Underdark Conspiracies (Hamadryad & Rivine)

The wagon crept along at an easy pace, its rusty old wheels creaking away under the weight of the cabin and its inhabitants. Leading it were too great, green riding lizards who were ushered along by the grey-skinned wagon's master, who sipped away at his flask full Drow liquor more often than was particularly good for his health. Marching aside the wagon were six slaves baring the heraldry of the Countess Viconia Cobaer, two riding lizards attempting to eat each other by the tail in a circle, very similar to the human uroboros. Their mithral armour clanked away as they marched, though it could only be heard softly from those within. It had been a short journey from Countess Cobaer's compound, though it was often slowed by collections of Drow in the street refusing to step aside, causing the honour guard aside the wagons to get to pushing and shoving.

The inhabitants within were a colourful bunch, in the meaning that they were particularly unique. In the finest seat sat the Countess Viconia herself, her shoulder cape pushed aside her, draping over her left arm. A leg sat swung over the other, concealing the interior of her intricate leather shortskirt from prying eyes. She sat with an elbow on her armrest, idly leaning her cheek into her smooth palm, slim long-nailed fingers occasionally drumming along her cheekbone lightly.

Aside her rested the broad and heavily armoured Captain Dresden. He would occasionally shift uncomfortably due to his being forced to sit down in his bulking armour. His long, white hair fell down to his shoulders aside his face which showed signs of wrinkles, such a sight in a Drow denoted extreme age. He held a stern gaze, ever scanning for threads even within the safety of the wagon. Though still a slave of the House Cobaer, Viconia greatly respected him, and such was a commonly known fact.

By the window sat perhaps one of the most beautiful Drow to walk the city of Guallidurth, Talice Abbune. She was young, though already had a reputation as a competent warlock. Though, either her dangerous trade or some event in her past seems to have had an affect on her, as she often showed signs of absent mindedness, one of which she showed off in this moment. Her eyes were glazed over as she stared off into nothingness, completely oblivious to any action within the wagon or any conversation. Her staff rested against her idly, though with the occasional bump from the degraded city streets it would slide along her body, even though she would never move to adjust it.

Next to Talice sat a rather frail, bony man. He had a sinister look about him, even as he calmly entertained himself with one of the Countess' young handmaidens, his long bony fingers delving deep into the crevices of her silken panties. This man was known as Jaezdal Seerarn to those of the house, though if it was even his true name no one knew. He was a slippery character, respected by all and trusted by none. This man heard all and saw all, and knew just the right Drow for the given job at hand. He was well connected, despite his flawed and lustful character.

And finally, directly across from the Countess sat Bar'or, a longterm slave of the House Cobaer, and one of Viconia's personal favorites. He was a capable Drow, showing capabilities in both combat and statecraft, not to mention his independent and reserved attitude. He was often given important tasks to complete, which he often went about with great effectiveness and efficiency. Though, despite his dedication and skill, he was never truly trusted, never utilised in Viconia's grand schemes, until today. Today he was to be initiated into Viconia's inner circle. Truthfully, the faithful Drow was told nothing of what was involved in his induction.

Suddenly, his deep thought was broken by the Countess' soft, mesmerising voice, "So, Bar'or, do you think yourself ready to serve?" she asked, inquisitive pale red eyes meeting with his own.

As the coach bounced along the paved roads of Guallidurth, Bar'or could not help but think about how he had come to be there. The young drow had long been in the service of House Cobaer, at the very least as long as he could remember. Technically he was a slave, owned by the house, but he had not been treated as such in a long while. No, Bar'or had proven himself to have to many talents to just be used in the fighting pits to make the house some coin. His martial prowess combined with his aptitude for handling, and more importantly siphoning, arcane energies proved to be a combination that could not be thrown away.

Now he sat among the most powerful drow of his house. Of course he knew the Countess, how could he not? It had been she that had deemed him worth enough to have a name in his eighty second year. Furthermore he recognized the Captain as well as mistress Abbune, both of whom he had trained with at different times. But there was another male who's name he did not know, but whom Bar'or had seen in passing. The young drow tried to ignore lewd acts that the male was performing on one of the Countess' own handmaidens, but it was rather hard to, considering the sounds. Of course that caused him to become somewhat excited. Such things were not an uncommon occurrence among the house, but Bar'or had always had quite the responsive libido. So he was quite thankful when the Countess spoke to him.

Bar'or's golden hued eyes shifted so that he could look at her, though he was careful not to look the Countess in the eyes. "I am ready to serve, Countess. I am your servant and whatever task you set before me I shall either conquer or die in the attempt," he stated unflinchingly. Without thinking his right hand slid down to his belt, his fingers caressing the pommel of his blade. The weapon was strange amongst the drow, heavy and meant to cleave and slash more than to be used in quick strikes. Like it's wielder it often produced results that were unexpected by others.

The slave was quiet for a moment as he touched the weapon, then dared to ask a question of the Countess, "What is it you wish me to do?"

The Countess Viconia peered over him delicately as he performed his monologue, continuing to expressionlessly drum her fingers upon her cheekbone. She provided a slight dip of her head in acknowledgement once he finished, her brow perking up a little as he asked his question. The countess paused in consideration for a moment, noting Dresden's flinch at the moment Bar'or stroked the pommel of his blade, the Captain had never trusted the youthful Drow.

After a long silence, the Countess spoke, "I'd like you to see something before I bring you into the grander affairs of the House," she stated. Taking a slight look out the window. If he was to do the same, Bar'or would find that the wagon had turned into the slums of the town, notorious for extremely high casualty rate and terrifying levels of poverty. Even now as the wagon roamed along orphans, bare to the world and covered in muck and grime ran about the streets in the search for vermin so that they may survive the week without starvation. Occasionally, a scream was heard in the distance or from in nearby buildings. There were no soldiers here, no militia, it was a wasteland within civilisation.

Though, the wagon rolled on through the grime and muck, the honour guard outside it having their capes and boots muddied with the filth of the 'roads'. The wagon stopped for a moment as a ruckus was heard outside. Dresden readied himself, hand on the hilt of his blade as yelling and commands rang throughout the wagon. Peering out the window would see a scene of the honour guards dragging out a frail, skeletal drow male with long ragged hair by his arms. With an angered swipe, another guard took a dark leather waterskin from the apparent thief's hand and fastened it back around his belt. Though, the man wasn't let off once the property was returned. Within a few moments the man's hands were forcefully pressed against a low stone wall where they were hacked off by one of the guardsmen, and he was set free again. In a society like this, extremes were the norm. With all 'well' again, the wagon soldiered on to its destination.

The slave had of course noticed the Countess' reaction to the boldness of his question, but he figured that it was not something so out of turn as to warrant punishment. His mistress had always been hard, but not unneedly so in Bar'or's estimation. Yes she punished slaves, made examples when she needed to, but he had seen and heard of much, much worse. So when she stated that there was something she wished for him to see, Bar'or's gaze followed her own, unconcerned as to there being any consequences for his question.

As he looked out upon the slums the drow wondered why the Countess wished for him to see this. The orphans, beggars, thieves, the lowest of the low. These creatures lived a cursed life, the kind of life that even Bar'or had not lived. Before he was given a name he had been treated worse than the riding lizards that the house kept, but at least he had been clean and had had food. Bar'or could not even begin to fathom what it was like to be one of the wretches that he saw outside.

Bar'or watched as a thief was caught, his hands removed, his eyes not wavering from the sight. As the wagon moved on though he caste a glance over to the Countess, gazing at her for a long moment as he though. Why had she wanted him to see this? Not wanting to seem impudent he turned back to look outside again, not asking the questions that floated around in his mind. What was it she wanted of him?

Viconia turned her gaze to Bar'or and watched him, naught but the soft coos of her handmaiden being pleasured and the creak of the wagon wheels sounding throughout the cabin. She assessed the drow before her, examining his unaltered expression as he looked upon the commoners outside.

Suddenly, she once more broke the relative quiet, "Worry yourself not with the plights of these wretches, for they are meaningless to us" she merely stated, "They are not what I want you to see".

The wagon carried on for a brief moment longer before suddenly turning up an alleyway, guards leading it from the front and back. Jaezdal took note of the change of direction and hurried his work, ravaging the handmaiden's slit fiercely under her panties until she drove her to a loud climax. The sinister drow recalled his bony fingers from her clothing and gave an audible slurp of his digits, sucking them dry of the handmaiden's juices.

The sound of old, rusty gates opening was heard within the wagon before it progressed into a dingy courtyard. The Countess suddenly stood up fully, most of her party doing the same. After receiving an audible slap on her behind from Jaezdal, the handmaiden aided her mistress in exiting the wagon. Dresdel was the next to leave, hand held tightly around the hilt of his blade, though before he stepped out through the door he called back over his shoulder for Bar'ol to bring Talice back to reality with that method he figured out. Jaezdal gave Bar'ol a sly grin, that same mischevious grin he always gave him the few times he saw the young Drow about the compound.

Finally, Bar'ol was left within the wagon with the absent-minded, blank faced Talice. She truly was a sight to behold, a huge but shapely bust, wide hips with a curvaceous behind and thick thighs. A refined layer of muscle all over her body that most Drow had made her looks even more enticing to the eye. Not many people knew how to bring Talice back from her little bouts of mindlessness, though Bar'ol figured one out some time go ago. He always thought the sudden shock and pain from a pinched nipple would wake anyone up, so one day he tried it out on Talice, and as though he were a miracle worker, it succeeded. Now, it was time for him to rouse her back to the land of the living.

As if she were reading his mind, something not out of the realm of possibility Bar'or knew, the Countess informed him that the slum dwellers were not what she wanted him to see. The slave nodded slightly, but still looked outside. Bar'or had always been curious about the world around him, even from a young age. But it had not been until the last few decades that he had been allowed outside of the compound. He had heard tales of the city of Guallidurth, of it's enormous size. Those had always interested him, but he had been even more fascinated to hear about the tunnels and caverns surrounding them and the whisperings of the world above. Seeing the slums helped to kindle something within him, a yearning to see more, to learn of things with his own eyes.

It was the sound of the gates that tore Bar'or from his own thoughts. He glanced around, wondering if anyone had noticed how he had drifted off into thought, but everyone seemed to be focused on other things. The young drow managed to catch the last seconds of the thinner male slurping his fingers clean and looked away quickly. Bar'or was no virgin of course, but there was just something about the other male that seemed off to him. But he did not have time to contemplate what it might be, for the wagon stopped and the Countess rose. Bar'or maintained his seat until all the others, save Talice, had risen. He too was about to exit, but then the captain shouted a command to him.

Bar'or nodded and waited for all the others to leave, glancing over at the warlock. It had been some time ago that he had discovered how to wake Talice from one of her trances. A small smile formed on his lips as he moved over and reached out. This time though rather than going straight for her nipple he cupped one of her breasts, taking a few seconds to massage it before he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing as he murmured, "Talice, you are needed."

The young warlock remained oblivious to Bar'or's groping as his fingers and palm sunk into her breast's soft flesh. Her breasts managed to keep so shapely yet still retain the ultimate level of softness. Though, the Drow put an end to his fun quickly and stirred Talice with a hard pinch, causing her to blink and look about in confusion. It took her some time gain her baring before turning her gaze to Bar'or.

"Thank you, Bar'or," she said in a sweet tone "One day I'll figure out how you do it!" she continued before standing up, taking up her staff with her. The warlock gave him a quick wink before stepping out of the wagon, leaving him completely alone to consider his situation and what may be waiting for him outside. When he was ready, he was free to go out and join his mistress and her party.

Bar'or stepped back slightly as Talice stirred, coming back to reality. The male inclined his head slightly to her as she thanked him, a small smile playing upon his lips. "It is a secret that I am sure you can coax from me one day," was his mischievous retort to her statement about figuring out how he did it. Bar'or's eyes followed her as she left, noticing her wink as well as the sublime form of her ass. Was Talice trying to entice him? Perhaps later he would have to find out. Now however was not the time.

He took a moment to take stock, fingers dancing over the familiar places where he had daggers hidden, making sure his sword was loose in the sheathe, the throwing axes he carries were in their loops on his belt and that a pouch on his belt still held the three potions that he had, one to combat poisons and two for healing. He was not sure what the Countess was wishing to show him and the others had seemed casual enough, but he had learned long ago that it was good to be prepared when going to any gathering involving other drow. Satisfied that he had all he needed he stepped out of the coach, following the others, curious and nervous all at once.

He stepped out into the courtyard, and was met with a rather unremarkable sight. It was old, the stone used to build it had long since begun to wear away. Shoddy repair jobs had been performed all about the place to keep walls and buildings from collapsing, and it was apparent that many of the buildings within the courtyard had had their doors and windows replaced countless times. There was a foul smell to the air, though what it was Bar'or couldn't quite put his finger on.

The Countess' party stood several feet from him, conversing with a short and rugged dwarf. The stocky, albeit malnourished dwarf turned his gaze towards Bar'or, dipping his head toward him to alert the party of his presence. He wore nought put a pair of baggy pants and grungy hat, his skeletal torso exposed to the cold cavern air.

All eyes fell upon Bar'or approached, and the Countess stepped forward, the dwarf trailing behind her as she did so. The Countess lowered a hand towards the dwarf before speaking.

"Bar'or, this is Rusty, a slave of mine," she said as she indicated the ragged dwarf, "He oversees this little courtyard and its buildings".

The dwarf gave him a slow nod, it seemed apparent that Rusty wasn't particularly talkative.

"Have you wondered as to the purpose of this courtyard, Bar'ol?" the Countess asked quietly, running two thin fingers through the dwarf's wiry hair sticking out from just under his hat. The dwarf let off a ever so small hint of a scowl which the observant Bar'or picked up on.

Bar'or's eyebrows furrowed as he stepped out into the courtyard, taking the area in. There was a very odd scent to the place indeed and it, like most of the slums, looked to be in an incredible state of disrepair. Why would the Countess ever wish to bring him to such a place? The buildings barely stood, and yet she seemed to be keenly interested in whatever was there, so much so that she had brought him there to show it to him.

His attention turned to the Countess as she addressed him, introducing him to another one of her slaves, this one a dwarf. Bar'or barely glanced at the creature, figuring that it was less important than what it oversaw. When the Countess asked if he wondered about the purpose of the place, he nodded. "Yes Countess. I cannot imagine why you would wish to be associated with such a place. What purpose does it serve?" the young drow warrior asked her.

Quickly his gaze dashed to the dwarf she was petting, noticing the scowl. Was the creature mad about it's treatment? Or something else?

He looked back to the Countess, his golden eyes full of curiosity, but also some apprehension and suspicion. Bar'or knew that the Countess was crafty and often thought many steps ahead of her enemies as well as those who served her. What was it that she was planning?

Viconia gave a smirk as she replied, twirling about elegantly and motioning for him to follow her with a single, delicate digit "I shall show you, then," she said. The Countess strutted along slowly, almost deliberately so, her hips tilting from side to side as she walked. It was a stroll she was famous for. She always wore clothes to show it off too, while she wore a skirt which fell about her ankles, it was little more than a thin transparent veil, revealing her half-cut silk panties underneath which allowed all to see alluring jiggle of her compact, but soft and delicate rear. The slaves of the House had always wanted to lie with their mistress, she was ever so attractive, both in body and person. Bar'or was no exception, though he was never given the oppurtunity to lie with her, such an honour was reserved for her handmaidens and male slaves over in House Zauviir's high class brothel, they were top of the line apparently.

She led Bar'or through the courtyard and into one of the buildings, palming the creaky old door aside. Bar'or noticed that the dwarf had followed them in. The room was completely empty, save the crumbled bits of rubble strewn around and a single dirty rug placed across the floor, though the young Drow male would notice a large stone panel in the wall, and as the trio approached it the strange smell Bar'or had noticed began to intensify.

"Open this one," the Countess commanded towards the dwarf, indicating the panel on the wall. With a huff he followed her command, lifting the rug to reveal a hatch which the dwarf promptly unlocked with a key drawn from his pants. From where Bar'or stood, some feet away, it seemed that the hatch was full of all sorts of old rusty mechanisms, which the dwarf began to poke at with a little metal rod drawn from the same pocket at the key. Before long the dwarf found his mark, and smacked a mechanism, causing them all to begin rotating and operating off of each other with a deafeningly loud series of creaking noises. Slowly, though, but surely, the panel receded back into the wall before slowly ascending upwards.

Suddenly, all was revealed. The stench wafted into the room as the Countess covered her nose and mouth with a scented cloth drawn from her panties. It was the stench of death. As the panel rose, Bar'or noted the horrific sight before him, an immense cavern with a few shafts dug out in its roof, though it was what inhabited the cavern that truly caught his eyes. A pile of corpses, mostly drow, though some were nonhumans with the marks of slavery printed upon them. There must have been at least one hundred, maybe even more.

Swinging her free arm outward, hand outstretched and open towards the pile and shouted out beneath her cloth, "Behold! Consider its beauty, for a moment, Bar'or! Then I shall explain its significance to you".

When the Countess declared that she would show him, Bar'or inclined his head out of respect. The male knew all to well that the Countess liked to think of herself as sly, but why the protracted games? Of course it was the way of the nobility to act this way, to be more dramatic than was truly necessary, at least in the slave's mind. But it was not his place to question the ways of his people, or so he was often told.

His mind was brought back to the moment when he caught sight of the Countess' hips. A shudder raced through his body, likely as she intended. It was not the first time that he had felt a surge of desire for her. The female was alluring to say the least.

Bar'or forced his gaze away from her rear though to pay attention to where she was taking him. He followed her into one of the buildings, glancing over his shoulder for a moment to look at the dwarf that was following them, wondering what his purpose was. Once in the room he watched as the Countess directed the dwarf, the creature's purpose becoming clear as it revealed a door in the floor after it pulled a ratty rug out of the way and set to unlocking said door. Bar'or watched, wondering what could be hidden on the other side.

As the trapdoor opened and the stench wafted into the room it took Bar'or by surprise. Gagging, he had to summon everything in him to keep himself from vomiting. What in the Abyss was down there!? He stepped forward to look down into the space beneath them, shuddering slightly. Bodies, dozens and dozens of them. He listened to the Countess' words as he gazed upon the rotting flesh, failing to see beauty there, but perhaps seeing purpose.

His gaze turned to the Countess then, his golden eyes focused upon her. "I can think of only one purpose for a collection of corpses, and that is to raise them as an undead horde. Or do you have another reason for collecting them mistress?"

The young drow had an imaginitive mind, that was apparent. She swept her eyes over the dirty naked corpses below before turning to face Bar'or. She strutted over to him, that sway in her hips all apparent. She came in close, stroking a long delicate digit across his cheek, her long nail scratching at his cheekbone delicately.

"You are creative, Bar'or, but incorrect," she said as she tilted his head sideward, examining his muscled neck intently, "This is my dumping ground, the greatest collection of all those who have wronged me".

She turned back toward the pit, pressing her soft and warm body against Bar'or's, the top of her rears plump cheeks grinding slightly on his groin as she tilted her head upwards to speak to him,

"All the failed Jaezdal's, Dresdels, Talices and even the failed Bar'or's. All of these corpses had a sole destiny, and that was this pit," she continued as she dropped a delicate hand to his loins, feeling about for the outline of his length inside his pants.

"This room is whwre the journey of all who sit on my inner circle begins. They all gaze upon the betrayers and failures as you have this 'eve," she raised her free hand to his cheek, turning his face so that their lips nearlly touched, their warm breaths falling upon each others visages.

"And then they submit to me fully," she said, her lips basically around his as she spoke.

Bar'or took in the way that she approached him, could see the desire in her eyes. Why was she looking at him that way? A chill went up his spine as he reasoned why, a chill of both fear and desire, which grew into a shudder as her nail moved over his cheekbone.

As she spoke, informing him of the purpose, the male nodded slowly. The failures, those that had served her and not succeeded. The point she was making was crystal clear to him; fail and be killed, fail and join those rotting below. Even as she pressed her body to him and said as much, he forced himself to continue to look below. That would be his fate, he could not help but think. There were so many below, so many failures. How long would he be able to stay in her good graces? His life depended on it.

It was her touch to his loins that brought him back to the moment. Snapping to Bar'or listened to her still as she explained the pit's purpose fully. As much as he wished she could be enjoying her touches, her advances, it was nearly impossible for him to when he was facing his own mortality like this.

So when she stated that he would submit to her, nearly kissing him, he could not help but take a step back. His gold eyes locked onto hers, the scent of death filling his nose once more. Swallowing he remembered who she was and looked down. "Countess, I will do as you wish. But..." Bar'or's mind was racing for a reason to get away and it took it but a moment to find one, "But you should not sully yourself by laying with me here. Those that failed you do not deserve to hear your sounds of pleasure. Please, let us return to the house..."

Viconia's hand shot upward as he recoiles, taking him roughly by the throat with her clawes digits. She stared into his eyes with an expression of annoyance. Retracting her elbow she brought the young drow closer to herself.

"You are very bold, to assume that I would lie with someone such as yourself, someone who has not yet proved what they are truly capable of," she looked him in the eyes for a moment mid sentence, "you will do well remember your place, Bar'or," she continued before spitting a glob of saliva onto his mouth and chin, roughly pushing him away and releasing his throat. That was so he would remember his position.

"We will return to the compound," the countess said as she wiped some loose spit from her lip, turning about elegantly as Rusty began to close the hatch once more. She exited the building abruptly and the dwarf gave Bar'or a somewhat sympathetic look as he walked off into some room on the shadows, leaving Bar'or alone to ponder before rejoining the party in the courtyard.

Bar'or's instinct when her hand shot forward was, initially, to bat it away. He had been trained to defend himself after all and it took every ounce of his will not to do so. She was, after all, the Countess and he, he reminded himself, was her property. So as her fingers closed around his throat and she pulled him closer he fought to keep himself from striking back.

He looked back into her eyes as she spoke, a seemingly blank look on his face. He did not even flinch as she spat in his face. Bar'or had forced his mind to escape that moment, to push his will back into the depths so as to assure that he would not anger her further. This was something he had learned to do long ago so as to avoid further wrath from any of the other drow that were higher in station than he was. Remain placid, stay alive.

It was not until she released him that he replied, "I am sorry Countess. I should have never assumed you intent." Having said that he moved to follow her, sparing but a glance for the dwarf. He was close behind her as they exited to the courtyard. Before they were within sight of the others he dared speak again, "Countess, please do consider my thoughts as to the failures. Why should they not serve you in death better than they did in life? Surely you have enemies that you could use them against..."

"It will be as was before, Bar'or" Viconia said abruptly, half-turning to face him with a raised hand, "I will hear your opinion when I ask for it, do not allow your ego to run free with your new position," she continued with a warning tone in her voice. The party greeted her, Jaezdal whispered something into her ear before being quickly dismissed and moving off into the building Rusty was left behind in. When regrouped the party ventured forth, re-entering the wagon. The drunken drow at the helm stirred to life with a quick prodding from Dresdel, and the wagon began to trot along once more.

It was a relatively quiet journey, Talice fell in and out of her trances a few times and Dresdel kept his wary eyes trained on Bar'or. There was a slight discomfort in the air, as there usually was when Drow travelled together in silence. They travelled along through the poverty of the common sector again, screams and yelling filling the air as they trudged along. Finally though, after what seemed like a lifetime in the unease of the situation they returned home. The compound's gates were dragged aside by two of Countess Viconia's soldiers, and the wagon creaked along inside, stopping awkwardly in the middle of the courtyard. The party wearily climbed out from the wagon. Talice went off to attend to her own errands, and Dresdel quickly scrambled off to lead a training session for the soldiers. Finally, Viconia turned to face Bar'or once more.

"You now have access to the entire compound, excluding my and Dresdel's rooms. I have no duties for you for the rest of the evening. I will allow you to rest and think things over," she explained before tilting her head slightly, "You have many things you can do. You could see if your fellow advisers need help, or even visit that sister of yours in the handmaiden's quarters. You have much freedom here now, Bar'ol, but do not abuse it," she continued as she began to walk away.

"I expect to see you at midnight in tonight's weekly ritual to Lolth, after you're done whatever it is you choose to entertain yourself with for now, it'll be in the pleasure den's orgy room," she said over her shoulder as she strutted off, attended by a handmaiden at her side.

Bar'or closed his mouth, doing everything it took not to sigh. Often he felt like he was being quashed, that ideas he had that could help the house were not heard because of his status. But that was the nature of slavery, being ignored, unheard, forgotten. Often he wondered how he had come to such a fate, how he was now marked with the status he was born into. How much would the house he served suffer because he was not allowed to speak? Forcing his thoughts from showing on his face Bar'or simply nodded in response to the Countess' statement and followed her.

During the ride back to the compound Bar'or kept quiet. He pointedly ignored the staring Dresdel, not at all caring for the attention the other male paid to him. Undoubtedly he felt threatened by the young upstart, but Bar'or had no desire to take Dresdel's position. Let him take care of the sword work, the things that a blunt tool was best used for. Bar'or wanted to prove himself useful in other ways. Certainly he could fight, Dresdel knew that, but he had so many more talents than the older drow. Dresdel would soon enough learn what Bar'or was capable of.

When the wagon stopped in the compound courtyard Bar'or exited with the rest, after the Countess of course. She addressed him quickly, stating that he would be allowed to rest. Bar'or inclined his head to her and murmured, "Thank you for the kindness Countess." His eyes followed her for a moment as she left, unable to keep his loins from stirring slightly at the sight of her retreating rear.

Sighing, Bar'or brought himself back to the moment, casting his gaze around. The others had dissipated, off to perform their own tasks. He considered for a moment what to do, but quickly came to a determination. Seeing the death pit had left him feeling sullied and dirty, so he set off towards the bathhouse. A wash would do him good.

The path to the bathhouse took him through the dining hall, where he saw lesser servants working on preparing for the evening meal. Ignoring them he headed for the door of the bathhouse, opening and stepping within, ready to wash the day from his body.

Bar'or wandered through the keep. It was a different feeling than before. Those slaves who he used to have to push through to get by now cleared his path, dipping their heads respectfully towards him. Finally he made it to the bathhouse and stepped knside. It was particularly quieter than usual, likely due to the afternoon timing of his arrival, with most drow preferring to use it in the morning or later at night.

Before him stood the bathhouse attendant. She was one of the Countess' newest acquisitions, a fresh slave newly introduced to adulthood, bought some from other noble house in a distant city. She was a short young lady, with a cute little upturned nose and plush lips. Her chin was small and her cheeks smooth, little dimples forming in them when her mouth stretched. She quickly stood straight as Bar'or entered, her perky breasts pressing against the thin veil bra that she wore, her dark areola and puffy nipples hardly concealed by it.

"Uh, Bar'or, sir, how can I help you today? Shall I run a private bath for yourself, or will you be using the public one? Will you require an aide? Food perhaps? We can serve alcohol too!" she frantically asked him in her high, squeakish voice. The barrage of questioning betrayed her nervousness, it seemed that this was one of her first times performing this duty.

The change in the temperament of the slaves was glaringly obvious to Bar'or. Having the others scamper out of his way and even bow to him was something entirely new. He was gone but a few hours and his whole world had changed. The male could not help but wonder what else might be different.

As if in answer to his mental question he entered the bathhouse, only to have the attendant more or less pounce on him. Before he had always been ignored and had not had an option to bathe anywhere other than the public pool. Bar'or listened to her for a moment, then, calmly, spoke, "You do not need to fuss so much over me."

Bar'or reached out then, placing a hand on her shoulder to try and still her. His golden eyes focused on her as he stated, "I will take a private bath though. I like my water to be quite hot."

"Uh, yes, of course, sir!" the attendee exclaimed. She flinched as the hand touched her shoulder, her eyes locked in thought for a moment before she politelt shrugged the hand away, moving to usher Bar'or over to one of the few curtained off 'rooms' in the bathhouse.

Once inside a marvelous bronze tub was revealed to him, smoothed over and entraved with dwarvish designs. It was quite obvious this tub was stolen in a raid or by some other means. The young attendee quickly strutted over to the tub, pulling on a mechanism which opened a small hatch through which flowed clean, purified water from a resevoir above. The attendee deftly pulled a torch from the wall and lit the coal lain fire beneath the tub, the firepit the perfect distance away to keep the water hot, but not too scalding. Unless of course the attendee left the fire lit too long.

"It should only take a few minutes for your bath to heat up, sir!" she exclaimed, though her voice was beginning to show signs of confidence, as though the work of filling the bath had calmed her, "do you require anything else, sir?" she asked finally, her hands falling to rest clasped together just above her panty-like bottoms, which had a long transparent veil that flittered along the floor with her movements, much like a long skirt.

Sir. There was a title that Bar'or was completely unaccustomed too. Something about being called that just felt off. He knew that it likely had to do with his years and years in servitude, his whole life really, and being having to be subservient to others. Now, he was starting to realize, he had power over others. What was it going to be like not to have to answer to most everyone? To have a say in what happened in his day to day life, rather than just moving from one task to another day after day.

His attention returned to her as she ushered him into a room. The man watched her move around the room, remembering how decades before he had been doing similar tasks. But that was in the past, that was a time that he swore he would not return to. No, now he would craft his path with blade, skill, spell and wit. Now he would not depend on the will of anyone other than the Countess. Now would be his time.

Something about seeing the attendant going about her duties, seeing her serve him, it just helped to ignite that spark. Bar'or knew he held his life in his own hands and he fully intended to live until old age.

When she spoke again, asking him if she could do something else, the male grunted. "Yes. Help me undress," Bar'or stated bluntly, reaching down to his sword belt and unclasping it, setting it off to the side. He then started to undo his armor, his fingers deftly moving over the clasps, figuring she would not be familiar.

The girl nodded obediently and stumbled over to him, fumbling her hands over his as she really tried her best to undo his armour, though she truly had no idea what she was doing. However, once his armour was removed and neatly placed aside she became helpful, sliding his cloth shirt over his head to reveal his muscled torso before tugging at his boots and pants, giving a slight hidden smirk from her downturned head as his decent length flopped free of his pants. Soon, he stood bare before her and she returned to clasp her hands together before her groin, averting her gaze from his privates.

"All done, sir. Will that be all?" she asked innocently.

Bar'or sighed slightly as she tried to help with the armor. It was obvious to him that she did not know what she was doing, but he knew that she would have to learn. So he helped when he had to but otherwise let her figure it out, which she did for the most part. Once his armor was off though she proved to be quite quick at getting him out of his clothing. He watched her as she removed each article, but it was when she removed his breeches that he thought he saw a little smirk. Arching an eyebrow as he gazed at her he wondered what thoughts might be going through her head.

As she stepped back once he was naked, Bar'or let his gaze drift over her. She was like many slaves, seemingly eager to please and compliant. But he knew well that that could just be a facade. So when she asked if that was all he wanted from her, Bar'or shook his head. "No. I would like you to stay here," the male stated as he stepped past her, moving to the tub. Gingerly he stepped in it, sighing as he appreciated the temperature, then slowly sunk down into it. His golden eyes went to her and he asked, "What is your name? How is it you came to be here?"

The young little attendant moved to stand by the tub, in arms reach of Bar'or. She was quite a short specimen, only being slightly taller than Bar'or despite him being seated in the tub.

"I was one of House Kel's slaves. I was born into their service. When the soldiers came and killed them all I was... spared.... and bought back to be sold. Then Mistress Cobaer purchased me and had me trained up until I matured," she said, seeming to fall a bit sullen at her story, "I freshly matured about a month ago, so here I am," she added, it seemed she was a talkative slave.