I
The city of Llyr was a wonder to behold from above. Bathed in the eternal gloom of the darkest caverns, the city saw light only from the magical flames of faerie fire that lined the statues and gargoyles that guarded the beautifully sculpted manses of Llyr's greatest families. Each mansion was carved from the largest stalactites in the cavern or molded from the cavern floor into delicate towers and intricate villas. Surrounding those marvelous homes were fences of ornately wrought, blackened steel and groves of enormous mushrooms, protecting the houses from the rabble that made their homes between the stately compounds and the possibility of attack from another noble house. In the center of the chamber that housed the city, the three schools of Llyr nearly glowed with their infernal power, centered on the Amser-Colofn, the glowing stalagmite that told the passage of time with the rise and ebb of its mystical fire.
Hetwn Evnissien, the current patron of House Evnissien, took the view in for a long moment, allowing himself to bask in the dark majesty of Llyr before he continued on his way. Strapped securely into the saddle of his lizard mount, the wizard enjoyed looking down over the city, permitting an illusion of power over the populace that he did not have. House Evnissien was only the seventeenth of thirty noble houses in Llyr, and his position as patron of the house was tenuous at best. The true power of Llyr lay with the females, the priestesses of the Spider Queen, Lolth, and lowly males could, and would be, replaced by the whims of the chaotic women who held the reins of power. Hetwn needed fear not only the females of his own house, only one of whom was his daughter, but also the machinations of the other houses. House Evnissien sat on dangerous ground; houses below them looked to increase their standing through the elimination of one above them that was not so powerful, while the houses above looked at Evnissien's growing power with concern that they would soon become targets for the ambitious Matron Saffir Evnissien. In so difficult a position, House Evnissien needed one of two things. Either they would need allies, or they would need somewhere else for the wary eyes of Llyr to look for power or a perceived threat.
It was the latter of the two goals which currently concerned Hetwn. Reining in his musings, the wizard spurred his mount onward, making his way through the stalactites that littered the cavern ceiling without a sound. Hetwn's piwafwi, the faintly enchanted cloak that identified him as a member of House Evnissien, was wrapped tightly about him, keeping it from falling and obscuring his view of anything around him, while his hair, somewhat unkempt by the standards of the drow in a flowing white mane, was controlled by the cowl of his cloak. Hetwn's crimson eyes remained alert and on the road, such as it was, around him, knowing that he may not be the only drow on the cavern ceiling.
Ahead of him, Hetwn could finally see his destination. The Roof of Llyr was nothing more than a common tavern, housed in a squat, thick stalactite almost directly above the vaunted Ysgol-Cyfranc, the school where so many dark elf nobles learned the arts of combat and assassination. Guiding the lizard halfway down the stalactite to the only opening in the stone, Hetwn undid the straps that secured him to his mount and swung easily into the tavern, landing just inside the entrance with one hand near the wand tucked into his belt. Although he was here to meet allies and not enemies, it was better to remain cautious.
The inside of the Roof of Llyr was barely large enough to accommodate five tables, but it did offer some privacy. Thin walls of stone at least partially separated each table, while the furniture and the bar were carved from the stalactite itself. The ceiling was low, only a foot above the diminutive Hetwn's head, giving the place a slightly claustrophobic feel. Still, while Hetwn did not enjoy the confined space of the Roof of Llyr, he maintained a steely calm as he turned to one table on his left.
"I see the Matron has let you slip from her grasp," a smirking young drow said, his silvery white hair wild and long on top but shaved from the sides of his head. The elf stood from his seat, blowing slightly as his gleaming blood colored eyes searched momentarily behind the wizard for any other newcomers. "And without an escort, as well. I am impressed."
"Perhaps you confuse me with someone else, Heilyn," Hetwn said, smiling faintly at the taller, far more muscular drow in front of him. Hetwn was small even by his own kind's standards, but Heilyn was a truly powerful drow physically. While he did not possess the grotesque, musclebound features that a duergar warrior would develop, his lean, taut frame held the defined features of a drow swordsman. The secondboy of House Brenin Llywd, the fourteenth house of Llyr, sat back down at his table, and gestured for Hetwn to join him. The wizard complied easily, although he silently wished this meeting could have taken place somewhere else. The Roof of Llyr's stone benches were uncomfortable at best.
"So, what brings you to this dreadful, duergar inspired excuse of a drinking house?" Heilyn inquired, taking a sip of wine from the long, narrow glass in front of him. "Oh, how rude of me. Would you care for a drink, Patron?"
"Not at the moment," Hetwn declined, growing serious.
"Suit yourself," Heilyn said with a shrug. Hetwn hesitated for a moment with a glance around the bar, then turned back to the warrior.
"We share a common problem," the wizard said, lowering his voice slightly.
"You don't like these benches either," Heilyn assumed, a smirk coming to his face. Hetwn's face darkened with anger.
"I was told I would be meeting a noble of House Brenin Llywd," the wizard stated, placing his hands on the table as he stood to leave. "Not some minstrel trying to win enough copper for his next meal in the Central Market."
"Easy, Hetwn, easy," Heilyn said. "I am indeed the secondboy of Brenin Llywd. I would simply have you, my diminutive friend, relax. I am certain we have important business to discuss. Now, what is this you say of a common problem?"
Hetwn glanced around the bar once more before he spoke.
"House Hen Wyneb," the wizard stated. Heilyn nodded thoughtfully.
"The Fifteenth House of Llyr," the warrior said. "An ambitious house. Their power is on the rise, and Matron Ceridwen is a dangerous foe."
"Dangerous, but not all powerful," Hetwn stated. "There are… other houses that look upon Hen Wyneb with disfavor. Other houses that may look to check Matron Ceridwen's power."
"Yes, so we have heard," Heilyn affirmed with a slight nod. "Certainly, my own house would not see this as a loss. After all, I'm certain Matron Ceridwen does desire to grow in power, and a move to become the fourteenth house would certainly be in her plans."
"We of House Evnissien would be willing to help put Matron Eirian's mind at ease," Hetwn said. "After all, was it not House Brenin Llywd that aided House Evnissien against the deep gnomes of Vyskov?"
"Ah, what a grand battle," Heilyn said wistfully. "Naomhin and I were unstoppable together. It fills me with bliss just thinking of it."
"Indeed," Hetwn said with a smile that belied his knowledge of the events. Heilyn and Naomhin, the elderboy of House Evnissien, had in fact killed many gnomes together, but the battle had ended with each noble son turning on the other, hoping to gain an edge in the neverending war of succession in Llyr. "And in that same spirit, we can aid each other again, to defend from Matron Ceridwen's machinations."
"I see," Heilyn said, swirling the wine in his glass. He took one last gulp, then set the flute gently on the stone table. "I shall relay your house's warm regards to my matron. Perhaps this is a good time to have friends."
"I await your response," Hetwn said. The wizard stood with a faint smile, and quickly exited the Roof of Llyr.