'Cha at that.
I am Irzayle.
Pointedly not providing a house name unless pressed.
Though I assure you I am not nearly as interesting as my companion.
They step slightly to one side, hoping to divert attention to Aly'ithra, gesturing to her as they do so.
*Bring it all down around you.
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Not really here. Just an illusion.
Just as fast as the dagger had appeared in Teb's hand it was gone, probably back to wherever it was hiding before. The situation around him moved quickly, barely giving Teb any time to react.
"Sorry I did not-High Priestess Hirriel!" Teb abandoned the spot between the chimeras and his brother, dropping to a knee in front of Hirriel and bowing his head deeply. "Please High Priestess forgive there insolence, it seems Raril does not properly teach his children. As for how they came to be, how is it that any child comes to be except by the grace of their Mother. They are family though and so they shall be welcomed." He spouts out quickly before standing back up with his head still bowed. "If there's anything you need me to do tonight do not hesitate to ask. There are matters that I must attend to however."
With that out of the way the assassin then went over to his little brother, crouching down to meet him eye to eye. "Never assume that something isn't going to hurt you Ry. Remember that." As much as Teb would hate to admit it he cared for his little brother. He was close family after all.
Teb stood back up, started to walk towards Sornnolu, took out his communicator to get an update of why he was contacted earlier, and mentally cursed his luck.
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"Insert some witty comment here"
The dragon-blooded drow is a bit surprised to be suddenly put on the spot. "Oh! My name is Aly'itha. I'm a Xar'Cha too. It's so very nice to meet you." Smiling warmly, she extends her hand towards Ilpholin.
Aly'ithra was dressed in a wine colored Sari, embroidered with gold. The many layers of wrapped fabric created a long and modest skirt, but the matching top left her midriff and back almost completely bare, displaying her delicate red scales. Her necklace, a simple strand of large red beads connected by a thin gold chain, did not quite match the fabric. Her shoes, simple doeskin slippers, while good quality, did not match the dress either, but remained hidden beneath the hem of her skirt, unless she was walking.
Hirriel, suitably placated, but still scowling, marched off into the crowd to make conversation with someone else.
Sornnolu, for the moment, was just leaving his conversation with Ilpholin and was heading back towards Asim Aleth. Tebtranlyn would likely intercept him there.
Ryldolin swallows hard and nods. "Yes, brother." He had made a mistake, but he hates to admit it. Oh well, he'll be more careful in the future.
As for the present, the boy turns his attention back to Sadei. "It's fine, I guess." He replies kind of awkwardly. Her current form is still offputting, though it helps strike home the lesson on being wary. "Do you have to keep looking like that now? Or can you change back?"
"Sornnolu," Tebtranlyn intercepted Sornnolu! "I believe you have given me and security incomplete information on the guest list. It would be in everyone's best interest if this was rectified immediately." The drow assassin said as he strode along with the scholar.
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"Insert some witty comment here"
Sadei has slipped back over to the buffet table and is trying to decide if she wants to distract herself with more food. The chimeras can eat... quite a bit. If only because they're quite a bit larger than the look. Or at least larger than they look most of the time. Critters with more than three dimensions are really weird.
"Oh... um... well..." Sadei wrinkles her nose. "I don't change form. I'm always like this. And I'm always drow, too. At the same time. You just can't see all of me at once? I... think...?"
The chimera shakes her head.
"Ibby is better at explaining this than I am... Mother nudged me all the way into the world. It'll take a little while before I can... umm... reorient myself?"
Is that the right word?
She isn't sure.
__________________
Warning! Random Encounter™ detected!
Spoiler
Zee is a perfectly normal human female. You suspect nothing!
Winifred 'Freddie' Fredrick
Souls Nommed: 657
Days Since Last Nomming: 0
"My apologies, cousin." Sornnolu says. "The girl was a last minute addition to the list. I did not think she would cause such a fuss. The other one with her, I was entirely unaware of. How she got in... I just don't know. But they are children. Their appearance is somewhat shocking, yes, but they and their mother live by surface rules, I did not see them as a threat, nor did I expect them to transform in front of anyone." The drow waves a hand, dismissing the problem. "What is done is done. We have other issues. That woman there, speaking to Ilpholin." He nods to them casually before turning his back to them, while still facing Tebtranlyn. "She should not exist." The Archmage was clearly bothered by this.
"Charmed. I take it this is your handservant?" Ilpholin says, nodding at Irzayle, as a minor deflection away from not taking the hand. At least as politely as can be done when it comes to not shaking hands.
"I admit to have not seeing you around Menzoberranzan before. Granted with a family this large, that's not to be unexpected, is it?" Ilpholin says with a wry smile.
__________________
There is happiness for those who accept their fate.
There is glory for those who resist their fate.
"Should not exist as in she should be dead, be killed, or is a physical impossibility? The first I can rectify, the second I can do but the third is really more your domain of expertise." Tebtranlyn question furthered as he glanced in the direction that Sornnolu had pointed out. It wasn't hard to pick out and commit to memory the woman he was talking about.
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"Insert some witty comment here"
"Irzayle? No, he's my friend. He helped me find this place." Aly'ithra explains. "Because, you see, I've never even been to Menzoberranzan before." Again, there's an odd twist to her pronunciation of drow words, it made the name of the Underdark city sound harsh on her tongue.
"Physical impossibility is the best fit, I suppose." Sornnolu decides. "The woman who should be her mother died in battle against our House. I am certain she had not borne any children to my father by that point. I watched her die, Tebtranlyn. Her mother died right in front of me. She should not be here." He says, his voice becoming flooded with agitation.
Teb nodded. "Clearly there is an explanation. The simplest would be that you where mistaken, but it could be something far more complicated. I'll make sure to keep an eye on her. Anything else?"
__________________
"Insert some witty comment here"
"Sornnolu can often by synonymous with extravagance really. Should you ever want to be showered in gifts, just invite him over for tea." Ilpholin agrees, not mentioning whether they were out of place for being here or not.
"You were born on the surface." Ilpholin says to Aly'ithra, as sort of a question but more a declaration.
__________________
There is happiness for those who accept their fate.
There is glory for those who resist their fate.
Aly'ithra smiles and nods. "That's right." She was obviously proud, and obviously didn't understand why that might be a problem.
Sornnolu thought for a moment. Was there anything else? "Well, the Matron should be-"
A fanfare sounded, echoing through the ballroom as conversations fell silent. The double doors were opened wide and Palace guards in cobalt blue armor marched in, placing themselves so as to form a corridor from the doors up to the dais on the opposite end of the room. The crowd quickly cleared the path, and watched the doors, expectant.
Music began to play with a distinctly different tone from what had been entertaining the guests previously. It was a haunting melody, beautiful, rich and dark, much like the drow themselves. The lights were extinguished. (Those paying attention would notice Sornnolu casting something prepared on cue.) Glowing blue faerie fire sprouted up to line the path and rose up behind the throne, casting the ballroom in a ghostly light. A plane of impenetrable darkness shrouded what was to come through the doors.
The music's tempo changed, and dancers burst forth from the shadowed doorway. Male and female figures, painted in colors that glowed under the light of the shifting faerie fire, changing colors when viewed under dark vision. The costumes resembled armor, with bracers, breastplates, and greaves. Each drow moved with practiced ease, twisting and tumbling and leaping through the air as they chased one another, playing out stylized battled with blades which sharpened edges flashed blue in the light.
A bass drum let out a rumbling roll, and through the doorway emerged a smoking snout and tooth-filled jaws, mounted in a frilled head that rose atop a serpentine neck. Wide membranous wings followed squeezing through the doorway. A dragon in shining silver scales came to stand in the ballroom, its head nearly brushing the high ceiling. Onlookers cringed as its long tail lashed out over the crowd.
The soldiers bravely danced forward, striking at the great beast one at a time, or in small groups. Each time they were rebuffed with the beat of a wing or the swipe of a claw. The soldiers fell back, uncertain of how to proceed. They turned to the image of Lolth on the back wall, and fell to their knees.
The music spiked and the fires on the dais rose high, falling low again to reveal a woman standing at the top of the steps. She was more heavily armored than the soldiers, the lines of it glowing with an inner red light. Her hair was long and flowing, shining like mithral. In her hand she carried a large sword, wickedly curved and sharpened on both sides at its tip. She gestured for the others to rise and directed them, ordering them to work together. Tumbling down from the dais, she pointed to the dragon. Together, they charged.
Again the soldiers fought, coordinated under the directions of the woman in the red-lined armor. The dragon reared back and opened its jaws. Heedless of the danger, the soldiers formed up under the direction of their leader. The dragon let out a stream of cold white fog, making the temperature of the room noticeably drop. The woman in the red armor charged, her blade held high. Lifted by a pair of strong soldiers, she leapt, twising through the air, easily clearing the fog and the dragon's head. As she fell, she brought down her blade, slicing through the dragon's neck.
A cold white light flashed and the dragon disappeared, leaving only the woman, tumbling to her feet, standing victorious. The other dancers ran past her, back through the doorway, leaping and tumbling in joy over their victory.
The woman remained and walked to the dais as the music fell silent and normal lighting returned. Raising her sword high, she addressed the crowd. Her melodic voice rang out, understood by the crowd in both Common and Drow.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Illharess Danube Xar'Cha, Matron Mother of the illustrious House Xabaresh Chaeron, Eighth House of the Glorious city of Menzoberranzan, a proud member of her Ruling Council, governers of the Surface lands of Glendale and Ashbourne, and stewards of this great venture: Delmah Phor!"
She lowers her blade and stands aside, bowing low towards the doorway. All in the crowd were expected to follow suit. Those that did not would be noted, though a foreigner may be forgiven for a lapse in etiquette.
From the doorway came soldiers bearing the standards of the House. Following them, came floating on a magic disk, five feet across and hovering a foot above the floor. It was laden heavily with pillows and cushions of blue silk. Upon them knelt the matron, dressed in many layers of sheer blue silk criss crossed in a golden spider web. Her hair was pulled up, held in place by a sapphire and gold spider as large as one's hand. Upon her wrists she wore bracers of blackened steel, set with silver spiders. Nestled among the cushions was a jet-black shield which seemed to absorb the light, etched upon it the spider of House Xar'Cha, its legs twisting to form the symbol of Remnant. Those in the know would recognize these two items as gifts from that same organization, a sign of solidarity between the House and the Nexus.
Reaching the dais, the matron stood from the disk and gracefully stepped down, taking her place in front of the throne and turning the face the crowd.
"Rejoice." Matron Xar'Cha proclaimed, raising her arms in welcome, her voice carrying as the other drowess' had. "House Xabaresh Chaeron has arrived in the Nexus. With us we bring the splendors of the Underdark. Tonight, I bid you to share in our riches and enjoy. It is good fortune and the will of the Spider Queen that we should be together, to work together, for our mutual benefit and glory!" Her speech finished, she took her seat on the spider-like throne, her figure echoing the image on the wall behind, a depiction of Lolth herself.
"Okay then." Ryldolin doesn't exactly sound convinced. Mostly because he still has no clue what the heck is going on with her. He's probably just going to have to write it off as magic.
Before the boy can add something else, the Matron appears. He bows low along with everybody else.
Only half joking. She had gotten them into the palace and Irzayle would be disappointed if her usefulness wore out so quickly.
And then the entrance.
As the lights drop and the faerie fire erupts, for a moment, just an instant, their black mask glints with six points of light. They watch the proceedings with interest, smiling as the women slays the dragon.
When the time comes to bow, they do so. They keep an eye on Aly'ithra and if she fails to follow suit will gently tug at the front of her shirt as an indication to do so. Better to show her a slight disrespect if it helps maintain her overall value in the eyes of the Matron than risk putting more obstacles in her way.
__________________
Not really here. Just an illusion.
Solidarity there may be between Remnant and Xar'Cha, but Delisle has no intention of showing a hint of subordination to the Matron. While most of the partygoers are bowing low, she merely gives a formal inclination of the head. This "foreigner" (though can that term be applied to someone who is in one's own home city?) is perfectly aware of the etiquette. She simply chooses not to follow it.
Ethelay, of course, bows to her elder sister appropriately.
Ilpholin is far more forward than Irzayle on the subject.
In the flash it takes for the faerie fire to sprout up, Ilpholin has shifted from in front of Aly'ithra to beside her at a speed which could be considered startling. It's overlapped, however by Ilpholin whispering in her ear. "Follow my lead and whatever you do, do not speak unless spoken to."
When the time comes to bow, Ilpholin will go to put her hand on Aly'ithra's back and press forward and down gently before removing it as Ilpholin goes into her own bow. She hates it, but she'll play this game for tonight. When the time is right, they'll all be bowing to her. Today she relents.
__________________
There is happiness for those who accept their fate.
There is glory for those who resist their fate.
The sorceress blinks. What? After seeing how Terrowin's faith treated it's prisoners she makes her own conclusions of what happened to Kail, which also leads her to the hasty conclusion that Terrowin is an utter monster.
Thankfully she manages to keep herself from exploding at the high priest, this was neither the time nor the place to tell him what she really felt about what he had just done.
"Sounds rather untordox but I don't know that much about her, or him in this case." She says with a slightly strained voice. She really wanted to let a earth elemental punch Terrowin in the face, but that wouldn't solve anything.
It did sound really odd though even if it had been completely innocent, what kind of sick bastard demanded a child as a gift? It made her sick just thinking about. She knew Terrowin was keeping slaves but this was just utterly despicable.
"What do you say Harnel? Perhaps we should make a visit?"
[Xar'Cha Palace]
Harnel nods, "If nothing else, this is something that we should see and get the details on. I'm concerned about her state of mind."
Harnel's mind is making the same jumps that Cessie's is, and assumes that she was somehow coerced into doing this; the Dalachrechian temple isn't exactly trustworthy, and he's seen mind control before. It generally happens with, low and behold, cults.
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"Of course! I assure you, though, that it was voluntary. It will have to wait a while, though; Kail's visiting the other Temples at the moment, and has to go to the new Hermitage for training. Before you ask, I don't know where the new Hermitage is; not yet anyway. I just know that Elezibethele decided to move after an attack upon her facility which included a red half-dragon slice the altar into two pieces." Terrowin makes no sign of knowing the red half-dragon was Harnel, though his eyes are focussed upon Harnel's face as he speaks, looking for proof of what he suspects.
When the Matron enters, Terrowin will bow. Maybe not as deeply as he's supposed to, nor as deep as he could; the only being he's supposed to see as superior to him is Dalachrech Himself, and he's trying to be diplomatic and observe both traditions by not bowing as low as he does before Dalachrech's altars and idols.
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"Ignorance is... Carlisle." The Doctor, Doctor Who
Terrowin Avatar by HappyTurtle. Much thanks!
I have a point!
Always willing to run a dungeon for those who need somewhere to explore. Just PM me, and decide the character and location and I'll see what I can rummage up.
"In order to have received the power of an Exaltation," Shrike explains, "you must have already proven yourself a Hero. Solar Exaltations only come to those who have already done great and mighty things - they are both a reward, and an exhortation to do better. A young girl, for instance, who stood up against the Stormmaidens despite her fear, who told them that the ship she was aboard was under her protection and told them exactly what they could do with their desire to sink it - she would likely become Exalted."
The redhead pauses for a moment before continuing.
"As for protection against its abuse...that would be the role of the Sidereal Exalted, the weavers of Destiny and keepers of the Celestial Bureaucracy. They...do not always choose the optimal means of protection, however."
From her expression, it's clear this is a sore point.
[Xar'Cha Palace]
Endrik shakes his head. "I think you have missed my point. I..." he cut off abruptly, looking over at Sszy. The drow had touched his arm. Why? Then, the matron appeared, and he understood. Or thought he did, at least. Sinking to one knee, the paladin showed his respect. Bowing in full armour was inadvisable. He waited to stand until Sszy had as well.
"Apologies. What I meant to say is that it still sounds too easy. You stand up to thugs, and for that you are granted..." He made a gesture with his hand to encompass his entire knowledge of Exaltations, which isn't a great deal. "Nothing is learned from that."
The sorceress turns to Harnel and talks to him to make sure he's is looking at her. "How strange." She says before turning back to Terrowin again. "Why was it attacked? Is it some sort of religious fight?" She asks the high priest, looking rather concerned.
Then as the matron enters she see a perfect chance to direct her and Harnel's attention elsewhere and quickly turns around to bow in respect before the matron. Making sure her husband follow her example.
Harnel says, "Think it may have been the other Harnel?" and he mostly keeps a straight face. Terrowin may conclude his face remains too straight, but that may be inconclusive evidence.
But lo! The Matron arrives! Harnel follows the lead of his wife, bowing to the matron.
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