Mina was a tall and angular drow who couldn’t wait to get old and shriveled. It was her bad luck that she belonged to a youthful race whose natural lifespan was only limited by assassination and tragic but neccassary accidents. Despite not having a single wrinkle on her soot-black skin, Mina did her best to dress and behave like a crone, much to the amusement of her relatives and classmates. She was bullied a great deal in her first few decades at home and then at the academy. As she neared graduation, it has become apparent to Mina that her bullies would soon switch their fists for knives. Probably poisoned, invisible knives.

Since she had no desire to be assassinated, she left her family, having assassinated a couple of cousins who stood in her way, and used a staff of disintegration to carve herself a bleak little domain in which she could live alone, study the dark arts, and silently judge people like only an eighty year old teenager could.

Sadly, she was still a drow, and a highborn at that, and was easily bored when not playing the grand game of wealth and politics. Also, all the time she’d spent alone made her realize that there were a whole lot of people who’d offended her in one way or the other. She was, after all, a drow.

Mina was silently scheming some savage spectacular sucide (not her own, of course) when the door to her antechamber burst open and two very dirty humanoids spilled in, laughing as if poisoned with Oto seeds. Mina hated laughter.

She grabbed her wand of disintegration to zap the two cows into atoms. However, just before uttering the activation word, she recognized the pair through all the filth they were coated in. They were her neighbors from across the chapel -- that infantile ghoul Neraphelia and Hilda, her dwarf, um, mistress? Friend? Business partner? Land lord? Lover? The drow frowned. She wasn’t quite sure about the relationship between the two.

Now what did the ridiculous pair want with her? Ah yes, she did speak to the ghoul about a quest the other day. They must have come for details and run into some trouble along the way. The drow’s frown deepened. That pair always ran into trouble. They really had too much free time on their hands.

The ghoul grinned at Mina. The drow scowled at her.

“Peace,” the dwarf said, trying hard not to stop giggling. “I--”

“In polite society,” Mina interjected, “it is customary to knock on the door before bursting into a person’s place of abode like some savage rape gang!”

The dwarf sobered a little, “I’m sorry, we just--”

The drow raised a finger to silence the insolent dwarf. “Furthermore, unless it’s a festival or a similar religious occasion, one oughtn’t burst into another person’s dwelling covered in the blood of her enemies,” she shifted her gaze to the ghoul, who pressed a hand to her mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle her guffaws. “And,” the drow went on, “one certainly shouldn’t walk about disrobed unless it’s specifically the Festival of Demonic Copulations, which it most certainly is not!”

The ghoul took a deep breath in an attempt to control her teetering. “You--”

Her speech became muffled as the drow got up and threw a stack of towels in the ghoul’s face. “There’s a bath beyond that door,” she pointed at an illusion of a wall that covered the entrance to a corridor that led to her real chambers. “Make yourself presentable,” as an afterthought she added, “and do mind the traps. I’m not made of gold.”

The dwarf frowned. “Okay, but--”

“Don’t but me!” the drow gave the dwarf her most shriveling, judgement glare. The short creature met her gaze without fear. The drow cleared her throat, slightly “We--”

“Let me finish a sentence, Goddess take your ears!” the dwarf roared, causing Mina to take a step back in alarm. “By the moon, what do you need those huge ears for if you never listen!” The dwarf took a deep breath to compose herself. “We were just attacked by an orc band not a hundred meters from your door. I’m sure there will be many more fights on the way to the buyer. Cleaning up now would just be a waste of time.”

The drow stared at the dwarf for a few heartbeats, trying to understand what the silly thing was yammering about. Then it dawned on her. She sighed. Backwater surface dwellers. Ugh… the morons she had to work with…

“Pay attention, girl,” the drow said, trying to sound old and authoritative despite probably being the same age as her interlocutors. “We aren’t walking to meet the buyer. This isn’t your rustic Old Country with its quaint pack lizards, endless marching songs, and asinine bonfires where drunk heroes brag about made up nonsense to pass the time. We’re te-le-porting,” she spoke the word slowly, as if speaking to a toddler. “So stop arguing with me and make yourself and your ghoul presentable. And be quick about it because you’re tracking blood all over my floor, which I’ve just had cleaned!”

“Yes,” the ghoul leaned over the dwarf, her fists planted on her hips. “Make the ghoul presentable,” she said in clear mockery of the drow’s cultured accent. “Polish her until she shines.” She snorted and exploded into fitful laughter.

The drow slapped on the table, startling her visitors. “Enough! This isn’t a comedy club! Go clean yourselves. Now!”

The two wobbled through the wall and were soon gone, leaving behind a thick odor of blood, rot and ghoul musk. Most humanoids found the odor revolting. Mina didn’t mind. It reminded her of desecrating the graves of her enemies and exposing their bones to the hateful sun. As a rule she hated going to the surface, but that was a class trip to remember. On the way back, a girl she hated died of a heart attack. In the sense that her heart was attacked. Successfully. With a poisoned dart. Ah… youth. Thought the drow who’d gotten her first period not that long ago.

Then she looked down and her gaze became hard again. She did mind the muck left in the wake of the dwarf and the ghoul. She’d have to beat some hapless demon extra hard to clean all that gore. The thought had produced an involuntary smile. Well, it’s not all bad.

Muffled chatter came through the wall. The drow shook her head in disgust. She was hoping for more serious business partners. This was the deal that would make or break her. The truth was that for all her affectation of a wealthy old spinster, she had as much gold as she had years. ‘Pocket money’ would be the correct term if you were cruel (and if you weren’t cruel, you really weren't a very good drow).

Mina returned to her desk and went over the note left by the buyer one more time. Such ugly handwriting, such crass language, such terrible grammar. The creature really was a beast. A vulgar beast without taste or style but a wallet the size of a carriage.

The scaly brute made it explicit that he needed a surface dweller, preferably a non-evil one to procure the product at a reasonable rate. The dwarf was sadly the best Mina managed to find. Well, the ghoul found her, but Mina would take the credit. That’s why she was such a fine businesswoman, or rather would be, once the deal went through. The important thing was to convince the buyer that these two silly gooses could handle his order. Mina believes she was up to the task. She always wanted to school some unruly teen into a proper lady. Even if the teen in question was so obviously more mature than she was.

First, there was the matter of suitable attire.

Mina passed through a different invisible door into her secret closet. She was only slightly taller and thinner than the ghoul, so finding a suitable attire for the creature shouldn't be too challenging. Of course, Mina would have to burn it afterward. The attire that is. Maybe the ghoul too. We shall see when the time comes.

Ghouls had such a bad reputation. Neraphelia’s condition alone would work against her. There would be no masking her with an illusion either. The odor was too strong and too recognizable. Mina would have to think of some backstory that would make it acceptable, even inspiring, to do business with a firm that included a brainless, pointless ghoul.

The dwarf presented a different challenge. She was generally well-behaved, but she was so plain! Mina had nothing that would fit the dwarf, of course. She wasn’t this short since she was an ankle-stabber and the fattest drow she’s ever met was nowhere near the girth of the stout warrior. They would just have to mend the dwarf’s armor until it looked respectable despite the typical dwarven lack of finesse.

Mina whispered the words that made her cheap treasure box blink into existence. Maybe some jewelry and cloth would create an illusion of prosperity? Mina paused in the middle of disabling the poison gas trap inside the lid of the box. Maybe just leave the dwarf as she was?

The buyer did ask for a non-evil surface dweller. Every centimeter of Hilda’s being screamed just that. In the luscious and perverted world of tunnel trading, her plainliness would be more exotic than any amount of high fashion.

The drow massaged her pointy chin as she examined her myriad collection of dresses, skirts, tights, tunics, blouses, cloaks… what goes with purple skin and massive claws… hmm…