It occurs just after the encounter with Eomyrosis and the battle with the black dragon...

“You didn’t mention he was a dark elf.” Jenna said shaking her head. “That creates…” She hesitated, searching for a word. “...complications.” Jenna had not been to the Elemental Plane of Air in some time yet was beginning to regret this visit already.

“Should it matter?” Dahlia asked defensively. “He’s a good man.” 

“Unfortunately Devon may not see it that way. The drow have an evil reputation well known for cruelty and treachery.” Jenna paused. “Are you aware his people invaded the Highlord’s birth town? I fear the Darkstar still harbors ill will.”

“Yes I know. And I can understand him feeling so. But the efreet of my people hold similar notoriety and yet there are some with good intentions. Ari for example.” Dahlia said convincingly.

“Few and far between.” Jenna countered. 

“Well what of the Black and Blue Flights? Their methods are not always to the queen’s liking yet they are loyal and supportive. Isn’t it possible he could be similar? All I’m asking for is the chance for him to talk to the Highlord. Nazmyr tells me he has a business proposition for him that he believes will be to your lord’s benefit. All he needs is the opportunity to discuss it with him.”

Jenna considered her friend’s point. There was some truth to it. “Tell me Dahlia Hakbarrah. What has he done to earn your affection?”

“As I said he is a good man, kind and gentle from a family of similar value. One of his brothers is married to an air genasi and he, like my Nazmyr dotes and spoils her with gifts and gestures of true affection. The other is in a relationship with a winged elf. You know how particular they can be.”

Jenna couldn’t imagine an Arvoriel and a drow together. Such things were unheard of.

“Nazmyr also helped me with a serious problem...One so terrible I have never spoken of it... but I will share with you if only to belay your concerns about him.” The Djinn exhaled sharply. “You must swear though it never gets spoken of again. The embarrassment would kill me.”

Jenna’s expression grew worried. “Very well. I swear it.”

Dahlia looked uncomfortably at the floor. “Some time ago I was careless in my travels and in my ignorance found myself bound to…” She paused and took a deep breath. The pain of what she was about to say contorted her expression before the words passed her lips. “...a ring. A magic ring designed to enslave my kind. I served a cruel master who forced me to fight for him and caused me great pain and grievous injuries. Nazmyr saw this and killed the man. He freed me from that horrible thing and gifted it to me.. Destroyed of course.” She drew the fragments from a pouch showing Jenna the pieces. “I took my time getting to know him and the more time we spent together the more I grew to care for him.”

“You love him then?” Jenna asked.

“I wouldn’t be asking this favor of you if I didn’t.”

Jenna nodded. “Alright then. Let us visit with the Highlord. My uncle favors me so. He’d never turn me away. I'll arrange for the audience. 

“Thank you so much my friend.” Dahlia said happily. “Come, let me introduce you to Nazmyr so you can see him for yourself.”

Dahlia led Jenna from the study and out behind her villa. Nazmyr sat in a gazebo enjoying the ever existent cool breeze that permeated the plane. He marveled at the artistic design of the florals that draped the structure for privacy. He turned his head toward the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Nazmyr. I’d like you to meet a dear friend of mine.” Dahlia smiled as her tone became more formal. “May I present The Lady Jenna Dayspring, Princess of the Gold Flight and Apprentice to the Dragon Highlord.”

Jenna bowed in greeting.

Dahlia grinned and continued. “And more importantly... Bard of the Realms.”

Nazmyr took in the appearance of the young lady before him. She looked human but Nazmyr had heard tales of gold dragons assuming humanoid form. She had platinum hair with edges of deep purple. Her crystal blue eyes were warm and friendly. She wore a leather chest piece with glyphs and writings in a language he did not read. Her left hip held a kukri, it’s design was familiar but he couldn’t place exactly where he had seen it’s like before. On her right were holstered drumsticks.

Jenna this Lord Nazmyr Vandree of House Vandree.”

Nazmyr smiled pleasantly. “And more importantly your habibata. That’s how you say it correct?”

Dahlia blushed.

“I’m honored to make you acquaintance your grace and grateful for the opportunity to speak with you. Many would have refused me simply because of my heritage. I must thank you for giving me the opportunity to have you judge me not on the actions of my race but for my individual worth instead.’

Jenna bowed graciously. “Dahlia speaks highly of you, sings your praises in fact. I am aware of the…” Jenna searched for the best way to express her thoughts in her mind. “ great kindness you have shown her. We have known each other for some time and I trust in her good judgement of character. I have agreed to broker a meeting between you and the Highlord but be forewarned, I am afraid my uncle has an inherent distaste for your people. Whatever your business is, it could take some convincing.”

“I understand. I can assure you he will find no cause to think ill of me.”

“He’s a good man Lord Vandree and well loved by my people. His deeds are the stories of legend, many I sing myself. You could do no better than to have Devon Darkstar as an ally and no worse than to make an enemy of him.”

“I would be most appreciative to call a man like this friend. I only need the chance to meet with him that he might get to know me as well.”

“You shall have it. Are you ready?”

“Now?” Dahlia asked quickly looking over her appearance.

“You look beautiful my love.” Nazmyr offered in compliment. “Now would be fine your grace.” and he bowed.

“Oh one more thing. Please... call me Jenna ...” 

…………………………………………

They arrived on Dragon Mountain just outside the palace, in the market square. Nazmyr was no stranger to bazaars and this one was bustling. What he noticed as unusual though was very little coin changing hands. Humanoids of all kinds bartered and traded for wares. Each exchanging their treasures for those of another. There was a strong military presence here as well. Dragon men, larger than his own in great plate armor bearing swords and polearms stood in silent sentinel observing all activities. “Thieves would not do well here.” he thought to himself. There was a central pass through the bazaar leading up to what was quite possibly the largest structure Nazmyr had ever seen. It dwarfed even the Diamond Citadel of Dahlia’s home plane. The palace had a look as if it were born from the rock of the mountain. Brown granite blended with black marble. There were other hues too. Towers of singularly colored stone and metals formed a mock crown with the central spire gleaming of the purest gold. Jenna’s arrival point was intentional. She wanted to be sure the centurions saw that Nazmyr was in her company to avoid unnecessary harassment.

“Come.” She said pleasantly. "I’ll lead the way.”

Nazmyr was awestruck by the great structures, the calm of the people in the bazaar and the unsettling sight of not a lone dragon flying overhead but many, of all color and type. It seemed here, good and evil could coexist and it renewed his hope that this Dragon Highlord might parlay with him. Dahlia gripped his hand tightly. 

“It’s wondrous to behold is it not?”

Nazmyr nodded, his eyes constantly moving taking in new and never before seen marvels. “Indeed. Thank you for making this possible. I would never have dreamed such a place exists.”

Dahlia leaned in and kissed his cheek. “It’s quite possible you are the first of your kind to walk among the dragons.” 

Nazmyr considered the weight of what she said and also the opportunity of what being the first could mean.

They arrived at a set of doors some 50 feet tall and nearly as wide guarded by a detachment of Dragon Men. Much like the dragons in the sky they were a mix of color and type.

“Greetings Vorza. If you’d be so kind.”

Nazmyr could feel the eyes of the guard captain upon him.

“Do you require an escort Princess Dayspring?”

“No thank you captain. I know my way.”

He bowed and the portal broke open revealing a long corridor, more than twice larger and wider than the entryway. Nazmyr felt quite small in the ridiculously over sized passage. They followed the long corridor and Nazmyr couldn’t help but notice that the palace was well guarded. You could hardly walk more than 10 yards without passing centurions. They seemed to line the walls as much as any decor. It was somewhat unnerving. They obviously took security very seriously here. 

The group arrived at a crossroads of sorts where several passages broke off in different directions. Jenna made her way down the central corridor and up to a set of heavy black marble doors set with platinum hardware.The guardsmen snapped to attention upon the arrival of the princess. Two incredibly large dragon men opened the doors allowing her entry. The throne room was a veritable dragon’s hoard compressed into a receiving room. Rich paintings, ancient statues and other rare artifacts lined the room. Expensive furniture constructed from precious metal and rare woods were covered with soft silk cushions. The center dais held a large single throne with two smaller thrones on either side. Ten more thrones, five on each side comprised the edges of the raised platform. It was quiet and the room seemed empty at first glance. 

“Jenna? What are you doing?” came a woman’s voice. 

‘“Cam!” she squeaked with happiness. Have you seen my uncle?”

The caramel skinned woman eyed her suspiciously. “What are you up to child?” It was clear this woman held some authority.

“I’m looking to talk to my uncle. I need his help with something.” she answered brightly.

Cam’s mood seemed to darken at the sight of a drow in the throne room. “Perhaps I should send word requesting an audience... just to be sure the Highlord is prepared.”

“Thanks but I don’t want to put you through so much trouble.”

“What trouble?” a second voice asked.

The amber skinned woman had almond eyes that seemed to flash silver in the light.

“No trouble your grace.” Jenna genuflected clumsily. “I was just looking for my uncle.”

“Oh... He’s in the courtyard of the Gold Spire sweetie. I think Cassie is dancing out there.”

“Thanks Michaela!” Jenna said and she rushed off with her guests in tow.

“Jenna wait.” Cam scolded but it was too late. The young gold dragon had gone. 

They left the throne room stepping into another corridor that slowly narrowed to near normal proportions. The door at the end was cast from solid gold. Jenna placed her hand against it and the metal lit up like sunlight forcing Nazmyr to avert his eyes. He could feel the heat emanating from the door as flames licked and danced across its surface. Seconds later it passed and Jenna opened the portal. 

“This is the Gold Spire, residence to the Gold Royal Family and their retainers. The size and structures within normalized and they found themselves in a lavishly furnished residence. The parlor had a massive fireplace and several heavily cushioned sofas arranged in a semi circle around it. The gold princess walked over to a bar cabinet.

“I’m not sure we should be here.” Dahlia said with reservation in her voice.

Jenna who had reached into a bowl of what Nazmyr could swear were rubies shaped liked cherries asked, “Why not? You are my guests.” She popped the stones into her mouth and began to chew. “Sorry, those are my favorite.”

The courtyard was a short walk away from the parlor. A door led into an open aired garden framed by rare floral arrangements and foliage. The center brickwork was expertly laid in a mosaic design depicting the entirety of the dragon realm as a map. Nazmyr could see a man leaning against a pillar while a woman dressed in revealing silks and gem encrusted garb danced and moved with great skill and allure. A moody looking woman, thin with a pale white pallor and a framed face of jet black hair leaned into him. There was a third person in the courtyard, an attractive woman with sun blonde hair and bronze skin laying scantily dressed, baking on the hot rock surface.

“Uncle!” Jenna squealed as she rushed in. The dancing girl looked at her, smiled and kept moving. The woman with the black hair scowled as she rolled her eyes and the one sunbathing raised two fingers in acknowledgement.

The man dressed in a rich black surcoat with platinum closures and blue accents immediately turned to greet Jenna. He bowed in what Nazmyr knew was mock deference. “Your grace. How may I serve?”

She threw her arms around him almost knocking him over. It was obvious she loved this man. “I have a favor to ask of you uncle. If it’s not too bold of me.”

“A favor you couldn’t ask of our queen Jenna? What is it you need?” He inquired, his tone a bit skeptical.

“Do you remember my friend Dahlia, from the court of Armun Kelisk? Talia’s handmaiden?”  She motioned for the djinn to step forward.

Dahlia bowed low and respectfully as she approached, “I’m sorry to have disturbed you my lord. I pray you will forgive the intrusion.”

“Nothing to worry about my dear.” He said drawing her in, greeting her with a hug. “The Court of House David is always most welcome here.”

“You are too kind.” she responded, returning his embrace.

“And this is…” Jenna began but the Highlord’s sight was already on him.

His green eyes turned color and emanated an icy blue glow. Dahlia felt the temperature become quite cool as she stepped away from Devon. An uneasy feeling took hold of her. Nazmyr felt it too.

“Uncle!” Jenna scolded.

No sooner had the word passed her lips when the surly looking woman with black hair threw herself to Devon’s side transforming as she did into the form of a large black dragon. Her horns pressed forward, as her head, taller than he stood, slid directly to the Highlord’s left. Malevolent blue silver eyes pierced Nazmyr and a spittle of acid dripped from an incisor. Her frightful presence washed over the room. 

“Maya!” Jenna yelled.

The girl who was dancing stopped, her eyes flashing bright gold, and the woman who had been sunbathing stood, fastening a wrap to her waist as she casually walked over standing just to the right of Devon’s shoulder.

“Is this how the queen’s consort treats her guests?” Jenna demanded with indignation.

Devon turned his head toward her, his cold stare challenging her to speak again.

The princess looked down at her feet.

“Ty dolzhen byl predupredit' menya pervym.” (You should have warned me first.)  he scolded the young dragon.

“Ya znayu. Prosti, dyadya.” (I know. I'm sorry uncle.) She said softly.

“That language.” Nazmyr thought to himself. “Not Draconic. I’ve heard that tongue before.”

Devon smiled at her affectionately then nodded his head in satisfaction. “It’s fine... Now, who do we have here?” he asked. His tone as cold as the air.

Jenna swallowed hard regaining her composure. “If I may uncle...” her tone polite and deferential. “This is Lord Nazmyr Vandree of House Vandree. He is Dahlia’s mate. I would ask the favor of the Highlord to meet with him and hear what he has to say.”

The blue glow faded from his eyes and the room returned to its normal temperature. “Is that so? Very well. Lady Hakbarrah. I hope you will excuse my rudeness.”

“Of course my lord.” Dahlia answered respectfully.

Devon ran the back of his hand down the side of the black dragon’s face and she once again became the ill tempered young woman from before. “Jenna my dear. I’m sure your friend could use some refreshing after her long journey here. Please show her to the parlor while I speak with Lord Vandree.”

Jenna paused. “I..”

“Uvazheniye vash gospodin.” (Respect your master) He said rather firmly.

Nazmyr’s eyes lit up with understanding. His neck throbbed with phantom pain. The Highlord spoke in the tongue of Sanguinar. 

Jenna bowed. “Of course my lord. Come Dahlia. Let’s find a drink. I’m certain they’ll be along shortly.”

Devon waited until they were beyond the threshold before offering. “Perhaps we should move to a more private location... Rayne.” the Highlord commanded.

The blonde haired woman stepped forward. “If you’ll follow me. They passed through several corridors finding their way to an office, its walls lined with books. A large desk carved of dark purple heart wood held a place of prominence in the center. Nazmyr noticed two banners one on either side of the desk. The first bore a coat of arms depicting six flying dragons with multicolored scales on a field of black. Sixth Flight had been written in Draconic down its spine. The other depicted a gold dragon set to the right gazing at a dark starburst high on its left a black lotus below it on a platinum field. Devon walked behind the desk and looked Nazmyr over as the woman who had been dancing flanked his left.

Maya closed the door behind them and an uncomfortable silence of several seconds passed before Rayne spoke. “You stand before The Nightmaster Devon Darkstar, 6th Dragon Highlord and Consort to the Queen of Dragons, First Son of Sanguinar, Slayer Sired by House Blacklotus of Clan Radcliffe, High Inquisitor of the Bastion of Faith and Hero of the War of the Bard.” 

“What is it you wish to discuss with me dark elf?"

Nazmyr straightened himself and began to speak. “Thank you for affording me the opportunity to meet with you Dragon Highlord. Your reputation for fairness is well deserved as is the talk of your benevolent nature. I have heard many tales of your heroic deeds and grand exploits.”

“Lord Vandree, you can dispense with the patronage and save the compliments for Lady Hakbarrah.” he responded flatly.  “Why have you come here?”

Nazmyr nodded, “I came here my lord to respectfully request your assistance in dealing with a serious threat to my home and business.”

“Why me Lord Vandree? Certainly you have allies to rally to your cause.”

“I do my lord. Allies I would prefer remain alive. My problem is a dragon.”

“I see. Unfortunately dragons born of Faerun are beyond the auspices of my authority. I’m sorry.”

“This is a planar dragon my lord. That is why I have come to you.”

Devon paused for a moment glancing at Rayne who merely shrugged her shoulders.

The Highlord pulled back a chair and sat gesturing for Nazmyr to do the same.

“Thank you my lord.” he said as he sat. “I am aware of your disdain for my people.” Nazmyr continued. “But as I walked the city and saw what little I did of this great realm, I grew hopeful you might consider my request. Your people coexist peacefully despite their varied philosophical differences. Would that mine could do the same.”

Devon eyed the drow noble suspiciously. “You are aware then that your people attacked the city of my birth, murdering many and causing much destruction in its wake. I along with my allies fought in that battle to turn the drow and demons away.”

“I am familiar with the raid. That is what I had hoped to bargain with… The names of the houses, the leaders orchestrating the attack, the political landscape of their origin and where to find them to exact revenge.”

“Tell me Nazmyr Vandree, how did you come to know all this. Perhaps you were there. Perhaps you took part in the assault against my kin.”

“I was and I did My Lord. I will not insult you with lies.” he said truthfully.

Devon’s anger welled for a moment his eyes only just flickering blue. 

“<Shall I kill him now?>” Maya asked with a wide smile, speaking in the tongue of dragons.

Nazmyr politely turned toward the black dragon, “<I would prefer you didn’t.>”

Devon grinned while Maya scowled.  She took a step toward the dark elf.

“Amaya.” Devon called to her. He shook his head ever so slightly and her eyes narrowed. She bowed just a little and stepped back. “You understand the dangerous position you have put yourself in. I respect that you have told me the truth but I am less than inclined to help you in any way. Why attack my home and then come here for aid?”

“Obviously he wants to die a horrible death.” Maya said in undercommon. 

Now it was Nazmyr’s turn to smile. “No. I can assure you that’s not it. I do apologize for my part in the siege of your homeland. I was conscripted and had little choice. Drow law is harsh. You may not understand.”

“Actually I do. I may have been born in Westport but I was sired in Sanguinar. The laws of the Sanguinari are harsh as well.”

Nazmyr nodded. “I fled Menzoberranzan seeking to escape the cruel will of the priestesses of Lloth. I sought asylum and new life where my choices would be my own. I moved to Hosuth and began a business there.”

“Did you say Hosuth?” Maya asked.

“Indeed my lady. I started a business there and prospered living in relative peace until…”

“Do you know this place Maya?” Devon asked interrupting Nazmyr.

She looked paler than normal. Even the color in her black lips had turned ashen gray. “Eto mesto, kuda byla soslana moya matir drakar” (That is the place my dragon mother was exiled to.)

Rayne stared at her for a moment before looking away.

“I see.” Devon said with compassion in his voice. “Nazmyr, would the dragon that troubles you be an ancient black dragon?"

“Eomyrosis the Black to be exact my lord. I met with her and she told me of her desire to return to the planes.”

“LIAR!” Maya spat. “Mother would have devoured you! Conniving excuse for a worm.”

“Amaya control yourself.” Devon commanded.

Viscous green acid dripped from her lips. She brought her fingers to her mouth wiping it away.

He turned his attention to Nazmyr. “So let me see if I understand you correctly. I intervene on your behalf. I get information on who to hold responsible for the raid of Westport Manor, The Mistress of Whispers returns to the Dragon Realm where she becomes my problem again, not yours.”

“Only she doesn't become a problem. If Amaya is anything like her mother then Eomyrosis shares the same strong convictions and fierce loyalty as her daughter. If you are willing to forgive, you could gain a powerful ally.”

“It is not me who would need to forgive her actions.” he said with his thoughts drifting to the Black Queen. “I am curious though, what do you get from this arrangement.?”

“A safe place to live and my business restored to prosperity.”

“And.” Devon asked. “I feel like there is something more.”

“And a book currently in the possession of Eomyrosis.”

“What book?” 

“The Book of the Dead. I have a client interested in it who will pay a small ransom for it.”

“There are many books concerning the dead. Which one do you speak of?”

“I’m told this one is a funerary text. A collection of prayers used by priests to assist the deceased in navigating the afterlife. Nothing more.”

“Prayers to who?”

“That is an excellent question. I’m not quite sure. Anyone willing to listen I would imagine.” 

“Very well Lord Vandree, I will consider your request. For now, enjoy the hospitality of the realm. Cassandra would you show the good lord to the parlor.”

Nazmyr gave a slight bow “Thank you for your time Dragon Highlord.” he said before exiting the room.

The study was quiet for a moment. “Maya?” Devon asked.

“Yes my lord?” She answered.

“What do you make of all this. Should I move forward with his request to have Eomyrosis reinstated to court.” 

“You’d have to ask my queen my lord. It is for Sable to decide.”

“I’m asking you. Tell me no and this request dies here.”

“Dies here?” she said softly. “Where that filthy underdweller should be writhing in acid.”

“Now Maya. Why would you want to ruin my floor like that.”

The black dragon grinned. “If it pleases you my lord, I would not oppose her return, nor would your decision, either way, affect my oath to defend you.”

Devon smiled appreciatively. “I’ve no doubt of that my lady. I’ll need you to visit Stallac. Ask him...”

“No.”

“Say again?” 

“I mean I believe I can be of better service elsewhere my lord. Send someone else. I should arrange for you to meet Queen Ebonscale.”

Devon paused for a moment. “Agreed. Thank you Maya.” He looked to the bronze dragon. “Rayne?”

She bowed in affirmation. 

“Find out what Stallac knows of this Nazmyr Vandree. Speak to Tali as well.”

“I shall dispatch at once my liege.” She said with a smile.

……………….

Nazmyr found himself walking quietly with his escort. He couldn’t help but notice even her steps were graceful. She led him down well lit corridors, past closed doors until they reached the parlor. He could hear giggling from the inside. As he walked in he saw Dahlia drinking wine with Jenna and a third young looking girl with mocha skin. “Jenna was laughing while trying to tell a story. “So then uncle …”

“Nazmyr.” Dahlia jumped up interrupting the tale.. She embraced him warmly. “How did you fare?”

Jenna turned her attention to the drow noble obviously curious as well.

“He was gracious enough to hear my proposals and is considering my offer. I believe it went well. You’re uncle is a gentleman Jenna.”

Jenna smiled in relief. “I’m glad to hear it. I was somewhat concerned with his reaction when you met him.”

“It was Amaya that had me afraid.” Dahlia said with a chill.

“She can be a bit temperamental. In fairness I probably should have advised him ahead of time. I know better than that. We are so close and informal though that sometimes I forget courtly duties demand protocol. ”

Dahlia said, “It all worked out. I can’t thank you enough Jenna…”

“We can’t thank you enough.” Nazmyr interupted.

Dahlia smiled at Nazmyr before continuing  ‘If there is ever anything you need…”

Jenna returned her smile.

“We should go. We’ve taken up enough of your time,: Nazmyr said graciously. 

Jenna hugged Dahlia.”May the winds forever be at your feet.”

“And the skies welcome your wings.” the young djinn replied. 

This is how Nazmyr gained his information regarding Eomyrosis the Black. This is PK only as not all details may have been shared with the characters. Please refer to the post What we know of Eomyrosis the Black

“My lord.” the guardsman began. “The princess has a visitor, an emissary from the court of Princess David. Shall I show her to the receiving room or a waiting area?”

The man wearing multi-colored dragon scale armor grinned, “That depends on her grace.” He bowed low, his tone holding a touch of sarcasm. 

The platinum haired lady slapped him on the shoulder and smirked. “No Arram. Show her in. I’m expecting her...besides I believe I’m quite done with the Highlord for now.”

“As you say your grace.” the guardsman bowed and left.

“Well if you’re done with me...” he said with feigned indignance. “...I guess I’ll take my leave and return to the company of your aunt… Aliyeah Queen of Dragons.”

The young princess smiled. “Give her my love uncle.” and she hugged him. “And keep some for yourself.” she kissed his cheek.

“Of course.” he smiled back. 

The door opened and a very pretty young woman with copper skin and long black hair wearing ornate silks entered. “Oh my.” she said a little startled. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I can return another time Princess Dayspring.”  

“No its fine Dahlia. My uncle was just leaving.” 

The Dragon Highlord winked at his niece, then he shimmered and was gone.

“I’m terribly sorry to impose Jenna...I hope the Darkstar will not be cross that I have disturbed you.”

“No of course not. Ziva’s family is our family. Though I sense this is not a social call. Please sit.” Jenna motioned to the well cushioned sofa she was sitting on. “What can I do for you?”

“I have questions about a dragon that I was hoping you might be able to answer. You know more tales than most and live the history of your people.”

Jenna smiled. “You are kind to say so. My aunt is the real keeper of the lore, though I study under her and the Highlord of course.”

Dahlia almost wanted to ask what that was like. She was curious to know how a human had become so entrenched in the world of dragons but refrained. Instead she focused on why she had come and asked, “Do you know of a dragon named Eomyrosis? She’s a black dragon living on the prime outside a settlement they call Hosuth.”

Jenna’s eyes narrowed a bit, her expression tightening. ‘Why do you ask?”

“Someone very close to my heart seeks to treat with her. I fear he may not be well received and have concerns for his safety.” she answered honestly.

“Your fears are well justified. I know of Eomyrosis. I’ve met her a few times. Her aura is unsettling...even to me. What does he want with her?”

“His business is being affected by the her minions. He hopes to broker a deal that he believes could be mutually beneficial.”

“Do you care about this man?” the princess bard asked plainly.

“I do my friend.”

“Then tell him it’s folly and to abandon these illusions. I see little likelihood of an accord.”

Dahlia paused. “Still, I was hoping that I could learn enough about her from you to dissuade him or least improve his chances of success.”

Jenna sighed, “Very well. Eomyrosis the Black is an ancient black dragon born over 800 years ago, here on Dragon Mountain, the planar home of dragonkind. She is as well known for her cunning as she is for her cruelty having lived generations developing a reputation for both.”

Dahlia face grew worried.

“I could spend days relaying the horrific stories of her cruelty, the sufferings she caused for others and the joy and exhilaration she seems to experience from both. Are you aware that she has taken several mates over the years?”

“I know very little I’m afraid” The young djinn responded.

“It seems one of her pleasures is to take a mate, torture then murder him. The stories say that it  usually takes little time for her to anger over something small, grow bored with his company or simply attack him for no reason at all. Her disposition is foul as the swamps she calls home.”

Jenna stood and walked over to a decanter, pouring wine for the two of them. She passed a goblet to Dahlia before returning to her seat on the oversized couch.

“Bad personality traits aside, She spent centuries in the courts of the Black Flight eventually rising to the position of Mistress of Whispers in service of the black queen. The duties suited her malevolent nature well. She delighted in torturing any and all who might pose a threat to her monarch. Eomyrosis turned pain into an art form and there was not but woe to any left to her devices.”

Dahlia gasped.

“In the time my aunt Aliyeah Dayspring became Queen of Dragons, The Black Flight, led by her clutchmate Sable Ebonscale, joined with the blue flight and their Queen Azuria Skyphyre in support of her rule. Eomyrosis dissented favoring Sable for the crown. This was not unexpected as she had mentored, groomed and now advised the young Black Queen. She had taken a liking to Sable, quite unusual for Eomyrosis as she hated everyone. Still she voiced her disagreement with her liege’s choice. It would be the first time she would oppose her queen though not the last.” 

“I thought black dragons were rigid in their adherence to the laws.” Dahlia questioned.

“This is true most of the time. Though one can not expect all beings of the same race to act identically to each other. I’m proof of that. How many gold bards do you think there are?”

“I must confess I don’t know of any other...” Dahlia answered

Jenna grinned. “ Some time later my aunt fell in love with a mortal, the human Devon Darkstar, and took him as her consort. She named him 6th Dragon Highlord during the war of the bard. The Black Flight supported this decree as well, though Eomyrosis was sickened by the idea of a human being given such favor and power over dragonkind.” 

Dahlia sipped her wine shifting uncomfortbly as the tale continued.

“Eomyrosis decided that as Mistress of Whispers it was her right and responsibility to be certain that the man who would become my uncle posed no threat to her queen. She had set into motion a plot to ambush the Highlord and take him captive. She believed that with a little coaxing his true motives might be revealed.”

“Coaxing?” Dahlia asked.

“Pickled in acid until he confessed to the crimes she accused him of.” Jenna said with obvious distaste.

“Oh my…” Dahlia gasped.

“Queen Ebonscale learned of the plot from a lady in her court and summoned Eomyrosis to appear before her throne. Eomyrosis didn’t even deny it.”

Jenna drank from her goblet and placed it down. Her hand reached for a set of drumsticks and she began to nervously tap them on her thigh as she continued.

“Sable demanded she abandon her plans and stay clear of the Highlord. Eomyrosis swore to obey and left the throne room. Once beyond the castle walls, she flew from the Boglands to a small town on the prime where the Highlord was known to frequent… A place called Westport Manor.”

Dahlia remained quiet, listening intently.

“It’s a lovely human settlement. I’ve been there on a few occasions myself. Anyhow...Eomyrosis waited for Devon to arrive in town. Dragons are patient and even if it took years, in her mind it would be time well spent. Her absence did not go unnoticed. Sable learned what she was planning and sought her out with her handmaidens in tow.

“Handmaidens?” Dahlia asked.

“Handmaidens are the inner circle of a queen’s entourage. An elite protection detail or queensguard of sorts.”

“Ahh” Dahlia said with understanding.

“The Black Queen did not take kindly to her advisor ignoring her commands. The Black Queen’s justice is harsh and as much as it pained her, she banished Eomyrosis from the planes and stripped her of land and title. She was forced to remain on the prime under penalty of death and not to travel within 500 miles of the settlement.”

“I see.” Dahlia said. “That is why she remains in the swamps of Hosuth.”

“If I know Eomyrosis then this Hosuth you speak of is probably exactly 500 miles away from Westport Manor. She may not always care for the laws of our people buy she does value her life. Sable, as a show of respect for her old friend and mentor, took on Eomyrosis’s daughter Amaya Malnyx as her own and named her handmaiden to the queen.”

“Amaya Malnyx?” Dahlia said head turning to the side. “You don’t mean Maya do you? The Highlord’s own protector?”

Jenna smiled. “I do. It was a clever choice by Sable as Amaya would be able to smell her mother’s blood regardless of the form she took. The Black Queen knew this when she offered her service to my aunt. Your Eomyrosis the Black is actually Lady Eomyrosis Malnyx, Mistress of Whispers… or was before she was stripped of her name and title.” Jenna reached out to a large tome sitting on a nearby table. The book rose from the wood and flew to her hands. She opened it turning many pages until she reached her desired entry and then began to read. “The Noble Black Dragon Lady Eomyrosis Malnyx was born -819 WOTB, the daughter of the Noble Black Dragon Lady Tenebria Malnyx and and the Noble Silver Dragon Lord Guldresden Icebreath. She mentored and faithfully served Queen Sable Ebonscale until her banishment by order of her queen in 2 WOTB. She currently lives in exile outside of a lizardman settlement known as Hosuth on the Prime Material Plane in the lands of Faerun. Lady Eomyrosis Malnyx is bad tempered, dangerous and unpredictable. Aliyeah Queen of Dragons would caution any who would seek her out to reconsider.” Jenna closed the book. “I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you.”

“Thank you Jenna. You’ve been most helpful.” Dahlia placed her goblet on the table and stood.

“If you’d like Dahlia, I could ask Devon to intercede on your friend’s behalf? She wouldn’t dare to harm him and might even negotiate with the Highlord for the possibility of a return to the planes.” 

Dahlia paused considering Jenna’s offer. “I couldn’t impose on the Darkstar. I think my friend will listen to reason and just as well avoid Eomyrosis all together.”

“A most wise choice. Travel well Dahlia Hakbarrah.” Jenna said pleasantly.

The djinn bowed respectfully, “May the winds always carry you high Jenna Dayspring.” and left.

Jenna looked at the book mournfully. “Eomyrosis the Black.” and the gold dragon shivered.

The afternoon sun above them blazed like a fiery wheel in the sky. Lances of its molten-gold beams pierced the gaps in the swamp’s canopy. In places, the dead leaves seemed to be a-fire with an inner glow. All manner of insects and reptiles chirped and croaked. It seemed as if they too were protesting the heat. Nazmyr would have preferred to leave under the cover of nightfall; however the message he received was specific.

He traveled amongst the dryer hammocks, doing everything in his power to avoid the chafe of wet clothing and water seeping into his boots. Regardless of his efforts, his clothes became sticky from the hot moist air and the taste of dirt and mud mixed with sweat ran into his mouth.

It wasn’t before long that a small clearing came into view. Nazmyr’s fingers arched and twisted in arcane movements as he projected an exact duplicate of himself into the clearing.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Shelsa asked as she and Nazmyr peered at the open hammock from the cover of thick foliage.

“Meeting an ancient black dragon by ourselves in her own territory? Probably not.”

“Then why in the hells are we here?!”

“Fortune favors the bold.” Nazmyr said evenly. “It presents itself in many different ways. I would be remiss not to take advantage of this opportunity.”

“What more fortune do you need? You have me. Not to mention two homes, thriving businesses, and Dahlia. Aren’t you fortunate enough?!”

Nazmyr shifted his gaze to Shelsa “Aren’t you the one who said that she wanted to travel; see the world?”

“Yes but not while inside the belly of a dragon.”

“You didn’t need to come you know. You could have stayed home.”

“And miss the chance to meet an ancient black dragon?! I think not. Besides someone has to tell your brothers when you have been reduced to a puddle of goo.”

“I’ll be a puddle of goo huh? But not you?”

“Nope. I’ll live. You…50/50.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“You’re welcome.” Shelsa said haughtily. 

There was only a very brief moment of silence before Shelsa spoke again.

“I think you've damaged the local kobold population in your quest to ingratiate yourself with this Eomyrosis. How many did you capture to use as messengers?”

“Quite a few.” Nazmyr said as he smiled to himself.

“How many?” Shelsa demanded.

“A few dozen.”

“And how many lizard folk?”

“A few dozen.”

“All that wasted time traipsing through the swamp dealing with filthy vermin, and she never answered you. So how do you know this is the right spot?”

“She did answer me.” Nazmyr said defensively.  “Just not personally. The last messenger I sent was a lizardman; a big ugly black one. I guess she like that one because he came back intact with a note.”

“And how do you know it was she who answered you? What if this is a trap?”

“It’s not a trap. My note was written in a very unique language. She’ll show up.”

“A unique language you say? Hmm…and where did you learn this unique language?” Shelsa teased.

Nazmyr rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

“Come to think of it...I never checked your grammar. Maybe she mistook your note for a dinner invitation and she means to eat you.”

“Shhhh! I hear something.”

Nazmyr and Shelsa focused on a clearing on the hammock as they listened to brush being pushed aside. A short time later, a comely human-looking woman wearing long dark robes emerged from the overgrowth.

“That’s not a dragon.” Criticized Shelsa.

“No, it’s not.” Nazmyr said with a mixture of annoyance and displeasure.”

“See! I told you! She’s not coming! It’s a trap!”

“Only one way to find out.”

“What’s that?”

“Spring the trap.”

Now was Shelsa’s turn to roll her eyes and sigh in exasperation.

Nazmyr’s projected image approached the woman.

“I was expecting Eomyrosis.” Said the illusionary Nazmyr.

“You have her interest.” The woman responded dryly.

“My words are for Eomyrosis only.”

"Amin naa Eomyrosis lle tirec!" (I AM Eomyrosis you simpleton) the woman spat.

“Oh.” Nazmyr said with new found clarity. “Well met Eom…”

“Dispense with the pleasantries!”  She said with annoyance as she cut off the illusionary Nazmyr in mid-sentence.

“As you wish.” The illusionary Nazmyr said as he bowed.

“Illusions?” The woman said with disgust. “Do you think you can hide from me?”

“Oh no. I am not hiding. Though I would prefer not wind up pickled. Your reputation precedes you.”

Eomyrosis smirked in satisfaction. “Who sent you?”

“I come of my own accord.”

“You are either very brave or very foolish.”

“Some would say those traits go hand in hand.” Nazmyr said somewhat flirtatiously.

“Don’t be pert with me boy!”

Shelsa shot Nazmyr a look. “Really?!” she said incredulously.

Ignoring Shelsa, Nazmyr continued “Then I shall speak plainly.” He said quickly changing his tactics. “I have a proposal that is to our mutual benefit.”

“Who are you to assume that you know what would benefit me?” she said with obvious disdain.

“I am familiar with your tale. I know you were exiled. What if I were able to arrange for you to return home?”

Eomyrosis’ human form arched her back as enormous black leathery wings burst through her clothing. The feminine scream of anger that escaped her lips quickly grew into an earth shaking roar. Her silvery blue eyes, filled with rage, looked beyond Nazmyr’s illusion and into his soul.

Nazmyr felt a cold wave embalm him as the hairs rose on the back of his neck and his mouth ran dry. The sudden shock made him tense his muscles. Shelsa’s fur puffed out as she arched her back. Fear became a tangible, a living force that crept over them like some hungry beast holding them captive.

“You dare think to play coy with me!” The ancient dragon bellowed in an unnatural sounding voice.

Nazmyr stood for a couple seconds, his stomach churning. He closed his eyes and steadied his breath and tried to calm the panic. Part of him wanted to run, yet he knew that he had come to far too flee just yet. Maintaining his focus, he continued parlaying with the dragon through his illusion.

“This is no ruse. I could speak to the Highlord on your behalf. I have the means to gain an audience with him through the Gold Princess Jenna Dayspring.”

She glared at Nazmyr as acid dripped from her muzzle “Liar! How could  someone as insignificant as you know Jenna?!”

“The princess and I have a mutual acquaintance. A djinn from the court of King David.”

“And who is this acquaintance you claim to have?!”

“Her name is Dahlia. She is sister to Fatoush Hakbarah.”

“I know this name. Phantom indeed...” She said in disgust. “What do you know of the Highlord?!”

“Very little. Only that he is consort to the Queen of Dragons and that it is because of him that you are here now.”

Her rage subsided. “You have piqued my interest dark elf. Before I bargain any further you will have to prove your worth to me.”

“What would you have me do?”

She smiled a toothy grin. “Navigate my lair. Seek me out. Once you have found me, only then will I determine if you are worthy of anymore of my time.”

Nazmyr stood at the head of the table and took a long pull from his crystal goblet before starting.

“My Brothers, thank you for answering my summons. Before I begin I first would like to thank Nanill for the use of this meeting room. The reason I have call you here today is that I have come into possession of vital information regarding Eomyrosis the Black.

“Where are Ishtoshen and Quevas?” Asked Naris

“Ishtoshen is in Oenkmar.” Nanill offered

“And Quevas mentioned to me that he is on the shortlist for a audience with the Sultan in the City of Brass.” Said Nazmyr

Naris shook his head in disgust. “Continue.”

Nazmyr took another sip from his goblet. “Eomyrosis the Black is actually Lady Eomyrosis Malnyx, former Mistress of Whispers. She was born over 800 years ago on Dragon Mountain, the planar home of dragonkind. She is as well known for her cunning as she is for her cruelty having lived generations developing a reputation for both. She has taken several mates over the years. It seems one of her pleasures is to take a mate, torture then murder him. The stories say that it usually takes little time for her to anger over something small, grow bored with his company or simply attack him for no reason at all.

“Sound just like one of our beloved Marton Mothers.” Rygos said, his words coated in venom.

Nazmyr nodded in agreement and continued “She had spent centuries in the courts of the Black Flight eventually rising to the position of Mistress of Whispers in service of the Black Queen Sable Ebonscale. When a new queen of the dragons was chosen, Eomyrosis dissented favoring Sable for the crown. This was not unexpected by her peers as she had mentored, groomed and now advised the young Black Queen. Some time later the queen of dragons fell in love with a mortal, a human called Devon Darkstar. She took him as her consort and named him 6th Dragon Highlord. The Black Flight supported this decree though Eomyrosis was sickened by the idea of a human being given such favor and power over dragonkind. Eomyrosis decided that as Mistress of Whispers it was her right and responsibility to be certain that the new Highlord posed no threat to her queen. She had set into motion a plot to ambush the Highlord and take him captive. She believed that with a little coaxing his true motives might be revealed. The Black Queen learned of the plot and demanded she abandon her plans and stay clear of the Highlord. Eomyrosis swore to obey but continued with her plan anyway. She was caught yet again and the Black Queen did not take kindly to her advisor ignoring her commands. As punishment, the Black Queen banished Eomyrosis from the planes and stripped her of land and title. She was exiled to the Prime and told never to return under penalty of death. Sable, as a show of respect for her old friend and mentor, took on Eomyrosis’s daughter Amaya Malnyx and named her handmaiden to the queen. A clever move in my opinion as Amaya would be able to smell her mother’s blood regardless of the form she took should see seek vengeance.”

“Handmaidens?” Valas asked.

“Handmaidens are the inner circle of a queen’s entourage. An elite protection detail or queensguard of sorts.”

“Bodyguards for soft nobles brother.” Naris added.

Valas looked at him sideways, “I don’t believe any dragon can be labeled as soft, noble or otherwise.”

“Which is why I have made preparations.” Nanill added. “So if you’d all bow your head in silence the sermon shall begin…..

Quevas produced his portable hole and opened it. “Quickly. Toss the bodies in. We’ll search them later.” There was some urgency in his voice.

“Fine.” Alaketh said. “I only need a few moments.” He said producing a handful of what appeared to be finely cut faceted gems that were somewhat dull in luster.

“Really? Now?” Naris asked with slight agitation.

“Why not now?” Alaketh smiled holding the gem over the dead priestess. Her eyes flashed open, alight with a lurid pale blue energy. Silver mist seemed to be drawn from her mouth and absorbed by the gem. As the last of it was taken in, the gems facets sparkled and the once lifeless stone took on a soft red glow. He nodded his approval to Ishtoshen.”

“Creepy” the archer offered rolling the soulless corpse into the hole with a dull thud.

Nazmyr shook his head and looked toward the double doors that they had used to enter. “I think we have a few minutes. We’re certainly not going to be able to make our exit the way we came.” He paused exhaling deeply. “Ideas?”

Valas and Rygos had taken to searching the walls for hidden passages.

“Anything?” Nazmyr asked.

“No. Nothing.” Rygos answered with disappointment.

“Can’t you shape rock with your magic and cut us a way out?” Naris asked Nazmyr.

Nazmyr shook his head. “I used most of spells. I’d need reverie. I’m thinking we probably don’t have 4 hours to wait.”

“Anyone else?” He looked at the other spellcasters in the group. Each offering the same response as Nazmyr. “Now what.” He said with some irritation.

Naris watched as Valas looked around the room, slowly running his hand across the worked stone wall. “Here” Valas said producing a staff.

“Here what brother? That staff won’t work. We can’t teleport.” He said with obvious frustration. “I really hate when I can’t teleport.”

Valas smiled. “Not teleport. But you have the right idea.” He angled the staff toward the wall. “Pahntar!” He commanded. The rock moved and shaped then formed into a small tunnel. “This way.” He said as he passed through the opening.

“Love that staff.” Naris said with a smile and followed him in flanked by Rygos.

“Hey.” Nazmyr called out. “How far can that staff take us?”

“Honestly. I’m not quite sure.” Valas answered. “But House Vandree sits in the West Wall and by my calculations we should be able to cut through far enough beyond the city’s wards to teleport away… providing I have the direction right.”

“And if you don’t?” Nazmyr asked.

“Then you’ll have plenty of time to memorize more passwall spells while we’re trapped in the rock. Still better than getting caught in my opinion.” Valas offered.

“Agreed.” Rygos chuckled.

“I trust my guildmate.” Charwyn said. “Works for me.” And he entered.

Nazmyr nodded. “Fair enough. Let’s go.” He looked back to Alaketh and Quevas. “Are you done?”

“No. I’m far from done.” Alaketh said with a malevolent grin. “But I’m satisfied for now.”

Nanill paused at the mouth of the tunnel and turned to look back into the temple he just desecrated. “One more thing.”

Nanill began to mouth arcane words and gesture toward the support columns and ceilings. The artistically carved stone began to melt and drip until it was nothing more than mud. There was a loud crash and the cavern trembled and shook as the temple collapsed on itself destroying it completely.

“Yeah!” Ishtoshen shouted with excitement.

Nanill smiled quite pleased with himself. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Valas carved section after section of hallway, 20 feet at a time, slowly plodding through the rock. Finally after his 17th casting the stale air of the passage was met with a rush of new if not fresh air. They were just outside the city walls proper. If he had to guess he’d say no more than 20 yards as the stone face of the cavern rose to comprise what he knew to be the exterior of the west wall of Menzoberranzan. “Grab hold!” He demanded with some urgency and with a whoosh everything went black. The darkness of the underground exhaled and the group found themselves within eyesight of Rilauven’s gates.

“Nicely done Valas.” Charwyn complimented. “Nice work by all. You Vandree are impressive.” He slapped Rygos on the back and moved forward toward the main gate.

About 100 yards out from the portcullis they were met by a patrol who easily identified them and allowed them to continue into the city proper. Once beyond the gate the group came to stop.

Naris addressed his companions. “May I suggest we make way to my inn. It’ll be a safe place to sort ourselves out and discuss our next move.” His brothers seemed to agree.

“This is where I must take my leave.” Charwyn announced. He looked to Valas and Rygos, “I’ll inform Master T’sith of your success and safe return.” He looked directly at Valas. “However there may be another who’ll want to hear it from you herself.”  

Valas nodded and watched him leave.

They made their way through the city carefully, keeping to the shadows and out of notice. It wasn’t long before they arrived at Qu’ellar Ssinssrigg, the inn owned by Naris. No sooner had he broke the threshold when Madame Bea appeared. “You’ve returned more quickly than expected my Lord. How did you fare?” She eyed Alaketh warily.

“I’m alive aren’t I?” He answered with some annoyance. “Glasses and bottles of fine wine to my study. After that I am not to be disturbed. Understood?”

“Of course my Lord.” She said sheepishly moving away.

Naris surveyed the room as he led his brothers to the stairwell. He locked eyes with Snot who was standing in the corner near the bar providing security. The goblin nodded and resumed his duties. Ziya met him at the top of the stairs. “Welcome home my Lord.” She leaned in to embrace him but he held his hand up keeping her at bay.

“Not now.” He turned to his brothers. “I’ll meet you inside in a moment.”

As his brothers walked past and into his study he paused to speak with Ziya. “I’ve important business with my brothers right now. After Bea brings the drinks make sure no one enters.”

“Of course my Lord.” She said with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Naris brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Smile my lovely. There will be time for you later.”

Ziya grinned and watched as he joined his brothers. It was only a few minutes later when Madame Bea arrived with the wine on an ornate gold platter. She carefully set it down and poured 8 glasses. She bowed low before excusing herself. Madame Bea closed the door behind her as she left.

“Please my brothers.” Naris motioned to the glasses.

Each took a glass. They spent the next few hours identifying, sorting through and distributing the items they recovered. They spoke of their quest, plans for a possible return and of course spent time emptying bottles of wine at Naris’ expense.

“I’m not comfortable knowing they plot to destroy us with clones. I say we go back and eliminate them and their experiment.” Nazmyr said.

“Let’s not forget the House Mage. He dies for his part in Freth’s murder.” Valas added.

“Slow down.” Naris suggested. “We’ve only just returned. I’m in no hurry to go back. They’ll be on high alert after our attack and it’ll be near impossible to kill Dritzen Myth without disposing of the matron mother. Neither of which will  be easy, especially if some of you don’t learn how to disguise yourselves and stop drawing attention to us.” The annoyance in his voice was thick.

“I don’t do disguise.” Alaketh announced proudly. “Let them come. It’ll be my pleasure to raze the whole damned house.” He said with a smile.

“Here we go.” Laughed Ishtoshen.

“Naris is right.” Valas agreed. “We should take a little time, gather some more information and work out a better plan. Anyone not on board can remain behind. We can’t afford to be careless.” His tone was rather stern. “But that’s for another time.” He placed his empty glass on the platter. “For now I should return to the Dark Embrace. What say you Rygos? Are you ready to head back?”

Rygos emptied the little wine remaining in his crystal goblet then placed it on the platter as well. “Certainly. Can’t have you getting yelled at by yourself now could I? What kind of brother would I be?” He said with a smirk.

Naris shook his head. “I may need to have a talk with this barmaid... explain to her how I expect she should treat my brother.”

Valas and Rygos laughed.

“Not a great idea.” Valas said.

“Yeah” Rygos added. “Sounds a lot less helpful than you’d think Naris.”

Naris frowned. “We’ll see…”

“Thank you for the hospitality brother. We’ll return soon.”

Naris nodded and they left.

She sat on his bed shivering, an unusual occurrence in the City of Brass considering the oppressive heat of the place. Valas walked over to a decanter and poured the liquid contained, a blue brandy, into a crystal glass then returned to Zaiwure’s side. He placed the glass into her trembling hands. “Drink.” He paused. “Then tell me all you can.”

The potent alcohol steadied her hands and she exhaled a mouthful of cool breath. “We were in the sitting room. The Mistress had been kind enough to offer me wine and so we sat for few moments, taking a much needed break from the business of contracts and orders.” She brought the glass to her mouth again and drank deep. “We would do this from time to time. Yes she was my Mistress but she was more than just my employer. We were friends. She trusted me to protect her…..” Zaiwure looked away. “Perhaps that was a mistake.”

“You don’t believe that.” Valas reassured her.

She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “We were talking about you….Well you and your brothers that is. She was quite fond of you all...even Naris she would say is not without charm.” Zaiwure sniffled. “I asked why she sent you away...back to the guild...then the alarms were sounded. Invaders. I shimmered to the courtyard to meet them but they had already made it past the gates.”

“How? The house wards...the guards… they would have needed…”

“Command words.” Zaiwure finished for him. “An inside job.” her expression went blank.

Valas waited for Zaiwure to continue.

“I tried to shimmer back to the library…” Zaiwure coughed. “I couldn’t. Some magic was keeping me out. I shimmered into the hallway and ran to the door. Locked.” her hands trembled again. Valas placed his gently over hers and held them still. She looked him directly in the eyes, tears running down her cheeks. “By the time I got in…” She shook her head. “...Mistress Freth” She began to choke…”She…” Zaiwure swallowed hard. “Mistress Freth had been badly wounded..stabbed in the back. There were more than a half dozen dead drow in the room. She did not submit easy. She sent me a mental message ‘Vandree. Get to the brothers.’ Her assassin glared at me as I drew my saber. Karis cast one last spell to remove the ward preventing my teleportation and yelled ‘Go now!’ The assassin cut her throat and I did as I was bid and shimmered to the tree….I ran like a coward!”

“There is no cowardice in obeying an order. You were smart to retreat… to come to us…” Valas said in comforting tone.

“Was I? I should have recovered her body. Brought her to Brother Cream. Instead I ran off looking for you and your brothers.” Her tone had changed. Her face flushed with anger. “And where were you!!! I thought I’d always be able to find you. Wasn’t that the purpose of the spell? So your masking would not affect me! Why couldn’t I sense you? It’s not like you left the plane. I even came to this infernal city to be sure. Nothing.... I looked for Rygos and Nazmyr. Nothing! I even tried to sense Naris knowing I’d have to fight through his masking spell. Nothing! Alaketh, Nanill, Quevas, even Ishtoshen. Nothing! She stood up flailing her arms. “WHERE WERE YOU!!!”

Suddenly the realization struck him…He stood and reached for her hand. She quickly snapped it away. “The plane of Shadow…” He said softly. “We travelled to the plane of shadow from the orc city where you found us. You weren’t able to sense me because I wasn’t on the prime.” He paused feeling guilty for a moment. “I didn’t think we’d be gone long or missed. You found us in Oenkmar after our return. I’m sorry…”

Zaiwure scowled. Her tail instinctively wrapped around his waist pulling them close together. She glared at him, an inch away from his face. “What now?”

Valas wrapped his arms around her and held her tight for a while, waiting for the anger and the hurt to subside. Zaiwure stared at him with bloodshot eyes waiting for his answer.

“Now you tell me who the assassin was.” His expression was cold and menacing.”

Zaiwure shook her head. “I don’t know. He was skilled. Well trained. Perhaps a member of your guild she said accusingly. I don’t know who betrayed and murdered our Mistress.”

“The guild? Impossible. Why would they? They know Rygos and I belong to belong to the company too. Surely the guild would not have sanctioned this attack.”

“I’m not sure why they would betray us.” She answered. “But in our city… You’re guild houses the best assassins” Her voice stiff and resentful.

Zaiwure could feel the heat of his anger emanating off of his skin. His purple eyes held a murderous rage. “I’ll find out for sure. And if the assassin came from the guild I’ll kill the bastard myself. I promise.”

Zaiwure nodded.

“Stay here. At least for now… until we sort things through.”

“I want to go too.” She demanded.

“No. Rygos and I shall go to the guild and find out what the hells happened. It’s too dangerous for you to accompany us there.”

“After then. Come to me after once you have found him.”

“No. We lost Mistress Freth. I won’t see you put in danger. If you bear me any affection at all you’ll remain here and let us do what the Mistress paid us for. We may not have been able to prevent her murder but we will sure as hells see to it those responsible for her death suffer her wrath. Agreed?”

Zaiwure nodded. “For now….I’ll expect updates and not to be left here all by myself for too long a time, understood.” She said finding her strength return.

Valas grinned then bowed. “Yes Mistress.”

Zaiwure gave him a curious look as understanding played across her face. “Go… and thank you Valas.”

Valas leaned in kissing her cheek. “I shall return as soon as I am able. Everything you need is here. Make yourself at home.”

She forced a smile and he was gone.

Naris had been back in Menzoberranzen now for just over a month, continuing to monitor events to report back to Mistress Freth. He had already learned that demons walk free about Menzoberranzan killing unhoused drow. Gromph from House Baenre has been banished for summoning Demogorgon. Demogorgon attacked and destroyed a section of Sorcere and cut a swath through the city to the main exit. Rumors have it that Demogorgon is currently roaming the underdark...not a meeting Naris was looking to make. The demonic incursion had taken a toll on commerce in the Underdark and made travel considerably more perilous than normal. He had been spending time in the city and gathering information, sneaking around his family compound and keeping tabs on House Malarn and their activities. His previous sojourn back Rilauvin found him bringing some very disconcerting news.

Matron Mother Troken’Ther was killed and replaced by her eldest Daughter Fiirnel’Ther Vandree. The former matron was deemed weak due to the Vandree brother’s rebellion and escape so she was assassinated.

There has been much movement of troops and House Vandree is preparing to raid another house. They have been contracted by House Baenre to address the offending house and have agreed to the task to maintain favor with the greatest house in the city. Word is that House Vandree has some personal stake in the raid as well. He was unable to find out exactly what it was, just that Matron Mother Fiirnel'ther Vandree sought to correct her mother’s mistake.

It also seemed a female drow noble had been kidnapped from house Vandree. No one has made ransom demands and there has been no trace or word from the kidnappers. House Vandree suspects she has been taken as part of some diabolic ritual sacrifice however is as of yet is unsure if the truth of this belief. They have continued to send search parties out in attempt to locate her or find evidence of demonic activity that could prove her death.

Mistress Freth was pleased with the intelligence he provided. She smiled graciously. “You have done well to bring me this information Naris. You never cease to impress me with your skill.”

Naris smiled appreciating the compliment. “I felt you should know. I have made my brothers aware as well.”

Should you discover the target of the raid please return to me. I have my suspicions but would like assurance before I make my next move.” Mistress Freth nodded to Zaiwure who handed Naris a scroll tube. “Use this scroll to return when you are ready. You won’t be able to teleport into the city but close enough outside the gates for you to safely make your way home.”

“Of course. We both recognize the value of knowledge.” He gripped the scroll tube tight and smiled. “Perfect.” and excused himself.

This information did not come without cost. Spying on Drow Houses was dangerous business. Naris found 2 of his hirelings murdered...a third has been missing for some time. Still he had made other contacts and knew it was time to check on those assets. He shook his head to clear his mind of the memories and sharpen his focus. He was back in the city of his birth and needed his wits about him. He moved silently, unseen along the West Wall. He paused as the sounds of marching feet drew his attention. Naris watched as a raiding party returned. They must have left after his return to Rilauvin. There had to be 4 platoons comprising the company. They moved carts containing spoils by giant lizard and he could make out the form of a shrouded body atop one of the wagons. A shrouded drow was whispering to the priestess leading the contingent. Something about him or her looked very familiar. Him he decided. His walk perhaps. Naris was sure he had seen him before but without seeing his face couldn’t place it. Something had gone down and he needed to find out what.

Naris made his way east to the Dark Hunters' Haven in Duthcloim just outside the bazaar. The damage caused by Demogorgon was heavy here but as drow celebrate the deaths of their rivals business was booming. He found his usual spot in a dark corner of the inn and waited for his contact to arrive. Naris watched as an old drow entered, his eyes milky and white, he was obviously blind. He stumbled into a few patrons begging pardon as he did. Most offered him looks of disgust several pushed him away. The man leaned into an empty chair at the table where Naris sat and picked up the cup of strong drink Naris had left for him.

“Thank you my lord.” he said as he sipped. “It warms old bones.”

“What have I missed since last we talked? Who did House Vandree raid?”

The man tuned to look around the room, an exercise in futility Naris knew as the old man couldn’t see anything.  

“Is it your intent to try my patience?” Naris hissed.

“Not at all my lord.” the man said quietly before taking another sip from the cup. “When I look around a room my ears tell me what I need to see.”

“And?” Naris asked.

“And it is safe to answer your question. Vandree attacked the wayward child of House Baenre. Years ago House Baenre eradicated a house taking its weaponmaster and his sister for their own, murdering everyone else. Now these siblings lived amongst Baenre for some time before discovering the courage and means to escape. They ran away never to be seen again. Some say rumors speak of the sister becoming a trader, moving to a merchant city. Others that they perished in the Underdark as it was Lloth’s will that none of a defeated house should survive.”

He paused and sipped his drink.

“If House Baenre knew where they had gone they never made mention of it…..”

“So?” Naris asked impatiently.

“So no one asked until word spread of a powerful merchant house in a far off city who had employed the criminal progeny of our very own 8th house. The rumor is they had become so brazen that they no longer hid from view, flaunting their power and snubbing their creators. They had turned from Lloth and escaped rightful sacrifice at her altar embarrassing their true Matron Mother to serve the wayward child. When word arrived that the favored servants of a powerful trading company in Rilauvin publicly put to death a warforged lich, House Baenre took insult, seeing such an act as a challenge and could no longer bear the embarrassment for their runaway children to go unpunished. With all of Menzoberranzan knowing where they were, House Vandree was told to wipe out House Freth of Rilauvin and leave no survivors... Freth of course being the true name of Baenre’s adopted children.

Naris sat stunned. “You know this to be true?”

“No one cares that a blind beggar sits outside a gate. No one realizes how much we see through hearing.”

Naris was close to panic, “The brothers?”

“Were not at the compound. It appears Mistress Freth’s most faithful servants, most powerful lieutenants had abandoned her during her hour of greatest need. The compound was destroyed. If you believe soldiers none survived the attack.”

“How could this be? The compounded had guards, wards, protections in place for such an occurrence.”

“I have heard that House Vandree had help. Someone on the inside. Discontent with the favor shown the Vandree brothers. An assassin.”

Naris could feel his blood boil to a rage.

“You should know...the body brought back was Mistress Freth. They haven’t said what they were going to do with it yet but they took the time to return with it.”

Naris’ tone stiffened, “I have business to attend to. When I return I’m going to need passwords to the compound and any news you can provide. You’ll be well compensated as always.” Naris slid a pouch toward his informant.

“Of course my Lord.” the old man bowed as he swept away purse of coins and went back to his drink.

Naris left thinking to himself….”Arrangements. I’ll need to prepare for our return.” He set about his business. He sought out a city guard captain arranging for discreet entry into the city. It cost quite a bit but Naris could ill afford to have he and his brothers discovered at the gate. A mistake like that would prove fatal. Next he made housing arrangements. He rented several rooms in various inns around the city, each time changing his identity and appearance so there would be no connection to each other. He even rented two small houses. The first was located Donigarten in the farming district by the lake. The other was a run down hostel in Braeryn, the slums of the city where most people who didn’t want to be found stayed to remain unnoticed. He visited the bazaar and purchased food, drink and changes of clothes that he stored in his newly acquired residences. Lastly he took to the task of acquiring keys to the Vandree compound.

His contact was drow merchant who kept a shop in Eastmyr, a front for the local thieves guild. He had been told by his mentor Amryyr Yauntyrr that the owner Izzal Hlaate was a friend of the guild and could be trusted…

“Master Hlaate?” Naris questioned as he approached the counter.

The portly middle drow with long scraggly hair smiled warmly. “Indeed. Who do I have the pleasure of dealing with?”

Naris ignored the question. “I seek a dark dagger. I am told you were the person to see.”

The man eyed Naris up and down taking his measure. “I see. May I ask who recommended my shop for an unusual commodity?”

“I’m an acquaintance of Amryyr Yauntyrr. He made mention yours was the shop to see for such a thing.”

“And so it may be. What would like to use it for?”

Naris grinned, “It will need to grant me entry in secure locations...perhaps like the ones used in the Vandree Compound.”

The merchant’s eyes narrowed. “Every door has a different key. How many do you require?”

“All of them.” Naris said in serious tone.

Izzal Hlaate frowned. “That’s a tall order even for a shop such as this. It may not be possible.”

“I’ll take what you can give me then.” Naris responded.

“It’ll be expensive” the merchant said cautiously.

“I don’t recall asking about a price did I? Provide me what I need and there will be payment enough. I can assure you.” Naris snapped.

“Very well it will take some time.”

“Some time.” Naris agreed. “Though not too much time. Understood.”

The merchant nodded in agreement.

Naris made his way invisible to the gate and beyond the city walls. He pulled a scroll from his belt breaking the seal and opening it. “Now back to Rilauvin to see for myself what has happened and how my brothers fare. Naris read the arcane runes and and in a blink was gone.

The chamber was aglow with faerie fire. Nazmyr sat comfortably in the lavish sitting area. Expensive cushions and couches filled the space. Drapes of fine silk embroidered with precious metal threads hung from the windows. Rich tables and other furnishings carved from smooth ebony wood appointed the room. An Isfahan rug woven of threads dyed in blue, red and ivory adorned the floor. Several crafted wicker baskets containing rice were being used as tables throughout the space.

Ossuru, who was being harassed by Shelsa, quick stepped into the room. Nazmyr quietly closed his book and said nothing as he observed the curiosity of Ossuru dancing around Shelsa, as Shelsa continued to bat at Ossuru’s ankles. It suddenly occurred to Nazmyr that this was the first time he recalled seeing Ossuru smile.

Nazmyr loudly cleared his throat to get their attention.

Ossuru stopped immediately and stood at attention. Shelsa jaunted to an unoccupied cushion next to Nazmyr and sat down.

“Did you want something?” Nazmyr asked dryly.

“Apologies for the interruption My Lord. Your brother Ishtoshen requests the honor of your presence at the church.”

“Did he say what this is in regards to?”

“I asked My Lord. His reply was ‘Just tell him I need to speak to him.’

Nazmyr nodded in acknowledgment “Thank you Ossuru. You may go.”

Ossuru bowed and excused herself.

Nazmyr turned to Shelsa “So, is that what you two do when I’m not around? Play tag?”

“It’s even better when she turns into a snake! Have you ever seen her turn into a snake?! She’s fast!” Shlesa replied eyes full of excitement.

Nazmyr smiled in spite of himself. “Come. Let us visit Nanill and Ishtoshen. I hope he doesn’t expect me to be a guest judge at the next Naked Trout tournament.”

*************************************************************************************

Nazmyr and Shelsa left the city and entered the swamp under the cover of nightfall. The full moon shone brightly in the sky basking the swamp in its soft glow. The weather was hot and humid. All manner of insects and reptiles chirped and croaked. It seemed as if they too were protesting the heat. It wasn’t long before they found themselves in the church courtyard. There were large flowering plants and green leafy frond bushes.  

Shelsa had a feeling they were being followed. Nazmyr reassured her that they were.

“Nanill’s pets, swamplight lynxes. Their eyes have been upon us for some time. They are wise to be obedient to my brother’s wishes. They would make fine coats.”

The moon’s soft illumination reflected in fountains and glimmered off gold statues. Shelsa approached one the metal sculptures. It looked humanoid. It’s face frozen in a scream. “Where does Nanill get these? They must be very expensive.”

“I’m not sure.” Nazmyr answered. “Every so often a new one appears.”

Nazmyr and Shelsa made their way to the main entrance of the church where two bronze dragon men who looked more like stone than flesh stood guard. They immediately snapped to attention and made way for them. Nazmyr led the way into the church receiving room where they were greeted by an acolyte.

“Blessings upon you my lord. How may I be of service?”

“Inform my brothers that I have arrived.”

“With all due haste my lord.” Replied the acolyte.

As they waited Nazmyr pointed out several statues that had been defaced, their heads broken off and each missing a hand. The remaining hand had been painted with the ‘Eye of Vecna’ holy symbol of the church’s patron deity.

“This was once a church of Mystra. It took only the eight of us to overrun the human village that used it. Nanill took the church and desecrated the tributes of its original patron. Apparently Vecna was so pleased he used his magic to move the entire structure to this location.”  

“Vecna’s reward was to move the church into a remote swamp?”

“Hmm. I never gave it much thought. He is the patron of secrets, I guess he figured no one would come here looking for it.”

A moment later Obarra entered the receiving room.

“Nazmyr! It is good to see you!” she said in a welcoming tone.

She went to embrace him and then awkwardly stopped when she saw that Nazmyr did not reciprocate the warm greeting.

Nazmyr did nothing ease the tension.

“Obarra.” Nazmyr said with a curt nod of his head.

Obarra regained her composure and stiffened. “Follow me.”

They passed into a corridor leading to a private area of the church. Once in the foyer, they walked toward two heavy wooden doors with a tapestry above depicting Vecna laying waste to a city with fell sorcery. Obarra pushed on the doors and entered what had been several individual rooms now remodeled into a living suite. There was a large sitting area where a hearth burned constantly drawing the dampness from the air. Nazmyr found the décor to be more primitive than he preferred but at least it appeared clean.

“This is a bedroom Obarra. Why am I here? Where are Nanill and Ishtoshen?”

“Please. Sit.” Obarra said offering a chair to Nazmyr and moved to a chair of her own and sat down. “Ishtoshen is in Nanill’s office getting yelled at. Nanill blames Ishtoshen for allowing members of the tribe to run naked through the church.”

Nazmyr shook his head in disbelief.

“I will be honest with you. I asked Ishtoshen to invite you here because I did not think you would come here if I had asked.”

Nazmyr gave the room a quick visual scan. “Obarra... why am I here?”

Obarra could see the concern on Nazmyr’s face. “There is no deception here Nazmyr. I only wish to talk.” Her tone was even and honest.

“Talk of what?” said Nazmyr has he slowly shifted his location to a more strategic location in the room.

“Gratnak Mughrbog the great chieftain is holding a moot.” she said with some reverence in her voice. “I would that you accompany myself and Ishtoshen.”

“So why is it that Ishtoshen cannot ask himself?”

“It is not his place. I require your help so I should ask it. Ishtoshen goes because he loves me. But he does not understand the importance of the moot. You are more calculating, thoughtful...I know you will have questions that he will be unable to answer.”

Nazmyr began to feel a little more comfortable and sat down in a chair of his choosing.

“If that is the case, why would I help you?”

“Because you are Ishtoshen’s brother and he...”

“Ishtoshen does not need my help Obarra as you have plainly stated. You do.” Nazmyr interrupted. “ I do not look upon you and see what Ishtoshen sees. You have won my brother’s heart and that is the only reason I tolerate you. And it is because of that tolerance, which is wearing thin by the way, that we are having this conversation. So tell me Obarra, why would I help you?”

Obarra always knew Nazmyr to be the charming one but his icy demeanor unnerved her. This was a side of him she did not want experience first hand yet should could not help but smile. It was for this reason she wanted his help in the first place. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Very well.”

“There is a tribe of orcs we call orogs, you might also know them as uruk-hai. They are master craftsmen, the best my people have to offer. Their skills at forging arms and armor equal if not exceed that of dwarves.”

“How does this benefit me?”

“The tribe is relatively isolated and they are poor negotiators. I have no doubts that there is a great opportunity for you. “

The room was uncomfortably silent as Nazmyr considered Obarra’s words.

“Well done Obarra!” Nazmyr’s sudden outburst startled Obarra. “You have managed to pique my interest. However before I commit I have questions.”

“As I knew you would.” She replied. Gaining Nazmyr’s interest was no small feat and Obarra smiled to herself reveling in her small victory. She knew, however, that getting him to commit was another difficult challenge she must overcome. She anticipated this moment and was well prepared.  

Nazmyr leaned back in his and looked at Obarra, “Tell me. Why is this moot so important?”

She began. “The call to warchiefs is only made during the most dire of times when the nation is at peril. Orcs do not get along well and only come together to fight a common enemy when there is great danger to us all.”

“I see.’ Nazmyr said thoughtfully. “So what is this great danger? Why is the moot being held?”

Obarra offered, “You are aware of the demonic incursions due to the planar breech caused by one of your wizards who foolishly summoned Demogorgon yes?”

Nazmyr nodded not knowing whether he should be offended by Obarra’s ‘your wizards’ comment.

“The sudden influx of demons has caused great trouble for our people. Cities are fortifying, caravans travel less, towns have increased their militias and patrols. It is becoming difficult to find raid targets and casualties from those that are attacked run high. The nation fears very little. Famine however is always a concern. Orcs tend to be poor farmers. We raid and take what we need. Now those resources thin and our people may starve. The demons present not only a physical danger but a danger to our way of life and survival. The Great War Chief is summoning the most prominent of our leaders to plan a response.”

Nazmyr nodded. “Where is the moot being held?”

“The legendary orc city stronghold of Oenkmar. Only the most skilled and well travelled beings outside our race have seen it and lived. Most orcs only dream of going there. If the orc nation has a capital, that is it. The moot is held at a sacred area well hidden within the city. Only the most powerful and respected chieftains know its location.”

“Hmmm.’ Nazmyr uttered thoughtfully. “What can you tell me of this place?”

“It is the stuff of rumor and legend. Oenkmar was once known as the elvish city of Nyftha E'rantaesi… surface elf city.” she added dryly. “The tale goes that a grand horde of orcs led by the most ruthless Orc Chieftan of the time invaded the city and overran it. They killed most of the weak soft skins and made slaves of survivors. Some few were able to flee like cowards, forced back amongst the trees. Orcs have controlled the city ever since, the crown jewel of our empire. Those allowed to travel to Oenkmar often trade and move goods to and from the city, though orc commerce is inefficient at best. No one trusts caravans entering not to be raided or stolen and the few outsiders that know of the city are right to be wary of random attack for perceived insult. Other than that.. it’s really no different than any other major city.” She smirked.

“Right…” Nazmyr said with a hint of sarcasm. “All this is very interesting but it doesn’t explain why you need me to accompany you there?”

“Each Warchief deemed worthy to be heard is allowed to be accompanied by a war band of 12, consisting of the tribe’s fiercest and most trusted warriors. Mine is a violent people...if entire tribes, clans or hordes descended on the city there is no doubt civil war would break out. So the Great Chieftain allows each warchief an entourage of only 12 to represent their tribes. Warriors are selected to offer protection to each warchief and are seen as displays of their power. Only the greatest warriors from each tribe are chosen and it is considered a great honor as most orcs never see the city. Oenkmar is often thought of as the stuff of legends and child’s tales.”

Nazmyr paused and considered her words carefully. “Tell me of the great chieftain Gratnak Muggerbooger?”

“Gratnak Mughrbog is a legendary orc warrior and shaman. His ancestor led the raid on the elf city that would become Oenkmar. He is the next of his line to rule. All recognize his greatness and only the foolish would dare challenge him in combat. None he has faced have survived. All defeated have been eaten. He counts devils among his allies and his personal guard is comprised of Tanarukk. Half orc, half infernal beings of immense power.”

He eats those he defeats?” Nazmyr said with some disgust

Obarra tilted her head and nodded while raising her shoulders.

Nazmyr shook his head...“What can you tell me of his tribe?”

“The Great Chieftain has a standing army of 10,000 warriors and that doesn’t include those who live and work in the city. His horde is amongst the largest and most feared. Where they go none live. They are brutal even by our people. His horde is comprised of lesseer tribes from all the known orc races including the coveted uruk-hai and extremely rare Tanarukk”

Nazmyr was taking in everything Obarra said. “What can you tell me of the other attending tribes and their chieftains?”

Oronarz Gluum leads the The Hell Wolves. He is a Tanaruuk as are his clan. They are smaller yet incredibly fierce, They are skilled worg riders. I count them among my allies.

Ugdbumol Khazar leads the The Dead Boulder Horde comprised of White orcs from the snowy mountains up north. Reclusive, they are bestial even by orc standards and will prey on orc and non orc alike. All are fair game. The Great warchief would be foolish not to at least try to add their strength to his cause.

Burzfish Grubek leads the The Rabid Fury Tribe, beserkers. They are quite barbaric and quite mad. Neither friend nor foe,  I wouldn’t be so foolish as to expect they would abide by the banner of peace. Simple minded, they are best pointed at an enemy and let loose.

Narrash Mulmgog leads the The Black Mouth Tribe. Known for the tar like elixir they drink coloring their mouth and tongue black with ink, many of the most powerful shamans hail from that tribe.

Lorar Gluklump is warchief of The Smelly Foot Warriors. They are at odds with most the other tribes but have a strong enmity with the Vicious fish clan who blame them for fouling the river where they fish by washing their feet in it and poisoning most of the species. They are a large warband and as such were invited.

Ogolthmuk Orbuok leads The Blue Ghost Horde. They dwell deep within the underground caverns of the Underdark. They despise your people and constantly war with them. We’ll find no allies amongst them.

Durbron Yarbag is warchief of The Ancient Sand Clan. They arrive from the Calim desert from far to the south. I’m not sure if you are familiar with the region…” Obarra swore she saw Nazmyr grin but continued without pause. “...It is quite inhospitable and the brown orcs making up the clan are a hardy lot.  

Nagrklak Atumba is the chieftain of The Vicious Fish Clan, They are a fishing community of river orcs living off the waters running through their lands and raiding those who trespass seeking fresh water and food. They despise the Smelly Foot Warriors for washing their repugnant feet in their streams contaminating the water. On a side note their Chieftain is the reigning Naked Trout Champion of the nation.

Snagzum Aguash leads The Broken Skull Horde hail from the Dalelands. They are constantly at war with elves, dwarves and humans. They hate everyone not of orc blood or bond. You will have nothing to fear from them as a member of my warband.

Ughaat Traar is warchief of The Grim Rage Horde. He is a black orc, a rare subrace born from fel magic and incredibly powerful. There is little more I can tell you about them.

Kroagdush Traigul is chieftain of The Crimson Ash Warriors. They live in an active volcano and are said to have an alliance with a red dragon. They have a rivalry with the Hell Wolves and a dislike of the ‘soft’ living Vicious Fish Clan.  

“and…. the last is known only as Fred. He is the one most other tribes fear most. He is Warchief of The Dark Spider Tribe from the Jungles of Chult. He is an orc sorcerer. Rare indeed.”

Nazmyr listened intently taking mental notes.

“Mudbooger, Burntfish, Black Mouth, Smelly Foot...Theirs is a race born for subjugation.” He thought to himself. “So why were these tribes chosen to attend the moot?”

“The most capable and respected chieftains have been invited.” She said with some pride. “Tribes loyal to the nation and proven worthy through battle and raid success are summoned. We warchiefs advise the Great Chieftain when he seeks a unified horde to fight a great enemy. As I said, most tribes gladly fight each other, only the fear and respect of the warchiefs can keep the horde united and prevent bloodshed amongst the ranks….for a time at least.”

The room grew uncomfortably silent again as Nazmyr mentally processed the information Obarra just gave him.

“If I am to partake in this ‘moot’, I want to learn orcish social customs, etiquette, and laws.”

“Obarra smiled, her fangs fully exposed. “I have a sister that could offer you a more...personal insight into our culture.

Nazmyr grimaced as if he had just sucked fresh lemon from Quevas’ bakery.

“Or... perhaps you’d be more comfortable spending time with Berk and Ferk.”

Nazmyr arrogantly smirked “No my dear, I would have the chieftain herself teach me the ways of her people. Only then shall we have an accord.”

Obarra rose from her her seat towering over Nazmyr.  “Agreed.” She said without hesitation.

As Nazmyr stood up  Obarra inhaled deep, spat into her hand, and thrust it out towards him.

Nazmyr looked at her thoroughly repulsed.

Now is was Obarra’s turn to smile. “Lesson one: We seal the deal.”

“A pleasant unexpected bonus.” Nazmyr noted to himself as he sat comfortably on a large oversized couch accented with large comfortable cushions. He he grabbed a crystal decanter resting on a nearby table and poured himself two fingers of Anterian Brandy. He held up his glass and briefly admired the cobalt blue liquor before taking a sip of the naturally cool libation.

He placed his beverage on the table, leaned back in to the soft cushions, and  casually shuffled an arcane deck of cards. Nonchalantly he tossed a card onto the floor. In a burst of light and glittering dust ten pixies appeared where the card landed.

Shelsa, who was napping, was awoken by the burst of light. Upon seeing the pixies, she immediately began to stalk them. One by one she hunted and ‘killed’ the illusionary pixies. Nazmyr found the entire spectacle amusing and continued to drink while Shelsa hunted.

As the last pixie corpse faded, Shelsa jaunted onto the couch next to Nazmyr.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you some questions.” She said.

“By all means.” Said Nazmyr as he consumed yet another glass of Anterian Brandy.

“What do you see in Langwidere?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? It’s a straightforward question. It’s not very nice to you or anyone else for that matter.”

“She comes off as childish and spoiled at first appearance, but she's probably lonely.”

“And it’s a liar. I like Dahlia. You should pick her for your mate.”

Nazmyr nearly choked on his drink. “Wait! What?!”

“Langwidere. It’s a liar. You do know ‘she’ isn’t real right?”

“Langwidere is a liar? What do you mean ‘she’ isn’t real?”

“‘She’ isn’t real. ‘She’ is a construct. Constructs can’t be allergic and therefore it is a liar. I think it is taking advantage you. I don’t like it. You didn’t know Langwidere is a construct?”

Nazmyr began to get flustered. “Langwidere is a ‘she’ and not an ‘it’. And yes, I know what she is but there is more to it than that. I think her soul is trapped or something like that. I haven’t completed my research.”

“ You're very busy. You should get an assistant. You should ask Dahlia to help you.”

“What?! No! Dahlia…”

“Yes of course! You’re right! Never mix business with pleasure. I’ll be your assistant then.”

“I don’t need an assistant!” Nazmyr balked

“Yes you do. You didn’t know Langwidere was a lying construct. That’s very dangerous. You’re lucky I came along when I did.”

“I know Langwidere! She’s….”

“Lying construct?”

“I was going to say confused.”

“I think you’re confused. Langwidere is a lying construct. Dahlia is a beautiful flesh and blood Jinn. An easy choice if you as me. Maybe Dahlia…”

“Tell Dahlia nothing of Langwidere!”

“I was about to say maybe Dahlia will visit soon. I enjoy her company and so do you. Maybe she will be able to dispel some of your confusion. Think about it. I’m gonna take a walk. Oh! Thanks for the pixies it was fun!”

Nazmyr leaned back heavily on the couch. He reached over to the table bypassed the glass and went straight to the bottle.

“Apologies my lord.’ Stammered one of the guards. “We were given strict orders not to allow you...”

“Do you know who I am?” Nazmyr sneered in whispered tones.

The guard nodded his head in the affirmative.

“Then you know what I am capable of.”

Once again the guard nodded his head in the affirmative.

Nazmyr pushed past the guard, spoke an esoteric word, jaunted through the gate, and made his way to the palace. The remaining guards took Nazmyr for his word and did nothing to impede him. A runner was sent to inform the Steward of Nazmyr’s arrival. The Steward was quick to stay ahead of Nazmyr in order to inform Lady Ev of his arrival. He raced up the crescent white marble staircase to an elaborately hand carved white oak door and gently knocked.

“What is it?!” demanded Langwidere.

“Apologies Lady Ev.” Replied the Steward “Lord Nazmyr Vandree is here to see you.”

“I made it quite clear that he was no longer welcome here!”

The door opened, Nazmyr spoke an esoteric word disabling the glyph protecting the threshold before he entered. Shelsa followed and found a comfortable spot on Langwidere’s vanity chair.

“How dare you!” Langwidere shrieked.

The Steward closed the door behind Nazmyr before making a hasty retreat.

“You must allow me to explain…”

“I must allow nothing! To my recollection Langwidere rules Ev not Nazmyr!”

“I understand…”

“You understand nothing! I held a celebration specifically to introduce you to the people of Ev as my consort, and without a word of warning you have the audacity not to attend?! Get out!”

“Lang…”

“Never speak my name again! Remove yourself from my sight or I’ll have you horsewhipped! I’ll set the dogs on you!”

Langwidere turned her back to Nazmyr refusing to look at him. Nazmyr could not see her face but it was obvious that she was weeping.

Since verbal explanation was clearly a poor option at the moment, Nazmyr decided to let actions speak for themselves. He retrieved a small black velvet box from his pocket. He gently opened the lid to reveal the wonderment contained within. He took a deep breath, dropped to one knee, and patiently waited.  

Langwidere struggled to control her emotions. Sensing Nazmyr was still present, she quickly spun to unleash her fury upon him. She was taken off guard when she saw Nazmyr on bended knee offering her a brass ring intricately carved in fiery patterns. In the center of the ring was a dark red gemstone marbled with faint light-green veins haloed by with what could be only described as melted diamonds. Langwidere was caught up in a torrent of emotion and found herself unable to physically act or speak.

Nazmyr rose, freed the ring from its resting place, gently took her quivering hand, and placed it upon her finger. Langwidere noted that the metal was warm to the touch though not uncomfortably so. The stone seemed to burn and wave in the light like wind whispering over a low flame. The diamonds sparkled and moved as well giving the illusion of running water. Never had she beheld anything so beautiful.

“There are only 2 craftsmen in all the City of Brass who can properly work the Zuristone mined from the lava vents of the Plane of Molten Sky.” Nazmyr began. “I cannot excuse my poor planning. And I apologize for my absence and my lack of communication.”

Langwidere looked Nazmyr in the eye. He could see the tears streaming down her face, even though the mask.

“Please accept this gift as a sign of my affection. And when you look upon the ring, know you are in my thoughts always…even when we are apart.”

Langwidere was still flustered and said nothing.

Nazmyr gently removed Langwidere’s mask and wiped the tears from her cheeks. He moved to kiss her and she turned away.

‘No.” she said in pouty voice. “I’m still angry with you.”

“You are within your right. Let me make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Allow me to surprise you.”

Langwidere turned away from Nazmyr to be coy and noticed a large grey and white cat with rather long hair and a very ‘intelligent’ expression on her face sitting on the vanity chair. Langwidere immediately sneezed.

“Achoo! What is that?” She said with displeasure in her voice. “Achoo!”

“This is Shelsa.”

“You’ll have to get rid of it. I’m allergic to cats. Achoo!”

“I can’t get rid of it, she’s a familiar.”

“Achoo! Then make it go away!”

Before he could speak Nazmyr heard a disembodied voice in his head. “No need to say anything; I’ll excuse myself.” Said Shelsa. “You have your hands full with this one.”

Shelsa walked past Langwidere looking her in the eye as she left the room and decided she didn’t like her.

“Achoo! Filthy beast.” Said Langwidere as Shelsa made her exit. “I hope for your sake that was not the surprise you had in mind Nazmyr.”

Indeed it was not the surprise Nazmyr had in mind. Weeks before he returned to Langwidere, Nazmyr secretly arraigned a birthday ball for her. Invitations crafted of black wove paper, scripted with gold ink and decorated with elaborate calligraphy were hand delivered to every noble, politician, and important merchant within the kingdom. Later that day invited guests traveled the palace walk, passed through a gateway flanked by two marble pegasi, and onto the palace yard. The palace was surrounded by well-manicured grounds, full of flowers and trimmed shrubbery. Several tinkling marble fountains could be seen, and there were pleasant walks bordered by rows of white marble statuary. The walks were illuminated by the golden glow of paper lanterns which hung from expertly crafted iron rods. Servants dressed in black and gold stood at the ready bearing refreshments for the guests.

As the sun set the guests mingled on the palace yard sharing gossip and enjoying high-end beverages and expertly crafted hors d’oeuvres. As the last bit of sun vanished, pyrotechnics in all matter of shape, size and color exploded overhead startling some of the guests.

The guests stood and watched in awe as a hot air balloon illuminated by the light of the pyrotechnics drifted into view. As the balloon drifted closer, four silken ropes were cast from the basket. As the balloon drifted closer still, acrobats assuming artistic poses slid down the ropes and anchored the balloon to the ground.

The Steward, clad in crimson and gold, addressed the crowd. “My Lords and Ladies, it is with great honor that I present to you, her majesty, the Lady Ev, and her consort, Lord Nazmry Vandree!”

Two footmen lowered the gangplank-type door and Langwidere and Nazmyr exited the basket.

Nazmyr, who was dressed in his finest cloths, also wore a mask, as a sign of unity with Langwidere. Hand in hand the pair stepped forward and Nazmyr addressed the crowd.

“Welcome!” he shouted.

The pair then turned and retired to the palace signaling that the guests are to do the same.

The doormen bowed with dignity as the guests walked past the ceremonial guards outfitted in full-dress uniforms and into the Grand Entrance Hall.

Servants dressed in black and gold stood with silver trays supporting magnums of champagne for the guests.

A score of musicians in full court regalia took their places in the Grand Hallway.

The Chamberlain, clad in blue and gold, marched in holding a large golden rod topped with the royal crest. He stopped, purposefully looked around, and banged the rod three times upon the floor which echoed clearly and resoundingly throughout the hall.

“My Lords and Ladies…the Royal March!” Chamberlain announced.

The band struck up with a vigorous play of song. Everyone halted their conversations and watched. When the last refrains of the song died out the Chamberlain banged the rod three times upon the floor and announced “My Lords and Ladies…The Receiving Line!”

The guests were funneled through the Receiving Line towards the Grand Dining Room.

The Chamberlain was at the forefront of The Receiving Line announcing the next guest.

“The Right Honorable Dabron Sashen, Master of the League of Merchants.”

Dabron bowed “Your Majesty, it is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

“And yours as well. Thank you for coming to my birthday celebration. Have I had the pleasure of meeting you previously?”

“Your Majesty, I have not had the honor of meeting you previously. I’m Dabron Sashen, Master of the League of Merchants.”

“May I present my consort, Lord Nazmyr Vandree.”

“'Tis a pleasure.” Said Nazmyr.

“The pleasure is mine, Lord Vandree. I've been looking forward to this moment for some time.”

“Oh?”

“Much has been spoken of you. We are indebted to you... for the rescue of our queen. The people of Ev shall never forget you.”

“Please, sir, it was nothing. I am sure that within a month, you will not even remember my name.” Nazmyr quipped.

Dabron bowed. “Not likely my Lord. Thank you for thinking of me.”

He then addressed Langwidere “Happy birthday.”

The Chamberlain marched into the Grand Dining Room. He again purposefully looked around the room, and banged the rod three times upon the floor.

“My Lords and Ladies…Dinner is served!”

The guests found their seats among the sea of tables filled with decadence. Before the guests began their meals, Nazmyr rose with a magnum of champagne in hand and raised it to the center of the room.

“My Lords and Ladies! I wish to make a toast!”

The guests fell silent and raised their glasses.

Addressing the guests Nazmyr said “Lady Ev has made far too much of the assistance I gave her at the armory. When I arrived, I watched as the criminals, point a smoke powder pistols at her and threatened to end her life.”

Some of the guests gasped in disbelief.

“Lady Ev's reply to all this was..."Do your worst."

Some of the guests murmured in approval.

Nazmyr turn toward Langwidere and looked her into her eyes.

“Life is a storm, my love. You will bask in the sunlight one moment, be shattered on the rocks the next. What makes you a queen...is what you do when that storm comes. You must look into that storm and shout, as you did at the armory, "Do your worst...for I will do mine." Then the fates will know you as we know you, as Lady Ev, the Queen.”