Earlier in the day the Gloura's Wings buzzed with tense activity as four drow and a brown-masked humanoid engaged in a variety of interactions. At the bar stood a male drow wearing dark clothing and a hood. Not far from him at a table sat a drow female who was having an intense discussion with the brown-hooded female. Another female, matronly, commanding, entered the establishment and cast her eyes about the place. After observing the two females in the corner for a time she approached the bar. It was not long afterwards that another male drow came inside as well.
Shez looked at the gloura behind the bar and walked over, ordering a glass of Berduskan Dark wine. In the corner the two females discussed something quietly. Shez turned her gaze towards the familiar male seated at the bar, removing her hood while doing so. The male offered an exaggerated smile in return.
"Am I to suppose this encounter is mere chance?" Schezalle asked him. The other male who had entered behind her suddenly moved over towards the two females and rested his palms upon the pommels of his two sheathed daggers. He stared blankly at the covered female, wary or irritated by something.
"Malla Jalil... Chance? Hmm, unless you sought me out," the familiar male replied to Schezalle.
"Oh that is a shame, truely," she answered dryly, but she does not elaborate any further, sipping at her wine, turning her gaze to its deep red hue.
He chuckled softly to himself at those words and said, "A lot I am destined carry it seems, shame."
In the corner, the unhooded drow female expressed a wide grin on her face, her canine teeth showing as she stared at the masked female, who responded by lowering her head.
"A shame for the Black Claws," Schezalle answers the familiar male. Her eyes remained fixated upon her glass. The two females at the corner table then continued their hushed conversation. "But no matter. Perhaps this malla jalil shall have to find a more enthusiastic jaluk," she said, hinting at a conversation on an earlier occasion.
The brown masked female suddenly looked like a someone who had to give in to something; bend, without being broken. There was a tension still about her posture.
Shez turned and looked towards the other male who was intently watching the brown-masked female. "Sion, come over here would you, hmm?"
Sion removed his hands from the daggers, giving a last stare to the masked female and then moved over beside Schezalle.
The familiar male grinned at Schezalle's earlier question. "Tell me then, The Black Claws, what would they..." he said, pausing as Sion moved over.
"Go on," she said to him as Sion approached. "Oh, don't mind him," she added with a smirk.
"What would they offer to one such as me, hmm?" the familiar male asked. The other male, Sion, kept his eyes fixed to his right at the table where the two females were seated.
"Opportunity, first of all," she answered the male before turning her lips to her glass of wine.
All of a sudden the two females seated in the corner stand, the masked one standing a good head over the other. The male to whom Schezalle was speaking briefly directed his gaze that way.
The shorter drow female had the behaviour of a child who had just gotten a new toy and she motioned to the kitchen area. "This way," she commanded the masked female.
The masked one replied immediately. "Yes mistress."
Schezalle continued, aware of the activity on the other side of the bar. "Opportunity for advancement among our ranks if you are both suitable and capable," she said to the hooded male while keeping an eye on the drow female pointing to a corner in the kitchen for whatever reason. The other male, Sion, started to appear more relaxed as he turned his attention to Schezalle and the familiar male.
"Secondly, association, if indeed that is anything you desire to have," Schezalle continued in her conversation. The drow female in the distance gently shoved the masked female and ordered her to stand, still pointing to the corner. The other female then arose, glancing about, and proceeded to unwrap the mask from her face as the two moved out of sight into a rear room.
"The Black Claws are well known in Menzoberranzan and Ched Nasad, unfortunately less so here. But those associations run deep," Schezalle continued, turning her attention back to the male by the bar. "And the latter is a point we wish to change here."
"Opportunity and association," he repeated with a wry grin that increased the more she talked. Sion gave a curious expression as the names Menzoberranzan and Ched Nasad rolled off of Schezalle's tongue. "Some of my finer tastes you speak of," he continued and then he turned to face Sion.
"Abbil, you are a Claw also?" he asked him.
"Nau," came the simple, effective reply.
"Can I call you Claws, malla jalil?" he backtracked, looking back at Schezalle.
"He has not yet proven his worth to me," she told him while inspecting her curled fingertips. "But should he. . ." she added, leaving the rest of the sentence entirely unfinished.
"And if he shouldn't?"
"Well he is free to do as he wishes, here in this City of Jabbuk. But he cannot expect any graces from the Claws," she added dryly, using the male's own turn of phrase.
"Although. . ." she sipped from her wine glass before continuing, "I have not yet made him an offer as I have to you." At that, she turned to face Sion and gave him a deceitfully pleasant smile.
"Oh you do humble me... Tell me this malla jalil, have you heard of a rogue in the city, named Izzrar?" he asked her in reply.
"Oh do tell me of his exploits," she said, turning her face away from Sion now. Sion gave her a cold glare. Shez sipped delicately at her wine while her reddish-pink eyes gazed at the male.
"I cannot confirm any tales of exploits, 'tis only a name that many know in the city. Jalil, can I offer you wine of the finest quality?" he asked, and then turned to Sion. "And abbil, you also?"
At that moment the drow female emerged from the far room, strutting ahead of the taller, masked female who remained close by her side. "You will show your worth to us," the unmasked drow said as she headed directly towards the bar area. Schezalle's eyes drifted away from the familiar male's offer of wine to watch the two as they approached the bar.
The masked female cast her eyes towards the floor the closer she came, while the female drow lifted her chin and widened her shoulders, looking rather pleased with herself.
"There would be wine enough for all," the male by the bar continued.
"I already have my favourite, but perhaps the jaluk may take up on your offer," came Schezalle's reply, her attention now more clearly fixated on the two other females.
"Oh, I would show you something, if wine be not your cup," the male responded before suddenly being interrupted by the unfolding scene before them.
The drow female hissed at the masked one. "Introduce yourself," were the forced words that emerged from her mouth. Sion began to look uneasy once more within the confined spaces of the bar.
The masked female stood still, eyes downcast. Her gloved hands began to clench, whether out of fear or tension it was hard to determine without being able to read her facial expressions.
"I am Xira, servant of mistress Zarra and . . . Schezalle," she eventually blurted out, perhaps a touch unconvincingly as her voice muffled the remainder of her sentence, ". . . servant of the . . . Black Claws."
Zarra turned her facetious gaze to her mistress, appraising her reaction. The male by the bar tilted his head as he watched Xira. Schezalle merely sipped at her wine, although the most discerning eye might have detected the faintest of smirks developing in the corner of her mouth. Xira, not knowing who was who, kept her eyes fixated at the floor.
"And yet you do not show your mistress your delightful features?" she eventually responded with a dry and empty tone of voice. Xira turned her eyes towards Zarra. Sion shifted nervously. Zarra snapped her face towards the masked female, her more neutral, emotionless expression returning.
"Remove it," Zarra ordered her.
"Xas.. malla," came the obedient reply, and a hand which had been held behind her back now returns to her front and slowly unwound the fabric mask once again. After several rounds of unwrapping, white hair with a slight amber hue is revealed as well as the features of a pretty woman who is unfortunately a mix. Her eyes are not that sharp, her skin not that dark, her ears not so long. There was something cooking inside her as she was appraised but she allowed it and just stood still.
When she was done removing the mask, Schezalle left her glass on the bar and approached Xira. Sion scowled quietly, quite openly disgusted. Zarra took a step back in order to allow her mistress the room to inspect their new employee.
Schezalle approached to an awkwardly close distance, even leaning forward to place her face not even three inches from Xira's, although the drow matron's diminutive stature meant that she had to tilt her head up to look at the half-drow who stood before her. Shez's reddish-pink eyes stared directly into the violet ones of the half-breed, emotionless, taunting. Xira's violet eyes for but a moment met Schezalle's, almost a bit fierce but she then quickly averted them. The male drow at the bar watched their varied reactions more than Xira herself.
Schezalle reached up with one hand, stroking Xira's cheek. The half-drow immediately began to tremble, as if electricity were pulsating through her bones. Schezalle's hand slid to Xira's chin and gripped firmly, and she then forced the face too look directly back at her up-peering eyes. When she did, Xira kept her eye lashes lowered a moment longer before she met her gaze again.
"Your mistress is pleased, Zarra," is all she said after the appraisal and released her grip. She returned to the bar without saying anything else. The whole time Sion remained jittery, like a restrained dog being faced with a free feline wandering before him. Xira released a tense and inaudible breath. Zarra watched the interaction, her lips curling.
"Xira is trained with sword, she speaks. She will join us south and show us her worth to the Black Claws," Zarra told Shez. The face of the male at the bar dropped, showing the hint of disappointment.
"Yes... mistress..." came Xira's response to Zarra's statement. Shez took up her wine glass and nodded. Xira returned her eyes to the floor, and Zarra hovered nearby waiting for Schezalle's next lead. Not perceiving anything as immediately forthcoming, Zarra looked back at Xira scornfully.
"Cover yourself," she barked.
The male at the bar stared at Xira. "Curious," he stated simply.
"Do with her what you wish, Zarra," Shezalle remarked while swirling her wine in her glass, "I leave her in your care. Now where were we?" she said and turned back to the male drow by the bar. Xira moved back to Zarra's side, and Zarra responded by giving her a single gold plakla.
"I am no longer sure, malla jalil," he replied. All of a sudden Sion opened his mouth and made his intentions clear.
"Wait, jabress. Let me cut her throat now, at once. I will pay you back with two gnomes."
Schezalle paused and looked at him.
"We go into tunnels then," Zarra said in her unique way, followed immediately by Xira's obedient assenting nod.
"You are quite welcome to go with them," Shez suggested to Sion, who immediately took offence at the saying instead of seeing it as an opportunity to have his desire granted. He immedately turned away with a disgusted look and left the Gloura's, not returning for the remainder of the cycle.
The two females would then leave together for a hunt in the tunnels. Schezalle would eventually return to a brief conversation with the other male until they, too, departed the Gloura's together. Schezalle did not return to her lodgings for quite some time, and when she did, her face was that of anxiety mixed with potential opportunism.
"Izzrar, you are a cunning one indeed," she muttered as she made her way into her private chamber.
Last edited by Tsidkenu
on Sat Jul 18, 2015 10:30 am, edited 8 times in total.
Tsidkenu wrote:Do you want to panic over something that 99.996 percent of the world population doesn't even have?
Do you want to panic over something that 99.99983% of the world population hasn't even died from?
Off exploring the Electric Universe