Rescue Mission

Rescue Mission


	Luanea listened to the faint noises of the deep all around her.  She knew instinctually that the Underdark was her home, no matter how much she loved the city above, but that didn't make it safe.

	She and Cavria had descended into the Underdark, disguised as a Lolthite priestess and her Tiefling slave, along with her husband, disguised as her consort, which was at least relatively accurate.

	As with all time spent in the Night Below, there was risk here.  Now, perhaps, more than most times.  Luanea had not shared her revelation with her family, but she was bearing.  At first, she had merely suspected, but one morning in her prayers, she had seen an image of Eilistraee before her waking eyes as clear as day, standing with her arms around her husband's midsection and a graceful smile on her face.  Luanea had stared for a full five seconds before blinking, and it was still there when she opened her eyes again.  Only when she had called Verashon's attention to it had the image vanished.

	That was about as unsubtle as Eilistraee had ever been indoors.  Luanea was pregnant with her fated child.  Whether it was the one Her Dark Ladyship had specifically prophesied to serve as the new champion of the drow, she did not know, and would not for years.  It didn't matter.  Not an hour ago, she and Verashon had been presented with their orders from below, beyond refutation or question: search and rescue, priority one.

	She had cast her spell of communication to the rest of her party, and so far, only Cavria had arrived.  Kyria was somewhere behind them, disguised as a Horizon Syndicate scout.  She had not been happy to be pulled from her work, but when she had heard that the order had come from the Promenade and its High Priestess, she had silenced her protests.  The information had come from a spy in the ranks of the House Freth guards, who had already made their escape.

	Now, the three adventurers crept through the Underdark beneath the great city of Waterdeep.  Between its unnecessarily vast sewers, the lairs of the vampire lord that periodically threatened the city, and Undermountain, there was no shortage of places for evil things to lurk.  Nor for their victims to try to escape.

	Luanea may have enjoyed a significantly closer relationship to her goddess than most clerics ever would, but she didn't have Eilistraee looking through her eyes.  Caution was needed.  Luanea watched the darkness recede before her eyes as she slowly drew closer to the wall at the end of their current tunnel.  She saw two branching paths emerge, left and right.  Verashon bade them wait while he examined the routes.

	Cavria leaned back against the wall and waited while Verashon chose their course.  Luanea caught her fiendish friend's playful look.  “What?”

	The disguised Paladin chuckled.  “Feel weird to wear the enemy colors?”  She waved a finger at Luanea's uniform of stolen Lolthite Priestess clothes.  “I mean, you make this look good, but it's still awfully odd.”

	Luanea ruefully shook her head.  “What can I say?  Desperation is a strong motivator.”

	“Tell me about it,” Cavria chuckled sadly.  They were long past the point where she was still sensitive about her species.  “So what's with the disguises, anyway?”

	Luanea gestured in the general direction they were headed.  “The House Do’slie forces down here are reinforcements for the House Freth occupiers of the Undermountain zones under contestation.  We have a chance to rescue the slaves they're using to expand the entrance tunnels to Undermountain, but they won't let the servants of Her Ladyship within a hundred miles.”

	Cavria glanced surfaceward.  “Slie, huh?”

	“Yes.  When the House fractured, Kyria's family escaped.”  Luanea watched Verashon rise and dust off his hands.  “It's time.”

	“Does Kyria know?” Cavria asked.

	Luanea nodded.  “It won't be a problem.  She never knew her family.”

	“If you say so.”  Cavria cricked her neck.  “Let's go.”


	Verashon led the group down the deep tunnels of the Sword Coast.  The three adventurers traveled along the path that the dust patterns told them was most recently trod.  The oppressive darkness was little enough impediment to the drow, and none at all to the High Succubus.  She could see twice the distance the others could, at least.

	Luanea suddenly heard Kyria's voice in her mind.  “Two hours behind you.  Dressed and ready.  No patrols sighted.”

	The cleric responded.  “Acknowledged, sister.  We are ready.  No signs of hostiles yet.”

	Cavria hefted her disguised halberd and carefully poked the ground ahead.  “Trap here.  Pitfall.  Flatboard and dirt over it.”

	Verashon dragged the tip of his sword against the edge of the pit until it hit stone again.  “Got it.”  He slammed his foot down on the edge and collapsed the trap in itself.  After the ruckus ended, the group heard the frantic sound of agitated venom centipedes below.

	“Nice catch, Cavria,” Verashon remarked.  He sidled around the pit and held out a hand to let Cavria follow him.

	She took it gratefully and let him help her cross.  She had long since had Solen remove her wings, but fine balance out of battle was still difficult.

	As they progressed, the group descended deep into the blank stone, until at last Verashon signaled for them to halt.  “Movement,” he said softly.  The trio melted into the shadows.

	Two minutes later, Cavria saw a group of five drow marching towards them up the tunnel.  Cavria tapped her finger on the tunnel wall and the others readied weapons.

	The group waited until the drow had drawn closer when Luanea spoke up.  “Hail the servants of our Queen of Spiders,” she said in Undercommon.

	Five swords instantly left sheathes.  The drow fanned out and levelled their weapons as Luanea walked out into their dim light.  “Priestess,” one said cautiously.  “What brings you here?”

	Luanea stared him down.  “The affair of Halaster Blackcloak, of course,” she said.  “Matron Caliosaiys commands our presence.  Enemies lurk nearby, and the great fortress of Undermountain does not yield its secrets.”

	The five soldiers stood aside to let her pass. “As you say, Priestess,” their leader said.  “May we have your name?”

	“I am Elmini Caliosaiys, pacted to Erelal Freth and to the Do’slie pacted force in turn,” Luanea said.  Now for the awkward part.  Technically, all three of these Houses were allied, sure, but they were generally not sending allies to aid each other in small groups such as this.  Freth's forces, under the young noble Erelal Freth, were trapped in the great Maze Level in Undermountain.  To accept the help of an allied Priestess from outside their cautious alliance would be slightly embarrassing for Mistress Freth.  It was still better than losing, of course, but enough to spare the embarrassment of accepting aid?  That was the question.

	The soldiers looked at each other askance as the trio of disguised adventurers walked past them.  Luanea heard the troops fall in behind them and tensed her shoulders.  Did the drow believe them, or were they preparing for an ambush?

	After a few minutes of walking, a shadow on the wall ahead resolved as a petite woman in a concealing suit of leather and scale armor.  She stayed glued to the wall and said nothing as the group of eight travelers approached until they were practically on top of her.  “You folks need anything disposed of?” she rasped.

	“Unwelcome questions,” Luanea snapped.  Kyria stayed in character, lounging nonchalantly.

	“Suit yourself.”

	“Stand aside, scavenger,” Verashon growled quietly, and Kyria insouciantly shrugged.

	The group moved past the disguised wizard and on down the tunnel.  Luanea didn't have to look back to know that Kyria had cast Invisibility on herself and followed them.

	They walked for another twenty minutes before Luanea called a halt.  The drow soldiers circled them and formed a perimeter, and Cavria knelt beside Luanea, still playing the obedient slave.  Drow were among the few species besides humans to birth Tieflings, as a result of their common interactions with demons, so her presence was not remarkable.

	Luanea half-closed her eyes and began praying to Eilistraee, for safety and success.  The souls she had to save were close, according to the very little intelligence she and her superiors had gleaned on the topic.

	Verashon was playing his role as her Captain-consort to the hilt.  He had his swords out and held in a relaxed pose.  His anomalous height for his race set him aside from the less physically imposing drow men around him, some of whom were actually doing a fair job of pretending they didn't find the situation odd.

	Luanea was glad she had taken the time to disguise her eyes.  They were silver, which was widely seen as a deviant trait by Lolth purists.  Exactly why was a mystery to her, since none of the Dark Seldarine nor Corellon had silver eyes.  Regardless, it was a distraction they didn't need.

	The priestess craned her head as a new drow soldier approached from the direction of the Freth camp.  He raised his hands in greeting.  “Hail the servants of the Queen of Spiders,” he said.  He had a distinct drawl to his voice that Luanea didn't recognize.

	One of the other soldiers made a hand gesture, and the new soldier didn't return it.  Luanea was instantly on her guard.  That was not a standard drow security measure.  “The Minotaurs in the Maze are getting all restless,” the new soldier said at once.   “Some gaggle of assholes are making their way through from Dweomercore.”

	The leader of the drow patrol sighed and rose to his feet. “Holy one, we need to move,” he said respectfully.  “The Lady Freth needs us.”