Chapter Text
“I am still skeptical about the efficacy of this plan. It is haphazard at best and has virtually no contingencies. We don’t even have the full guest list. Are we confident we want to go in without any further strategizing?”
Caleb suspected Essek was having a bit of buyer’s remorse over agreeing so readily to help with their most recent assignment given that he was visibly suffering from their planning process. He had greeted their return to Rosohna with a sort of jittery subservience which Caleb was still trying to decode, and was uncharacteristically eager to assist them when asked. Caleb was too busy trying to reconcile his own complicated emotions at this partnership to give too much sympathy to Essek’s obvious stress.
Beau, meanwhile, was socking Essek in the shoulder with a bit more force than was necessary. Essek let out a soft gurk before schooling his features. “Dude, this is the most we’ve planned out any of our heists, stop your whining.”
Essek looked extremely alarmed.
“Besides,” Jester put in, giving a final twist to the elaborate updo she had worked his magically elongated hair into, “you are going to be a snack once I’m finished. Not that you’re not already! But, I mean, get all the gentlemen and ladies swooning, you know? No one will be able to look away!”
“It’s okay to be concerned,” Caduceus put in placidly, “but as someone who also got to come into this group and their methods late, I can assure you it is much worse than anything you can imagine so you’re better off just not worrying about it.”
“Not certain you’re helping, Deucy,” said Fjord. “Really Essek, it should be a pretty straight forward process. You distract the Head Matron, Veth steals the key to her vault off of her, the rest of us get the Soul Ruby out of the Children of Malice’s possession, Beau mans the get-away mounts, and we’ve found yet another trinket for the Dynasty to focus on instead of further prodding with the Empire. Everyone wins. I mean, except for Lolth’s crazyass followers.” He straightened his own formal attire while trying to look confident. It was not convincing.
“And if something goes wrong, we’ll just kill everyone,” Yasha said softly. In the silence of the room she added, “that was a joke.”
Veth, who had turned Essek’s face away to apply some subtle makeup, regarded the drow thoughtfully. “It’s like you were born to be a honeypot. I think this should be our go-to strategy from now on. Let’s test it.”
She swiveled his face towards Caleb, showcasing a silver eyeliner accentuating his angular eyes and a shimmering highlight along his cheekbones that haloed his pale freckles like starlight. Delicate wisps of hair framed his face in a stunning balance of elegance and allure. Caleb choked on his tea.
“We’re good to go!” Beau proclaimed.
---
This is asinine, Essek thought bitterly, slowly spinning his way through the elaborate dance steps on the ballroom floor to shift himself closer to the Head Matron. She was likely one of the most dangerous drow alive with a known appetite for weaker males, and he was willingly flouncing his way into her web with a tenuous exit strategy at best. Essek was beginning to worry his most notable personality trait was a complete lack of survival instinct.
There were numerous deflections he could have given the Mighty Nein when they approached him with this plan: the Shadowhand should not be involved in the activities of mercenaries, the Shadowhand was above a blasted honeypot scheme, the Shadowhand was frankly unsettled by the predatory nature of Lolth’s high priestesses. All were ultimately irrelevant. How could he argue the Shadowhand’s image when he hardly knew who he was supposed to be anymore? He was adrift in the sea of his own bad choices with no mooring to drag him forward. What did the duties of the Shadowhand even matter to him at this point? Repairing his fragile bonds with the Nein superseded any weak protest he could offer; there was little he would refuse them at this point. And of course, they had sent Caleb to make the request. However humiliating that particular weakness was, it was a weakness all the same.
He tried to distract himself from his horrendous life choices by taking in the gala around him. The opulence of the party was only offset by the décor. While Essek had always been uncomfortable with the pervasive theocracy of the Luxon, the religion at least had taste. Appropriate ornamentation for the Children of Malice appeared to heavily feature rivers of blood, a truly unacceptable number of spiders, and large, obsidian reliefs of the screaming damned. Not only did it put a damper on the festive spirit, it was just tacky.
He was saved from his judgement of the gauche skull-shaped goblets against the far wall when a hand closed over his elbow. He glanced up with as demur of an expression has his face would allow to see a hulking orcish woman staring dispassionately down at him.
“Her Dark Eminence would like to inspect you further. Come.” Not waiting for a reply, she tugged him towards the dais where Vivurk Tonn lounged on a giant horned throne. The Head Matron tapped idly at full maroon lips as she watched him approach, giving an unsubtle once-over of his form. Her cruelly beautiful features were thoughtful. Flattering, if it had come from someone who was her polar opposite. Vivurk licked her lips and Essek felt his testicles try to retreat into his abdomen to socialize with his kidneys. This was a terrible idea.
“Join me,” Vivurk’s husky voice commanded as they reached the foot of the dais. She waved languidly to a smaller throne to her left. It was understated, only composed of about forty thousand skulls and spiders. “Entertain me through this drudgery and you will earn entrance to my personal chambers tonight.”
Who spoke like this? It was as if she had picked up a tome titled “So You Want To Be an Evil Caricature With Distressingly Sexual Overtones”. She arched an eyebrow, impatient. Essek narrowed his eyes coyly and tilted his chin in defiance. It was a gamble. The Children held the archaic tradition of complete submission from their males, and sauciness would either ensnare her or cost him his head. He used to think he was good at calculated risk.
Because she was not the Mighty Nein and had the decency to fit his expectations, she snorted, clearly amused. “Oh yes, you will do very nicely. Come, morsel.” The orc gave him a shove towards the dais. He placed a punitive swirl of gravity in her left shoe so she would trip as she left.
“That’s my cue. Keep it going, hotboi, I’m moving in. Youcanrespondtothismessage.” Essek didn’t see Veth anywhere, but that was the point wasn’t it?
“You honor me, Eminence. I will entertain however you desire.” This felt like a new low, which he supposed was a distinction given his already impressive list of character flaws. He arranged himself primly on the proffered seat only to immediately have a spider leg jab into his left asscheek. Espionage was the actual worse. “How would you have me? Converse, that is.” Veth’s cackle rang though his head. It was insulting but not surprising to know she had wasted a cantrip specifically so he could know she was mocking him. Below, he saw the camouflaged Fjord and Caduceus playing at canoodling near the doors to the treasury. They’re in position. I can’t believe this may actually work.
“Share your thoughts on the guests,” Vivurk murmured, sounding half asleep in her boredom. “You look like you have a mouth on you. I want to see it work.”
Oh yuck. He would gladly obey her order if only to ignore the implications of that statement. His eyes scanned the crowd, resolutely not settling on Caleb’s current tiefling form winding through the crowd or Jester’s half giant who was spinning an undisguised Yasha like a top. “There is hardly anything to comment on,” he replied in a mimic of her languid tone. “Would you like me to note the Ironeye looks terrified of his little hired courtesan? He must know you can’t handle a drow if you’re not down to plow, and he knows he’s not up for the task.” The Head Matron gave a bawdy laugh, startling the dancers around her who gave uncertain smiles before resuming their steps. “Or perhaps I should note Daev’yana’s conspicuous absence. Not that I miss his tedious droning. That is a tongue that doesn’t know how to pleasure in any form.” Vivurk looked positively gleeful, and Essek felt a brief stab of pride at a job well done before reminding himself that being able to talk shit with the Spider Queen’s mouthpiece was probably a shameful accomplishment. “As for Icozrin-“ he paused, eying the harpist in the corner and factoring in Vivurk’s sideways glance. “You know, they are stunning. No complaints there. Can they join us tonight, perhaps?”
The Head Matron rested her chin on her palm, propped against the armrest closest to him. “It seems I have finally snagged a pretty little morsel with some semblance of a brain. Go on, treat, you are earning yourself a great many favors.”
Essek was bizarrely torn between gloating over his obvious success and the visceral NOPE of all her food analogies. He couldn’t tell if she was just deeply into oral innuendo or if her intended evening activities would legitimately end in cannibalism. His eyes skimmed back to the crowd, looking for another source of-
His mind screeched to a halt as his eyes locked with Verin’s.
With Verin’s.
WITH VERIN’S.
His brother gaped up at the dais, a stone in the middle of the flowing dance. “Esse-“
Tiefling-Caleb linebacker tackled him.
The two went down in a pile of flailing limbs and shouts from the surrounding party-goers. Essek was half out of his chair, quite aware of who held the strength advantage there, but some sort of innate sense alerted him to the fact that the damage had been done. His gaze swiveled to the High Matron whose expression was the most delighted and predatory he had seen all evening.
“I thought I recognized those beautiful eyes, Shadowhand.”
The following sequence of events processed in his mind as chaotic stills.
A flash. His dunamancy tore through the room, pushing their reality a step to the left where he avoided her first attack, allowing him to paralyze the Matron in her throne as time around her locked.
A flash. The orc guard lunged with her massive warhammer, two strides from crushing his skull before the gravity pull in her left shoe hobbled her and sent her crashing down the stairs into the guard detail that was rushing towards them.
A flash. The dance floor was invaded with a violent cacophony of sparkling hamsters, horns sprouting from their foreheads to gore the Gloomwatch that had come spilling into the ballroom.
A flash. A giant fucking demon had bypassed the need for a vault key and went crashing into the treasury with Fjord and Caduceus (now reverted to their normal forms) mounted on its hulking back.
A flash. Veth was inexplicably on the ceiling, hunkered like a spider and firing a crossbow into the crowd like a nightmarish wraith worthy of Lolth’s lore.
A flash. Essek’s eyes met Caleb’s, and for a moment there was beautiful, entropic fission as Caleb filled with magic and ropes of fire tore through the ballroom, corralling the party goers and guards away from the main group.
Essek read the move as clearly as if Caleb had cast Sending. As Vivurk remained a statue in her throne and the guards at the base of the dais flailed in a tangle of limbs, Essek shot skyward, scooped Veth off the ceiling (shrieks and protests), and landed in the protective cocoon of Caleb’s flames. With one hand he touched gently at his bruising, now human eye. The next moment, Essek’s hand outstretched to his idiot brother, forcefully pushing him into a deep trance.
As the screams of the party goers escalated, Beau threw open the doors to the ballroom with a resounding “what the FUCK!”
“They have the Ruby!” Jester abruptly shouted, her features vague as she recovered from the Sending.
Right. No time like the present to burn an 8th level spell slot.
Throwing out his hands, Essek opened a gravitational vortex that sling-shotted Fjord and Caduceus back up from the treasury, hauled Beau (and through the collection of reigns tied to her belt, the conglomeration of mounts), into the ballroom, and lifted himself, Caleb, Jester, Veth, and Yasha above the seething mass of confusion to unify them all near the ceiling.
“Mount up?” Beau shouted over the screams, glee painted on her face.
Essek glanced back down into the ballroom. The demon ape was rampaging through the tasteless china. Caleb’s flames were herding the Children into small groups of panic and chewing through a couple of heinous tapestries who truly deserved their fate. The High Matron was starting to rise from her throne, eyes rabid and fixed on Essek. And below it all, Verin. Unconscious on the black marble floor.
“Drop me and go,” Yasha stated calmly. “I’ve got him. We’ll rendezvous near the lower Barbs.”
He didn’t dare question her. As Yasha thundered onto the tile and unceremoniously flung Verin over her shoulder, Essek slipped onto a hovering mount behind Caleb and gripped reflexively at the other wizard’s shirt. He reversed the vortex, catapulting the startled mounts out of the hall and into the night in a steak of stars, all the while wondering just how the hell this was his life now.
---
They regrouped relatively unscathed and with their quarry. It was about the least subtle mission Essek had ever been a part of and he was beginning to have a suspicion that all of his previous machinations had been unraveled by messy, idiotic luck. He couldn’t say he minded.
“That was cool as hellllll!” Jester crowed, sprawled out on her back in the grass and staring at the night sky. “Can Essek gravity rocket us everywhere now?” A few paces off, their shaking, spooked mounts huffed clouds of panicked breath into the cold night air.
“That was pretty badass,” Beau mused, a larger concession than he had expected her to make. “Though I seriously need to learn a way to disguise myself. Being the get-away chump is boring as hell. I missed all the good stuff.”
“You can take my place next time,” Fjord murmured, his head between his knees. “Please, Essek, just leave me to die in the clutches of the enemy next time. It’s a better fate than that gravity fuckery.”
“You’ll be alright,” Caduceus murmured, offering him a cup of tea that wafted a ginger steam. Fjord took it gratefully. “Not too bad, all things considered. Are you a bit more comfortable with our methods, Mr. Essek?”
“Absolutely not. I frankly dread the next “plan” you all come up with. It is a statistical anomaly that this entire group isn’t dead.”
“In our defense,” Yasha stated, coming out of the gloom and settling down next to Beau, “it seems the Aurora Watch had a somewhat similar plan to us, but we pulled it off much better. I found a group of them on the outskirts of the palace and dropped your whoever-he-was off to them. They seemed to be delighted that the High Matron chose you over him.”
Essek sighed, hiding his face in his hand. “My brother. Verin is my idiot little brother. I can’t believe we almost all died because we were both targeting the High Matron.”
“Sweet!” Veth crowed. “We got the hot brother!”
Essek felt like his face was on fire, hidden in his palm. This was not the notoriety he had dreamed of as a child.
“The brilliant brother,” Caleb murmured beside him with a companionable shoulder bump. The complement was so surprising Essek silently choked on his own spit. “Perfectly able to balance innuendo and the most seamless casting I’ve ever seen. As soon as you’re rested, I would be greatly interested in how you modified the effects of a spell you had already cast.”
Essek peeked between his fingers and couldn’t help the twitch of a grin.
This group was pure chaos and utter madness with a gravity that the Dynasty’s best graviturgist couldn’t resist. Whatever strand of fate had allowed them back into his life, he was going to clutch at it with all the strength he had.