The sight that greeted the Twilight Elf as he peered from the mouth of the alley and into the streets was not quite what he had been expecting; rather than the usual assortment of watchers, scouts, and low-ranking thugs that were often the standard fare, here, the place now seemed awash with veteran Sea Snakes… Quite the assortment of enforcers amidst that lot, too, yes?… It was all very curious, this being but the fringes of the gang’s territory it made little sense as to why the likes of these would be so assembled here. Surely they haven’t been alerted to us, he mused, scrutinizing the milling throng for any subtle clues as to the preponderance of more experienced Sea Snakes in their midst, An incoming shipment of their drugs, perhaps, or a territorial clash with the Cloaks?
Recoiling deeper into the alley’s shadows, Nyx flashed a cunning smile at Spite. “Someone has been beating the grass, it seems, my sweet,” he whispered, “and the larger snakes are free of their nests. Curious that such a surge would coincide with our designs, don’t you think?”

His gaze returned again to the streets beyond their penumbral blind and he expressed to his recently acquired companion that, while the prevalence of these veteran Snakes likely had little to do with their own task, it could be quite a useful thing to know what was afoot in the rival organization and, should this gangland gathering be an enduring thing, it may even serve well enough to mask their mission and even deflect responsibility from the Hellkites to the Snakes should things go awry in the undertaking.

((room for interjections, replies, etc, throughout, of course…))

The melodic timbre of the DeMoria Demon’s voice, even in the hushed tones of alley-speak, sent a cool shiver of anticipation along his spine and his yellow eyes swept back to the shadows to regard her for a long moment… “Shall we play the game at which you and your sister are so adept, then,” he queried, a wicked grin ghosting over his features as he nodded towards the crowd on the street, “Bring us back one of those breeders, perhaps, so that we might bleed the knowledge from him?”

((Just kind of running with the ideas put forth in our PM convo, Gigi… Already had most of this written at the time and figured it wouldn't hurt to tack it up... edits and backposts as necessary. ))

"Well... you know I guess that would depend on how much information you have to give. You know if I pay the butcher five gold coins I expect to get a nice bit of rump roast and some ribs... not some dinky sausages. I'd also expect that meat to be fresh." She raised her eyes slowly to Ovelia's to see if she was catching on... likely the girl was, she was usually rather quick.

"Now if it's just sausages... I pay for sausages." Shrugging slightly as if it didn't matter if it were rump roast or sausages, because it was still dinner, she lowered her eyes and went back to picking at her nails, waiting to see just how much information the girl knew.
Ovelia smiles, stepping out into the alley and shutting the door.

"As shifty as ever, Cay," she says, smirking. "I'm not goin' to hear about anything bad happenin' to our friend Gracchus if I tell you will I?"

She lets out a small laugh; her tone clearly indicates that she doesn't care either way. She then sighs, beginning,

"Very well. Yes, Gracchus Thanald is staying here. And they made a big deal of it when he got here. The innkeepers, the head chef...everyone. They told all of us lesser mortals that we'd best be on our best behavior, and that no slip ups in service would be allowed. Then the bloody nobleman shows up with four soldierboys...

"Now I'm not an expert, but my brother joined the army, he taught me how to read the little insignias they wear on their armor. I'm not very good, but I'm pretty sure one of the men escorting Thanald was a Legate. A Legate! So, obviously, from every clue available, this guy is pretty important. But as soon as he gets here, he stays in his room the whole time. Doesn't have a drink at the tavern, doesn't ask for any girls, just goes up to his room and stays there. And I caught a look at him from the kitchen when he walked in...a right, sour, ornary looking bastard, I can tell you that."

Ovelia sighs, suddenly realizing that she may have ranted a bit too long about information that's not particularly important.

"I'll tell you this," she says, "And you'd better pay for it. He's staying on the third floor, the top one. The nobleman's suite at the end of the hall, to the left. On the west side of the Goblin. And that's all I know."

His gaze returned again to the streets beyond their penumbral blind and he expressed to his recently acquired companion that, while the prevalence of these veteran Snakes likely had little to do with their own task, it could be quite a useful thing to know what was afoot in the rival organization and, should this gangland gathering be an enduring thing, it may even serve well enough to mask their mission and even deflect responsibility from the Hellkites to the Snakes should things go awry in the undertaking...
As Nyx stared out into the streets, he could hear the occasional banter between passersby and loiterers alike...

"...a gold piece for a pint of ale? Either that's the best ale in Drasnia or he's gotta be insane..."

"It's brewed in Ellisia East...there's good grain out there. Good hops..."

"I don't care if it's brewed by the best brewmaster in Kal-Tar! A gold piece for one pint is highway robbery..."

As Nyx shifted, listening in a different direction, say, or focusing on a different pair or group, he picked up different conversations. Elvin ears were truly the best for such things...

"...I swear it was some Nightcloak gutterkin that took it off me..."

"You're just clumsy with your gold, Tarael."

...

"...boss wants the place watched, that's what we do..."

"What place?"

"The whole damned border."

"But why does he-"

"I don' know!"

Nyx had found a conversation worth listening to...

"Don't ask me again," the same voice repeated, and Nyx spotted a group of three Sea Snakes standing near one of the shops on the corner. "You shouldn' a' asked me anythin' in tha first place! Just do as yer told..."

"Right..."

The group moved off, out of sight...

...

"Lots of Snakes out tonight, eh?"

"What do I care? As long as they keep the girls horny and the ale flowin', I got no problem with the Snakes..."

"The Lord says they're ruining the economy..."

"What does that ol' Lord know? He can't even eradicate the ogres in the Northern Spine..."

"They only have one legion here..."

...

"Get ouf of my way, urchin!"

"Sorry, sir..."

...

A typical night on the town in Drasnia.

“Shall we play the game at which you and your sister are so adept, then,” he queried, a wicked grin ghosting over his features as he nodded towards the crowd on the street, “Bring us back one of those breeders, perhaps, so that we might bleed the knowledge from him?”
It was a fetching proposition, to see him in action, to watch him with the blade. Torture, when done with another, was a deeply intimate act, like lovers play or a sinner confessing to his god. It was not something she undertook lightly, and in all her life she had found only Mallys took as much care as she, or even cared as deeply, about the pain of others, as Sylla did. It would be an interesting experience to play the game with Nyx.

She licked her lips in the dark and smiled. "I would ejnoy that," Sylla whispered. A pause expanded within the space between them. "My sister is here. She waits, somewhere, in the darkness. Should things go badly for me, they might also go badly for you. She can be quite unforgiving."

A whispered sigh escaped her lips and twisted into song, into a darkness all its own, and her body appeared to shimmer, fade, and was suddenly replaced, limb by limb, part by part, with another woman.

A human woman.

"Cay would be so jealous," she giggled.

But while Sylla herself hated this guise, she was not unattractive as a human, and she slipped from the dark under the watchful eyes of Nyx, whom she trusted to keep her safe if only out of self preservation.

She waited till she saw a single man venture near on his rounds, and would then stumble from the dark, pretending to be a lady a lost lady of the night.

"I'll tell you this," she says, "And you'd better pay for it. He's staying on the third floor, the top one. The nobleman's suite at the end of the hall, to the left. On the west side of the Goblin. And that's all I know."
While Ovelia was speaking Cay kept one interested eye on her, and the other on the alley, trying to make sure they were not being watched or overheard. A smile played with the corner of her lips as the girl spilled out what she knew, the night was getting much better. The hand inside her cloak had been fishing out a few coins silently from the inner pocket. When she appeared to be finished Cay brought out the hand and grinned at her.

"Very nice... " and dropped four shiny golden coins into the other girls hand. A fifth coin stayed lodged between her middle and ring finger, which she raised up between them and fiddled with it a little.

"So... that's all you know?" Cay eyed Ovelia once more with a grin, holding up that last bit of gold between them and waited to see if the girl's memory might be jogged by the pretty shinies in front of her.

Mallys moved in the darkness, feeling the night air make way for her. THe shadows seemed to part for her as she passed, and her flesh tingled in anticipation. Sylla was near.

It was not knowledge from any sort of telepathic link, only the simple complexity of blood ties and familiarity. Her sister was close by, but different. The scent was not the same, as if she had become something other. Mallys eased a bit when she realized it was only a spell, and would pass.

As she crept through the night, she came to a spot where she could see the Twilight elf and Sylla, looking despicably human. from her cover, she watched her sister head toward death, leaving Nyx in safety.

Let one hair upon her head fall out of place, mith'ganni, and i will mount yours upon a wall, she fumed.

“I would enjoy that,” Sylla whispered in reply to his suggestion of luring one of the Sea Snakes into their grasp.

“Ma’ra (Wonderful),” Nyx grinned as he produced a stick of charcoal from a belt pouch and began streaking his face with the stuff in preparation for what was to come. Often times, he used the stuff for nothing more than to darken his pale skin altogether when his plan was to simply slip through the shadows unobserved but, in situations such as this, he became a bit more artistic with the application of his added camouflage. Within moments he had painted his face to resemble a grinning skull; broad strokes surrounded his eyes and hollowed his cheeks, and narrower lines streaked from nose to chin, cutting across his lips from one corner of his mouth to the other…

“My sister is here,” Spite confessed after a moment, “She waits, somewhere, in the darkness. Should things go badly for me, they might also go badly for you. She can be quite unforgiving.”

…The charcoal stick disappeared back into its pouch and Nyx, not bothering to scan the surroundings for any signs of the other DeMoria demon, smiled at his cohort through Prien’s coal-painted visage. “No worries,” Nyx smirked, his yellow eyes winking from the hollow-painted eye sockets as his kukri whispered from its scabbard and danced momentarily in his hand, promising swift and deadly action should it be required, “I’ll not be any farther from you than your sister might ever be and should things go badly, precious, it shan’t be for either of us, yes?

I am a bastard, Spite,” he winked, “but not so much so that I’d risk the loss of such a fine lure on what, certainly, could prove to be a small fish.”

He felt her breath whisper over him as the sigh passed her lips and flowed into the dark song of a spell which melted the bard’s half-blooded beauty into something that a round-ear might find more appealing…

“Cay would be so jealous,” the now completely human-looking Sylla giggled as the spell was completed and she prepared to step forth into the streets.

“Mmm,” Nyx nodded, his gaze sliding over the not-unattractive illusion, snickering softly as he imagined Cay toying with a similar spell and transforming herself into a male of the species, “I wonder what parts she would hew away, then?”

As his eyes flicked, once more, from Sylla to the alley’s mouth, Nyx made sure that they had, thus far, gone unnoticed by any of the passersby and, at the same time, ensured that everything he might need in the playing of this game was at the ready… The garrote wire around his wrist was ready to be swiftly deployed if need be, one end of a coil of silken rope – to be used for binding or hanging their prey – was within reach, and the remainder of his blades, though, sheathed and secreted away, were also at their master’s call… “Never far behind, my lovely,” Nyx whispered to her again, his skull-painted face grinning as he cloaked himself in the shadows behind her, “shall we play?”

((OOC: Okie doke… Nyx will be sure to keep very keen eyes on Sylla as she baits our prize and, should it look as if things might start ‘going badly’ for the bardess, won’t hesitate to intervene as necessary. Nyx is going into ‘full stealth mode’, utilizing Move Silently and Hide skills for all their worth as he tails Sylla but also keeping eyes and ears peeled for any signs of trouble or opportunity. ))

At the Goblin...
"Very nice... " and dropped four shiny golden coins into the other girls hand. A fifth coin stayed lodged between her middle and ring finger, which she raised up between them and fiddled with it a little.

"So... that's all you know?" Cay eyed Ovelia once more with a grin, holding up that last bit of gold between them and waited to see if the girl's memory might be jogged by the pretty shinies in front of her.
Ovelia pocketed the coins and shrugged, her smile fading.

"You know, I thought you'd be willing to pay more for some choice information, Cay," she said. "You do realize that I could lose my job for telling you this? I expected a bit more than a day's wage..."

She shrugged once more, almost as a nervous gesture, then turned and opened the door to the kitchen again. "See ya 'round, Cay..." she murmured and and shut the door behind her. From the other side of the door, Cay could hear the commotion inside the kitchen - it must have been a busy night at the Grinning Goblin.

If Ovelia knew anything else, she wasn't saying it to Cay. But, if her information could be relied on, Gracchus Thanald was currently sitting in his room on the third floor. So near to Cay, and yet so far.

Elsewhere...
...while Sylla herself hated this guise, she was not unattractive as a human, and she slipped from the dark under the watchful eyes of Nyx, whom she trusted to keep her safe if only out of self preservation.

As Nyx's eyes flicked, once more, from Sylla to the alley’s mouth, Nyx made sure that they had, thus far, gone unnoticed by any of the passersby and, at the same time, ensured that everything he might need in the playing of this game was at the ready… The garrote wire around his wrist was ready to be swiftly deployed if need be, one end of a coil of silken rope – to be used for binding or hanging their prey – was within reach, and the remainder of his blades, though, sheathed and secreted away, were also at their master’s call… “Never far behind, my lovely,” Nyx whispered to her again, his skull-painted face grinning as he cloaked himself in the shadows behind her, “shall we play?”

She waited till she saw a single man venture near on his rounds, and would then stumble from the dark, pretending to be a lady a lost lady of the night.
Cloaked in darkness, Nyx watched as Spite DeMoria affected the guise and mannerisms of a helpless wench, wandering into the passersby.

She was getting quite a bit of attention from the pub-crawlers and other peasants looking for fun that night, but none of the Snakes seemed to be taking the bait. Most of the Sea Snakes that Sylla could spot were standing watch in front of a shop or tavern, or simply puffing away at some smoking weed in an alley, watching the drunks and lesser nobles with loose pockets as they sought a good time.

Finally, as she flaunted her beauty before a rather gruff looking Snake who was standing alone in front of a closed-down, board up shop, he unfolded his arms and walked over to her, grinning the whole time.

"Yeh look lost, milady..." he said, a devious grin on his face. His odor, mannerisms and speech were those of a seaman; he was probably an old sailor or dockworker that joined the Snakes looking for an extra cut or some smuggling action. Regardless, he was now moving very much into Sylla's personal space, his yellow-black teeth showing as he grinned at her. "Maybe good ole' Hogar here can show yeh the way..."

(Room for interactions...)

As he spoke, he moved to grab her arm, but was stopped, not by Nyx or Sylla, but by a shout.

"Oy!" a voice said, less than twenty feet down the street. It was another Snake, flanked by two others. He was even less presentable than the one soliciting Sylla; his beard was wild and had bits of meat and food in it, and scars and broken teeth made him almost too hideous to look at. But judging by the way the other Snakes deferred to him, he seemed to be in charge. "Hogar, we ain't 'ere tah 'ave fun wit deh leetle loidies, tonight. I tol' yeh ter stan' watch. An' thas wha' ye'll do, or so 'elp me I'll drive me cutlass inta yer neck an' watch ye' bled out! Now clear off, loidy! Yeh 'eard me!"

He makes a 'shooing' gesture towards Sylla. The Snake called Hogar merely nodded in submission, muttering a "Yessir." He took one more glance at Sylla, then returned to his post.

Admittedly, the other Snakes seemed interested in her, but the resolve of their leaders seemed to keep them in line.

While the Snakes had a reputation for being unruly and disorganized, they definitely could run a tight ship. When they wanted to anyways...

She had always enjoyed watching Sylla work. Unless, of course, it lead to failure, and in this case, Sylla had failed to take control of the situation. The large Snake she had been baiting remained elusive, leaving Sylla in that horrid human shape. Mallys advanced in the dark until she reached Nyx and in silence raised her crossbow, sighting down the line at Sylla's quarry.

But this was not, she realized, the best course of action. This was folly. Snakes were everywhere, and to drop one would cause more trouble than they needed, and potentially endanger their mission. No, this was not the way. Mallys raised her head and scanned the night as something dawned within her.

The trouble was she would have to talk to him, and this did not sit easy with her. As she lowered the crossbow, she turned to Nyx.

"Send her to the Goblin," she whispered.

“Pach,” Nyx cursed through clenched teeth as Spite’s lure failed to produce the expected results. The Snakes, it seemed, were in a state of heightened alertness tonight and even charms the likes of Sylla’s would not be sufficient to sway one of them from their posts. Now, even more than after hearing the ambiguous conversation between the passing Sea Snakes earlier, the mith’ganni was curious as to what might have the gang keeping such a vigil. Now that the DeMoria sister’s attempt had been soundly rebuffed, though, it appeared that any clues as to the cause would have to be ferreted out through other means; a litany of options flashed through his mind…

There was a back entrance to this shoddily boarded building, the assassin recalled, and with a minimal bit of effort it could be coaxed open, providing access and perhaps another sort of lure for the Sea Snake. He would be lax in his duties if he didn’t investigate the noises coming from a supposedly sealed building, wouldn’t he? Too great a chance of undue risk, there, though, he grimaced, Too much noise made in the entering or too keen a lieutenant’s eye on his underling and we should scarcely have time to kill the breeder, let alone question him.
The same problem would have presented itself had Nyx followed his first instinct and simply rushed the man, driving him back into the boarded-up shopfront and quickly savage the information out of the filthy round-ear. The leaders too closely watch their men tonight. Far too great a risk for but the hint of a reward.
Of course, as he had heard, the Goblin was serving up some of that fine Ellisian Ale and there was the chance that one could simply saunter into the place, under the pretense of coughing up an entire gold piece for a mug of the stuff, and, at the same time, garner more information into the Snakes activity and put themselves within reach of their mark. A chance for Sylla in her current guise, perhaps, the assassin mused, and perhaps for Mallys, as well, but likely not even the slimmest of one for you, Nyx. An elf walking in their as anything but a slave would…
…Mallys materialized from the shadows, her crossbow readied and trained on the one called Hogar as if she were set to put the man down here and now. Before he could caution her about the folly of such an action, though, she seemed to realize it herself. The crossbow lowered and Nyx was sure he heard a sigh of begrudging resignation pass the woman’s lips before she deigned to speak to him.

“Send her to the Goblin,” she whispered.

“Prying in my thoughts, Mallys,” Nyx grinned, the kukri still ready in his hand, “Of the pair, I thought it was Spite who was the magic wielder?”

The curved blade skittered back into its sheath as he finally took his eyes from their watch over the one sister and turned them to the other. “My mind had just wandered a similar path,” he said, beginning to silently strip away a decent bit of his gear that might identify him as anything more than a slave, “but I didn’t suppose you would care for your dear sister to wander into the wolves den, alone, yes?” Nyx reserved the garrote (leaving it in place about his wrist, certain that it would pass any inspection as nothing more than a cheap, wire and bone bracelet), a pair of punching daggers (the handles of which were easy enough to disguise as the ornamentation of a belt buckle when situated correctly), and his bundle of picks (secreted away in his left boot). The remainder of his weaponry, along with the padded coat, was tucked away into his pack. Next, the mith’ganni smeared and blotted the charcoal already on his face and added some dirt from the alleyway to his face, hands, and clothing, affecting the appearance of a humble and dirty servant as opposed to a frightfully war painted elven butcher.

“There,” he hissed, adding the final touches of his disguise by chasing self-confidence from his posture and sculpting a half-beaten, half-maddened expression on his features, “That should do unless you think, perhaps, she should have me on a leash.

You’ll be minding us from the shadows, yes, my pretty?” Nyx toed his pack towards Mallys; “Mayhaps you’d care to mind my gear while I mind your sister, then? I can trust you to keep it safe, yes? It wouldn’t do to have it lost.”

((replies and interaction… or not… from Mallys are welcomed, throughout.))

He offered the Silent Sister a razor-edged grin as he drew up the cowl of his cloak and backed towards the mouth of the alley. “We may wish to discover what’s become of the witch, as well. Imagine her fury should she discover we neared the mark without her.” Then, with a wink, Nyx turned, hunched over a bit and skittered out into the street, gibbering and snickering under his breath as he pretended to be anxiously searching for something.

“Where has she gone, then,” he giggled, his head moving in quick, jerky movements as he peered first one way up the street and then the other, “I told him, I did… She’ll never find her way alone, I said… lost she’ll get herself, I know… Where has the Mistress gone?” Nyx crouched and loudly sniffed the street, tittering wildly as his face came back up and turned sharply in the direction of the human form in which Spite had veiled herself.

“Theeere you are,” he squealed clapping his hands together and turning an excited somersault in the road before scampering to Sylla’s feet. “I told him you’d get lost, Mistress,” he sniveled, almost cowering before her like a dog, “He said to find you, he did, and I told him I would, and I did, Mistress!”

Nyx took another graceless roll in the street dirt, bounded a few steps away from Sylla towards the Grinning Goblin and then back, crouching once more into an insane but servile posture before the glamoured bard. “Come, come,” he pleaded, tentatively reaching out one dirt-streaked hand to clasp and tug at hers, “you’ll want a pint of this ale, Mistress… Pricey he says it is, Mistress, but worth it… Your sister likeses it, Mistress, he says she does…”

((OOC: Okay, Gigi and Spider’s, this is what I got out of the PMs regarding this situation, I hope it’s in keeping with what you might have had planned… If not, I’ll be happy to edit, of course. Didn’t want to go much past this point, just in case either of you wanted to pick it up and ‘run with it’. Lou, Disguise and, I suppose, Hide checks as appropriate where the weapons and ‘crazy-sniveling-servant’ bit go. Any questions or whatever, drop me a PM or post in Q&A… Be interesting if Cay was to happen in on this, no? ))

Cay shrugged back at Ovelia when she made the comment about how much she had been paid. She had made the allusion to the butchers shop on purpose, if the girl had been disgruntled by the price she didn't mention it until she had spoken. And Cay had found out most of what she had come here to find out. She nodded slightly to Ovelia as she slipped back inside, not bothering to actually say goodbye.

Once Cayrimsa was alone again she cocked her head looking up toward the third floor, and at the curtained window there. Soon Thanald, we shall meet. I'll make sure you scream, but it is nothing personal. Not that I care much for your kind, I imagine the feeling is mutual. But in the end you are just the means to the end, I need membership in the Hellkites, and your my ticket. Sleep well tonight... it will likely be your last. She thought to herself with a smile.

Turning her attention away from the window she looked back down the alley. For a moment she wondered what her compatriots were up to. Then she remembered the way Nyx's eyes wandered over Sylla's body, and decided that perhaps she didn't want to know. She shivered a little bit at the mere thought of the two of them together and wrapped her cloak around herself tightly as if to ward off evil thoughts, and started down the alley.

Stepping out from the corner of the Goblin she took a good look around. Sea Snakes. Everywhere. With a deep frown she pulled her hat down further over her clipped ears and narrowed her eyes. She had just started to survey the crowd closer, looking for any familiar faces, when a movement nearby caught her eye.

A filthy elf was crawling around on the ground, tumbling toward a human woman like some acrobatic dog. Her upper lip curled with disdain. See what I mean Nyx? Elves are not so superior, nearly animals... Nyx?! Her internal discourse into the inferiority of elves was stopped short when she realized that the filthy elf was in fact Nyx, that hair was hard to mistake, and the woman he was rolling toward, Sylla? She was dressed like Sylla, but she looked human. A charm, damn her.

Her eyes narrowed into deep slits and she slid back into the relative shadow of the alley, staring at the two of her compatriots making a spectacle of themselves. Taking her eyes off them for a moment she scanned the area for Mally's but did not see her, but felt that she must be nearby.

What sort of kinky game are you two playing? And you had better not get yourselves caught, I don't know if I'll come to your rescue...

Salted air, brilliant in its coolness, brushed her newly humanized flesh. She pouted coquettishly at the men and wove her way among them but realized she was not bait enough to lure any into her lethal clutches. But ah, the thrill of it when she had one almost in her hands, like potters clay, but he was not easily molded.

What plans they had, these Snakes, were more poisonous than her won ample charms, and so retreated only a little until Nyx, for it could be only him, cowered and chortles at her feet.

"Get on you feet, you miserable whelp," she snarled. "You think it wise to raise my hackles in wrath? Oh, if you were not a gift I'd tan your hide with my bootheels."

She knew this ruse, or thought she did. He was saving her miserable failure by coming to her aid in this guise. "Well, up with you, you miserable halfwit. Take me to him now. This place stinks of fishwhores and salted sickness. And i could use that drink."

Sylla followed, feeling the human form move cumbersome in comparison to her formerly lithe frame, and watched the mith'ganni totter along, well pleased he was so skilled at his subterfuge.

How rotten, she wanted to grin, that little witch would feel when they came closer to the mark than Cay.

((ooc: gigi hadn't finished, but this is just what i found so far in the Drasnia file.))

((mod edit: Updated to credit the post to Gigi))

The apparent human master and elvin slave approached the entrance of the Goblin. As they entered, a drunken sailor stumbled out the door, passing them - nearly running right into Sylla. However, seeing her apparent pure human features, noble garb and slave, he quickly bowed his head slightly, murmuring a barely audible, "Sorry missus..." from the side of his mouth and left with his head bowed. As she entered, she could feel the eyes of various barflies following her; they hardly even noticed Nyx, dismissing him as a mere elf body-slave.

However many people had been out that night at the Hydra's Breath, there were assuredly twice that many at the larger facilities of the Grinning Goblin. All the merriment and drinking one could imagine was going on, though the patrons were predominantly human, with a smattering of dwarves and a few gnomes. The smell of smoking weed was in the air, as was the smell of salt - dock workers brought their stink in with them. A few noble-types could be spotted in the crowd, but they mostly associated with their own castes...

The barkeep immediately adressed Sylla as she passed the bar, looking eager to help her. "What can I do for you, milady? We have a fine Ellisian ale tonight, for only one gold coin. In fact," he said, almost stuttering, "Why don't I buy you one on the house!" He poured her a mug with haste and placed it before her on the bar.

He was a stubbly, balding, overweight man, with dark hair that was graying on the sides and puffy, red cheeks from what must have been years of drinking. As he smiled, the two could see a set of yellowing, crooked teeth.

Apparently he needed access to free ale to attract women.

He grinned expectantly, leaning on the other side of the bar towards her. Meanwhile, Sylla could feel the eyes of the other men in the bar - if she turned down this drink, she'd almost surely be offered another.

As the two scouted the room, they saw no signs of any sneaky business - there did appear to be two strong-arm men standing guard near the stairs. However, as bar patrons were freely going up and down the staircase, it was safe to assume they were probably simple bouncers.

Their deception had worked for the time being, but what next?

((Eol: Your checks succeeded - the NPCs incurred penalties because...well, they're all checking out Spite and not you.))

Meanwhile...
Outside the Goblin, Cay watched the two enter the tavern from around the corner and Mallys kept her eyes trained the two from the alley on the other side of the street.

The Snakes were keeping their posts, alright. The wind was begining to blow outside, however, so most of the pedestrians and street-walkers were heading for a pub and staying there. A few loiterers remained, as well as the two half-elves, hiding in the shadows.

Whatever the Sea Snakes were doing out in force tonight, they were staying put...

"Get on you feet, you miserable whelp," the human-looking Sylla snarled as Nyx groveled at her feet, "You think it wise to raise my hackles in wrath? Oh, if you were not a gift I'd tan your hide with my bootheels."

Instead of springing immediately to his feet, Nyx cringed and flinched away as if he had come to expect quick and severe punishment of the physical sort to go along with the Mistress’ sharp rebuke. “O.. of… course, Mistress,” he stammered, his posture jerking a bit as he tried to rise from his hands and knees but hovered at a cowering stoop as if the slave wasn’t exactly certain that his mistress had really given him permission to stand, “a.. a thousand pardons, mistress. Yes… a thousand…”

“Well, up with you, you miserable halfwit,” she continued, falling easily into the deception he had so quickly cobbled together, “Take me to him now. This place stinks of fishwhores and salted sickness. And I could use that drink."

“Yes, Mistress.” While the expression may have appeared to have been borne of a slave’s small victory in avoiding a beating, the mith’ganni’s smile was genuine as he jerked to an almost erect stance. He was pleased that the DeMorias seemed so adept at games of this sort and found himself almost aroused by the prospects of making the kill with such delectably skilled huntresses. “It’s just this way, Mistress,” Nyx sniveled, scrabbling forward a few paces, his eyes darting in a nervous fashion between the inn up the street and his alleged owner, even as he continued to gibber away, “come…come… Ellisian ale and gift giving, mistress...drinks and dances…”

As he tottered closer to the Grinning Goblin, Nyx spotted Cayrimsa lurking in the shadows of an alleyway that ran next to the place. He probably shouldn’t have but, for some reason, he couldn’t resist the temptation… With a wicked smile on his lips, he skittered away from Sylla and towards the alley’s mouth. When the crop-eared witch’s eyes met his own, Nyx skidded to a halt, feigned a look of shock, and let out a surprised yelp… He cowered away from her, at first, as if he might have expected to be hit or kicked at, but the timorous whimpering noises he emitted quickly transformed into sounds much like maddened giggling and the mith’ganni uncoiled from his cowering and slithered closer to Cayrimsa, loudly sniffing the ground and the air around her as he came.

“What is it, Mistress,” Nyx tittered, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he capered about the Wharf Witch, I’m not sure even it knows, yes? He let loose that insane laugh again, tumbling away from Cay and back towards Sylla, where he rolled to his feet and grinned. “Can we keeps her, Mistress?”

He rolled back towards Cay and even dared to reach dirt streaked, white skinned fingers out to pluck at the tattering hem of her dress. “Maybe it likes drinks, too, yes? Maybe it would make a good gift, too? Like me?”

Nyx skittered away from Cay before she could take a swing at him. “Yes, yes,” he giggled, “A good gift if we washes it, Mistress…”

“Heel, you miserable cur,” Sylla demanded, keeping her mindset in the game, “I told you to take me to him, not to chase alley trash!”

“But if we washes her…”

Sylla kicked him then… all part of the game… and, as a good slave would have, he yelped and skittered ahead again, making for the front doors of the Grinning Goblin, but not before he stuck his tongue out at Cay… then winked…

((OOC: Okay… there’s a bit to get Cay flustered… more later. ))

“But if we washes her…”
Cay had stood there in the alley, while Nyx made even more of a fool of himself by taunting her. Eyes narrowed into tiny stone slits, every muscle sculpted in tension, lips set in a chiselled grimace. She’d perched there on the corner of the building like a gargoyle until he rolled away. So perfect was her statue pose that one could barely even tell she was breathing. Deep inside the stone façade though a storm raged. She had listened to Nyx though the sound of blood rushing in her skull, blood fed to her body by the heart that pounded in her chest. No response had been made to him because her throat had nearly sealed itself off and she felt as if her anger might very well chock her to death. Her stomach flipped over on itself; pancreas flummoxed; gall bladder boiled over; bladder and bowels tightened.

It was more than just anger that gripped her though. A sea of internal conflict crashed upon her. When Nyx first rolled over to her her mind had immediately run to the Bedine coin in her purse, she could see it burning into his flesh. But a moment later a wave of reality bore down. She couldn’t do that, she still needed him. This knowledge ripped through her. As desperately as she wanted to torture him, to torture them both, to make them scream and beg for forgiveness for having been so mean to her, she knew that she could not take care of the Thanald without them. The Hellkites wanted his head, literally, she had never killed before, and there were the guards, even if she did manage to get his head there was no way she would ever get out with it alive. Being dead, while at times seemed like the merciful end to this cursed life, would not get her into the Hellkites. It would send her into the vast nothingness of death, and there there would be no pain, but there would be no glory either. The pain would be worth the glory in the end, she knew it.

Biting into her lip until she tasted her own blood she watched as Nyx and Sylla went into the Goblin. She wondered for a moment if they had known how close they had come to seeing how she operated on a very personal level. Likely they did, and yet they still had done it, still had taunted her, had pressed her to see if she would do it. Well she hadn’t, but she wasn’t happy about it.

Nevertheless though, the two of them were headed into the Goblin, and she felt that they might be going to try something even stupider than taunting Cay. This was not the plan they had agreed upon earlier, and it could jeopardize everything, that she couldn’t have. With effort she took a breath and started to move her body, each joint creaking into use after having been set so firmly in place only moments before. She brought her hand up to her mouth and wiped away a drop of blood from her lip and wiped it on her skirt then headed toward the door.

Slowly she stepped inside, and paused at the door for a moment to see if anyone took any notice of her entrance, if they did she would pass them a hard look, as was typical of anyone entering a place like this. Sliding toward an outer wall of the place she watched Nyx and Sylla approach the bar. A serving wench with a tray of empty glasses was passing by. A smile crept over Cay’s face as she considered a nice way to get back at the two of them without having to put their mission in danger.

Concentrating she leaned back against the wall and waited for the tray to sudden fall off the wenches hand and crash toward the ground right in front of her companions.

((OOC: Mage Hand))