The people celebrated as the din of musicians filled the city and on every street drunken crowds of women gathered. The festival of the Good Goddess was in full swing and it filled Valium with elven women from all paths of life. For on this day early in the summer months workshops closed and everything non-essential were left undone in field and shop alike as the women of the city and the surrounding countryside took a day off to revel in drink, song and dance.
Many adventurous young elven men climbed the roofs of their homes to catch glimpses of what transpired on this enchanted night. Beware, for those who got spotted met a hail of stones and other, sharper things, sent their way. Yet that was nothing compared to those unfortunate enough to get caught in the dark alleys. Every year there were stories of young, foolhardy men who got cornered after their curiosity bested them. The lucky ones were found, messed up and naked the following sunrise, still too shocked and ashamed to talk about what they encountered in the dark. As for those less fortunate, well, the river took care of them.
Two elves watched a large estate made of the whitest marble from a top window on the opposite side of the street. One had a face covered in scars and always carried a hint of murder in his eyes, the other a slender man, fair even for one of the Elmaesta, the only civilized kin left. They had seen the magistrate, his long pointed ears bobbing proudly in the air, bid his wife a laughing farewell before heading off for a properly secluded nightly meeting with his officials in another part of the city. For he could not even stay in his own home on this night of the year.
From their vantage point, the pair watched with interest as a group of priestesses came whooping up the hill, accompanied by the beat of drums and flutes. The leaders, all dressed in silk with large laurels of flowers hanging from their head, hair and necks. The men dared to lean out slightly to get a closeup look as the group passed by, their wide grins full of broken teeth.
As the afternoon turned into evening, the estate grew ever more busy with guests the magistrate's wife had invited. She was the youngest daughter of a wealthy merchant family and as the wife of an important magistrate she had a significant amount of social prestige, and from the looks of it she enjoyed it.
The two men watched impatiently as women arrived from all over the city. The leader of the two tapped his fingers in impatience while they waited for the plan to begin, regularly peeking out the window to see through the open gate when it wasn’t blocked by new arrivals.
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Large though the building was, it had to be bursting with women when the sun sank below the horizon. The women's voices raucous as they sang, laughed and chanted inside. The revelers knew full well that the city's many elven men would hear and wonder what debauchery was happening.
As the moon rose, there were glimpses of movement inside. The leader was now left alone to watch from above while his henchmen carried out the plan. He could hear a man snoring nearby, perhaps in the very doorway next to his refuge. Sweat clung to his skin as he squinted through the glow of torches and he tried not to think about how relieved he would be once this night was done. Lost in thoughts, he did not at first notice anything unusual about the swaying figure that came up the road to the marble estate. The figure's hair was long and bound tightly in a bun on her neck. She wore a rich white gown with red embroidery and a blue cloak that fluttered in the wind and he could hear her footsteps patter on the stone below. Pausing as she reached the house he watched. He could not help but to look again, his heart hammering with greed as he edged closer to the window and peered down. His hands gripping the sill with sudden tension, he stood there, waiting. Realizing it first when she’d passed inside to join the others, his crew was finally at work.
A short time later three women slipped down from an open window to the alley. The man in the window observed as one woman limped to the alley corner and peered out to the street. The woman tilted her head up towards the window the observer was in so that the light from the moon caught her throat. It was not a woman. The face painted with utmost skill, despite the apparent drunkenness, the observer already knew this night had been a success. From the window he applauded the man's deceit, for he had kept his nature in check for once.
With any luck he wasn’t discovered, for if he were this night would have been for naught and the crowds wouldn’t be gentle towards a man in a dress. He certainly wouldn’t be when he got a hold of that slick eel if this went wrong.
The man in the window took a deep breath to calm his nerves, everything was going to work out, the painted man was not alone after all. He had the other two with him and they would keep him straight. Midnight had come and gone and no man had the right to walk the streets in these hours. Hopefully, the two actual women accompanying him would be enough to dissuade anyone from looking too closely. As the trio headed out into the streets and disappeared around a corner, the observer began his own journey, scurrying through underground paths to the hideout. If his other crewmen and their jobs had been as successful this one it would be a profitable night indeed.