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"Ok, so let's go over the plan one more time." Bahralpha did not like the underdark. As a kobold, she was no stranger to confined spaces and lack of sunlight. After all, most kobolds never left their caves. Most kobolds didn't live very long either. But after spending time as an adventurer, she had grown to enjoy the wide open spaces of the world above. And while the underdark was spacious, that gnawing feeling on the walls closing in rippled through her scales.

Distractions were needed. Her claw dragged across her evening gown, a long leather jacket and elbow length gloves over a soft pink corset, ending with riding chaps. A strange mixture of practicality and beauty, one that would earn many snooty stares from fellow guests that evening. "When we arrive at the party, you both are what?"

"Your horse." Barnabas grinned. The hairy dwarf was buck naked save for the leather straps across his body, with special ones looped around his balls and tied to the harness of his face. The kobold's idea, seeing as how Barnabas thought too much with his dick, she had to control it. He wore the saddle on his back well, enough for Bahralpha to consider using it more in private.

"Stock." Blenafee said with a bow. Unlike Barnabas, the femmy goblin wore a leather corset and tight black pants, outlining his soft bulge around the crotch. Like the dwarf though, his hands were locked into a sleeve behind his back. She loved how flexible her boys were, having worn these outfits for an hour already and not a single complaint.

"Good, good." She pulled out the envelope from her coat pocket, a forgery she'd spent the better part of the week making. They originally hopped to just nab one from another guest, but upon learning they were personally titled, the kobold had to get some sleepless hours in. "Remember, we're looking for Lady Locke. She was last seen conniving with a drow gentleman and her family expects foul play."

"With the drow, it's always foul play." Bahralpha held back her urge to nod at Barnabas's statement. While she didn't disagree, the dwarf had some old views he still struggled to fight against. Better than most other dwarves, who'd think to kill Bahralpha and Blenafee on sight, even if they were working staff. "Shame though, they can be kind of pretty."

Blenafee chuckled. "You know what they say about roses?"

"They're red?"

Once again, Bahralpha felt the comfort of her palm against her face. "They have thorns, Barnabas. But back to the topic at hand, we know it's foul play because the drow in question was Ranas Dyrr of house Dyrr. One of the smaller houses in this part of the Underdark." Yet one that was never toppled by rivals. Either the house always had the favor of their spider god, or they had enough dirt to take everyone with them if they fell. But she had no interest in Underdark politics. "If Lady Locke has been taken by him, she'll be at Sabdra Dyrr's party. And I need you-" She pointed at Blenafee and was about to point at Barnabas, but pointed back to the goblin, "Mainly you, to keep an eye out."

"I have eyes too."

"You'll be blindfolded. Part of the outfit."

The dwarf blinked. "So I'm walking in, blind, with only you tugging on my balls to direct me forward once we get out of this carriage?" When she nodded, he added, "Sweet. I've been wanting some CBT as of late." If there was one thing Bahralpha couldn't find annoying from her dwarven partner, it was his boundless enthusiasm.

"So, what's the plan for when we find her?" Blenafee asked, "I don't think you'll be able to bribe a sale out of the matriarch."

Bahralpha figured as much. Drow were a picky and judgemental sort. Even if she could impress them as a kobold of refined taste, she knew they would not let her buy any of their slaves. "That's where your skills come in. I'll have the drow eating out of my claws, giving you ample distraction to free and escort the lady out into our wagon."

"And if my hands aren't free?" Bahralpha gave the goblin a straight face. They all, even Barnabas, knew that if Blenafee wanted, no lock could hold him down. One of his many bardic talents. It both made her all the more honored that he accepted her as his mistress, and itching to discover new ties to try on the goblin. He snickered, "Sorry, just a little joke before the stress of it all."

"We'll be fine." The dwarf nudged up against his goblin partner, "We've got each other's backs. Bahralpha's plans haven't let us down yet." Though they've often had to be improvised because of her two boys. The kobold didn't bring that up, preferring to enjoy her two partners cuddling up before the wagon stopped. Looping the blindfold around Barnabas's eyes, the kobold kicked back onto the saddle and rode him outside of their carriage.

The glow of fluorescent mushrooms gave an eerie shine to the castle before them. Tall enough to connect from the ceiling to the floor, it stood as a single pillar with windows and balconies. Lights flickered out from the many crevices, hints at the party already playing. Given the drow's natural sense of magic, Bahralpha expected there would be many colors afoot.

Three male drow stood out at the front gate, each in black leather armor. Two carried scimitars at their sides, while the middle held a clipboard in one hand, and a large blade across his back. Unlike his long haired fellows, his hair was short but bunned. For a moment she considered it a fashionable look, something to undo if the kobold ever had him at her talons. His compatriots reached for their weapons, but stopped when he raised his hand. "Are you lost, kobold?" He asked, his voice carrying contempt that she'd love to beat out of him.

Bahralpha, with Barnabas hitched, pulled her letter from her coat pocket. "I have an invitation to the ball, from Lady Dyrr." With beady eyes and a raised brow, the drow grabbed her invitation and sifted through it. "Does your lady prefer to make her guests wait?" Bahralpha asked, building a tiny threat, "I imagine she'll be intrigued as to why I am falling behind at the gate."

"My sister is a woman of patience." Bahralpha felt her heart jump at his words. Sister? She had not planned to meet the matriarch's brother.

"Oh?" She said with cool composure, "And which brother are you?"

"Ranas." Said a new voice from behind. Pins and needles shot up the kobold's spine. Not only for the realization that the drow in front of her was, in fact, the perpetrator of the distressed damsel, but also the sheer familiarity of tone from the voice behind her. A chiding sense of authority one pushed out with siblings and relations. Turning her head ever so slightly, Bahralpha looked out upon a female drow with long white wavy hair, parted to her right to cover her eye. A sparkling over-the-shoulder purple dress matched her body, with black heels tapping against the pathway. Her frown turned to a curious smirk upon seeing the kobold and her two slaves, but Bahralpha felt nothing but an icy chill behind those amber eyes.

"Yes, sister?" Ranas said with a gracious bow of his head. "I take it your walk was relaxing?"

"Enough," The matriarch sighed, "Though I'm steadily losing it with how you're treating my guest."

Her brother blinked and his pointed ears twitched. "I'm only consulting the letter, dear sister."

"A letter I undoubtedly sent?" She stepped past Bahralpha. Her heels gave the matriarch a good inch or two above her brother and she relished every second of it. "And what's with the familiar tone? Have I been too lenient in your freedoms as of late?"

The two drow behind Ranas smirked at the question. He himself bit his lip and bowed his head, "Apologies, Lady Dyrr. My concerns were only for the sake of your reputation. A kobold seemed...unorthodox."

"Indeed." She spoke with silent approval, eyes wandering down to survey the three oddities at her door. Bahralpha ran numerous backup plans in her head, as well as escape routes. The biggest of which being the mother of all ice storms right now before either drow drew their blade. "But you must admit, Ranas, that things have been getting rather stale as of late. Why, I'd say that our guests aren't even trying to be creative with their slaves anymore." Her finger trailed across Blenafee's scalp, "I mean, I've seen many dwarven slaves. Often for physical labor, they're not good for personal pleasure. But a goblin? Well, I've always heard they're too unruly. Yet this one isn't even gagged."

"That's because he knows what his mouth is for." Bahralpha pushed out a confident grin, "And I suppose, for a lesser master, you would be right. Goblins are too wild and stupid to be good slaves. The best you can do is make them fearful, but fear can lead to mistakes, or, worse, lies. I'm sure a powerful lady such as yourself has had the misfortune of a slave lying to avoid punishment."

While Ranas's eyes looked on with daggers, Sabdra's carried amusement. "Any slaver who says they haven't is a liar themselves. No one is perfect at breaking from the beginning. Though, I must admit I never expected a kobold to have such skill."

"And why would you?" Bahralpha held back her anger at the backhanded insult, swallowing her pride for the sake of the mission. "Most of my kind are fearful and foolish, willingly enslaving themselves to dragons instead of carving out their own power. I found a new path, and I would love to tell you of it."

With a subtle nod and a snap of the matriarch's fingers, the gates opened. "I would love to hear it. Most ladies don't dig deep into their methods of slavery. I figured they just pay someone to break them in."

"Really?" Bahralpha feigned interest, "I must say, that's quite scandalous."

"Oh, I have quite many scandals. Perhaps we can discuss them over wine? Or is tea more your fancy?"

"One should never give up the opportunity to sample drow wine." She pulled Blenafee forward, "As a gift for such generosity, I'd like to offer my goblin for your amusement. He's a fantastic singer, and an artist with any stringed instrument."

"Pretty and talented?" Lady Dyrr looked positively bemused, "Why, such a gracious gift. Ranas." Her tone shifted to stone at the snap of her fingers. Her brother stepped forward, spine straight, "Take this goblin inside and find something more suitable for the party."

"At once, my Lady." Ranas bowed. Bahralpha handed the leash to him and fought the urge to wink at Blenafee as the goblin was pulled off. She made a mental note to skewer Ranas with an icicle up his ass the next chance she had. After seeing him tug her precious boy, she thought of making the icicle spiked for the occasion.

"So, shall we be off?" Lady Dyrr asked, directing Bahralpha to the open gates.

With a grin, the kobold hitched herself onto the saddle across Barnabas's back and motioned for her host to lead the way. "After you, my dear lady."

***

Of the trio, Blenafee had spent the most time in the underdark. Goblin caves ran deep, and more than a few of his extended family had been felled by drow arrows. Really, it was that kind of life that pushed the goblin to desire the finer things. And what drow he did see did carry the finer things, even as they dealt death.

Lady Dyrr's home was no exception. Silk tapestries depicted the rise of her house and the fall of her enemies, conquests over wild parts of the underdark, and, of course, worship of the spider queen herself.

Even the rug was silk. Soft and pleasurable to his feet. Almost enough to ignore how roughly Ranas pulled the goblin along. There was an intense nature to the drow. Every movement he made felt stiff, as if wound too tight and walking with a broom up his ass. Bahralpha would comment that she'd shove one quite literally up there, but Blenafee held back such remarks until sparks flew.

Despite there being a party, Blenafee saw no guests in the halls. He considered asking why, but his current station, cover or not, made it wise to stay silent unless spoken too. "Do you have a preferred instrument?" Ranas asked. "Knowing musicians, there is always one instrument they prefer over another. And a happy musician tends to be more enjoyable."

The goblin blinked, not expecting such empathetic thoughts from a drow. "The harp, sir."

"The harp?" Ranas nodded despite his confusion, "How long have you been in your mistress's service?"

"Years, sir."

"Any specific amount."

"Hard to keep track."

Ranas laughed, "Oh I suppose. It all bleeds after a point." He snapped his fingers. Two suits of armor animated to life and lifted their halberds, the crossed blades barring entry to a door. Blenafee blinked as they stepped inside, failing to rub his eyes thanks to the bondage sleeve locking his arms.

"Obviously we can't have you play a harp looking like that." Ranas snapped his fingers. Clothes lifted from drawers or off the racks. With a swipe of his hand, the drow sifted through each article with discerning levels of interest. "No, no, no, too gothic for a goblin, too high maintenance. Too big. Really we don't have many slaves of your size so it gets difficult to pick something out."

He would have answered back, but held his tongue. The goblin was playing the part of a slave, and slaves didn't speak unless spoken too. Finally, Ranas stopped at a sheer pink outfit belonging to dancers of the desert kingdoms. "Oh yes...this may do nicely. Could give a sense of alluring." Invisible hands worked Blenafee's restraints, releasing his arms from the sleeve. Taking the moment to stretch them out, he bowed gracefully and thanked Ranas. "Get changed." The drow ordered, "There is a party in dire need of something new."

Discarding the leather britches and corset, Blenafee revealed he carried no weapon or focus. As a bard, he needed only music to cast his magical talents. His wiles were just an added benefit. Ranas leaned against a cabinet as the goblin dressed, watching with interest. Specifically toward Blenafee's green ass, which he made an effort to sway during the process. The outfit itself left little to the imagination, with a sheer cerulean blue silk and satin shawl over his shoulders, a flowing skirt that reached past his knees, and a soft mask wafting down half his face. In the mirror Blenafee could see his private areas past the clothes, spots that would be hidden with garments he was not provided.

He supposed it was indeed that kind of party.

Peeking back to Ranas, the goblin broke his neutral mask for a second for a smirk at the drow's crotch. The phallic outline was clear in his pants. With poise, the goblin bowed before the drow. "I hope this attire is to your liking, sir."

"It is..." The drow's boots clicked against the floor. Blenafee watched them, noting how the drow swerved and paced around the goblin. Inspecting every inch with his red eyes. "Surprisingly adequate. How does your mistress wash that filth from you every day?"

"With a daily bath, your grace," Blenafee said without a hint of the ire he felt. Even at the front gate he could tell Bahralpha struggled to not lash out. Her anger was adorable, but he'd need a long talk with her about the importance of character on a mission. "My mistress spends a great deal on soaps and perfumes."

"She would have to, with that dwarf." Ranas chuckled. Blenafee's tongue crashed against the roof of his mouth, releasing what tension he could without breaking face. "As for your harp, we will find it at the party. Come." With a tug of his leash, the goblin didn't have much choice in the matter.

Murmurs filled his ears upon approaching the gala. The first thing he noticed after the shocking lack of music played at the event. What sort of ball lacked music? Especially one of drow. Surely, like their elven cousins, the drow had a taste for the finger things. Past the wide doors, Blenafee scoped out the ballroom to the vast view of guests and their living property. Drow women dressed in web patterned dresses, drow men in fancy suits. Though the men accompanying ladies made an effort to have their outfits more muted. Nothing to outshine their mistress's leather and lace.

With what inspection he could afford, the goblin noted every slave carried a stepford smile. They lacked restraints save for the most basics of collars. A truly broken slave needed nothing more, but the movements of each unfortunate soul were too mechanical to be broken.

A pulse rippled across his body. The goblin suppressed it, fighting the urge to show his struggle. Blenafee had felt enchantments before, the silky soothing sense of someone or something fiddling with your mind. Any bard worth their salt had ways to counteract it, or just the strength to push their will over their accusers. His eyes darted subtly around the room, locating the source from the crystal pillar in the middle of the dance floor.

Pretending to fall under its spell, Blenafee stiffened his movements and followed Ranas. He noticed a small gem attached to the drow's jacket, finding similar amber crystals across the guests. Sneaking one would be difficult, but possible for one such as him.

Taken to a stage with a small harp, Ranas had the goblin sit against a soft but small bench. Blenafee felt an awkward struggle with his ass hanging over the tall seat, but he made it work. "Play 'Spider's Requiem' on repeat." Blenafee desired a reward for not rolling his eyes at the request. The dreadful melody flew from his harp with each strum of its strings. Scanning the crowd, the goblin found Lady Locke. She stood naked, her raven hair running down her frozen body, posing as a statue in a tight embrace with a muscular purple tiefling woman. Now he just needed to signal Bahralpha and find a way out.

And that's when he felt a warm wet tongue between his buttcheeks.

***

As evil a bitch Lady Dyrr was, Bahralpha had to admire the woman's tastes. For such a small castle, her halls were dotted with paintings, tapestries, and statues. There was, of course, the occasional depiction of the drow goddess strewn in, often with a web that used jewels to mirror glistening dew. But the self-portraits depicted Sabdra as a desirable matron, each depicting a different slave under her boot.

And the slaves. So many men and women bowed in her presence, each dressed to leave little to the imagination. The kobold knew that if she had such power and influence, her halls would be no different. Well, except for the spider queen. She had no love for gods or goddesses, not after the last being she worshiped fled so easily.

"So, is it true what they say of dwarves and their hair?" Lady Dyrr asked.

"That depends on what they say." Bahralpha countered.

The drow matriarch chuckled, "I've heard their hair grows back remarkably quick, and that their women prefer to keep their beards between their legs. I prefer my slaves trim down there, like elves."

"Not a fan of the scratch?" Bahralpha grinned, "I suppose my privates are a little more durable than an elf's. No offense meant."

"Oh, none taken." The following room was lit by purple crystals at each corner. Two couches sat across from one another, with a balcony overlooking the gala behind one couch. Two slaves, one a female human, another male elf, stood at attention in the middle of the room, naked. Bahralpha wouldn't have minded having such specimens in her own harem, when she could afford such an abode. "You have quite the collection of servants, Lady Dyrr."

"Well, I seek out the best." The drow snapped her fingers and the two slaves kneeled. Kicking her heels aside, she sat against the purple cushioned couch and rested her feet out. "The human belonged to a barbarian tribe. She left to seek riches of her own and a name for herself, but unfortunately, she didn't realize that not every problem could be solved with brute force." The human's face turned pink, contrasting with her short raven hair. "Thankfully, she's given up such petty notions, and even her very name, to be at my feet." The slave leaned down to the floor and planted her lips across the drow's toes. Bahralpha noticed the impressive muscles across her back. As well as the scars, both from battles and from whips.

"I see." The kobold stepped off from her saddle and sat at the opposite couch, holding her talons out for Barnabas to worship. "And the elf?"

"Half-elf." The drow smiled, curling a finger under the blonde man's chin, "I've gone through great pains to keep his facial hair from growing. He was her companion, a bard with carnal desires and dreams of fame. They came together, though I'm not sure if they were lovers, or simply friends who shared a bedroll." His face faltered at the lovers comment, but Lady Dyrr's touch had him mesmerized. Bahralpha couldn't tell if he was happy, or under some sort of spell. "What about your dwarf?" Lady Dyrr asked, "Where did you find him?"

"He was an upstart adventurer, like your pair." She pushed her foot against his beard, pushing him to the ground, "A noble, in fact. Had dreams of grandeur but couldn't quite live up to his ancestors. Given the history of dwarves, a part of me tingles in joy each night I ride him. Knowing his ancestors are watching down in disgust."

The drow laughed, "Oh, that does sound lovely. Care to show me how useful he is? I would love to insult some dead dwarves at this moment."

Grinning, Bahralpha pulled down her pants, surprised at how aroused she'd become throughout the whole ordeal. "Oh, gladly." She peeked over at the other two slaves. The woman still dutifully worshiped her mistress's feet. The half-elf, however, had his gaze wandering to the impressive rod rising between Barnabas's legs. His own average pecker rising in turn. "I hope your knife-eared plaything doesn't want a piece."

"Oh, you can ignore him. He's more of an observer and a cleaner in the bedroom."

"Oh, poor boy." Bahralpha laughed, hovering her wet cunt over the blindfolded dwarf's face. She sat down without ceremony, landing at his lips to the surprise of Lady Dyrr. "As I said before, we kobolds have a more durable sex. Something as scratchy as a dwarven beard is rather ticklish to us." Barnabas choked at the remark, but she slapped his head to keep him silent, earning a laugh from the lady drow.

"Have you ever threatened such an action?" The drow asked, "Knowing how dwarves love their beards."

"I don't use threats." Bahralpha almost growled, "My pets know their place already."

Claws digging softly into Barnabas's hairy flesh, Bahralpha lined her cunt against his thick hog. "Another thing people do not know about kobolds," She said, wincing as she impaled herself along the shaft, "Is that we have a high stamina. Mating sessions can last for days during our heat cycle."

"Really?" Lady Dyrr leaned back, her lip curling in amusement. Her unoccupied foot pressing against the stiffening member of her elven slave, and exposing her lack of panties underneath. A soft, pink slit hidden between black as night flaps. Bahralpha put aside the bard's moans, focusing instead of her partner's tough flesh. Her claws scratched against him, rough enough to just avoid bleeding. She dared not whisper a warning to Barnabas, leaning in only to nip at his neck. Who knew how good a drow's hearing really was? Besides, the dwarf loved her being rough.

Deeper and deeper she pushed herself, his thick member impaled inside her. Gritting her teeth, the kobold slowly bounced against his rod. The wet slapping sounds mixing with the half-elf's struggling gasps and the barbarian's worship of her mistress's feet. The kobold found herself slipping into a pattern, her mind focused on her own pleasure and riding it out for as long as possible.

Then came the crash.

***

Only Blenafee's rigorous training prevented him from losing his rhythm. The goblin was certain who's tongue had slipped between his green cheeks, and beyond the sheer panic he had over breaking his cover, the bard had to admit his host was talented. If he weren't trying to infiltrate, he'd slide toward the drow and enjoy the rimming.

Sadly, he had to act unaware. Charms would only break through pain, or by magic itself. He knew plenty of countering charms, but the warm wet feeling crawling up his pucker made it hard to determine which one was suitable. To make matters worse, he wasn't sure if this particular charm prevented his erection outside of command.

Knowing drow, he didn't have much time before his boner ruined the shock.

Steading his breath through ventriloquist techniques, the goblin strummed his fingers across his harp. He still didn't know which was the best charm to use, but he didn't have the luxury to experiment.

A note slipped. Blenafee mentally cursed and tried again. Another note went off key, eyes turned to him as his breathing worsened. He couldn't hold out for much longer. Straining his breath, the goblin bit his lip to calm himself for one final note. Ranas's tongue proved stronger than his resolve.

His relief came with a shudder. A small wave washed over his body. Not enough to break his walls, but enough for Ranas to pause. Blenafee sighed, "Fuck it." The goblin kicked off the stool with his bare bottom free, strumming his fingers across the harp in expert fashion. Singsong lyrics echoed from his throat while he danced and twirled in the ballroom, shocking the guests at every turn.

By now the guards knew something was wrong. They moved in to catch him, only for the goblin to duck and weave through their attempts like a game of tag. With one final note, Blenafee cried out at the top of his lungs. The vibrations of his vocal cords shattered several glasses in the hands of drow aristocracy.

None noticed the enchantment cracked until it was too late.

The tiefling with Lady Locke twitched. Her arms slacked in exhaustion and shoulders slumped. The passive expression across her face turned sour with a head turn, and, with strength fueled by righteous vengeance, she grabbed the nearest blunt object and bashed it over a drow guard.

Chaos erupted. Slaves rebelled with what newfound freedom they had. Servers struck out with their trays, dancers strangled with the chains or leather straps they'd been given, and musicians bent or shattered their instruments over drow guard and guest alike. Blenafee rushed through the ensuing panic, knowing full well that the rebellion ran on fumes. He found the maiden hiding near the purple tiefling, who had acquired a mace from a guard and showed plenty of skill in using it.

Musical notes came to life and flung from his harp like tiny bolts, striking a drow center mass as he crept up behind the tiefling. The purple woman swung around and clobbered him, then raised her mace against Blenafee only to stop as he raised his hands. "We don't have much time!" He cried out, "You want to get out?" She nodded, he pointed to the human cowering, "Help me rescue her. I've got an escape plan. Just follow."

***

Bahralpha felt a sharp tingle along her spine at the sudden panic below them. Her ride against Barnabas had come to a halt, slowly slipping herself out of him while Lady Dyrr got up. "What is that racket?" The drow asked with a frustrated sigh. She walked out of the kobold's gaze, long enough for her to sneak a few restraints loose from Barnabas's bindings.

"Move on my signal." She whispered. The dwarf nodded.

Twisting magic to bend its rules in her favor, Bahralpha silently channeled a spell and aimed it at Lady Dyrr. Icy winds and hail flowed from her point, battering the matriarch's backside with unrelenting force. The drow cried in frigid shock, slipping against and over the balcony.

"Mistress!" Her slaves cried out in unison. The spell had cost Bahralpha her focus, leaving her open for the heavy handed fist of the barbarian slave against her jawline. Reeling from the impact, Bahralpha slipped against the icy floor and collided with the couch legs. With a hazy blink, she saw Barnabas wrestle against the two slaves, his short and stout body commanding strength in a frenzy. The half-elf tried to clear away, reaching for his own mistress's dangling body, while the woman proved every bit the dwarf's match with fury to add on.

Time was not on their side. Bending the laws of magic to her will yet again, the kobold split her next spell in twain, sending an icy bolt to two targets instead of one. Each hit dead center mass, knocking them back far enough for the ice to help them slip. "We need to go!" She called out, hoping it'd stop Barnabas from finishing his fight.

As dense as the dwarf could be, Barnabas knew when to take her seriously. Bahralpha found herself scooped up and carried over the saddle she rode in on. Her claws gripped the reins as her companion slid down the ice, and dashed through the halls. "You alright?" He asked down the steps.

The quick hobbling of each step made her want to hurl. "No. That barbarian girl packed a punch."

"Didn't expect her to be so loyal." Barnabas mused, "I mean, she is a slave."

"You saw how devoted she was to that drow's feet." Bahralpha had seen it plenty of times in private quarters with her own boys. Maybe Lady Dyrr was a loving mistress, or maybe they were broken. None of that mattered now. "We gotta get to the ballroom. Blenafee could be in danger."

A drow in leather armor went crashing to the ground just as they turned the corner. Looking forward, Bahralpha saw two goblins, two tieflings, and two Lady Locke's. Then she blinked and realized she was seeing double. Doubly not good for their escape plan.

The tiefling gripped her mace with both hands and raised it high. "Wait!" Blenafee interposed himself between them, "She's with me! She's our way out!" Turning to Bahralpha, the goblin's smile turned to worry. "Oh, lord, what happened?"

"Former barbarian lass decked her." Barnabas said factually. "Don't suppose you could heal her up?"

Before the goblin could whisper a single tune, the tiefling braced her hand against Bahralpha's face. A warm, and soft tingle rolled over her head, followed by the aching and cloudy vision clearing. The kobold blinked, shocked to feel no numbness or even an imprint of the first left by Lady Dyrr's slave. "That's about all I can do without my symbol," The tiefling said.

"That's all I needed." Bahralpha cracked a grin and whipped Barnabas's reins, "Come on! We got a carriage waiting. Grab the lady and let's go."

With one mad dash to the courtyard and another procession of spells and physical might, the five made it back to the carriage Bahralpha, Barnabas, and Blenafee rolled in on. No longer able to twist the laws of magic, the kobold used the last of her arcane reserves to whisk an invisible servant with a single command to drive them off to safety. Barnabas had set a few fires along their escape, ensuring they would have a gap between pursuers.

The noble they rescued was fine, if not carrying a few scratches. The tiefling explained she had been imprisoned by the drow for months after getting split from her own party. "I don't suppose you'd be open for joining another crew then," Bahralpha inquired, "Miss..."

"Tamnoel," The tiefling shook her head, "And no, but I thank you for the offer."

The kobold nodded. It'd be nice to have a cleric in her posse, but she wouldn't force it. Even if she did like to imagine the purple tiefling on her knees. "How much do I owe you for the healing?"

Tamnoel smiled, "A five percent cut."