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.

Jevan descending like a feather on the wind, landing delicately upon the floor of the vast room. Announcing his presence was a risky proposition, but he reckoned he had got here before the assassin if indeed the assassin was trying to pick up his trail again.

"Satou?" Jevan whispered.

"Too loud"

A voice said from the darkness. Responding to the summons, the assassin carrying Tuith's unmoving body strode into the room. With one hand holding the corpse in place, the other hand reached up and pulled back the head wrapping and causing it to fall comfortably around his neck, revealing the expected face of Satou.

The drow commoner unceremoniously dumped Tuith's body into the center of the room. "Well done shaking your tail though; I had to move before he realized he had lost you, only wish you would have waited a little longer so I wouldn't have had to carry him so far."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:17, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Jevan smirked. "Apologies. That was inconsiderate of me," he said, matching Satou's volume. "I imagine Da will be wondering what happened to his footman. Pity Billarius must have had Tuith killed to raise his standing." Jevan winked.

"Oh no, you're the one who killed Tuith. But you did Da a favor; he was less loyal to House Hekar than would have been ideal considering how many resources they put into training him and bringing him up alongside Da" Satou said, stepping slowly around the corpse, looking at it with the detached consideration a hunter does a piece of game and the meat it offers.

He then turned, looking Jevan in the eyes. "Of course that's not the real reason you did it; instead, you did it for the sake of Master Houndarel... convincing him of that, now there's where the real danger lies."

"Oh?" Jevan inquired, looking down at the discarded form with interest. "How have I helped Master Houndarel?" he asked.

Satou grinned and looked sideways at Jevan. "By saving his life, of course."

Satou then turned more fully towards Jevan. "I'll cut the vague speak Freth, but explaining how this helps us requires a bit of explanation, including some information that may be of value to you, or possibly some interest at least. I give it freely, but know that I expect you will follow through on that favor you owe me; here and now. I have a plan and I need you to bring it to its predetermined end, and if help me finish it we will be even and I'll consider you a valuable partner so we may do business again in the future."

"Satou, you wound me," Jevan said putting his hand across his breast in mock injury, though his grin said otherwise. "Of course I am to repay a favour owed. What are we if not men of our word?"

"Now how can I be of service?"

Satou rolls his eyes; "No, I did not wound you, though I could if I wanted to despte the charade I put on in the melee yesterday."

Satou then shook his head; "But I'm not here to measure our lizards against one another. I just want to ask you one question Jevan; you have no reason to trust me, I understand. But if our roles were reversed, and please refrain from shuddering at the thought, would you trust you?"

"I would never trust me," Jevan said without hesitation. "Its why I'm still alive."

"I would trust our mutual interests. So long as they remain mutually interesting of course."

Satou nodded, seemingly satisfied that they had come to a mutual conclusion. As such, he changed the topic, pointing at first to Tuith then extending the gesture to the room around them. "Tuith and Houndarel are supposed to meet here soon. They've been having.. rendezvous for some time. The important thing to know is that Houndarel is not staying at the academy for the next class year; he is relinquishing his position here and returning home to Fey-Branche at the behest of the matron mother. Tuith gleaned this information from him and has been coaxing the master to appoint him as his replacement, which Houndarel was agreeable to."

Satou then shrugged and looked straight at Jevan once again. "That's where my plan intercedes. I want to be a master in Melee Magthere, Tuith was a stepping stone that I did not hesitate to put beneath me. Now, this is where my favor comes in. The story is that after the display in the Grand Melee, Houndarel decided Tuith was not to be his successor; instead he wanted to offer the position to you. In a desperate and mad fit the likes of which can only belong to a jilted lover, Tuith drew his blade on Houndarel. Ironic, since you would had no intention of accepting the offer and would instead have recommended me for the position. Now, here is where we have some wiggle room; convince Houndarel to go along with this plan, or kill him and pin it on Tuith. That part falls to you."

Jevan stroked his chin in thought. "No you're quite right. I have no interest in teaching noble brats to play at swords.

"My this is a dangerous game you're playing at though, Satou. Succeed and I have the thanks of a scion of Fey-Branche, the consideration of house Hekkar for averting a bloody contretemps, and of course, a mutual understanding with yourself as a master of the academy."

"Fail on the other hand, and I've no choice but to match blades with Houndarel."

"Tell me, where does this information come to you by? And how much of it is true and how much must I convince Houndarel of? Had he reconsidered his successor?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:21, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"It's true that Houndarel was fucking Tuith, and its true the commoner was using the opportunity to coax Houndarel into naming him the next master," Satou said, dropping any pretense. "This information comes to me by me, Jevan. You'd be amazed what one can see, and hear, when they spend their ten years at the academy not playing the games of posturing and posing for stature."

Satou stopped for a moment, inclining his head as he seemed to consider things for a moment. "Now, Houndarel seemed receptive to giving the position to Tuith though how much was sincere and how much was simply entertaining his toy I cannot speak for. It's also true that Tuith hoped to secure the number two position, first by convincing Da to poison Hunin, though not knowing that Billarius had already done the same. Thanks to your uninformed blunder in the maze, Tuith knew through Houndarel that you and I had some sort of alliance and thought you would lead him to me; to be honest I think even Tuith knew his limits and did not plan to strike at you, but also believed you would not go to any extreme to protect me."

The drow assassin took a long breath before finishing; "That is all. Now, you must convince Houndarel that it is in his best interest to go along with the story as it has been concocted and, with your 'guidance' name me as his successor. Know that if it does fail and the only recourse is blades, then my goal is on the line and you can rely on my help in felling the master. It will not be easy, but I believe it can be done."
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:37, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"Then the story needs amending," Jevan mused. "Not the one Houndarel choses to tell the world," Jevan added dismissively. "That's immaterial."

"But the one I tell Houndarel matters. I can hardly tell him I saved him from an assassin's blade in the act, the body is already cold," he said, gesturing at Tuith's crumpled form. "And I have no reason to be here whatsoever if the events you speak of were known only to Houndarel and Tuith themselves. Unless...."

Jevan's mind raced ahead as he unwound the thread of history and subtly rewove the pattern, at least as it would be told hence forth.

"Unless Tuith himself arranged for me to come."

Jevan paced around the body and cast his gaze upon their environs.

"Tuith passed me in the hall this morning and told me to come here straight after breakfast. He had a matter of urgency to discuss. When I arrived he seemed like a man possessed and heaped wild and unfounded accusations upon me. Vulgar accusations, even. I protested, justly," here Jevan held up his hands in peaceful placation. "But he became incensed and drew his sword threatening to kill me and Houndarel."

"Alas, I had no choice but to defend myself." He paused and looked down at the body.

"Good of you to stab him in the front rather than the back. It adds credence to my story."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:55, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

"My intention was to let Houndarel in on the lie, but if you think it will be a better sell to extend the lie to him as well then by all means. I have many talents but this is more your battlefield than mine" Satou said, dipping his head slightly in a show of acquiescence.

"Houndarel should be here relatively shortly. Will you await him? I will be watching from the darkness."

"Well if it isn't necessary to your plans to sell the lie to Houndarel, that is one fewer mark I must fool. Better to bring him into the conspiracy than to have him see through the deceit. Both entail risks, but if we secure the former it will be a sounder arrangement. We'll do it your way."

"I will await him here."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:22, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Satou shrugs. "It's only necessary that I become the next master. Whether you lie, let him in on the conspiracy, or kill him is up to you. Though I will say, if I can avoid the blade of a master of the academy, that would be preferable."

With that, Satou disappeared into shadow and Jevan was left alone.

---

Is there anything you would like to do? Any exact plan?
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:53, Fri 31 Dec 2021.

Jevan smoothed down his shirt, straightened his cuffs and took a steadying breath. This was not the conversation he thought he would be having this morning when he awoke high on his previous night's success. Still, it presented an opportunity. A dangerous one at that.

All he needed was an opening.

I wish I could say I had preparations to make, but honestly there's nothing in Jevan's  toolkit that will help him for this performance.

He's going to stick close to Satou's original script and see how far it gets him. I don't know enough about Houndarel from the little play time I've seen him to anticipate how he will receive it. I'm banking on Satou's NPC knowledge and intuition here - he's proven an adept judge of character to date.

Jevan steadied his nerves and began to wait patiently. Five minutes pass, then ten. Half an hour later, and still waiting.

"Freth. Something is wrong. Houndarel isn't coming, we are still alone in the maze. He was meant to meet with Tuith here by now." Jevan only had to look around for a moment as Satou emerged from the shadows near his position.

Jevan's lips tightened into a thin line and he wondered what mischief Pharn might have been about after their morning meal. Double crossing was the nature of the game, though it was in the cook's interest to have an ally in the faculty rather than an adversary.

"That is a problem," he concurred. "Perhaps he's grown rather more cautious than his former paramour."

"If he's not coming, we ought not linger. It does raise the question of what to do with the body."

Satou furrowed his brow. "Why would he have become more cautious? I was worried after your slip during the Grand Melee, but it seemed to have been cryptic enough not to tip my hand entirely; I was still able to listen to Houndarel make plans with Tuith over breakfast."

"It was hardly a slip," Jevan remarked. "I was forthright with Tuith in the maze that I had a confederate. It was practically to be expected. If he needed Houndarel to connect the dots for him he was more simple than I gave him credit for."

"I can hardly believe this is why the faculty are all gossiping like kitchen hands."

Satou shook his head. "Do not underestimate the faculty's tendency to play the game. If Houndarel had reason to believe he was being played, its natural that he would try to come out with a higher hand. We need to find him, its not too late to get him to acquiesce... though if we kill him elsewhere things could get more messy. As for Tuith, let him rot here for now, its just as good a place as any other so long as we act fast."

Jevan nodded. "Then lets get going."

Is there more than one way out of the room with the maze?

Satou gestured; "Lead the way, I will follow so as not to be noticed wherever we may go."

---

Just the one so far as you know.

Jevan turned on his heels and started for the mouth of the maze, sticking to the floors rather than the decks so that Satou could follow. Pharn had made things more challenging, it would seem, but Satou was right. The opportunity was not lost. He just had to think on his feet.

Satou disappeared from sight, but Jevan worked his way through the maze by memory and to the mouth without incident; the sub basement seemed as empty and desolate as ever before.

---

Where would you like to go?

Does Houndarel have an office or something similar?

He has quarters, which Jevan knows would include amenities such as an office, but no college style visitation office. Closest place to that sort of things for discipline/examination would actually take place in the sparring room.

The last time he had gone looking for Houndarel, Jevan had found him in the sparring room. It seemed unlikely anyone would be there now, the day after the grand melee, but it was still the best place to start.

Jevan heads up out of the sub basement and into Melee Magthere without trouble. The sparring room was only on the first floor, so it was a short walk and the noble son passed no others along the way.

That is, until he reached the room. Once he was in eyeshot of the door he saw one of his commoner classmates standing outside the door like some sort of sentinel. Instead of staying to  lock Passage however, the commoner saw Jevan amd immediately retreated within the sparring room, closing the door behind him.

"Ah," Jevan remarked without slowing his stride. "Here we go."

Arriving at the door he attempted to open it if it wasn't barred from within.

The heavy door opens without protest, revealing the sparring room within. As the door opened, Jevan could immediately hear the clatter of swords clashing against one another, the whir of blades and the clanging of shields.

The door opened just in time to see the door sentinel from earlier drop down into the pit from the opposite side. There, standing where he was, was Master Houndarel himself; bedecked in his full suit of armor, sword belted at his hip and a teardrop shield strapped to his arm.

"Master Freth," Houndarel Fey-Branche called from across the pit casually. "Come to get in one last scrimmage before graduation?"

The teacher waved his hand, gesturing to the square sand pit between them; three pairs and one trio of swordfighters, all minor nobles and commoners from the graduating class, drilled and practiced their techniques.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:37, Sat 01 Jan 2022.

Jevan stepped unhurriedly to the side of the ring and glanced left and right at the drilling students before affixing his attention on Houndarel.

"I'd come to talk actually. And to pay my respects to a master of the school, prior to graduation."

"But I could be tempted to one final scrimmage if you would prefer to talk over swords, Master Fey-Branche."

Houndarely laughed; "Talking over swords is what we are doing now, no?" he called out. "By all means, these classmen ended nowhere near your prestigious rank in the Grand Melee, so be welcome to don the mantle of instructor if you wish and teach them a thing or two. If you came here to talk, then talk."

”Funny you should mention that,” Jevan remarked. He turned along the edge of the pit and casually circled around the fighters, keeping his eye ostensibly on their performance as he made his way closer to Houndarel. ”That is precisely what I’d hoped to discuss with you.”

“Succession.”

"An interesting topic, hopefully you will be able to bring it up to your elder brother soon."

Houndarel neither Jevan's gait nor gaze; remaining standing where he was, he kept his eyes politely fixed Jevan as he skirted the pit. Down below, the swordfighters swung their blades and bodies, none of them drawing blood as they practiced.

”Indeed, I look forward to seeing Xuillin again. It has been entirely too long,” Jevan said, coming to a stop alongside Houndarel and turning to regard the fighters.

”And while you have me well pegged as a man of ambition, you and I both know that in affairs of the family we are always at the beck and call of our matron mothers. No matter how skilled or accomplished we may be, when she beckons we must answer.”

Houndarel chuckled; "There is truth in that; no matter how our yokes may grow, we still must abide when pulled back" he said. He turned slightly, bringing his shield hand to a 'comfortable' position resting on his belt, which coincided with putting the shield at the ready between him and Jevan. "Just know that they are not the only one who can hold a yoke in their lifetime."

"Too true," Jevan replied. "I like to think of life as a web. Every person, every interaction is an intersection. Some of these points are determined for us by family or fate. Others are of our own making. Knowing which connections to make and which to prune determines the health of the whole, so that when any point pulls upon it the whole of it does not break."

Houndarel scoffs. "I have been playing that gam longer than you have, Freth. But what of those strands we do not choose, but are pruned for us hm?" Houndarel's face grows a bit tighter as he furrows his brow. "Should we not snip at those that dally overmuch in our webs?"

Jevan shrugged. “Perhaps,” he said. ”I for one prefer to look for opportunity.”

"Well, those who trespass in another's web should show their opportunity quickly, ere they rouse the spider."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:01, Mon 03 Jan 2022.

"This was a most unusual year, I think you will agree," Jevan remarked, still observing the fighters though warier of Houndarel given his obvious ire.

"Only one noble son to finish in the top four. Practically unheard of. Now, that process is sorting itself out as these things are wont to do. And you stand in a position to rectify what remains by a penstroke. That is an admirable position to be in, if I may say."

"The glory of three noble houses, the esteem of three noble sons. Barrison Del'Armgo. Duskryn. Hekar. Powerful sons of powerful houses. It is one thing to lose to a common wastrel. Appalling really. They will wear it as a mark of shame for quite some time to come."

"It is quite another though to have lost to an incoming master of the academy. Clearly that opponent was skilled and worthy. No one can contest that. You can make that happen and in doing so incur a debt of gratitude thrice over for something you were prepared to do anyway."

"What a legacy to leave on."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:08, Mon 03 Jan 2022.

"Something I was prepared to do in a way of my choosing. Debts and gratitude are as good as water in your hand; draining away despite your best efforts, and leaving naught but more water at your feet to sink into. I could have controlled Tuith, Jevan. Tell me what is worth losing that."

"Could you have?" Jevan asked. "Tuith wasn't satisfied. He was never satisfied. That was his conceit. It was his decision to try to make amends for last night's mistakes, not mine. He stood to gain everything you had hoped to offer but he wanted more."

"He Always. Wanted more.

"Tuith would have cast you aside as soon as he found someone stronger, someone who could offer him a higher station, just as he did to Da, just as he did to Matron Hakkar. And there is always someone stronger; someone with more to offer."

"The worth of my gratitude is immaterial. You may chose to accept it or cast it aside. I can hardly fault you. But it is hardly my gratitude you should be measuring. The game board remains the same. The pieces have merely changed."

"Barrison Del'Armgo. Duskryn. Their favor is worth something, even if mine is of no value to you. Mollify the other houses, and I will reap none of their good will. Snub the other houses, and I will wear none of their ire. I am merely a student passing through, on my way back into society. How could I have anything to do with it?"

"Of course, I had very good teachers," he said, turning at last to address Houndarel directly. "The very best."

Houndarel thought about it long and hard for a bit, his lips pursed as he considered. Finally he looked at Jevan, his features still hard and defiant. "Fine, Freth. I'll agree, but I want collateral. I need something about you or your ally that doesn't have to be valuable to me, but will hurt you if I let it out. Just to ensure that when I need to call in this 'grattitude' that I will be answered in kind or else."

"Why, Master Fey-Branche," Jevan said, turning back to face the fighters though directing his words carefully. "I'm a godless heretic who consorts with demons not sanctioned by the church of Lloth," he said mater-of-factly.

"You don't think I actually studied at Sorcere, do you? That would be ghastly."

"Now I'll of course deny this to my dying breath, but the mere suspicion as directed at me by a source of unimpeachable authority such as yourself would cause me no end of grief amongst the priesthood. And really, what in life could be more painful than that?"

"I know it may surprise you to hear this, Houndarel, but I really am a man of my word and I have no compunctions against trading in favors. When you call, I will answer."

Houndarel furrowed his brow, scrutinizing the information Jevan spread before him; then a moment later he threw his head back with a loud and hearty laugh; several of the students down bellowing even paused to look up in response.

After a moment he took a deep breath and looked Jevan in the eyes, his posture relaxing. "You will do well on the outside, Jevan. Perhaps even better than I. Go, tell your ally wherever he lurks nearby that it will be done; he had better be a good teacher though my reputation depends upon it."
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:54, Tue 04 Jan 2022.

Jevan smiled and bowed his head, both in acquiescence and acknowledgement of Houndarel's praise.

"He will be a masterful teacher, you needn't worry," Jevan assured.

"I will of course say nothing to Billarius and Gul'tal. I will however offer my condolences and respects to Hekar. It's a pity what happened to Tuith, but the whole house can hardly be held responsible for the desperate acts of a desperate man. I want him to know I harbor no ill will."

"And of course I must congratulate him on his excellent standing in the Grand Melee. A top five finish! Very commendable." Jevan smiled.

"Have a good day, Master Fey-Branche. I will see you at the graduation ceremonies tonight."

Jevan turned to leave and then paused briefly.

"Oh! And should Pharn happen to come by again for any, particular reason you may wish to mention that should the second son of Freth die by poisoning tonight any debt I may have incurred will necessarily transfer to him. I expect my Rothe steak will be excellent tonight."

"My recommendation is to fast, Freth. You're looking a little pudgy anyways" said the ever-compact and muscular instructor with no humor. "Must be all that demon trafficking."

Before Jevan had even fully left the room, the 'students' down below had entirely stopped their fanciful routines having never broken a sweat in the first place. When the noble left, alone, he turned to close the door only to turn back and find a familiar hooded and veiled figure standing there.

Satou pulled down his face covering and looked to Jevan. "I wasn't able to listen in, but I assume you coerced Houndarel into agreement?"

"The deed is done," Jevan said with an easy nod. "Houndarel was miffed to have lost his investment and required the assurance of a favor owed to bring him into the conspiracy. I deemed this a reasonable concession - he must gain something from this arrangement after all - and of course provided the necessary assurances."

"When the time comes to fulfil that bargain, depending on what is being asked of me I may come to you for assistance. Otherwise and until then, may I be the first to congratulate you on an auspicious future at Tier Breche, Master Satou."

Despite himself, Satou gave a slight smile at Jevan's congratulations. "Well, I will be glad to help with that task as I may depending on what is being asked of you. I will politely remind you my half of our arrangement has already been paid in full, but in the spirit of continuing a mutually beneficial arrangement my door will always be open to you. In that regard, I offer you this;"

Satou reached behind his cloak and pulled out a single arrow; long-shafted and fletched with white feathers. "I pilfered this while you spoke to the instructor; he was well hidden, but I was better. It seemed to me that Vahn'Galen was banking on your interaction to turn sour, so he could make sure the altercation went in his favor. Or that of his house? Who is to say."

Jevan sighed as he plucked at the shaft and let his fingers play through the fletching. "Only to be expected, I suppose," he remarked. "I did embarrass him rather unforgivably."

"Perhaps Houndarel is right. I could do with a diet. The food here isn't all that good anyway."

Satou shrugged, "The way I see it, he embarrassed himself. If ever you want him killed, let me know. I am most adept, though I also have some skill in spying and theft as well. All for a price, of course."

With that, Satou dipped his head and turned to leave.

---

What next? We can jump around, if there's anything in particular you want to do before graduation and leaving the academy though, now would be a good time to let me know.

Jevan stared a moment long at the arrow in hand before turning to depart for the chapel. Da was likely there. Da was always there. And Jevan wanted to be the one to tell him.

Jevan headed towards Melee Magthere's chapel. Being as the hour was outside any mandatory worship services, the chapel was as often devoid of most any other students or faculty; except as expected Da Hekar. Rather than being prostrate before the altar of the Spider Queen however, Da simply sat in one of the front pews, recumbent, as he seemed in a contemplative mood. His shield and mace leaning against the pew next to him, Da did not react or seem to notice Jevan's entrance.

Jevan made his way down the center aisle and took a seat one row behind Da, but on the far side of the aisle.

"Good morning, cousin," he said quietly. He directed his gaze up towards the altar.

"And to you, my brother" Da said, keeping his level gaze forward. "By all rights, if you've come to settle the score for my betrayal in the labyrinth then this would be the place and time to do it."

Jevan shook his head though Da was not faced such that he could see it. "No. I can hardly fault you," he replied. "That was in the nature of the game. I would have been a fool not to anticipate it and you would have been justified in taking my place."

"I have come with news, actually. Of a rather different betrayal."

Da turned in his seat, craning his neck as he now faced Jevan. He cocked one eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for Jevan to go on.

"I returned to the labyrinth this morning. Unbeknownst to me I was followed. I think Tuith was trying to correct his last night's mistakes. He was hoping Master Fey-Branche would promote him to the ranks of the faculty. I think he feared his defeat at my hands had put that plan in jeopardy."

"I'm sorry to say it came to blades. But then again I don't know how loyal he was to your family if it was his intention to remain at the academy. The good news, if it can be said to be such, is that you are now the fifth highest finisher in the Grand Melee. Congratulations, cousin. That is quite an achievement."

Da tweaked his eyebrows thoughtfully, then of all things smiled at Jevan. "Well well. It seems house Hekar cannot in all righteousness succeed in betraying you, Jevan."

He then turned back towards the altar, contemplating it thoughtfully. "Before you came in I was considering my performance in the Grand Melee. Even now; elevated by actions not of my own, yet still relegated to the bottom of the pecking order I find myself in. Is that my fate? This path I walk leads to no greatness, that I know. Yet I choose it anyway..."

"Not all of us are destined for individual greatness, Da," Jevan remarked. "For some the goal is to further the greatness of their house alone, and that is enough. I can't tell you what fate has in store for any of us, but I do know the path we walk can always be changed. Chaos, Da. Nothing is fixed."

Jevan smiled and looked over at Da.

"Last night was merely the end of the beginning. The wider world awaits once we leave these walls. Should you ever wish to talk, or perhaps join me for a drink in the city do not hesitate to seek me out."

Da cocked his head askew; "That would be nice, Jevan. We shall see what awaits for us all on the outside. Thank you for informing me about Tuith; I will tell my mother that he died spinning Lloth's webs. That... will please her."

Jevan nodded and rose from his pew. Stepping into the center aisle he reached out and put his hand on Da's shoulder. "I'll leave you to your contemplation. See you tonight, Da."

Turning back down the aisle he left the chapel behind.

Jevan has no more specific goals accept to stay alive until graduation and claim his money from Pharn. We can advance as far as you'd like.

Jevan wandered into the mess hall, nearly an hour early before dinner would be served. He did not have to look for what he came for, as within a moment a call was heard; "Jevan! So you live. That is good, coin is for the living and I have some for your here."

Pharn wandered out from over by the kitchen where several other staff members and slaves were hard at work for the upcoming meal. The supposed head cook seemed entirely unbothered by it all, and instead focused on a bulging burlap sack he hoisted over to a table instead. "A full hundred gold, as promised. Your information proved quite valuable indeed."

---

Just one last likely short scene. After this I think I will narrate your graduation and closing ceremonies in a montage so we can move along to you actually going home. Of course I won't skip over or montage anything that could be deadly lol.

Sounds good :)

Jevan smiled as he collected his earnings. "I will miss our games of sava, Pharn. You will have a new class of students with pockets flush with coin soon. Indeed my nephew Spirdor is not long from these halls. A few more years at most."

"Why miss anything? Come, we can play one now. You can always come back to visit, or better yet give me a key to your house gate and I will come visit! Only to play Sava, of course" Pharn said in a jocular tone, tossing Jevan a wink.

Jevan grinned. "This close to dinner?" he replied. "Any other night and you might be able to twist my arm, but I must get ready."

"It's important a man look his best while his 'friends' wish him dead. It helps them focus."

"A shame to that, Jevan. Speaking if friends, I hear that yours was successful in the game he played! Well done, I'm sure he has you to thank for it. A good situation, to put a master of the academy in your pocket; perhaps it will give you a second reason to come back and visit eh?"  Pharn said, giving a suggestive smirk and nudging Jevan.

"I like to think we all benefit," Jevan remarked. "But perhaps I will find a reason to come back after all. I'll see you tonight, Pharn."

The rest of the day went on without incident, other than the susurrus of gossip once word inevitably got out about Tuith's death. Still, the news calmed many of the other drow; Billarius was content to at least not be the bottom of the top five, and Gul'tal in an uncharacteristic outburst loudly claimed from across the room that it took the entirety of the top bracket working together to keep him from total victory. Both braggadocios nobles seem content once word 'leaked' that the commoner--the one they still did not bother knowing the name of--was not just a faceless peasant but had been groomed for the place of a master.

After dinner, once a few hours had passed and allowed the graduating nobles ample time to prepare their outfits, First Sword Malaggar Faen Tlabbar and Master Houndarel Fey-Branche gathered the lot at the entrance of Melee Magthere where they awaited summoning to Arach-Tinilith for the final ceremony.

Eventually, the First sword tweaked his head, then nodded in silent acknowledgement of some equally silent signal. Houndarel, receiving the nod, opened the front gate of the pyramid and the two instructors lead the group out. As they filed out of the school, Jevan found himself abruptly cut off by the wide-shouldered frame of Gul'tal Duskryn; the drow warrior was wearing a much more traditional and stylized set of ceremonial black armor adorned with spider web motifs; not nearly as heavy as the Duergar-forged set he had worn during the Grand Melee. Duskryn didn't seem to acknowledge Jevan but ambled in front of him slowly as the rest of the class surged towards the priestess school and their final ceremony.

"Ah, Gul'tal," Jevan said with a saccharine smile. He matched the other man's languid pace and fell in abreast. "You're looking very clever tonight. Hoping to impress a certain someone in Arach-Tinilith, mmm? Or perhaps he's in Sorcere?"

"I impress by being impressive Jevan, not by what I wear" Gul'tal replied brusquely. His long legs carried him forward in front of Jevan again where Vahn'Galen joined him, the smaller drow still forming a wall in front of the Freth noble.

Vahn'Galen, wearing a revealing and intricate outfit mimicking leather flames dancing along his body, did not look back at Jevan but spoke to Gul-tal. "You are being rude; Jevan paid you a compliment, you should respond in kind Duskryn."

Gul'tal did not respond, but did make a motion with his head that seemed likely to be extending a roll of his eyes. Meanwhile, the group was approaching Sorcere and the two were effectively keeping Jevan at the back of the procession.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:50, Thu 13 Jan 2022.

"That's very kind of you, Vahn'Galen, but that's quite alright," Jevan remarked, trying not to let the irritation make its way into his voice. "Gul'tal does not appear to be in the mood to offer or receive compliments tonight."

"I'd say he was sulking over last night, but that's hardly dignified of one of the greatest houses in Menzoberranzan so this must be brooding."

Jevan looked past the slowly shuffling wall of petulant nobles to the gates of Sorcere beyond. Mentally he counted steps. If the two of them wished to play at this nonsense like children he would let them. And then he would step away at the last moment and let them scramble to catch up.

Not sure how far we are presently but Jevan will use Misty Step to travel the last 30'

Gul'tal turned back, furrowing his brow to retort angrily, only to catch the last sight of mist dissipating on a magical breeze, surging towards the front of the group.

Appearing as the forerunners arrived to the mouth of the opening of the spider-shaped temple to Lloth, Jevan elicited a momentary guarded reaction from both Malaggar and Houndarel who reached briefly for their swords. Upon recognizing the spontaneous appearance of Jevan Freth, they forwent the drawing of the blades and instead armed themselves only with a disapproving glare.

Meanwhile, three drow men, dressed as students of Sorcere, had been hanging around the entrance to Arach-Tinilith as well and seemed similarily surprised by Jevan's sudden arrival; one pointed at him in some gesture of recognition and the three began to make their way towards Jevan until the disapproving glares of the Melee Magthere masters fell upon them as well. The three fell back and made only small polite bows of respect as the procession moved to pass them and enter Arach-Tinilith.

"A thousand pardons, Masters," Jevan said, wiping the lint from his shoulder with a delicate hand. "Duskryn needed some help tying his shoes. I promise I will endeavor to keep up."

Stepping through the arch, Jevan picked up his pace to rejoin the front of the column away from the tiresome antics of Gul'tal and Vahn'Galen.

Jevan enters Arach-Tinilith, flanked on either side by Houndarel and Malaggar, without knowing or caring for whatever situation he left behind with Gul'tal, Vahn'Galen, and those other three Sorcere students. The rest of the class files in and the ceremony begins uneventfully; a religious affair wherein the mistresses of the academy drone on and one for what seems like eons to the noble son.

At the center of the ceremony is a huge drow woman, easily a foot taller than Jevan and likely larger that Gul'tal as well. Angaste Vandree, this year's top graduate from Arach-Tinilith and soon to be high priestess. She stands before the procession of academy graduates, entirely nude except for some blood and paint adorning her body in profane symbols, as she moves through the complex gestures and ritual preparation of a spell to summon a demon to offer a sacrifice to in the name of Lloth.

Standing opposite of the ceremony, Jevan recognizes the almost mirror positioning that denotes the other top students of Sorcere. On his side, Jevan stands with Houndarel to his right following Malaggar, and Satou at his left, Gul'tal next to him and the continuingly demoting line of Melee Magthere students following. Across the way, the Sorcere side is much more sparse with less than half the total number of graduates; nothing unusual as while Melee Magthere had a very usual graduation cycle of ten years, Sorcere was more dependant on individual students and tended to have far less graduates each passing year. Thanks to the limited selection, Jevan couldn't help but to notice that the three at the head of the class were none other than the three students he had glimpsed outside, and who seemed to have recognized him and attempted to approach before being headed off by Jevan's instructors.

The center of the circular ceremony chamber erupts in flames as Angaste continues her ritual summoning. The other graduating priestesses began to fan out around the room, initiating a new part of the ceremony; students could break free from their hierarchical positions an move freely, but respectfully about the chamber; the first to break was Da Hekar who simply moved a few steps closer to the ritual center and kneeled quietly. The graduating class of females was tasked with moving between each student and blessing them all in turn, a slow but efficient process.

One of the graduating priestesses was familiar to Jevan, determining her spot in the hierarchy of the graduating class was more difficult, but she was definitely the same one who had placed a death ward upon Jevan before the Grand Melee. Unfortunately, it became difficult to track her as the priestesses began to mingle along with the crowd in the chamber.

---

What would you would like to do?

Jevan found his attention drawn repeatedly back to the three Sorcere students throughout the proceedings. What matter of foolishness had they been conspiring, he wondered. The sudden eruption of flames caught him momentarily unawares and it took him a second to realize that the lines had subtly shifted and students were finding their place on the floor.

Jevan wasn't sure if Angaste would take part in the individual blessings or if her role was to lead the procession as a whole. If she did participate her individual attention was likely to be coveted as a sign of personal or familiar esteem, however Jevan was not inclined to place himself deliberately in her path. Angaste was no prize in Jevan's mind.

He knew of Angaste Vandree of course. Anyone of worth in Tier Breche did as a matter of course. But he didn't know Angaste the way he did some of the other priestesses. Her momentary consideration would not meaningfully affect his social status. The chance to make a connection that might outlast his stay in the academy - now that was something of value. Let Duskryn and the head boy of Sorcere vie for Angaste's attention. Jevan had his own prize in mind.

Stepping carefully and unhurriedly through the crowd he found his priestess - the one who had claimed him in the labyrinth - and waited patiently for her to work her way back to him. When she arrived at last he looked up at her with the same knowing smile he had given on the day of the Grand Melee. Then he bowed his head and awaited her benefaction.

Acrobatics to navigate the crowd without impediment.
12:12, Today: Jevan Freth rolled 17 using 1d20+7.  Acrobatics.

Jevan stepped between the milling students as if they weren't there at all, his path carrying him deliberately and effortlessly closer. Wherever he took a step forward it seemed as if a space opened up to envelop him, like a fish swimming through a placid pond. Finding his quarry was a far simpler task when nothing stood between them.

Thanks to his swift and skillful crowd maneuvers, Jevan was able to catch up with the priestess before she disappeared too far in the sea of students. She was with none other than one of the other Sorcere students, who caught Jevan's gaze across the priestess and gave him a sly smile and wink as she made the motions of reverent spellcasting.

---

Give me either a check; inisight, arcana, or religion would all work in different ways. You can try any combination of them, or anything else you would like to attempt of course.

Jevan caught the freshly minted wizard's gaze and tried to read what lay behind his sly smile. Normally he was a fairly deft judge of character though the continual irritation was grating on his nerves. As to the ritual itself, Jevan had learned a thing or two at both of the other campuses of Tier Breche, though neither could have been said to be a focus.

May as well roll all three since you've offered. Not sure how helpful they are.

13:18, Today: Jevan Freth rolled 15 using 1d20.  Religion.

13:17, Today: Jevan Freth rolled 10 using 1d20+4.  Insight.

13:17, Today: Jevan Freth rolled 12 using 1d20+3.  Arcana.

The priestess's form as she placed her blessing upon the other student was in perfect execution of Llothite rites to Jevan's eyes. She finished her blessing after a short while and the wizard gave the thanks, then leaned in closer and seemed to whisper something suggestive to her, but the priestess batted him away somewhat playfully and turned to leave; encountering Jevan as she did.

A long smile appeared on her face as she looked upon Jevan as he bowed politely; "Well well, if it isn't the grand champion of Melee Magthere; your status may grant the boon of one of the mistresses of the academy, should you prefer..." she said in a friendly demeanor.

The name of the priestess clicked in Jevan's mind; Rilnia, Rilnia Do'Duis, a noble from a lesser house Jevan knew nothing of. Like all of the graduating priestesses, Rilnia was wearing a scant and revealing outfit of black spider silk, which contrasted nicely with her somewhat light skin tone similar to Jevan's own, and complimented her long, black-died hair that tumbled naturally around her shoulders and midway down her back.

"It was your blessing that saw me through to the very end of the Grand Melee," Jevan replied. "It may well be that the mistresses of the academy might grant me their favor, but I know whose it is that I want." Jevan's allowed his gaze to brazenly travel down Rilnia's figure before returning to her inquiring stare.

"If of course you are willing, priestess."

"A fine boast, but unlikely... Mistress Baenre is a righteous bitch after all" Rilnia responded cheekily.

She accepted Jevan's gaze without reproach, even shifting her stance slightly as if on display, and shaking her hair back so it tumbled out of her modest but appealing cleavage. She inched closer to Jevan, beginning the gestures and movements of a blessing before leaning in close to whisper in Jevan's ear; "Besides, one such as you should only receive the blessings of Wendonai."

Jevan wasn't sure if Rilnia could see his expression from where she stood but if she could the second son of house Freth was grinning from ear to ear. What a find in Loth's own clergy! Evidently there were heretics even greater than him. It didn't matter if Rilnia's house was of no importance, Leaving Angaste for Duskryn - or whoever had the honor of receiving her benediction - had been a blessing.

"I think I made the right choice," he whispered back.

"I will see you later, I hope?" he continued intimately, turning to catch her gaze. "Once I've finished playing whatever part it is in this the masters would have me play?"

Rilnia clasped Jevan by the collar, keeping him close. "Now what kind of priestess would I be if I let a catch like you slip through my web?" she said with a sly grin. She began to pull him across the room towards a small chamber, secluded but still integrated with the larger ritual chamber not unlike a private booth featured in many clubs or restaurants. "The masters have little more to offer you other than partaking in this fine ritual, they wouldn't want you getting too many ideas now would they? I only graduated third in my class, not as illustrious as some but it affords me some privileges such as a bit of privacy."

Jevan chuckled, and allowed himself to be led away without protest. "No, I suppose they would not. I think the masters have had quite enough of me and would prefer I was somewhere else altogether away from here that they needn't worry about."

Third in her class. No wonder she had drawn the attention of the wizard from Sorcere. And no wonder again that she had been able to lay claim to him at the outset of the Melee. Jevan hunted through the crowd for Rilnia's would be suitor from Sorcere and offered the mage a conciliatory smile and a shrug as he was pulled away to the private enclosure. Inwardly though he was gloating.

"A tactful finish," he said in praise. "I put some noses out of joint on my climb to the top," he added mildly. "Duskryn in particular seems to be having some trouble letting it go. I can't imagine Angaste would take it any better."

Jevan had pushed as far as he had, secure in the knowledge that his name would protect him. Do'Duis did not command that respect from the high houses. A third place finish from a minor noble house was an achievement on par with Satou's.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:04, Sun 16 Jan 2022.

Jevan caught the eye of the graduate from Sorcere, who furrowed his brow in indignation at the sight but was powerless to intercede.

"You and I share a greater power to thank for our successes" Rilnia responded as she pulled Jevan into the security of the more private sanctum. It was a deep, recessed alcove in the chamber wall, set at an angle with a divan at the back so that a majority of the space was away from eyes of a casual observer, and low voices could speak with some level of privacy.

"Every day I divine for signs that Wendonai's influence is growing, you can imagine my surprise and thrill when my answer came so much more close than I ever dared to hope. Though, I'll not discount my own part to play, after all someone had to make sure those tomes were in Sorcere where they could be found without being purged by the clergy."

"So I have you to thank for my education, Rilnia," Jevan remarked thoughtfully as he made his way across the enclosure to the divan seat at the back. Under other circumstances it might have been crass to address the priestess so informally - or at least to do so publicly. Their relative houses being what they were he almost certainly would have gotten away with it, but she was a priestess of Loth by all accounts and he was just a lowly male no matter how high born in station.

But here in the heart of Arach-Tinilith discussing no less than treason to the Spider Queen it hardly seemed to matter. Wendonai, for what it was worth, cared not at all for the rigid gendered hierarchy that defined the drow. And besides, Jevan wanted her to know that he remembered.

He smiled and held out his hand, inviting Rilnia to join him on the couch.

"I trust you'll forgive me for not revealing myself sooner? I wanted to see what you were capable of on your own merits, though those magic hands did almost squeeze it out of me" Rilnia responds with a smile, not showing any offense to Jevan's familiarity. Instead she took his proffered hand gently, twirling, and coming to a seat directly on his lap.

"So by your own words you have me to thank for your education, as well as keeping you safe in the Grand Melee, and lets not forget this lovely venue. And I have you to thank for many wonderful massages; I would say we are even no?"

Jevan chuckled as Rilnia settled into his lap. "You're forgiven," he said in good humor. "Although surely I owe you one more." He tilted Rilnia forward slightly and gathered her long hair together behind her head, letting it fall down between them so that he could better expose he shoulders and neck. From what he recalled, Rilnia enjoyed having her shoulders rubbed. And she really liked having her neck massaged.

For the next several minutes Jevan let his fingers do the talking. They were far more eloquent than he was anyway. And he listened to the movements of Rilnia's body, letting her guide his hands where they were most needed.

"You know," he said at last, his lips close behind Rilnia's open ear. "It really is a lovely venue. Perhaps you'll enjoy it more lying down."

"Truly..." Rilnia remarked with a slight giggle, as the roar of fire and the chanting of priestesses--mixed with a few other more carnal sounds--could be heard just outside. Rilnia was entirely receptive throughout Jevan's impromptu massage, and slid off his lap at his recommendation to lie down.

"You know, I've missed these far too much. You'll simply have to come visit me some time after we leave; once you get settled at home of course."

"Let me help you with this," Jevan said, unlacing Rilnia's bodice from behind as she lay face down on the divan. "You won't be needing it," he added with a grin and unflappable confidence.

"I'm afraid I haven't got any oils with me," he continued as he sat down on the edge of the couch beside Rilnia and set to work on her bare back. "But I'm sure we'll make do."

To the discussion about returning home and future visits he smiled again although Rilnia could not see it, turned away from him as she was.

"I should hope so. You've seemingly worked ever so hard to get me here."

Jevan paused to remove his surcoat and shirt. It was hot in the chamber with the roaring flame after all. When he settled back down he climbed astride the divan rather than on the lip, straddling Rilnia's thighs so that he could but his full weight down the length of his arms into the heels of his hands.

"It would be terribly rude of me not to visit," he said, resuming his efforts.

"Will I be welcomed at House Do'Duis? Or shall I have to sneak in through a window?"

Jevan catches the corner of Rilnia's side-turned mouth curl into a mischievous grin as he unlaced her bodice, and her back practically melts beneath his touch. When he gets up to remove his surcoat, she half-turns as if to protest, but once she realizes what she is doing she only grins and watches until he returns to his work.

When he asks about his reception at house Do'Duis, she laughs casually; "Oh, almost certainly the latter. If my mother knew, she would accuse me of threatening ruin and calamity upon her house. She never appreciates any of my work."

"Well then you will have to point out the correct window," Jevan said. He walked the way down the length of her back with his hands, up over her shoulders and along the length of her arms, stretching himself forward to the point that his bare chest lay flat against Rilnia's back and she could feel the heat of his breath upon her neck. He held there for a moment, heart beat against heart beat, before working his way back down in reverse.

When he reached the small of her back Jevan settled himself lower still, moving from astride Rilnia's thighs to her calves and drawing her garments, scant as they were, down with him. With the priestess now fully exposed he continued his ministrations, working his way down one flawless toned leg before the other, letting the heat build between her thighs.

"I'd hate to pick the wrong one by accident and have to explain myself to your mother."

Rilnia lets out a small groan of pleasure, which built to yet another chuckle. "I'd prefer you to explain just the edge of your sword and the force of you magic. Perhaps I'll point out the wrong window, though then I risk you as likely to seduce her as you are to kill her."

"Well if she looks anything like her daughter it would certainly give a man pause," Jevan remarked.

Having reached the bottom of each leg in turn he paused to unclasp his belt, pulling it free of its loops before heaving it onto the pile of his clothes. Turning his attention back to Rilnia he began to work his way back up her legs, alternating from one to the other and punctuating his words with light kisses upon her skin.

"Is that the plan then? Having mastered Arach-Tinilith, Rilnia Do'Duis plans to ascended to the head of her house in swift order?"

He had neared her buttocks again and Jevan let his hand wander up the inside of Rilnia's thighs towards the furnace between her legs.

"I could help with that," he said, gently grazing her with his fingertips and thoroughly enjoying the double entendre.

"If you wanted me to."

"Mmmm, she's similar, but older. I'd have to kill you for the insult though and what a waste--ahh" Rilnia responded, though there was no venom in the bite of her words which evaporated quickly into a moan.

Once she had caught her breath again she continues; "I was hoping you'd offer, but you have a lot to consider with your own family first... and alas, you are dangerously mixing business with pleasure at this point, Jevan..."

"You're right," Jevan said. He drew up even with Rilnia so that his lips were just behind her ear and his hips rested easily above hers before pressing off the table and sliding down his trousers. "We should dispense with the pleasure first."

"Then we can discuss the business without all the messy distractions."

She was right about his family as well, Jevan knew. Ten years was a long time, even for a long lived people like the drow. A lot could happen in ten years. It would take time to reestablish his place in the house, and he would have his hands full for some time.

But not tonight.

Tonight he had his hands full of Rilnia, and that was enough.