"Aye, a drow and a northman," one of the dancers at the Moonstone Mask said to Iliara. The elf was wearing a fine gown of blue velvet and an ivory mask trimmed with decorative blue stones and small white feathers. The dancer was similarly outfitted, though clearly a very prominent entertainer. She wore a shimmering pearlescent gown of shimmerweave that was so daring and revealing that it was hardly a gown at all. Large breasts and sleek thighs were readily apparent, save for a scant modicum of decency offered by her clothing. Her mask covered the left half of her face in an opalescent metal that shimmered to match her gown. Rich auburn hair framed the other half of her head, pulled over from the top. The sides of her head were shaved smooth and decorated with fluid, almost elvish looking script tattooed onto the skin.
"When was the last time you saw them?" Iliara asked in her melodious voice. She could see the woman shift nervously, though the movement was very well-hidden by an adjustment of her very unruly gown. "I assure you, Lura and Hammer are very dear friends of mine. We came to this city together several years ago."
"As you say," the woman said, smiling warmly at the elf. Iliara's green eyes bored into the courtesan's, immune to her charms at the moment. "They departed yesterday evening," she admitted finally. "Didn't say much of a good-bye, just smiled and waved as they walked out the door."
"You're certain they won't be back?" Iliara asked.
"As certain as I can be," she replied impatiently. "Listen, we're known for our discretion here. I've told you all you're going to get, Lady Elf. Now, can I interest you in some carnal diversion?"
Iliara scowled slightly, gave the woman a once-over, and shook her head. "Another time," she said. "Not that I'm not interested, just...pressing matters. You understand."
"Of course," the woman said, twirling off to a newly arrived officer of the Neverwinter militia.
Iliara sighed.
About an hour later, Cyra met her in front of the Mask, wearing the same irritated expression.
"I haven't been this frustrated in a long time, and I fear no amount of cunnilingus can ease it," the red-skinned woman said. Drax was not at her side, as she was hesitant to bring the beast into the city. Rather, it was out hunting and frolicking in Neverwinter Wood, a mental link between the two keeping them equally alert of any trouble.
"Don't be so sure," Iliara said flirtatiously, though her heart wasn't in the sentiment. "Lura and Hammer are more thorough than this. I hate to think something fell might have become them, but whatever the cause of their departure, we should make an effort to locate them."
"Agreed," Cyra said. "Let's ask the guards at the gate."
Iliara nodded. Arm in arm, they left the Moonstone Mask and made their way to the edge of town.
*****
"Aye, a drow and a barbarian. Big son of a bitch, that one," the guard said, nodding. "Would've loved his sword on the wall when the dead were assaulting it."
"Or anywhere else, for that matter," his cohort said. Both were of middling age and slightly overweight, with greasy helm-cuts and scraggly beards. Iliara turned her nose up at them, but Cyra had been more personable to try and get information. Of course, they were both eyeing Iliara up and down. Her leathers were flattering her athletic figure, and her soft-looking lips gleamed with promise—just not for the guardsmen.
"They left yestereve?" Cyra confirmed, and the guards nodded.
"I thought I overheard something about the Underdark. Perhaps they got a job going to Gauntlgrym or somesuch," the first guard said, but Cyra felt something in her gut screaming against that reasoning.
"Thank you very much," she said, turning to consult the elf at her side.
"You got something to offer in return for our helpfulness?" the guard asked. Cyra looked over her shoulder to see him eyeing the curve of her ass.
"Why yes, I do," she purred, stepping slowly toward the guard. He looked excitedely at his comrade, then reached out to touch the red-skinned woman's hip. She swatted his hand away. "A bit of advice." She put her hand to his cheek, and in a very slow, very soft, very serious voice, said, "If you ever touch me again...I'll kill you."
The blood drained from the man's face as flames licked at her irises.
"Was that necessary?" the elf asked as they made haste away from the gate.
"Are you complaining?" Cyra countered.
"Not at all. But was it necessary?"
Cyra smirked. "Not at all."
"So what's the play?"
"Head for Gauntlgrym," the dragonspawn woman said. "I see no other option. They're looking for trouble, no doubt."
"Do you fear for them?" Iliara asked, putting a hand on her lover's elbow to stop her.
Cyra smiled. "Not at all. Hammer is a more than capable warrior, and Lura has wormed her way out of more trouble than I've seen in a lifetime. I just want to be sure."
Iliara smiled, put a hand on her lover's face, their respective pigments contrasting starkly as she leaned up to kiss her lips. "Let's make haste, then."
*****
Solafein and Lirafey had been back within the confines of Gauntlgrym for several hours, well into the daylight, when Szinvyr returned. He'd gained two strangers and lost one scout. Lirafey stepped in front of Solafein to address the swordmage as he led the lovely, red-clad female and her hulking, massive male counterpart past several patrols and guardsmen.
"Szinvyr," she said. "Where is Amalzar. Who are these two?"
"Amalzar is dead," Szinvyr said. "This is Luriia Torvirr and her consort, Calavyr."
"Priestess?" she asked.
"High Priestess," Luriia said authoritatively. "And you should be addressing me directly,
Priestess.
From your knees."
"I see only a female drow that travels with a male as her only companion," Lirafey said venomously.
"
Kneel!
" Luriia commanded, magic filling her voice with compulsion as her crimson whip came lashing out at Lirafey. It struck her across the face, and both she and Solafein found their knees without hesitation. "I am Luriia Torvirr, of House Torvirr, Twenty-Fourth House of Menzoberranzan, High Priestess and First Daughter of Matron Torvirr. Who in Lolth's name are you?"
"Lirafey Mourlefey," she said into the floor. "The male is Solafein Auvryan, Secondboy of House Auvryan. Forgive our ignorance, Lady Torvirr. We patrolled with Szinvyr and Amalzar."
"Your ignorance will not be tolerated for long. Stand and address me like the priestess you claim to be, Lirafey of House Mourlefey. Thirty-second House, yes?"
"Thirty-third," she said, humbled.
"Ah," Luriia said as if it did not matter. "And what did your patrol encounter to split the four of you up?"
"It was near dawn, the end of our patrol. We returned here to avoid the sunlight."
"Szinvyr and Amazlar did not deem in necessary to return. Had you been there, you might have prevented the loss of your scout."
"He was a male," Lirafey said, confused.
"He was an asset. No matter how worthless he is in our society, he performs a function in your party, and you let him die," Luriia said, ire in her voice.
"It won't happen again," Lirafey said. "How did he meet his end?"
"He attacked me," Luriia said simply, gauging Lirafey's reaction. It was appropriately surprised. "My warrior killed him in short order. Perhaps I overstated his worth," she added with a smirk. Lirafey bowed her head.
"As you say, mistress. How can we serve you now? And...if I may ask, why have we never seen you before, and where did you come from?"
"My consort and I have been at work in Neverwinter and the Silver Marches forming a web of power and intelligence among the surfacers," Luriia said. "More than that is not your concern. Now, shall you show us to our quarters?"
Lirafey nodded curtly, smoothing her robe with her hands as she obediently led Luriia and Hammer through the winding tunnels into the living area of Gauntlgrym. Having never ventured into this region of the former dwarven citadel, they were quite at a disadvantage. It was never a comforting feeling to be at the tender mercies of a drow priestess and her cohorts.
"Someone higher ranking will want to debrief you," Lirafey said as she approached a barren door of iron. It looked like a jail cell to Hammer's eyes. "You should get your rest."
Lura smiled sweetly at the priestess as she waited on her to open the door. Lirafey did as was expected, though not without a sigh of irritation. Within the chamber was a wide bed—wide enough for Lura and her large companion—a soft carpet, plenty of pillows, a desk with a magical glowball, and the usual accoutrement of the hedonistic drow. She smiled a small smile.
"Come, Calavyr. I'm sure we can find something other than rest to pass the time," she said, her hand on Hammer's wrist possessively. She had no intention of making love to the man-turned-drow, but was instead marking her claim on him as a male as much for his safety as anything else. With the protection of a high priestess, lesser males would be disinclined to assassinate him and lesser females would be less interested in coupling with him. Truly, there were some dense enough to risk the ire of a high priestess if the prize seemed worth the effort.
No plan was fool proof.
"We will be on our way to Menzoberranzan when we awaken. If someone wishes to debrief us, they had better do so quickly," Lura said to Lirafey, who nodded and quickly walked away, Solafein in tow.
When they'd wandered far enough away, Solafein stopped. Lirafey turned to regard him, irritation on her brow.
