Each time Hwesta would peek at her, Alsiif would peek back. It was a fun game, but the narcoleptic Alsiif wasn't quite sure what to think of this priestess... It seemed awfully sweet, but maybe that was just an act, and really she was planning to murder everyone in some sort of trap tonight. Alsiif plopped her head down on the table and sighed. It was probably best not to worry about this kind of crap. If Hwesta was some sort of devious genius trickster, they'd just have to beat her up. If she really was this friendly... well that would just be weird. "Ahm.. Healing potions would be nice.. That way we can do all sorts of fun stuff.. I'd also like something to pull out her teeth with, maybe... if we gonna be doing that sorta thing."
The next few days were a bit of an awkward affair. They had to bounce between the super-expensive taverns and clubs near the central cathedral complex in order to look like tourists, all the while keeping an eye out for their prey.
Neit would go into strange sleep-like trances for hours on end, propping herself up with drink after drink. It was to plant lustful thoughts into their target's brain, or at least that's what she said. She was none to pleased with Hwesta constantly turning up and asking to take part, through the brooding, malicious woman always seemed to find a way to let her feisty daughter down gently.
The plan was pretty straight forward. They'd tail Yathrin Riknueth into the backstreets, and act like part of the swarming crowds. Too close to the temple and the people would see them do it. Too far and the bint would get away.
Timing was everything.
On the sixth day, they finally spotted the woman hurriedly making her way out of the complex. The description was more or less how Hwesta described; A pale, lithe drown of average height, with skin the color of darkish marble. She wore a revealing, tight black leather get up, and a jagged, expensive-looking red tiara. She looked flustered.
The guards following her were sparse, maybe a bit cleaner and healthier looking than normal. The most noticeable were two slathering, imposing trolls whom were completely armored from head to foot, and bearing great axes the size of small trees. Two immaculate female orcs with clear human (or possibly even Drow, Lolth forbid) heritage followed directly behind, clinging to the cleric's sides, one armed with an axe and a tiny metal chestplate, whilst the other was naked save for a metal collar. The rear guard was two gnarly faced male orcs who armed identically, through they were clearly bread for size and where considerably more fearsome.
Neit didn't hesitate. She bolted upright, and a reddish glow flickered around her for a few seconds whilst her inertial armour was activated.
They drifted into the crowds and acted absent minded, all the while gaining ground.
As time passed, the sprawling alleyways and back passages only got darker and thinner, and the masses of shameful homeless vermin and lewd pedestrians thinned out steadily...
Ryyna stayed fairly close to Neit as they flowed through the traffic.
Yathrin Riknueth was paranoid, skittish, the entire time. On a few occasions she looked back twice at Neit or Alsiif, but apparently decided it was better to hurry out of danger. Perhaps she didn't want to report being attacked if it meant telling people where she was going?...
At any rate, the three of them eventually managed to lurk closer and closer towards her. The hastened woman dragged her bodyguards down a narrow, empty gap between two monolithic buildings, and the perfect attack window was placed in their laps.
Neitar did her very best to keep the signs of her powers internal an unnoticed, slowly grasping at the minds of the slaves, as one might carefully inspect that fruit was ripened before plucking it from a tree. The intrusive, gnawing mental commands did little but order the simple-minded things to continue following her, if only for now...
Suddenly, a flicker of psionic energy lashed out from her eyes uncontrollably, and her nose bled profusely from the effort spent in containing it. Riknueth darted her head around with terror, and observed the entire thing. But it was too late.
Neit grinned fully, her eyes full of malice and twisted amusement.
"Grabe your mastere." She whispered into the ears of her puppets. "Holde 'er down. Slow her. Make her silente. Keepe 'er in youre graspe."
The scantily armored orc woman jaggedly turned around first, grabbing the woman by the mouth. She was completely surprised, not least when the trolls also lumbered around and put their meaty paws underneath each one of her arms aswell.
Riknueth kicked and thrashed about as much as she could, but she was a priestess, and not a fighter. She was rather quick on her feet, quite clever, and deeply in touch with the magic of the Goddess, but none of that was much help when two Trolls, each of whom had more muscles and body-weight in a forearm than Riknueth had in her entire body, were holding her down.
The three Orcs who retained their free will looked extremely confused, raising their weapons at nothing in particular.
"What doing?!" One of the males asked Neit's dominated Orc lass in heavily accented and fragmented Undercommon.
Neitar let out a shrill laugh, slowly prancing forward along the cobblestones towards the entrapped priestess. She wasn't making any attempt to contain her powers at all now. A disembodied ringing accompanied the clatter of her high heels, and the world was flooded with a certain offbeat, otherworldly sensation. It felt like a bad dream, and Neit was the monster crawling out from under your bed.
"Looke at ze feebile wenche. Can'te even cry oute. Whate a disgrace of a preistesse." Her voice was soft but resonating, carrying with it a painful sting to the ears. "It's a shame thate you don'te jus' come with us insteade, really. Bute I guess thate you are not used to makinge up your owne minds..."
An astounding compulsion to surrender was implanted into each of their minds, willing them to submit and accept this strange, hard-edged woman as their new master.
The un-dominated Orcs simply shrugged and lowered their weapons. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
One of the many good things about slaves, of course, was that they were used to following orders.
Neit didn't bother taunting Rikneuth or even tying her up. The priestess was thrashing and making muffled yells endlessly, but the wispish woman took an unspoken delight in letting her former slaves manhandle her through the dark streets. The trolls in particular had the mind of a child between them, and were immensely easy to persuade with the slightest kind touch or soothing word in the ear. It was not difficult to make them want to keep their old master quiet.
There was an empty chamber on the south edge that Hwesta had told them about, an expanse carved out for the abode of a rich Drow matriarch, who had promptly died before so much as moving her things in. It was still vacant other than a scraggle of human scavengers, who fled into the dark the minute the group arrived.
Neitar was reluctant at first. Extremely reluctant. She merely lurked with her back to the action as Alsiif and Ryyna carried out their respective gruesome ideas, nary sticking her head in to ensure that the woman didn't quite make it through death's door, before being brought back by way of forced healing potions.
No, she just got incredibly drunk instead, occupying herself by fawning over the rather buff female orcs. Rikneuth's clothes looked rather fetching on the mousey-faced smaller one. "Better thane on you!" She made sure to tell her.
Then, it was like... another part of Neitar simply woke up in the inebriated absence of the other.
A bottle was smashed on the floor. She became an artist with that single glass shard, delicate and obsessive.
When it was finished, she stared at her masterpiece for the longest of pauses, ecstatic, enraged, grinning, wide-eyed. Not so much dark-skinned any longer, as several cascading shades of red.
Hwesta greeted them with all the enthusiasm of a family dog as they made their way back to the hotel. She wanted to hear every single last dirty little detail about the deed.
Neit didn't say a thing.
Alsiif told Neitar's daughter all about the gruesome torture-murder they had just performed. She spoke with the most enthusiasm about the acts she herself carried out, but also mentioned the most exciting things Rynna came up with, and Neit's grand finale.
"Ahm... Oh yeah.. I also brought you a momento." Alsiif stuck out her clenched hand, then opened it while turning it upwards to reveal a lock of hair. "I dunno if its your kinda thing.."