CB's City of the Spider Queen v3.5

K'yorl curls her lip at the imputation that she would need to pretend to be a noble. She turns to the gloaming, raising the hood of her cloak over her frosty white hair.

"Take Zarra and inform the guard that K'yorl, Matron of House Vrinn of Maermidyra and Handmaid to the Dark Mother wishes to pass the bar with her entourage. Tell them she has no patience for niceties and is prone to reducing her lessers to smoking piles of ash. Tell them that if they do not wish to spend the rest of their careers scrubbing the backsides of svirfneblin slaves in the baths above that they will do the smart thing and stand aside."

Her perfect red eyes sparkle darkly in the depths of her hood as she smooths her robe and adjusts her holy symbol into better prominence.

OOC: K'yorl actually has a Bluff of +14 and a Diplomacy of +16. And given that she is, actually, a noble - albeit of a house that appears to no longer exist - it seems likely the best bet.

Zarra would like to see if she could read what is written. Her decipher script is only a +3, but she knows many languages. (beside drow's basic 3 and sign- Terran, Abyssal, Gnommish)
Depending on what it says, if she can read it, she will then inconspicuously cast Detect Magic and cast an eye toward the gates, in order to see what we're up against; before replying to K'yorl.

When Hael asked about a magic sack to carry the bloody head, Prixo turned away and began whistling softly. Hoo-hoo-hoo. He might be right about the spell, but ruining my magic backpack with that blood? Not going to happen.

Prixo attempts to read the inscription above the bar. (Int +1)

He waits to see if the guards let the party leave. This could work. Though I have a bad feeling about something.

As Alex approaches the gate a smile crosses his face. He looks back down passage which the party just came from and is very eager to finally leave the city. "Whatever the plan we should do it soon. Where am I needed to help?" Alex says not wanting to be left out of the plan.

Hearing K'yorl's plan, Blite nods, "Sounds good to me. Guess I'll make a pretty good guard. I'll give anyone who wants to argue cause to think twice. How much are you paying?" he asks, with a wry smile.

OOC: Intimidate +5

Prixo will try to look intimidating as well, though he knows he'll appear as more of a supporting guard compared to the big minotaur.

(Aid another, intimidate +2)

"он видит, как язычники входят во святилище его, о котором Ты заповедал, чтобы они не вступали в темный Твое. Язычник, бойтесь вашей души."

Lyssa, Zarra, and Prixo spend a minute to look up and gaze at the arched lintel over the black malachite Lower Bar. Though the inscription seems to be deeply chiseled in bold lettering in archaic Undercommon, neither Lyssa, Zarra, nor Prixo makes out what the runes mean. Zarra comes closest, finding the root of the Undercommon for "soul" in the lettering.

Zarra, casting detect magic that she might have a better feel for what powers of enchantment lie over the gate, finds two auras lie in a dark pall over the Bar. One moderate aura emanates from the inscription in the lintel, the other aura is strong and emanates from a relatively small black iron lockbox inset into the righthand (near the bottom, within reach of someone standing on foot) gate. Zarra's lack of trained ranks in Spellcraft prevent her from knowing more about the auras.

Eydis, I'm not seeing Spellcraft on Zarra's skill list. Let me know if I've overlooked it.

Despite her attempt to conceal her spellcasting, K'yorl, Blite, and Hael notice Zarra casting her spell. K'yorl recognizes it as detect magic.

Lyssa flutters out front of the entourage with Zarra, Ardyth, K'yorl, Prixo, Alex, Hael, and Blite in tow. Butting to the head of the queue and menacingly pointing the tip of her blue-aura'd longsword with meaning in the direction of the guardsman taking papers beside the closed iron door, Lyssa lifts her chin and in loud disdainful tones decries, "K'yorl, Matron of House Vrinn of Maermidyra and Handmaid to the Dark Mother wishes to pass the Bar with her entourage. My mistress has no patience for niceties and is prone to reducing her lessers to smoking piles of ash. Should you decide you do not wish to spend the rest of your career scrubbing the backsides of svirfneblin slaves in the baths above, you will make way." From the back of the entourage, Blite draws himself up to his full height just as both Alex and Prixo ready their weapons in mute threat.

Loud as Lyssa's declaration is, an iron-shod window slides back with sudden force from inside the iron door. A moment later, the entire iron door opens with an audible click and a male drow steps out. The drow's garb and black-and-red-striped flaring armament delineate him as an officer of the Szith Morcane guard. With eyes that glitter keenly in K'yorl's direction, the officer abruptly shoves past his lesser and bows before the party. "Captain Maerstith Morcane at your service, Matron Vrinn. The Council is sorry for your absence and bids you safe passage on your journey to Calimshan. Naturally, you needn't wait for mere paperwork...simply sign the Ledger of Houses and my guard will conduct you safely through the throng at the Bar. 'Twould be a pity if your robes were tattered by the crowd." Captain Morcane, despite his diplomatic tone, levels a deadly and interested gaze at K'yorl, recognition writ plain on his face. Producing a leather-bound tome, Captain Morcane indicates he would have K'yorl enter through the iron door to sign his ledger...alone.

Thoroughly intimidated, the lesser guardsman clearly shrinks away from both K'yorl, Lyssa, and the drow Captain.

House Morcane, K'yorl shakes her head in wonderment within the depths of her cowl. The cow provides for our exit and then waits to see what we'll do. She treats us as playthings. What in the hells is her game? He eyes narrow. She'll need time to consider all the implications, but one thing is certain: she won't forget the slight.

With an abrupt movement, K'yorl snaps down the hood of her robe and levels a steady gaze at the captain, irritation flashing in her perfect red eyes. "Where is this book, then," she demands, stepping forward and following him through the door.

In her movement and bearing, she does her best to channel the commanding and ferocious spirit of her dead mother [Bluff +14 and Diplomacy +16].

Hael waits in line with the party scowling, having returned with his flying beast.

Having received no response to his inquiry about magic sacks Hael had flown off to the cavern roof, dripping drider head in tow. Stowing the prize in an extra sack he had mounted the great cave bat and launched from the rocky ceiling, its fifteen foot wingspan taking mount and rider in great sweeping flight along the upper reaches of the cavern where the duergar scout could gain a clear perspective. While his leg throbbed the dwarf ignored the pain and focused on seeing the action below. Since no pursuit from levitating or flying drow was imminent and nobody shot at him he focused on the party. When he saw them lining up publicly for the exit he decided not to wait for the mist as that plan seemed abandoned, so he joined them. The sack though is dripping a little from its contents as it hangs from the back of the bat.

Lyssa

Maintaining her fierceness as she waits, Lyssa cannot help but glance back for signs of pursuit.