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The Sublime Overlord of the Realm
The dwarf narrowed his eyes at the sudden change in Andric's behavior. While the name was not familiar to him, this dwarf knew that he never forgot a face. This one was familiar, older and stranger than it had been before, but it was still a face he knew. Signon had been a locksmith and, by locksmith, that meant he opened doors and crafted locks for a living. Of course, eventually he turned to thieving as it was more lucrative than his day job and much more challenging and satisfying. I don't forget a face, sir dwarf. I never forget a face. I'll place yours eventually. I was a locksmith in Kaldevan. I worked up in the noble sector more often than not... His mind began to think harder about Kaldevan and his own past. Perhaps that's where I've seen you... Signon was most notorious for finding out intelligence on rival factions of dwarven nobles and selling information to the highest bidder. He was devious, unscrupulous, and vicious like a badger cornered in its hole. Eventually his escapades were found out and he had to flee Kaldevan or submit to judgement that any jury would be able to see his guilt and condemn him to the deepest darkest, most dangerous place they could think to exile him to. Instead, he escaped and the rest... as they say, was history.

Kayra was beginning to get a bad feeling about this other dwarf. She still had the dagger that Ryvala had given her. It was in the sheathe at her hip. Her fingers tapped the pommel of the little used blade. It might be less effective against his armor. Maybe... If I have to, I should just aim for his face? A squeamish feeling was creeping around in her stomach at the thought of the blade going into the soft flesh of his face and then striking bone, possibly lodging there as the rest of the "tavern" that they were in erupted with violence. Maybe I shouldn't stab him in the face. Not right here in front of everyone.

Ryvala sat quietly as did Jik. The wood elf listened for Nym's footsteps to fade away and was happy to note that she could barely hear them already. It sounded like he made a clean get away. She poured her glass full of water again and tossed the liquid back into her throat. More for me now that he's gone. A soft smile crossed her face as the moisture trickled down to her stomach. Jik rotated the water in his glass as if it mesmerized him. It didn't, but it wasn't nearly so boring as listening to the dwarves talk. And, when he glanced up and was about open his mouth about the drow's disappearance, the sharp kick of Ryvala's foot caused him to yelp in startlement instead, reminding him to shut up. He sullenly went back to rotating the water in his glass.


Magus's room was filled with odds and ends and shelves. It had appeared completely empty at first, but it was quite clear that it wasn't the second Nymmur'ss came into full view of the room. The white hair was tied together at the nape of her neck, held severely tight and straight. Her red cloak swirled about her as she pivoted on her feet like a she-demon, her red eyes narrowed with hate. Her lips were thin and pursed tightly in disapproval. Her shapely body was snugged into light armor all colored black just like her thick, heeled boots. Her ebony skin went with the combo quite nicely, black and red. Before Nym stood Raveon Arkenrae, eldest daughter of Matron Arkenrae, the most highly trained priestess of Vacellessa in his House with a love of pain, anguish, and tears. The scent of blood filled the room. You! Nymmur'ss of House Arkenrae! On your knees in front of your betters! She held her three headed whip in her hand, the hooks embedded into its length and tips promising a bloodletting. Her scowl and angry eyes were enough to quail even the hearts of surface men. There was no sign of the Magus that Ryvala had spoke of anywhere. Raveon's presence filled the room to completion.
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The Hole · Kastalin Sands

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