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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 11, 2004 12:47:36 GMT -5
Located deep within Eluria’s twisting, maze-like sewers is a huge cavern, hollowed out long ago for some unknown reason. Whatever its initial purpose was, this fortress sized cavern has become the home of the Sewage Guild, an organization of the creatures that live off societies droppings. The massive complex covers about 50,000 square feet, not counting the parts that spread out into the tunnels around the guildhall. Guards, many wereratas or werealligators, make sure that unauthorized visitors are given an appropriate welcome. Dire rats, fiendish rats, and fiendish dire rats also patrol these halls, as do serpents. An organization of rangers, who call themselves the Urban Rangers, works of the Guild, collecting information for the guild. Members of virtually any race can be found here, so long as they are willing to live outside of society and among those who have reasons for avoiding those on the surface.
Barath’Daubre heads the Sewage Guild with the aid of the Assembly of Thirteen. They come from all walks of life and all races. They have been underground in Eluria only a month, but already they are very firmly dug in. So far, they have seemed content to do nothing more than make sure they are dug in, but it is unlikely they have come to Eluria just to burrow into the sewers. Oddly, the most direct route to the Sewage Guild is through a mansion of a wealthy family on the surface, and many members enter the Guild though there.
The Guildhall itself is, as to be expected, dark, dirty, and all around repulsive. The stench is near overwhelming, and many of the hall structures are actually buildings that float on the sewage, anchored to the stone walkways by bridges. Other structures are hug from the ceiling by massive chains, and ladders lead up into them. One structure stands out – it is a perfect sphere that hovers in the center of the room, accessible only though a hatch in the bottom that one must levitate into. This is Barath’Daubre’s personal quarters, and where the Assembly meets. A low structure, located over one of the entrances, serves as the home for the Urban Rangers.
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 11, 2004 16:20:42 GMT -5
*Barath'Daubre levitates down from his sphere, gently landing on the smooth stone floor. He looks around with a poise that shows he is in his domain, and considers himself master of all he surveys. Behind him, Malsilia lands, deactivating her own levitation powers. Unlike him, she looks slightly ruffled, having not been given enough time to organize herself after their...activities. Still, she has a presence that makes it easy to not notice the slightly mussed hair. Barath seems almost to completely ignore her, looking as Yittir approaches him.*
Barath: What news from the surface, Yittir?
*Yittir answers directly in Barath's mind, exclusing Malsilia. Malsilia gives a small 'hmph' before stalking off to find some poor wretch to take her anger out on. Yittir and Barath both ignore it.*
Yittir: So do the other organizations on the surface seem unaware of us, but it is possible rumor has reached the nightshade's ears. Chris has begun establishing a small cell of humans native here, to better gather information. They all fear breaking their oaths greatly.
*Barath lets out a low chuckle, grinning.*
Barath: Excellent. Tell Chris he is to contact the Nightshades on the morrow. How is Thrrik’tirr's search coming?
*Yittir lets out a watery sigh, like a drowning mans.*
Yittir: He has not found what you seek, but he is still hopeful. I do believe he would be hopefull if you told him he was going to die in an hour.
*Barath shakes his head, and flashes a small signal in Drow hand sign: Such is life.*
Barath: Very well. Keep me informed, Yittir. I have matters I must attend to.
*Yittir, knowing the dismissal, bows and heads off. Barath turns in a sperate direction and heads off towards an almost towerlike structure.*
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 13, 2004 21:31:47 GMT -5
Barath appears inside the guild, looking somewhat frusterated. Yittir approaches him, his tenticles moving around in the air in an almost random pattern. Malsilia follows behind him, wrapped in her usual ebony dress, the spiderweb lace barely covering her bosom. Two strange looking elves follow them...they look almost exactly like drow, if you can ignore the fact that they have four arms. And black, multifaceted eyes. The Arachin elves were a gift to Malsilia's family, the heads of house Baeral, and they made formidible foes. The only place she was ever without them was in Barath's personal quaters.
Malsilia puts herself forward, speaking before Yittir. "You returned from your talks already. Did they go that well?"
Barath scowls. Partially it is because of how false that statement is, partially because having to speak in Common after using his own tounge grates on his nerves. "If only. We have...permission to conduct our activities. That is all you need to know."
Malsilia laughs lightly, knowing full well Barath must have come off horribly to betray this much emotion. However, her leader and lover would have been ordering the troops to prepare themselves in an all out invasion had he not come out well enough. She trusts that he knows what he is doing. Yittir's thoughts run along a similar line, though he wishes he knew more. Yittir always wishes he knew more.
Yittir speaks vocally, his bubbling voice causing Malsilia to make a disgusted face. "A matter of interest. A fool seems intent on burning the city to the ground. No one seems to be trying to stop him. It's Nero, the one on the wanted posters. He is arrogant, rude, and foolish, for the most part. He does posses a good degree of power."
Barath shrugs his shoulders, looking bored. "I fail to see your point. I will not risk men to stop a madman, not when I am confident the city can deal with him themselves. Send some of the Arachin to monitor the situation. Should it become too great a threat, they are to eliminate him immediatly. However, I doubt that will be nessicary. Meanwhile, Yittir, I want every scrap of information you can find on the city's factions. I expect a full report tommorrow."
The Illithid bows his head, his bubbly voice still causing that distastefull look on Malsilia's mouth. "I shall see to it." With that, the Illithid leaves, to fill out the task. Malsilia looks at Barath'daubre curiously, the two Arachin elves still standing immoble. Barath turns to her, an eyebrow raised. "I ordered some of your Arachin sent to monitor this Nero. See to it, Preistess. Now."
Malsilia goes into a deep curtsy, somewhat mockingly. "As you command." With that, she leaves, leaving the other dark elf to his darker thoughts.
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 17, 2004 16:48:16 GMT -5
The patrol comes back into the sewage guild amidst a flurry of activity. Someone had heard about the raids before hand, and Barath had begun calling patrols back into the Guild immediately. Every weapon is bound to ensure compliance with city laws, some of the nastier denizens and equipment of the Guild shunted off into demiplanes created long ago by Guild Psions for just such occasions, but despite this, the air in the guild is one of a place preparing for war. Barath’Daubre levitates just below his personal quarters, his eyes sweeping the preparations, inspecting everything hurriedly. Occasionally he cocks his head to his side as Yittir sends him a telepathic message of something going wrong, and moves it back into a normal position after answering.
Thrrik-tirr and his rangers are the last back into the Guild, finally completing their last scouting run. Their barracks are full to brim, not actually designed to hold every ranger, since it was not expected that they would all have to be back in the Guild at once. Jeggrax and his fighters are much better accommodated for, having been expecting to all be in the Guild at one time. Chris is no-where to be seen, not suprisingly – he still needs to be topside to run the Guild’s surface operations, and if needed to hide, has more than enough skill at hiding in plain sight.
Other members of the Guild work on other things. If a guard patrol arrives at the guild, the will find a very organized community of people who live below the city because they are of races that are traditionally hated and feared, or at least mistrusted by humankind. Nothing in the Guild remains to prove that many of its members tend to embody the traits of their races that make them hated, feared, and mistrusted.
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 20, 2004 7:42:07 GMT -5
*Barath'Daubre sat behind his desk. He had been busy ever since the guards raided the sewers. Reports indicated that they were still down there, but Guild operations had not slowed down a bit. An area for potals and gates had been cleared, and people were constantly walking though them. Githyanki had begun coming in recently - apperently, someone they had an interest in was in Eluria and they wanted the chance for revenge, so Barath had been happy to supply them what they needed - after forming an iron-clad agreement with their Lich Queen that their would be no agression agains the Mind Flayers he had under his employ. They had agreed, reluctantly, which showed how much they hated whoever this was. Tarot was his name, Barath'Daubre noticed, going over some notes.
Still, their were other matters. Marionette sales had skyrocketed across the planes, and both sides in the Blood War had begun to buy them heavily, recognizing their potential as troops. Even on the Prime Material Plane, their had been heavy sales, though they had never caught on in Eluria - something which didn't surpize Barath'Daubre at all. He hadn't thought Rumerin was wrong.
His sale in weaponry and arcane devises had also skyrocketed, most of them being shipped though this Eluria base. He had expected no less, and had not been dissapointed. However, something that constantly irritated him was the information gathered about the Nightshades. It looked like their profits were likely tenfold the Guilds, if not more, and it was impossible to trace where it was coming from. Barath hated not knowing, but he was wary about probing into the Nightshades too deep.
But that wasn't the real source of his irritation, and, he admitted, fear. A creature had appeared before him, a creature he had hoped to never see again, a creature who's master was supposed to be dead. The memory crept back into his mind, slowly.
It stood before him, an abomination difficult for his mind to comprehend. Their were a few things that were almost vaguley familar, just enough to make its oddness more profound and disturbing. Its torso was like that of an emancipated human, though one arm ended in a pair of massive pincers, and the other ended in a wicked, scythe-like blade. It had no head atop its sloping shoulders, instead a gaping hole filled with row upon row of crule teeth. It's body trailed behind it like a centipied's, but instead of being held aloft be legs, it was held aloft by a mass of withering tenticles. It's voice seared into his mind, something no defense he had discovered could stopped.
[glow=green,2,300]Oaths are not easily forsaken, elf of the depths. Oaths to the shadows and the night are far harder to forsake. You will do the Masters work, or you will perish in a manner most horrible.[/glow]
Barath'Daubre shook away the memory, though the things words echoed in his head. He put his head in his hands and massaged his temples, an old technique to fight the memorys off...an old technique that failed him this day, as it always had since the creature's words.
He gave in. He had no choice. He began writing orders, praying to whatever god cared to listen that their was some way to free himself of this. The gods, as they were in the habit of being, were silent.*
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Post by Kaitan on May 20, 2004 15:13:30 GMT -5
Kaitan steps lightly out of a shadow just inside the outer defenses. He walks down the center of a sewer tunnel, obviously not attempting to avoid detection.
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 20, 2004 15:25:53 GMT -5
Kaitan steps lightly out of a shadow just inside the outer defenses. He walks down the center of a sewer tunnel, obviously not attempting to avoid detection. *Before he can move twenty steps, ten drow step out of the darkness, each one with a hand on a blade. A Mind Flayer steps out with them, followed by two Thri-Kreen, the latter armed to the teeth, though none of the weapons drawn. The Mind Flayer steps forward, obviously unafraid.* "What buisness brings you to us, stranger?" *It does not bother to ask how he got by the outer defenses - obviously, that matter is triavl to the Mind Flayer.*
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Post by Kaitan on May 20, 2004 15:34:18 GMT -5
Kaitan stops walking and smiles. His lips pull back marginally and show his long fangs.
His cloak isn't pulled up, though he is wearing a gray cloth around his eyes. His longsword is strapped across his back, and he has brought no other weapons.
"I wish to speak with one of your leaders."
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 20, 2004 15:38:07 GMT -5
Kaitan stops walking and smiles. His lips pull back marginally and show his long fangs. His cloak isn't pulled up, though he is wearing a gray cloth around his eyes. His longsword is strapped across his back, and he has brought no other weapons. "I wish to speak with one of your leaders." *The Mind Flayer recognizes Kaitan as a vampire as soon as the fangs are bared. He also finds nothing odd about the cloth around Kaitans eyes. The Thri-kreen do not move either, but some of the drow shift slightly. The illithid nods to them before turning to Kaitan.* "It is not just any stranger who speaks with them. Come with us, stranger, and we will see if they will speak with you."
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Post by Kaitan on May 20, 2004 15:41:40 GMT -5
Kaitan nods slightly and walks towards the group.
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 20, 2004 15:47:48 GMT -5
Kaitan nods slightly and walks towards the group. *They surround him, a Thri-kreen in front and in back of him, five drow on each side, and the Illithid beside him. They walk for awhile before reaching the Guildhall, and are intercepted by a new group - two more drow, each one looking much more self assured than the fighters around Kaitan, a strange, halfling sized insectoid creature - a dromite - and, hovering down, a full grown beholder, all ten eyes trained on Kaitan. Its antimagic eye is closed, though it could open it in a second. The beholder speaks in a deep, rumbling voice.* We will take him from here, Bitinitt. His presense is requested. *The mind flayer nods his head to the beholder, and simply vanishes. The drow and Thri-kreen remain, and the newcomers eye - in the Beholder's case, an interesting sight - Kaitan up and down.*
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Post by Kaitan on May 20, 2004 15:51:12 GMT -5
Kaitan half-bows to the beholder.
"You won't be killing me then?"
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 20, 2004 15:54:27 GMT -5
Kaitan half-bows to the beholder. "You won't be killing me then?" *The Beholder lets out a deep, harsh chuckle.* No, we won't be killing you. Barath would be most unhappy with us if we were to kill you. *It quickly becomes apparent that the Beholder's use of the word "us" is more imperial than it is an actual inclusion of his companions. He motions with one eyestalk towards a central building.* We are going there. Come. *The beholder begins to float towards the building.* [ooc: I have work, so I gotta run.]
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Post by Kaitan on May 20, 2004 16:00:11 GMT -5
Kaitan doesn't track the movement of the eyestalk. He follows after the Beholder.
[Ooc: Fine. I have to go soon anyway.]
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Post by Barath'Daubre on May 21, 2004 7:39:19 GMT -5
*They arrive at the building, a stone structure utterly devoid of anything designed to appeal to astetics - it is designed for what it is used for, nothing more, and nothing less. However, a few men could hold off a great deal of from inside, especially with the aid of creatures like this. The door opens, where a neatly groomed human waits.*
Greetings. I am Chris. I will see you now.
*Chris goes back into the building, the door open for Kaitan to follow. The Beholder floats up and away, and the drow disperse...though the Thri-kreen remain, waiting for Kaitan to go inside.*
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