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Kelzir knelt for a while, contemplating his answer. There were many things that he could say, obvious answers that could be given. The simple fact that he'd thought of this very same thing earlier today was interesting. Finally he settled for the simple truth.
"Free Mistress? Both?" his words were gentle. "My body has never known what this word means. For that is all it had been, just a word. My obligation to you has been forged over a hundred and ten years. For well over a century, I have known many things, but to be free is not one of them."
He sighed slightly, still contemplating the question she asked of him. But then a small smile came to his face as he reached out and placed a finger under her chin to raise here eyes to his. He looked into them, the red tinged violet glowing slightly in the darkened room.
"But that is not all, I've known. My body has been tortured, abused, used for sport, pleasure and as a tool." His words came stronger, though just as quiet as before. "There are certain things, that I may never overcome, because of my sojourn in the Underdark."
If any were watching, the smile he beamed at her belied the collar around his neck and the attitude he carried himself with. It was an honest smile, not one forced from a face that had always known darkness. It was clean, untainted by the evil it had survived for so long. It was a shining beacon, against inky black skin. A spark in the darkness.
"My soul has always belonged to Eilistraee, from the moment I was born. From that first time I found you weeping for the injustice brought down on you, ninety years or so ago. Eight horses passed their lives, waiting and being well fed for the time you would depart. Any of those years, I could have disappeared, and none would have missed me ... save yourself perhaps. But our Goddess bade me to watch, wait, and let kindness bring you to her." His smile, did not remain during the litany, if anything it grew stronger somehow, the deep notes of his trained voice, probably carrying further than he'd care for them to. "No, Mistress, I have never been free. And even now, I am not free. I shall never be free in the sense that others understand. If not to you, then to another, and ultimately our Goddess Eilistraee. But, even in shackles, I have been happy."
Zarraema:
(map - still tucked in the armor she hasn't taken off....yet!)
Guilt settled heavily on her shoulders, draped like a wreath and gaining weight at each reminder of her hand in his training and slavery. Memories of her cruelty and their time in Lloth's temple during her last years of training seared her heart as he pulled at her chin.
How much pleasure she'd gotten from tormenting his every waking moment, for daring to make her uncomfortable by the gentleness of his presence. For all of the times she'd reveled in the fright she caused and the subversion of his faith ... how could he look at her and smile? Even with the burning away of her former self and the change she'd undergone with the Moon Maiden's help... I can never forgive myself.
She remembered the first time Kelzir had come to her attention. A selfish fit of bitter weeping at something rediculously trivial had sent her to her lavish rooms. From that day, and every other time she even thought to need him, he'd been there... that day, to dress the minor welts left by the Matron Mother's punishment for her insolence in breaking some trivial household rule. 'It doesn't have to be this way,' she remembered the words he'd whispered to her. At the time, barely more than a child, it hadn't meant anything. In the end, it was the flame that drew her to Eilistraee's teachings.
She finally found her voice, small as it felt compared to his resonate tones, "...Kelzir, how can I allow you to continue as my slave, after all that you have done for me? It was your gentleness that taught me to dance and your songs that brought me out of the darkness. If anything, my gentle lover, it should be me who is bound in chains."
Too heavy with her past, she leaned forward to lay her forehead on his shoulder, letting the waist-length white-silver hair drape over her, covering over the silent tears like a curtain.
He brought his arms around her, gently stroking her hair. The smile still on his face as he turned his eyes to the back of her head. He sat quietly, allowing her this moment before speaking again.
"Remember if you will, the question you demanded me answer on your return home." His voice gentle and strong. "That I tell you what I had done to you. Explain how I'd bewitched you. I had done nothing, and still you did not believe me. But Eilistraee, had touched you. In binding me, she also bound you. So I return the question to you, now knowing this. How can I not continue as I have for so many years, keeping my faith burning brightly against darkness, hatred and evil?"
Zarraema:
(Map - yup, it's still there, tucked in the sleeve)
She left her head resting on his shoulder, letting his very presence give her courage as she remembered the beating she'd given him when he could not answer why he'd remained foremost in her mind during her first year of Temple Training. How humiliating to be a novice in Lloth's temple and yearn for any specific man's company. Especially her slave! She'd come very near to killing him that night, and even after her rage had subsided, he'd been gentle and kind.
"...please, Kelzir, let me at least take the mark of shame from around your neck? Stay and be near me, fight the Dark Queen's influence with me, if you wish, but do so because you wish it, not because you wear a collar and a brand...and not because I wish it. Please, tell me how I can give you freedom?"
His gentle hands smoothing her hair and the deep tones of his voice could only soothe so much. Even the Goddess' gentle teachings could do nothing more than deepen the guilt. I will find a way to atone. I will...
He continued stroking her hair, letting his hand run as far as he could along the length of it. His posture, though kneeling, was anything but servile at the moment. She could feel him shake his head against her.
"Zarraema, this collar is nothing more than a piece of jewelry to me. It is no mark of shame. It speaks a thousand things that I do not have the words for. I do not know what freedom is, nor do I care. I have not stayed with you for all your life because of a simple piece of metal. I stayed because Eilistraee wished me to, and because I wanted to."
"I stay now, because I have no desire to be anywhere else and our Goddess has not bade me to depart. This simple piece of metal, says I have survived the worst that the Demon Spider Queen could bring to bear. I have not gone unscathed, but I have survived. It says that Eilistraee's power is greater than that of any drow. It is a symbol of pride, of endurance, of dedication, of kindness, and of love."
"I wear it, to show others that faith in something greater than themselves can help them overcome even the darkest adversity. I wear it to show that even somebody so low as to be little more than a scraping off a boot, can make a difference. I wear it to give others of our people, hope."
"In all the years we were in the Underdark, I have had a hand in many escaping the clutches of the Queen of Spiders. I have helped others leave the city to start new lives elsewhere. I have shown others the way out, the way to the freedom you now have. I am enslaved by my faith and devotion. And were I to not have this around my neck, then others may never know that .... It doesn't have to be this way."
Zarraema:
(Map - guess what! ...it won't be in her sleeve for much longer!)
The sound of her name without the title shook her out of her penitent haze enough to look up. He'd been a lifetime in her House's service and months with her on the surface, and she'd never known of his assistance to others, only that he'd waited for her before escaping, himself. The depth of his devotion to the Dark Maiden and love for their people, despite the way he'd been treated...or, because of it...humbled her.
That his collar, a beacon of her shame, meant so much to him, caused a sudden impulse to touch the adamantite band at his throat - just a piece of metal, a relic from a minor House, that held such a dichotomy of meaning. As she touched it, she leaned forward to touch a kiss to his forehead, "I will never ask you to take it off, again."
"Here," a sudden thought caused her to push a shaky finger into her sleeve to fish the folded map out, "You should be the one to carry this. If it is what you suggested, then you are the only one that can be trusted with its safety." For a moment, she fumbled with the bit of parchment, still trying to pull herself out of the shadows of the Underdark.
KELZIR
(Map? What map? I have a map? Oh, you mean this map.)
Silently his hand takes the parchment from her. Under his deft fingers, he carefully refolds it in a specific manner and then tugs the collar. Under his grasp, it moves away from his neck, stretching slightly, and his fingers part the leather backing on it. Deftly, and with much practice, he slips the folded parchment into the backing and lets the collar rest easy against his skin again.
"I will hold it for you, Mistress. Until you need it again," he whispers. "I may be wrong, I may be right. There is no knowing until we find what lies at the end of the search."
His trickery actually brought a smile to her lips, that explains so many things... A male slave in her mother's House could never have been assured of any stitch of clothing, but always of his collar.
"It could as easily be a trap or treasure as a key, but for tonight, we can't know."
A faint smile touched her lips, weighted with the previous discussion but still true. "Kelzir, will you sing for me? I feel heavy, I think there's room enough in here to dance, and the moonlight from the window will have to do. I ... will you do me the honor of helping my devotions, tonight?"
KELZIR
( Bearer of the One Map, folded carefully behind collar. )
"Our devotions, Mistress. Our devotions."
He rises and retrieves his drow made lute, then moves some of the furniture around to provide a little more open space before closing the door. Finally he settles himself in a corner, out of the way. He clears his throat, and shakes his hands before beginning.
Spoiler
Perform: (1d20+4)[8](12)
He winces slightly at the notes, obviously still a little unsettled by the events of the day. It wasn't his best, but it still wasn't too bad. With a slight shake of his head at himself, he decides to carry on. Starting with a light step, and flowing into a graceful turn. He plays not for the woman dancing before him, but for a Goddess he's never seen, but who has been the core of his life since he can remember.
A deep breath begins her preparations for devotion as her fingers deftly work at the fastenings of her armor until it all lay neatly folded at the foot of the bed that Kelzir had prepared. With haste, but not without grace, she doused the lights and stood bare in body and spirit in the faint moonlight trickling from the only window.
The room melted from her vision, leaving only the vague sense of where objects lay in her way. As Kelzir's song began, she let the emotions bleed into a simple sway and escalate from there in concert with the bard's song and her own inner workings; giving it all over to Eilistraee's sight. Somewhere during the dance, her sorrow gave way to the peace of being away and the hope that she could somehow show the Maiden's gentleness to others.
Through most of the night she danced, until she could do nothing else but sway from the weariness of the day and the exertions of the devotion.
((This map explain all the doors enough for ya there, Edo? lol))
Kelzir: After maneuvering the beds to ther desired positions, taking apart one of the beds to double Zarraema's, you look out the window. There are different sized rocks and stone, that make up the outser wall of the Inn/tavern. even a one handed blind dark elf could easily make his way to the window. Below your window is a large wagon of hay, into a large pile ((for possible escape out the window if needed.) The next building closest to your side of the inn is over 20' out, and there is another window directly across from yours. The window is dark and curtained, and you remember noticing that the building below is a bakery. The stars outside shine brightly and the cloudless night sky allow the moon to shine into the room, adding additional light. With a thunk your dagger bites into the old wood, wedging the window closed.
FistarYou walk down the stairs into the Sleeping Centaur and see that the room is still in full swing. many groups sit around and drink and talk amongst themselves. The few who are not totally smashed drunk turn to watch you arrive into the room as your leather soled boots clack on each step. You make it through the crowd to the bar and begin talking over the price with the tender, and he refuses to give you the money back until he can guarantee the rooms are usable again come morning. "Consider it a security deposit." is what he keeps repeating.
The first thing you sense is the smell of fragrant wildflowers and honey. If wafts over your shoulder and almost turns your head for you. Your eyes spot a woman with half elven ears poking through fire red curly hair. her face is made up, which marks her for a woman on the prowl. Her beauty is shining through the makeup, but her smile stuns you for a few seconds. She tilts her head to one side and folds her arms under her ample chest as her hip shoots out to a side and she stands, smiling to you. "My lord, may I buy you a drink?"
Her voice is like satin tickling your ears. Her aura screams of sex and she knows it.
After arguing with the bartender for a bit, the wood elf rogue gave up with a sigh and grumbled. “Very well, I will see you in the morning.”
The fresh scent of wild flowers and honey enticed him to look at the half elf. Her offer to buy him a drink agreed with him. He chuckled and gave the half elf an appraising look, “I’m not one to pass up an offer of a drink from a beautiful female.” He wryly grinned at her. “Bartender, I’ll have an ale, if you don’t mind and the lady will have…, “ quirking an eyebrow at her with a tilt to his head.
__________________ Fistar
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
The Female nodded to the tender and slid two waterhavian gold across the bar. She took her own mug of ale and moved her eyes over to the wood elf. She smiled and averted her eyes, then looked back to Fistar slowly. Those emerald green eyes look the wood elf over, and then return to lock onto his.
"Are you a guard, or some sort of adventurer?" Her hand runs along the sheath of your dagger. her delicate fingers stroking the leather hanging from your belt, holding the dagger in.
OOC :
Spoiler
need a sense motive check
need a spot check
Kelzir and Zarraema:
Your time together in the warm soft bed seems timeless and the noise from downstairs seems to "drown out' any stray noises, moans or yelps that come from your room. You feel safe and secure. OOC :
Spoiler
both of you roll me a listen check.
Jessamyn and Etsia:
The cooling ocean breeze feels good across the room and brings the stemy temperature of the room down by at least 20 degrees. THe hawk claws at the soft wood,trying to pull up a bit, looking for grubs. it then squats down and buries it's head until the random noise makes it pop up and look around, noise form downstairs, to noises of carts and wagons outside. the city is as strange to it as it is to Etsia. the light gone over the mountains have the dusk sky darkening. OOC :
Spoiler
both of you rolls me a listen check. Vie roll another at +5 of yours for the Hawk
Etsia was dreaming. She was climbing in the big trees of her home jungle, her hawk companion swooping down on occasion, scouting for her. She was searching for something, but she could not remember what -- not until she caught a whiff of white fur in the distance. White Fox. The trees vanished, the warmth of the jungle went with it, and she was standing in the streets of Gothmoor, the crowds of big people blocking her view, making it impossible to find the totem animal. The hawk in the air screamed of frustration. I can't go home without you! She ran through the streets that all looked the same, trying to catch that same spot of white fur in the distance.
The paladin had laid back in bed but not quite closed her eyes yet... Staring at the ceiling, she considered the events of the day, her new companions, the city's strange history. Their upcoming excursion.
The rogue watched the female half elf glanced at her hand briefly as she caress the sheath of his dagger. He chuckled softly as he lightly placed his hand over her hand that is carress the sheath, "I'm an adventurer dear lady," he slyly grinned. "... and as always looking for new ways to make some gold." He shifted his body, so that his dagger is away from her hand.
Spoiler
Sense Motive - (1d20-1)[9](8)
Spot - (1d20+1)[14](15)
((I think Fistar is still carrying his rapier, he didn't take it off when he was upstairs in the room.. just making sure, that he's still armed. Edit: Bah.. he can't sense his own mothers motive. *chuckles*))
__________________ Fistar
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
KELZIR
(Map, still hidden and safe behind the collar)
He lay in the after effects of their time together, allowing the feelings to drift slowly away. Though languid, his eyes and ears still stayed alert for any signs of trouble. It was the way of the Underdark, always alert. There was an old saying amongst the drow.
"He who watches his back, meets death from the front."
That couldn't be more true than it was now. In a strange land, with factions warring in subtle means along the shadows. They were adrift, and unbound by local factions, which meant they were a danger to the established orders. They'd been warned as much by the strangers in the bar, though Zarraema had been the one they'd talked with, his ears were still keen when attentive.
Weariness held no sway over the enjoyment of Kelzir's company, but as she lay there with him, holding and being held, the caravan journey, the visit to the temple, and the emotional strain of the day pulled at her eyes and enticed her to sleep.
Unused to the boisterous noises from the inn or the surroundings, even as tired as she was, she tried to keep her senses sharp. This strange land with strange peoples could be just as dangerous as the Underdark, simply in less familiar ways.
Spoiler
(1d20+5)[5](10)
(Yay for mediocre rolls!)
Despite her life in the Underdark, however, sleep could not be denied forever. The exertions of the day, her devotion to Eilistraee, and her lovemaking with Kelzir all pushed her closer and closer to sleep's embrace.
Jessamyn & Etsia: You bolt upright and look to the door as it opens slowly and silently. The dull brown/orange glow from the hallway lanterns spill into the room as two silhouetted figures skulked into the room. The two men spot your both awake and draw out cutlasses.
((you both get to take a free action before combat starts, at the end of your action, roll a 1d20 for initiative.))
Zarraema and Kelzir: You both are too..."into"each other until you hear a boot scuff a raised floorboard edge IN YOUR ROOM, the sound of two men pulling cutlasses out of leather sheathes seperate you two from each other. They seem to be looking through the room and turn to you.
((roll initiative (1d20) ))
Fistar: The woman seems to be seriously interested in you, and you happen to spot a sailor creeping slowly up the stairs and dissapearing up into the 2nd floor. The woman looks from the dissapearing sailor back to your eyes and seems slightly offended your attention has been turned from her.
"A friend of yours?" She asks, her tone slightly miffed, but she smiles, playing it as pretend. Her hand pulls back from your dagger, you've defensively covered from her and she runs her finger around the rim of her glass, watching you.
((whatever you do, which is completely fine, but regardless of what you do, roll init...in addition to whatever else.))
The wood elf chuckled and smiled at the woman, “No, not a friend of mine at all. He did seem a little sneaky to me though.” He glanced at the bartender, “You don’t happen to have any sailors staying on the second floor do you?”
Spoiler
Init - (1d20+4)[14](18)
OOC: I'm going to roll sense motive again, on the sailor that was going up the stairs, you said he was creeping up.. so to Fistar he would worry about that, unless he dismissed it as just a sailor returning to his room. I'm assuming the first sense motive you had me roll was for the woman.
/sigh, I know OOC what is happening upstairs.. but IC wise at this moment Fistar would only be unease about the sailor creeping up the stairs. I think.
Sense Motive - (1d20-1)[2](1)
((OMG.... a 1!!!!! /shakes his head, those people upstairs are so dead.))
__________________ Fistar
Talk is cheap.
Cheap is good
The white fox had stopped. It was sniffing the air dubiously, its ears flicking to catch any suspicious sound. Etsia caught up with it, out of breath, but instead of reaching toward the totem animal she stopped in her tracks, her long elven ears mimicking the fox's reaction. Something is wrong.
The fox emitted a low growl. The wild elf druid tried to squint into the growing shadows of the dream alleyway, but couldn't see anything. Was that a twig breaking under a foot, a sound of steps? But from where? The fox was growling louder, and suddenly it sprang around and leaped at her, sharp small teeth sinking into her wrist in a warning.
Etsia bolted upright, her eyes snapped open. Strangers with weapons drawn. Enemies. The wild elf more or less dropped out of the bed as she lunged toward her weapons, grabbing her spear and standing up, trying to scoot toward the tall woman. As soon as she was standing, she shrieked. It was a hawk-sound of danger, a reflexive warning.
Spoiler
Initiative - (1d20+2)[8]
If she did too much in her free action, just tell me what to cut and edit and I'll do so. If the shriek doesn't get edited, the hawk should wake up -- not to mention the sound might possibly alarm Fistar. <.<
Having been awake and listening for Fistar, the creeping intrusion was expected. However, the actual creepers...
She acted instinctively. Feet hooked beneath the sheath of the greatsword that lay across the end of her bed, and she pulled it to her as she drew her legs beneath her. Grabbing the hilt, she stood and braced her stance on the cushiony mattress, flinging the scabbard free. The long blade gleamed in the orange light from the hall. She fixed her gaze on the closest assailant.
"THIEF!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs. No fear, no girly scream; the moral outrage and battlefield volume of a Tormite paladin.
Pirate 4: The dirty pirate with a balding head hid under a bandana tied in the back and a missing eye with empty socket stared at jessamyn as his greasy hand sliced his cutlass toward her. cutlass - (1d20+1)[4] dmg - (1d6)[5]
Pirate 3: THe long haired man with a fire red mustache lunged toward the almost nude elf with a club. The wood was coated with dried blood and looked as if it had been used many a time to brain a sleeping innocent. club - (1d20+1)[20] dmg - (1d6)[4]
Pirate 2: Seeing the two dark elves this tall skinny privateer hooked a hand around Kelzir's leg and attempted to grapple him.
"Grab the beetch, Let us find it an be gone!"the tall pirate hisses. grapple attack - (1d20+1)[14]
Spoiler
((If that succeeded on your base AC {because you're nekkid} flat footed, no dex, then on your next round we both roll grapple rolls, if yours is higher, you break the grapple, if the pirate's next grapple roll is higher, you two be scrappin bare handed yyeeeehaw!)) and no Attack of Opportunity from the grapple attempt, since you all were surpised and nekkid.
Pirate 1: "Aye-Aye, Cap'n." Hearing his leader's words, The fatter, striped shirt pirate with a missing ear and thre teeth grin a almost creepy smile at the naked female dark elf and he lunges at her swinging a club. club - (1d20+1)[9] dmg - (1d6)[5]
The 20 on Etsia is a critical possible..rolling the confirmation
crit - (1d20+1)[4] dmg - (1d6)[6]
ooc:
Spoiler
bunny, if this hits you also, then add the two dmg up together..it's a crit..if it doesn't hit, just take the 4 dmg from the first one, ignoring this dmg.
The hand around his ankle galvanizes him into motion, bringing his other leg around in an attempt at kicking the off-handed pirate in the side of his head.
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Re: Gothmoor IC (purple)
