Game: Blades of Git'riban : Primal State

Ii'Jyka'Vaar positions herself in an alley up the street from the corner where she can both watch the exchange ahead and signal back to the others. She can step behind a corner to avoid being seen. The rain of earlier has gone, though there are fogs and mists clinging to the streets. Ii's dragonrider's eyesight seves her well, and the mists aid her in remaining hidden from the greenskirts on the corner.

The Hive Brothel

A satyr, immaculately groomed, heavilly pierced, and reeking of vanilla, approaches Ya'shenn and Daraz. He offers his services as a 'guide'.

Ya'shenn feigns concern, "Sir, when we came through our portal, it looked like one of your customers was killing one of your greenskirts and robbing her. He was heavily armed ..."

"Wh ... What!?! Why that cross-trader! Guards!" He calls to the pair of burly hobgoblins watching the stairs.

"Now's our chance," she whispers to Daraz. The short commotion also attracts the attention of the various greenskirts, and only one notices Ya'shenn and Daraz go down the stairs. Yashenn notices her, a youngish human with short blonde hair and makeup concieling a bruised cheek. "Come with us." Ya'shenn tells her, and she obeys. As they descend the stairs, Ya'shenn speaks quickly to the greenskirt, acertaining her disposition toward her 'employers'. The prostitute answers truthfully and easilly, as if chatting with an old friend. She is (unsurprisingly) unhappy with her life, being little more than a pleasure-slave to the lowest scum of the planes. She harbors resentment and a stubborn spite, but she is also kept in line through fear. Ya'shenn stops her on the stairs, and they lock eyes. "You hate your masters. As if watching a dream, you will not react to violence against them. You will lie, or go along with the lies of others, to bring them subtle harm."

Daraz, decending the stairs a few steps ahead of Ya'shenn and the greenskirt, sees a pair of hobgoblin guards below. The staircase is a sweeping marble spiral, with a space in the middle. There is no railing, for it must have been tore out and looted some time ago. The guards do not notice Daraz. They are armed with stout clubs, and one has a whip coiled around his torso. Both also have daggers in belts at their waists. They are otherwise unarmored and unclothed, and both are eunuchs.

From the knowledge that Ya'shenn had taken from Grazz's mind, the gith know that before them lie a number of old, but well made, cellars and vaults that the illithid have stocked with their own mixture of oppulent and horrific luxuries. Once past the guards that Daraz now sees, there is a long decending ramp, likely guarded at the far end as well. Beyond that they should be able to sneak around the cellars, hopefully avoiding detection, for most of the rooms will be empty. At one end of the 'inner offices' is a hallway with several vaults with the doors removed (all but one, which is the Hive Brothel's treasury). These are the portals to other rooms in Illithid House. Once there, Daraz and Ya'shenn are to get ready to ambush any illithids fleeing the warriors' attack.

***

The Festhall District

Ii'jyka'vaar signals to Gy-Nath and Du'minh from her position. "Hmm, four greenskirts and a pimp in front of the portal. If they know the nature of their masters, they will be on the lookout for the People of Gith, but i doubt that they do. The pimp, however, is likely to be the problem. I figure he either does know the illithid are masters of the Hive Brothel, or he is mentally dominated, and will raise the alarm once he spots us. Du'minh, will you ready your bow once we hear the signal? I'd teleport down there, but would rather conserve my power for now."

"The other issue is that while this street corner isn't busy, it's not exactly deserted either. We will be through the portal long before any Hardheads, Minders, or Sons of Mercy can respond, but there is always a chance that some berk will see us kill these greenskirts in cold blood and try to get in our way."

***

The Airspace Above the Hive Ward

The sulfurous clouds over the Hive, are as bad, in their own way, as the fumes of Avernus. Ar'dru's draconic lungs can tolerate such punishment, but the smell is still nausiating. Then there are the unpredictable air currents, which seem to get far more unpredictable over the Hive Ward. Though he is not the only flier in the Sigilan 'sky' Ardru's most dangerous opponent remains Sigil's 'weather'. Ar'dru, heavilly laden with flasks and ceramic jars, does not have an easy time of it, and is even forced to land near the Gatehouse for a few minutes. Once he takes wing again, he soon catches sight of the Marble District. After a few careful passes, he identifies the half-ruined mansion housing the Hive Brothel.

The Hive Brothel - Exterior

The brothel is housed in a sprawling, partially ruined marble mansion. There are three different wings, one more ruined and squalid than the others. The main house has three levels, the lowest one tall enough for a titan. The archetecture is awe-inspiring, but it has been a long time since the Marble Disctrict was taken over by the Hive. The white marble exterior is stained with long red-brown streaks of oxidation from Sigil's rain. Doors, railings, and slabs of marble have been carted away and sold by hivers. In the more-ruined wing, whole sections have been replaced by shanties of scavenged blocks, wood, and tarps. Even in the two better-kept wings, windows and doors are made of rags.

On the main mansion, there are a few balconies, some empty, some with carousing patrons and greenskirts. All are oblivious to Ar'dru's presence.

Daraz takes aim ... and shoots the guard with the whip through the neck. The bolt in fact passes right through, and the second guard looks over at his companion with some confusion, not understanding why he is clutching his throat and sinking to his knees. As such, Daraz has time to reload and fire at the second guard before the hobgoblin can properly react.

[DM - Daraz has (crit 20) initiative, shot 1st guard in surprize round, 2nd guard will still be flat-footed.]

The tiefling brandishes a pair of shortswords, but pauses. He takes a long, hard look at Ar'dru; tall, draconic, heavily armored, and armed to the teeth. Without droping his shivs, the tiefer snatches up his pants and backs out of the room.

"She's all yours, basher."

The Festhall District

Ii'jyka'vaar runs into the knot of greenskirts, and slashes the hairless dwarf from groin to neck. Her follow-up swing takes a significant chunk from the top of her victem's skull. The dwarf stumbles backwards, bleeding heavily from the fatal wounds. The greenskirts' faces betray their horror. As hive-dwellers and Sigilan street-rats, they have seen and perpetuated violence before, but there is a big difference between a shanking with a dagger and the horrific wounds the githyanki warrior is inflicting. Blood sprays out of the dwarf, drenching the closest prostitute.

Gy-Nath is not far behind. He strikes with his bastard sword, opening another greenskirt's abdomen. "Thralls and pawns! May your blood slicken these stones and nourish nothing!" he yells.

The sudden and vicious attack leaves most of the greenskirts stunned and reconsidering their decision to obey their bosses. The androgynous human, however, does not hesitate (s)he lashes Gy-Nath's face, drawing blood. Another one of the greenskirts stabs at him with a dagger, but the blade is turned aside by his godsteel armor.

Du'minh puts up his bow and charges forward swinging his flail. The prime in chain mail, showing more wisdom than expected, does nothing to hinder him, instead standing aside and protecting his companion. The prime does, however, start yelling at the top of his lungs, "Guards! Murder! Guards! By the Gods why doesn't anyone come? What kind of lawless city is this? Guards!"

The Hive Brothel

(downstairs)

The pair of hobgoblin guards see the trio approaching down the hall without much concern. That is, until Daraz chants a short arcane phrase and blasts them with a spout of flame from his fingertips. Both are burned, but manage to dive aside and avoid the worst of the blast. Seeing that Daraz's spell did not prove fatal, Ya'shenn draws the dorje they took off the illithid watchers and points it at one of the guards. Just as the hobgoblin gets back to his feet and readies himself to spring at the intruders, he is hit by a concussive force that flings him off the balcony. The still-sizzling guard crashes to the floor, breaking a table in the process, and does not get back up. On the other side of the room, the other pair of guards are taken aback. They had been watching their own door, under orders to prevent escape, not watch for intrusion. It takes a few moments for the dull-witted guards to understand what is going on, but once they do, they pick up their clubs and come charging accross the room.

The greenskirt, meanwhile, once again seems to go into a barely-aware stupor as soon as violence breaks out.

(upstairs)

Ar'dru sets the room on fire and strides out into the hall. There are greenskirts emerging from similar rooms, curious to see what is happening. Coming down the hall is a pimp, a derro wearing platform shoes to make him all of four feet tall, flanked by a pair of hobgoblin guards. At first he is busy ordering the greenskirts back into their rooms, but then catches sight of the smoke and flame, and the armored half-dragon, and yells to one of the greenskirts to run and fetch reinforcements.

The Festhall District

Ii'jyka'vaar ... hears? Feels? Senses? A sigh of satisfaction come from her blade as it slays the dwarf, and consumes his very soul.

Several short blasts from a whistle are heard from a few blocks away, a signal that someone, Minder, Harmonium, or Son of Mercy, has heard the cry of "Murder" and is summoning reinforcements as they move to respond. Is is rather unlikely, however, that any aid will arrive before the githyanki are through the portal, for the battle is rather one-sided, dispite the greenskirts' efforts, as the lightly armed whores are really no match for three seasoned githyanki warriors, armored and armed to the teeth.

The Hive Brothel (upstairs)

Ar'dru tosses alchemists' fire right and left, in one case shattering a flask on the back of a patron's head as he lay with his greenskirt on a filthy matress. The derro 'associate' orders his guards to attack, but he himself runs off cursing Sinkers and Kaasta. [Yes, he's an idiot.]

The pair of hobgob eunichs rush Ar'dru wielding stout clubs. As they close in, he notices a telltale scar on their temples, and the familiar fierce-yet-vacant look of soldier-thralls bound to their illithid masters' wills. One of them lands a solid blow on Ar'dru's skull just as he draws his own weapon.