It was a new day.

A new day, with a new victor of Melee Magthere.

The previous day had wrapped up in a blur of activity; finishing what he had started in the Grand Melee was easy enough; the final combatant was a commoner who happened to have been lucky enough to primarily avoid others; no match whatsoever for Jevan. Upon his decisive victory, Jevan was whisked away to stand beside none other than First Blade Faen Tlabber himself, looking over the peers of his entire school; everyone from the grades below, and those of his own class now healed and staring at him with predominately hate-filled eyes. Only Satou and Da did not seem to seethe at Jevan's victory; the former watching with a cool detached look as if the results mattered none at all to him, while the latter looked up with curiosity and possibly respect.

Malaggar droned on for some time with a grand speech, commending Jevan for his deadly prowess and setting the Freth son up as the bar to strive for for all drow to follow; almost word-for-word the same speech Jevan heard after his own very first Grand Melee, and the crowning of that year's top student.

The rest of the day followed by quickly; the nobles all dispersed, untrusting of one another more now than ever. While they sulked their normal grounds, Satou himself seemed to disappear altogether, off the map entirely.

That night in the grand dining hall, the commoner who had managed to make it to second in class fell over dead from natural causes... having taken in enough poison in a single bite of his meal to naturally kill a whole herd of Rothé.

Thus, the fifteen remaining students beneath Jevan each found themselves bumped up a spot higher on the chart; just in time for the end-of-year ceremony.

That night, Jevan took his much-needed reverie, albeit perhaps with some added caution. Regardless, the night passed without a peep. The new day came, and that night, Jevan knew, would be the end-of-year ceremony. They would thank the Spider Queen for all the challenges and the lessons she had put before them that year, and then be off before Narbondel's Black Death to return home for the first time in a decade or more.

Upon waking that morning, however, Jevan found a written note scrawled upon Rothé hide impossibly placed upon his own boots.

The night before Jevan had stood with eyes practically glazing over while Faen Tlabber rehashed his usual paean to the virtues of drow kind as embodied by the schools graduates, but this morning he awoke clear eyed and fresh faced. After ten long years Jevan was about to step beyond the confines of Tier Breche into the glittering jewel that was Menzoberranzan and the world was his for the taking.

The son of house Freth dressed in his second finest clothes (his finest would have to wait for later that evening) and fussed with the fall of his coat and the hem of his cuffs before the dressing mirror as he read Satou's note.

A favour paid and a favour owed, Jevan considered. And one must repay their debts.

"Very well, Satou," Jevan said to the otherwise empty chamber, happy at last with how his collar looked from the side. "I shall see you there."

Leaving his room behind and locking the door at his back, Jevan went to take his breakfast (and claim his winnings from Pharn, all 95 gold pieces of it, if the head cook wasn't purposefully sidestepping him in the dining hall).

Jevan headed to breakfast; he actually found Pharn there with a big smile on his face, bringing out a plate especially for the son of Freth. "Jevan! A thousand congratulations on your victory. Your winnings, of course. You could have made me much more if you had simply admitted to allying yourself with a backstabber like that Hekar."

"Ah, but where would have been the fun in that, Pharn?" Jevan said with a smile to match the other man's. "We all have our own little secrets to keep."

He glanced down at the plate reflecting on the fate of the nameless commoner who had finished behind him. Jevan's noble birth offered him some protection. Anyone hoping to poison the victorious son of a noble house risked the wrath of his entire family. Still, the drive towards greatness sometimes made the desperate seem cunning.

"Will you join me for breakfast?" Jevan continued, his gaze sliding back to Pharn's face. The cook was tacitly vouching for the food's sanctity; if Jevan dropped dead after the first bite Pharn would likely meet an unfortunate demise shortly thereafter. Not to mention Jevan had likely made Pharn quite a lot of money yesterday. His own bet aside, anyone who had put money down on Tuith or Gul'tal had walked away with empty pockets.

"I don't expect I'll have much company besides."

"You could not have stopped me if you tried. Though perhaps I should not jest, it seems an obvious façade after your performance yesterday!" Pharn responds, sitting at the table and gesturing for Jevan to take his place. "I plan to use this time when you must come to me in order to shamelessly exploit my knowledge on the contents of your purse to entice you to increase it."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:18, Sun 26 Dec 2021.

Jevan took the seat across from Pharn and reached for his utensils. "I do love the sound of money," he said eagerly. "Please, regale me with your proposition."

Pharn reached over and plucked a sautéed mushroom off of Jevan's plate, popping it into his mouth. His lip curled and he turned, spitting on the floor; "The food here is swill, good thing you will be headed hom with much finer plates ahead of you yes? At least it's nothing bad enough to kill" he said, tacitly ignoring that he was the head of the kitchen.

The act of leaning in to take the bit had brought Pharn surreptitiously closer, leaning towards Jevan, and he now spoke in a lower tone. "There are rumors among the faculty, Jevan... rumors that would go for a good sum of coin if they could be confirmed, since none of the other students are ken to the story as of yet. None except, perhaps you and one other."

"Oh?" Jevan asked with amusement as he set to work on his morning repast. "What sort of rumors might these be? And what sort of sum might it be worth to confirm or refute them?"

Pharn's face grew serious, solemn even. "Look Jevan, you an I know how it goes. There are those who think they deserve the top marks and all the prestige and honor that come with them. What stands between them and what they wants are those who are better than them; that they may be unable to do anything about. But those who are lesser, and lucked their way to the top? Those ones can be removed, as has already been the case. Three quarters of the top contenders were commoners! One of them has made a name for himself and fancies himself better than most of these nobles, all well and good as he has proven himself mostly right thus far. The other two? Pure luck, perhaps? The death of one supports that, but the other... he has gone into hiding, seems to have disappeared. What more, the rumors among the staff is that you were overheard saying something odd to him before handily defeating him in single combat. If you and he had some sort of arrangement of sufficient detail... perhaps it may be worth at least as much to double your earnings."

"I was overheard saying something odd? How outrageous, and utterly uncharacteristic!" Jevan chuckled and dove into his meal with enthusiasm.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, yet again, Pharn. I'm rather short on details."

"Still, the fact that the individual in question is not in attendance this morning would suggest that more than luck carried him through the fight, would it not? At the very least he's cunning enough to know when not to be found."

"Menzoberranzan sends its sons to Melee Magthere to learn how to fight with grace and kill with efficiency, and I suppose that's all well and good if a bit boring. As I remarked to someone in the maze last night, any Rothe-herder can be trained to hold a sword." If the faculty had indeed been listening all along there would be no mistaking who Jevan had directed that particular barb towards.

"Its the unofficial curriculum of Tier Breche that distinguishes the passable students from the exceptional, and of the three in question," here Jevan spread three mushrooms across his plate with the flat of his knife. "One was lucky until he was not," the first mushroom disappeared into Jevan's mouth with a satisfying pop. "One paid very good attention in class and learned how to swing a sword," this mushroom too disappeared into Jevan's mouth. He spent several moments masticating this particular morsel with relish.

At last he brought his fork down once more only to have the metal tines clink against the plate as the mushroom vanished from sight, a minor illusion. Jevan winked.

"And one... one paid attention to those around him and learned something about the Great Game."

Jevan raised his empty fork up between the two of them and twirled it idly.

"Now which little mushroom do you think got the better education?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:00, Tue 28 Dec 2021.

Pharn smiled, shamelessly enjoying Jevan's metaphoric spectacle. "Certainly not the sous who made those morsels this morning. Regardless, it was a fine and tasy sample Jevan, but no meal is complete without the meat, and here is the meat; one who truly plays the game plays to win. Yet, we know this quality of this game is in the quantity of win conditions... I may not be the champion of the grand melee, but I think you know I've done plenty well for myself in this humble position."

Pharn pointed to the single, large blood sausage that sat on Jevan's plate, the necessary protein on the plate of every warrior in Melee Magthere. "So where then, is the meat? What is the win condition for this particular well-learned mushroom and his game?"

"Why Pharn," Jevan said, plunging his fork into the sausage and slicing off the end. "This mushroom wants what we all want. To better its lot in life, and who can blame it?"

"Its just as you say: I look forward to much finer plates at home. But for some the plates at home are hardly an improvement. They may in fact be a step backwards. In such a case, its time to look for better plates. Or perhaps hold on to these ones a little while longer until a better opportunity presents itself."

Jevan chewed his sausage thoughtfully, pausing after a moment to punctuate his next remark with a utensil.

"But as I said before, Pharn, I'm short on details. And I too eagerly wait to see what comes of it. Sometimes the people most worth knowing are the ones you didn't think worth knowing at all."

Pharn raises an eyebrow; "To hold onto these ones? A curious intent to express considering we have established them worth little; I see your point clearly Jevan and I think that is well worth the hundred gold. Assuming it proves reliable, I'll have your payment, and a much better meal, by day's end."

The inconspicuous cook gives Jevan a sly grin, then rises to leave with some haste.

Jevan finished the rest of his meal with a smile on his face, and then carefully wiped his lips clean on his napkin before rising to take his leave. Satou had given instructions to meet him directly after the breakfast hour, and so he would. But Jevan was not foolish enough to believe Pharn's was the only eye upon him this morning. That he would be followed was almost a given. Someone was almost assuredly hoping he would lead them right to Satou. And that wouldn't do. No, that wouldn't do at all.

It was a good thing Satou had set their rendezvous in a maze.

Jevan moves casually through the complex of Melee Magthere, heading for the sublevel where the maze of the grand melee stood... supposedly empty. Of course, such areas were not kept out of student access, if one wanted to risk themselves in such desolate corners such was their prerogative.

He kept an eye on his corners and the path he laid behind him; naught but shadows danced here and there, nothing unusual for tier breche.

Eventually he came to the mouth of the maze; where just yesterday he stood, unremarkable from much of his class, yet emerged indisputably above them all.

He moved forward, knowing where Satou wanted to meet up, but there was much maze between here and there.

---

How would you like to move forward? Casually heading straight to the meet point? Stealthily as quickly as possible? Meandering? Or something else?

Jevan paused before the mouth of the maze and stood with his hands on his hips as his gaze swept up and down the walls. For all the world he appeared to be a man basking in his personal glories. After a few moments he resumed course, his heels clicking as he passed beyond the threshold and veered to the right - the same path he had taken the night before.

Once he'd broken sight though he hugged close to the wall of the corridor and sent his fingers flicking towards the emptiness ahead. The staccato of his footfalls continued along the corridor and turned away at the next bend. Jevan however did not. Indeed, he'd barely moved at all except to rise up into the air and vanish from sight altogether hovering just out of reach of an unwary pursuer.

And he waited.

Minor illusion to make it sound as though Jevan is proceeding unhurriedly down the corridor.
One with Shadows to turn invisible.
Levitation to carry him into the air. Levitation is the only effect requiring concentration.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:40, Wed 29 Dec 2021.

As Jevan floats silently in the passageway, his patience and attention to detail is rewarded as a figure silently stalks around the corner. As the drow approaches, passing underneath Jevan, the noble recognizes the familiar individual; Tuith.

As Tuith passes beneath, intent upon Jevan's supposed trail, Jevan notices a second figure, face wrapped and hood up, stalk around the far corner as well.

---

Are you letting Tuith pass?

Yes. Letting them both pass for now.

Jevan watched with a grin as Tuith passed beneath his feet and continued along the corridor. Of all the tails that could possibly be upon him, Tuith was the one he was concerned about the least. The second figure gave him pause however.

It was not Gul'tal. He had neither the frame nor mannerism. Billarius, perhaps? Or Vahn'Galen? For all he knew it was Satou himself, hoping to settle one final score...

As Tuith passes beneath Jevan and turns the next corner, the figure behind him dashes out, seems to jump and disappear into gathering shadows, then reappears in front of Tuith and stabs him deep in the gut.

Tuith lets out a gasp as blood drains from his abdomen and his mouth; he attempts to say something but it comes out only as a gasp; despite this, the fighter reaches for his blade.

---

12:18, Today: Fate rolled 23 using 2d20+8 with rolls of 11,15. Hit. Automatic Critical.
12:20, Today: Fate rolled 32 using 8d6+5 with rolls of 1,6,2,3,6,3,1,5.


These two are rolling for initiative, if you plan to do more than watch (valid option) then roll as well, otherwise let me know your plan.

Jevan's eyes went wide but he made no sound nor move to intercede. He owed Tuith nothing, and cared for his well being even less. It was foolish for the commoner to have followed him into the maze in the first place - foolish and desperate. Now he would face the consequences of his actions

And Jevan would have one less enemy in the outside world to worry about.

Satou - Jevan imagined it to be Satou now that he had seen the figure strike - seemed to have the situation well in hand. It also explained how Satou had managed to get into his personal chambers unannounced if he could disappear and reappear by will or magic.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Thu 30 Dec 2021.

Jevan watched; Tuith reached for his blade but before he could clear it of its sheath, the assassin pulled the short wakizashi of of the commoner's gut, pulling a second one out of a sheath behind their hip, and slashed both diagonally across his chest. Tuith, fatally wounded, took his only option and fled. To his credit, bleeding as heavily as he was at this point, the skilled drow fighter managed some sly footwork; feinting one way then another to avoid allowing his enemy another shot before swiftly putting a comendable amount of distance between them in a short enough time.

But it wasn't enough. The assassin took only one step forward, raising both blades for simultaneous stabs despite the gulf of distance between them. Once more the shadows around him seemed to swell forward in an embrace, then spirited him away and he appeared right behind Tuith's running form just as his double stabs came down. Tuith gave one pained yell before collapsing on the floor, unmoving.

The figure kneeled down, and though Jevan was at too great a distance to see the exact details he knew the motion well as the figure cut Tuith's throat for good measure. Then, without pause as only a man on a mission does, he took hoisted the body over one shoulder and turned back the other way, passing beneath Jevan once more heading quietly deeper into the maze; leaving behind nothing more than yet another of many blood stains littering the labyrinth.

---

17:39, Today: Fate, for the NPC Tuith, rolled 14 using 1d20+6 with rolls of 8. Initiative.
17:39, Today: Fate rolled 17 using 1d20+5 with rolls of 12. Initiative.
17:39, Today: Fate rolled 17 using 1d20+8 with rolls of 9. Shortsword attack Vs. Tuith. HIT.
17:40, Today: Fate rolled 18 using 1d20+8 with rolls of 10. Shortsword attack Vs. Tuith. HIT.
17:40, Today: Fate rolled 31 using 5d6+10 with rolls of 6,1,4,5,5. Piercing Damage.
17:42, Today: Fate rolled 24 using 2d20+8, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 16,13. Shortsword attack Vs. Tuith. HIT.
17:42, Today: Fate rolled 27 using 4d6+8 with rolls of 6,6,1,6. Piercing Damage. DEAD.
17:44, Today: Fate rolled 20 using 1d20+8 with rolls of 12. Shortsword attack Vs. Tuith. HIT.
17:44, Today: Fate rolled 8 using 1d6+5 with rolls of 3. GOOD MEASURE.

Jevan hoped the figure beneath the hood was Satou, because if it wasn't there was a formidable opponent in the maze along with them. Rather than stopping to ponder it at length however, Jevan directed his gaze upward and ascended towards the gallery. Now that he wasn't a contestant anymore there was no need to stick to the corridors and it would be easier going along the top.

Jevan floats upward, alighting atop the wall of the maze. The walls are flat on top and wide enough to walk on, several men abreast even. The smallest hallways being only ten feet across, there is a veritable maze in its own of the catwalks spanning across in somewhat regular intervals. Still, the maze top was open before him, and indeed from the top there were many directions one could go in and make faster time to get anywhere they wished.

---

Where are you headed?

Jevan took a quick look to make sure he was alone on the observation deck before plotting his course to the meeting spot. Head to the chamber where you watched Billarius fight with commoners. That was towards the northwest of his current position. With a skip and a hop he cleared the gap between his current gallery and the next and was off along the maze.

22:31, Today: Jevan Freth rolled 11 using 2d20+7, dropping the lowest dice only.  Stealth.

Jevan criss-crossed the patchwork of catwalks until coming upon the large, rectangular room referenced by the note. Bloodstains litter the floor of the once-battlefield, but the room seems empty otherwise.