As the inn's public section continued to empty out, with guests departing to either try the dungeon, rent one of the new rooms, or check out the 'Fiver's Lounge', there were fewer and fewer distractions to keep House Highbranch from focusing on their troubles. Specifically, the fact that House Perlin was enjoying notably better service than they were, despite coming from a lower-ranking family. Now, none of the half-elves were dumb enough to try complaining to the staff about it - that might work in any other inn in the country, but the typical dungeon's idea of 'customer service' was making sure your death was painless. Still, that wasn't enough to stop them from complaining to each other. The youngest of them, a blonde man in only his late forties, was one of the loudest to do so.
"At the least, I feel like the dungeon ought to have made an exception for tonight. It's their grand opening night, is it not? This is a night to show off the peak of their offerings! Build a solid reputation for service! Can you imagine the looks on the faces at court when we tell them we were served bread and water? And that those were the good options?"
Lady Silva sighs as she rests her chin on one hand. "Unfortunately, I think there's enough other voices to drown ours out in that regard, cousin Kalin. At least as far as the demographic a dungeon would care about, in any case. There's far more Challengers than there are barons, after all."
Lady Gilda is somewhat less reserved about her scorn than her fraternal twin. "It's not the behavior of the dungeon which bothers me. It's those House Perlin brats, showing off their meals just to rub them in our faces. As if theirs are anything special either! Stew and poor cuts of meat, and their drinks are either watered down or probably toxic! I swear, they wouldn't be eating it at all if it weren't for making us look even worse in comparison. And to be laughing so jovially while their dead Maid is standing over there by the bar..."
The other man at the table, a dark-haired half-elf in his early sixtes which qualifies him for the rank of oldest at the table, chuckles at her choice of words. "Now that's a sentence I would have never expected to hear! I have noticed some distance between her and her former masters, you know. She visits their table as much as anyone else's, but no more so. Perhaps she bears more of a grudge for her death than it sounded?"
Silva raises an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Well, if so, then that could possibly be of some use, and there's a better way of finding out than wondering about it." She turns towards the rabbit Priestess and waves her over, drawing her attention away from the gnoll she's seated beside. "Excuse me, my dear, might we have a moment?"
Deylia does so, coming over with a smile and a small curtsy, although the ladies both recognize that the woman consciously stops herself from dipping as low as she ought to for women of their rank. As Silva is attempting to make friends, however, she chooses not to make a mention of it. "Yes, my lady? How might I be of service? I would like to offer you better refreshments, but I'm afraid my hands are tied..."
"I see a Maid's training is hard to forget overnight, isn't it? But please, have a seat - we'd like to converse for a while, if we may." Silva gestures towards an open chair, and although Deylia is rather surprised by the offer, she finds no reason to refuse.
"Well, if you request, my lady. What is it you'd like to discuss?" As she sits down she does have to slide the chair sideways somewhat to make room next to the gigantic gnoll sitting at the table, but Sweet simply gives her a gentle smile as she does so. Once she's seated, Silva continues.
"As you might imagine, there are quite a few rumors going around concerning your death. The Marksman of your former house was in particular not exactly discreet about his feelings on the matter. I'm given to understand it was some sort of foolishness on the part of your former masters which lead to your demise? My condolences on that, by the way."
Del clears her throat, not exactly sure how one ought to respond to such a statement. "Ah, thank you, but I'm doing quite well now, as you can see. As for the rumors, I must put at least some of that to bed - yes, some mistakes were made, but it was my own choices that led me to where I am. In fact, I could not be here now if it weren't my own choices that led me here."
Gilda grunts a little, feeling a little more blunt about her take on the matter. "Really? That's all there is between you and them, then? You've handed in your resignation, moved on to a new job, and now it's just 'how have you been' when you see each other at parties? I don't know much about you, but to have been a Maid on their primary expedition team surely indicates years of service to their house."
The Maid in question gasps a little as she realizes something. "Oh no, I never did file a proper resignation! Although I suppose that's not typically required in the event of death...in any case, I certainly bear the Honorable Sansie and her cousins no ill will. We've already spoken on these matters, actually, although I would consider that a personal matter."
Seeing that her attempts to find a wedge between Deylia and the Perlins aren't finding much purchase, Silva decides to try a different tack. "Then I shall not pry. Tell me something else, though - the dungeon is neutral on the matter of noble politics, I assume?"
Deylia nods. "Of course. She barely knows of such things, actually, and I've yet to have time to instruct her."
"That could be wise of you to do. To be more specific, however, the dungeon has no opinion on who ought to rule these lands?"
"I - hold on, one moment..." The Priestess trails off as her eyes dart to one side, as if she were listening to an inaudible voice. "The master of the dungeon says that her primary concern is that no one 'gets involved in her sh - ', ah, her business. If you're looking for the dungeon's support, she is...open to offers?" The expression on Deylia's face as she says that indicates that she's not terribly pleased with her message, but the Maid isn't one to contradict her employer in public, if at all.
The black-haired man grins at the statement. "Well, now that is interesting. Tell me, how might we gain the dungeon's favor?"
"Well, would either of you ladies - " Deylia's eyes grow wide, and her head snaps to the side. "I can't say that! That's extremely inappropriate!"
Gilda's eyes narrow at the exchange, although Silva's lips turn into a smirk. "Well, this I must hear. What is the dungeon's proposal?"
"She - the dungeon would like to know if any of the ladies present would be interested in...in getting pre-"
Whatever Deylia was about to say, it's cut off by a new presence at the table, an interruption which seems to greatly relieve the woman until she notices who it is. "Excuse me - I hope you're not upsetting poor Deylia here. She's had quite a rough few days, you know." Turning her head the other way, Deylia finds Raylin standing behind her and addressing the table. Glancing further back, she notices that the full attention of the House Perlin party is now on their exchange.
Silva seems about to say something conciliatory, unfortunately it takes her several moments to compose her thoughts which is more than enough time for Gilda to answer back first. "That's bold of you to say - I can hardly imagine how a simple conversation could be more upsetting than getting her slain, which is what your house managed to do for her."
Deylia's eyes flash, although her own retort is cut off by Raylin. "Lady Gilda! As I said - "
"No point in correcting the lady, Del - I imagine accuracy was the furthest thing from her mind. I would say I admire her competitive spirit, but if she wishes for a conflict between us I would find it more honorable if it were through means other than slander."
Gilda continues on, a smug look on her face even as her twin buries her own in one hand. "Conflict? Competition? I find it hilarious that you think there is such a thing. It seems to me that House Perlin's greatest foe are themselves. I must wonder, if we just sat back and watched you for another week, would there even be any of your expedition left?"
"Right then, more words it is. Allow me to be the one to take action, then - Lady Gilda, I challenge you to a duel." Although no one else rises to their feet at his words, Sweet and Taylim both tense up, ready for action. It's entirely possible either of them could be called forth as their house's champion, although it would be a bad mark for a noble to do so while they were still capable of fighting for themselves.
It's another Champion that steps forward first, though, as Trush finally walks up between the two tables and gets everyone's attention with his booming voice. "No fighting in the inn! I don't care if you plan to fight to 'first blood' or any of that, we don't want to risk anyone gettin' killed in here. You want a match, find something that ain't gonna involve a blade."
Gilda leans back in her chair, clearly unbothered by the gauntlet thrown at her feet. "Of course, of course, can't have violence in a dungeon, now can we? I suppose we could settle this back in town tomorrow...but perhaps there's another way we can handle your challenge tonight? Some competition, perhaps?"
Raylin nods - he had no intention of actually harming the noble half-elf, or at least not in any serious manner, so wounding her pride is enough for him. "That would be acceptable. The tavern has a dartboard in that corner over there - perhaps you'd dare to pit your elven eyes against my own for a round?"
Those eyes get rolled in response. "I am aware of your class, Marksman. I am not so foolish. I'd rather engage in a drinking contest - if it weren't for the fact that the only options the dungeon is willing to offer us would probably slay us both."
Trush smiles at the thought, however. "Well, dungeons are all about testing one's limits, and showing who is the mightiest, are we not? The master of the dungeon would be willing to open more of her stocks to you in the spirit of competition."
There's a few eyebrows raised at that, with Gilda almost certainly not expecting the dungeon to make such a concession, but she can hardly withdraw the suggestion after making it. For his part Raylin doesn't find any reason to back down from the idea either - it's a very unusual form for a noble duel, but far from the strangest one he's ever heard of. It'd be a fairly even match as well - Gilda might have some alcoholic tolerance thanks to her ancestry, but Raylin has enough of a body mass advantage to more or less make up for it. "Very well. There's quite a few empty tables here now - shall we get to it, then?"
"Fine, at least it will give me a break from this monotonous meal we've been enjoying so far. I hope you'll enjoy sleeping on the tavern floor once you pass out, Honorable Perlin."
With a wide smile on his face, Trush turns towards the monsters working the bar. "Excellent! Barmaids, bring us drink - and make it the good stuff."
TEN MINUTES LATER
Gilda scoffs as she sets down her third mug. "You know, I don't know if it's the drink ruining my taste buds, but these offerings are becoming almost tolerable."
Raylin smirks back as he matches her performance easily. "I doubt it's that - it's simply House Highbranch's bad taste finally coming to the fore."
"Pfhaw!"
TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Silva leans over to whisper into her sister's ear. "Well, we've gone ahead and claimed a set of rooms, since you're clearly in no state to climb down a mountain tonight. I hope you at least win for all your efforts, though."
The white-haired twin snorts. "Let this be the first victory of House Highbranch in Dungeon House! ...House...Worthy! ...Dungeon!"
"...I'm rooting for you, sister."
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
Taylim pats Raylin's back with one hand, although not firmly enough to look like he's holding the nobleman up. "You've put up a fine battle, young sir. Do you think you can carry it through to the end? I'm uncertain about the power of healing potions upon one's liver."
"You - you doubt your lord, Taylim? Your friend! I do this for the honor of Purpin! None shall sully our name!"
"...Indeed they won't, young sir."
SEVEN HOURS LATER
Gilda wakes up, glaring blearily at the ceiling above her. It's wood, but certainly not of the design used in the construction of the Lucky Bastard. Did she fall asleep in the dungeon? Someone must have seen her to one of the new rooms...it does appear extremely plain, but it's serviceable, and at least an underground inn has no worries about leaky roofs or drafty windows. None of that does much to aid her hangover, however. "Ugh...gods, that was a mistake. I almost wish Silva had stopped me."
The half-elf freezes as a groan rises into the air from the other side of the bed. "Likewise. Perhaps she should have stopped the both of us."
Eyes wide, Gilda slowly turns her head. "...RAYLIN!?"
The next morning, there were...well, perhaps a few upset individuals, particularly those with broken bones from trying the dungeon drunk the night before. Most attendees of the party were quite pleased with their experiences though, and even without the issue of the hangovers, few were rushing to make their way back to town in the morning's light. Even fewer were more pleased than the master of the dungeon however, as Xenia smiles once again at her latest achievement windows.
| ------------------------ MORTALS ESCAPED: 14 NEW CONSTRUCT PATTERN QUALITIES ACQUIRED/UPGRADED: ------------------------ |
| ------------------------ HAVE AT LEAST FIVE CHILDREN BE CONCEIVED WITHIN YOUR DUNGEON BOUNDS. |
DaScoot
Next time we'll be rewinding slightly for some smut action - but I'm not telling you who it'll be featuring. :-P
Enjoy!
As the inn's public section continued to empty out, with guests departing to either try the dungeon, rent one of the new rooms, or check out the 'Fiver's Lounge', there were fewer and fewer distractions to keep House Highbranch from focusing on their troubles. Specifically, the fact that House Perlin was enjoying notably better service than they were, despite coming from a lower-ranking family. Now, none of the half-elves were dumb enough to try complaining to the staff about it - that might work in any other inn in the country, but the typical dungeon's idea of 'customer service' was making sure your death was painless. Still, that wasn't enough to stop them from complaining to each other. The youngest of them, a blonde man in only his late forties, was one of the loudest to do so.
"At the least, I feel like the dungeon ought to have made an exception for tonight. It's their grand opening night, is it not? This is a night to show off the peak of their offerings! Build a solid reputation for service! Can you imagine the looks on the faces at court when we tell them we were served bread and water? And that those were the good options?"
Lady Silva sighs as she rests her chin on one hand. "Unfortunately, I think there's enough other voices to drown ours out in that regard, cousin Kalin. At least as far as the demographic a dungeon would care about, in any case. There's far more Challengers than there are barons, after all."
Lady Gilda is somewhat less reserved about her scorn than her fraternal twin. "It's not the behavior of the dungeon which bothers me. It's those House Perlin brats, showing off their meals just to rub them in our faces. As if theirs are anything special either! Stew and poor cuts of meat, and their drinks are either watered down or probably toxic! I swear, they wouldn't be eating it at all if it weren't for making us look even worse in comparison. And to be laughing so jovially while their dead Maid is standing over there by the bar..."
The other man at the table, a dark-haired half-elf in his early sixtes which qualifies him for the rank of oldest at the table, chuckles at her choice of words. "Now that's a sentence I would have never expected to hear! I have noticed some distance between her and her former masters, you know. She visits their table as much as anyone else's, but no more so. Perhaps she bears more of a grudge for her death than it sounded?"
Silva raises an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Well, if so, then that could possibly be of some use, and there's a better way of finding out than wondering about it." She turns towards the rabbit Priestess and waves her over, drawing her attention away from the gnoll she's seated beside. "Excuse me, my dear, might we have a moment?"
Deylia does so, coming over with a smile and a small curtsy, although the ladies both recognize that the woman consciously stops herself from dipping as low as she ought to for women of their rank. As Silva is attempting to make friends, however, she chooses not to make a mention of it. "Yes, my lady? How might I be of service? I would like to offer you better refreshments, but I'm afraid my hands are tied..."
"I see a Maid's training is hard to forget overnight, isn't it? But please, have a seat - we'd like to converse for a while, if we may." Silva gestures towards an open chair, and although Deylia is rather surprised by the offer, she finds no reason to refuse.
"Well, if you request, my lady. What is it you'd like to discuss?" As she sits down she does have to slide the chair sideways somewhat to make room next to the gigantic gnoll sitting at the table, but Sweet simply gives her a gentle smile as she does so. Once she's seated, Silva continues.
"As you might imagine, there are quite a few rumors going around concerning your death. The Marksman of your former house was in particular not exactly discreet about his feelings on the matter. I'm given to understand it was some sort of foolishness on the part of your former masters which lead to your demise? My condolences on that, by the way."
Del clears her throat, not exactly sure how one ought to respond to such a statement. "Ah, thank you, but I'm doing quite well now, as you can see. As for the rumors, I must put at least some of that to bed - yes, some mistakes were made, but it was my own choices that led me to where I am. In fact, I could not be here now if it weren't my own choices that led me here."
Gilda grunts a little, feeling a little more blunt about her take on the matter. "Really? That's all there is between you and them, then? You've handed in your resignation, moved on to a new job, and now it's just 'how have you been' when you see each other at parties? I don't know much about you, but to have been a Maid on their primary expedition team surely indicates years of service to their house."
The Maid in question gasps a little as she realizes something. "Oh no, I never did file a proper resignation! Although I suppose that's not typically required in the event of death...in any case, I certainly bear the Honorable Sansie and her cousins no ill will. We've already spoken on these matters, actually, although I would consider that a personal matter."
Seeing that her attempts to find a wedge between Deylia and the Perlins aren't finding much purchase, Silva decides to try a different tack. "Then I shall not pry. Tell me something else, though - the dungeon is neutral on the matter of noble politics, I assume?"
Deylia nods. "Of course. She barely knows of such things, actually, and I've yet to have time to instruct her."
"That could be wise of you to do. To be more specific, however, the dungeon has no opinion on who ought to rule these lands?"
"I - hold on, one moment..." The Priestess trails off as her eyes dart to one side, as if she were listening to an inaudible voice. "The master of the dungeon says that her primary concern is that no one 'gets involved in her sh - ', ah, her business. If you're looking for the dungeon's support, she is...open to offers?" The expression on Deylia's face as she says that indicates that she's not terribly pleased with her message, but the Maid isn't one to contradict her employer in public, if at all.
The black-haired man grins at the statement. "Well, now that is interesting. Tell me, how might we gain the dungeon's favor?"
"Well, would either of you ladies - " Deylia's eyes grow wide, and her head snaps to the side. "I can't say that! That's extremely inappropriate!"
Gilda's eyes narrow at the exchange, although Silva's lips turn into a smirk. "Well, this I must hear. What is the dungeon's proposal?"
"She - the dungeon would like to know if any of the ladies present would be interested in...in getting pre-"
Whatever Deylia was about to say, it's cut off by a new presence at the table, an interruption which seems to greatly relieve the woman until she notices who it is. "Excuse me - I hope you're not upsetting poor Deylia here. She's had quite a rough few days, you know." Turning her head the other way, Deylia finds Raylin standing behind her and addressing the table. Glancing further back, she notices that the full attention of the House Perlin party is now on their exchange.
Silva seems about to say something conciliatory, unfortunately it takes her several moments to compose her thoughts which is more than enough time for Gilda to answer back first. "That's bold of you to say - I can hardly imagine how a simple conversation could be more upsetting than getting her slain, which is what your house managed to do for her."
Deylia's eyes flash, although her own retort is cut off by Raylin. "Lady Gilda! As I said - "
"No point in correcting the lady, Del - I imagine accuracy was the furthest thing from her mind. I would say I admire her competitive spirit, but if she wishes for a conflict between us I would find it more honorable if it were through means other than slander."
Gilda continues on, a smug look on her face even as her twin buries her own in one hand. "Conflict? Competition? I find it hilarious that you think there is such a thing. It seems to me that House Perlin's greatest foe are themselves. I must wonder, if we just sat back and watched you for another week, would there even be any of your expedition left?"
"Right then, more words it is. Allow me to be the one to take action, then - Lady Gilda, I challenge you to a duel." Although no one else rises to their feet at his words, Sweet and Taylim both tense up, ready for action. It's entirely possible either of them could be called forth as their house's champion, although it would be a bad mark for a noble to do so while they were still capable of fighting for themselves.
It's another Champion that steps forward first, though, as Trush finally walks up between the two tables and gets everyone's attention with his booming voice. "No fighting in the inn! I don't care if you plan to fight to 'first blood' or any of that, we don't want to risk anyone gettin' killed in here. You want a match, find something that ain't gonna involve a blade."
Gilda leans back in her chair, clearly unbothered by the gauntlet thrown at her feet. "Of course, of course, can't have violence in a dungeon, now can we? I suppose we could settle this back in town tomorrow...but perhaps there's another way we can handle your challenge tonight? Some competition, perhaps?"
Raylin nods - he had no intention of actually harming the noble half-elf, or at least not in any serious manner, so wounding her pride is enough for him. "That would be acceptable. The tavern has a dartboard in that corner over there - perhaps you'd dare to pit your elven eyes against my own for a round?"
Those eyes get rolled in response. "I am aware of your class, Marksman. I am not so foolish. I'd rather engage in a drinking contest - if it weren't for the fact that the only options the dungeon is willing to offer us would probably slay us both."
Trush smiles at the thought, however. "Well, dungeons are all about testing one's limits, and showing who is the mightiest, are we not? The master of the dungeon would be willing to open more of her stocks to you in the spirit of competition."
There's a few eyebrows raised at that, with Gilda almost certainly not expecting the dungeon to make such a concession, but she can hardly withdraw the suggestion after making it. For his part Raylin doesn't find any reason to back down from the idea either - it's a very unusual form for a noble duel, but far from the strangest one he's ever heard of. It'd be a fairly even match as well - Gilda might have some alcoholic tolerance thanks to her ancestry, but Raylin has enough of a body mass advantage to more or less make up for it. "Very well. There's quite a few empty tables here now - shall we get to it, then?"
"Fine, at least it will give me a break from this monotonous meal we've been enjoying so far. I hope you'll enjoy sleeping on the tavern floor once you pass out, Honorable Perlin."
With a wide smile on his face, Trush turns towards the monsters working the bar. "Excellent! Barmaids, bring us drink - and make it the good stuff."
TEN MINUTES LATER
Gilda scoffs as she sets down her third mug. "You know, I don't know if it's the drink ruining my taste buds, but these offerings are becoming almost tolerable."
Raylin smirks back as he matches her performance easily. "I doubt it's that - it's simply House Highbranch's bad taste finally coming to the fore."
"Pfhaw!"
TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Silva leans over to whisper into her sister's ear. "Well, we've gone ahead and claimed a set of rooms, since you're clearly in no state to climb down a mountain tonight. I hope you at least win for all your efforts, though."
The white-haired twin snorts. "Let this be the first victory of House Highbranch in Dungeon House! ...House...Worthy! ...Dungeon!"
"...I'm rooting for you, sister."
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
Taylim pats Raylin's back with one hand, although not firmly enough to look like he's holding the nobleman up. "You've put up a fine battle, young sir. Do you think you can carry it through to the end? I'm uncertain about the power of healing potions upon one's liver."
"You - you doubt your lord, Taylim? Your friend! I do this for the honor of Purpin! None shall sully our name!"
"...Indeed they won't, young sir."
SEVEN HOURS LATER
Gilda wakes up, glaring blearily at the ceiling above her. It's wood, but certainly not of the design used in the construction of the Lucky Bastard. Did she fall asleep in the dungeon? Someone must have seen her to one of the new rooms...it does appear extremely plain, but it's serviceable, and at least an underground inn has no worries about leaky roofs or drafty windows. None of that does much to aid her hangover, however. "Ugh...gods, that was a mistake. I almost wish Silva had stopped me."
The half-elf freezes as a groan rises into the air from the other side of the bed. "Likewise. Perhaps she should have stopped the both of us."
Eyes wide, Gilda slowly turns her head. "...RAYLIN!?"
The next morning, there were...well, perhaps a few upset individuals, particularly those with broken bones from trying the dungeon drunk the night before. Most attendees of the party were quite pleased with their experiences though, and even without the issue of the hangovers, few were rushing to make their way back to town in the morning's light. Even fewer were more pleased than the master of the dungeon however, as Xenia smiles once again at her latest achievement windows.
| ------------------------ MORTALS ESCAPED: 14 NEW CONSTRUCT PATTERN QUALITIES ACQUIRED/UPGRADED: ------------------------ |
| ------------------------ HAVE AT LEAST FIVE CHILDREN BE CONCEIVED WITHIN YOUR DUNGEON BOUNDS. |
DaScoot
Next time we'll be rewinding slightly for some smut action - but I'm not telling you who it'll be featuring. :-P
Enjoy!
