A scowl runs across the drow's face at the second question.

"I won't be insulted by beggars on my doorstep. Begone, you!"

With that, he makes to close the door.

Having overheard the conversation, Hiath makes himself loud and clear as he interjects.

Nor will I stand witness to the unjust derogation of these individuals from a deplorable ingrate! Offer your apologies, lest you want me to come exorcise it.

"Why are you asking him to work out with you?" asks Ruck.

~SE++

The drow's angry features sloop to a drooping puzzlement, as if he genuinely doesn't understand a word said.

"I. Uh. What's this then? Need help from me? Whosis?"

His confusion seems indicative of dementia, or some other derangement.

"Stand down Hiath. I'm sure our friend means no insult. Tis merely a momentary confusion. " Rabican turns back to the drow. "My apologies for my friends - we are all a little on edge I'm afraid. I would greatly appreciate it if you could answer my question and then we shall leave you to your peace. The city over there is Abbaethgar correct?"

"But! Bu-
Very well, Sir. Forgive me."

Hiath's head drops with a perfected and remorseful bow, before he returns outside to his assigned job as an outpost, unable or unwilling to accept Rubican's common decency.
The apology is clearly not directed towards the drow.

Yes. Abbaethgar's walls are near my home. Though I'd caution you to watch yourselves within them. Your tongue speaks like that of an overworlder, and many a noble would sooner cut it out than hear it twice.

With this, the old drow smiles cruelly.

"I say flee now; return to the Bridge of Twilight, and back from whence you came."

"Good advice but I'm afraid that's not an option for us." Rabican glances over his shoulder towards the looming walls. "So the cities nobility despise overworlders? Hmm. I shall do my best to avoid angering them - thank you for the warning. Anything else we should know before we head to the city?"

The drow looks idly to the ceiling, but his clouded pupils show no change of focus. "I'd recommend hiring a guide through the town, and to watch him with twice the care with which you'd watch any street thug..."

"How much to hire you?"

~SE++

Hiath's impassive facade is falling further and further apart, almost as if he is in pain.
"Sir, you cannot possibly suggest to take this man into that place!? Regardless of how highly you may think of him, the scorn they hold for him is clear as day. What would you hope to accomplish?"
"Not to mention..." His face sulks down as it prepares for any coming response.

The drow calculates a moment. "I will guide you, but only should you tell me your business in Abbaethgar. I want no part trafficking drugs or slaves, and I need to ensure my neck isn't cut for your foolishness. I will guide you for six gold a day, and my rate is not negotiable."

He steps further from the wooden hut, seemingly renewed in confidence.

"Ten gold pieces a day, and our business is our own."

~SE++

Wruz'roos remains still a moment, jaw slack.

"Fine."

He steps from the hut, a blue-grey cloak already in hand.

"Shall we then?"

Rabican frowns at Ruck before turning to Wruz'roo and extending a hand. "Thank you for your assistance my friend. Hmm. We still haven't made formal introductions have we? I am Rabican, the robed man is Ruck and our warrior friend is Hiath. Though it may only be temporary let me welcome you to our little band."

Introductions made the paladin shifts the weight of his pack and begins the march towards the gates of Abbaethgar.

Ruck takes out ten gold pieces, makes a small show of counting them out, and holds them out for Wruz'roos. "This is our payment for the remainder of this day."

~SE++

"Very well then."
Hiath glares daggers for Wruz'roos' eyes only as he bows his head, before once again resuming his outlook position.

Wruz'roos smiles a crook-toothed smile as he hears the clank of your coin.

"A pleasure! I am Wruz'roos. I trust your company is fairing well, considering your... financial generosity?"

He begins the hobbling hike toward the pocked walls of Abbaethgar. The path stretches not far toward the cliff face, where a rectangular aperture yawns, flanked by paired torches. Wruz'roos rambles idly of the traditions of Abbaethgar, and a brief history.

Established as a matriarchal gate-fortress between The Wanderlands, the vast vaulted chamber this side of the wall, and the Path of Seven Sorrows, a trade and travel route that branches off between several other diplomatic and merchant hubs of the Underdark, Abbaethgar was hotly contested as a key chokepoint in this region, held fiercely by the Priesthood of Lolth and five houses of Drow nobles deeply entwined in its clergy. As a strict hierarchical theocracy, the ideals of Lolth are law, and the whims and tastes of the nobles are her executors.

As such, avoid direct eye contact with nobility, as it is best not to draw their attention at all.
Kill no spider in the walls of this city. Such a disgrace before Lolth is irreverent at best, and heretical treason at worst.
Do not say 'no' to a female. As a male, polite declination should be phrased as ambiguously as possible, and never with defiance.

Through the black opening, the cliff's interior appears to be of smooth clay, plainly worked into uniform walls. A pair of armed male guards sneer at your company as you pass, but make no motion to stop you. A dizzying array of staircases and walkways diverge from the main chamber, spreading labyrinthine through the thick wall of the city. As Wruz'roos wanders with a seemingly prodigious sense of direction, you note many colored glass windows, adorned with omnipresent spider motifs, and many open windows with elaborate webs spun across them, small dark arachnids populating them freely. The architecture, from outside, appeared square and crude, but within the city proper, vaulted archways of grey stone, and grand buttresses of polished marble mimic the curvilinear design of spider web with a haunting depth of artistry. Walkways alternate between high, uncovered bridges, with other disconnected paths visibly crisscrossing at differing vertices, and tight hallways, built into the cliff face and resembling one continuous multiplex. Though darkened at points, irregular torchlight shines from every altitude as a tornado of fireflies around you.

"We will be safest, at least for now, in the Merchant District, as it's more tolerable of overworlders."

Through several other vertiginous passages, you pass into more populous areas. Ashy beggars and cruel eyed urchins decorate hallways and bridges, leering with curiosity at your ensemble. The ghettoed quarters you pass soon take a more familiar shape, as a clearly metropolitan bridge comes to view, hundreds of feet in width and many multiples in span. Numerous signs and booths are painted and embossed with logos to catch the eye, and sharp tongued artisans hock their wares from every shadowed corner. Great caravans of crates and exotic goods are hauled by beasts of burden, massive tarantulas, delicately weaving their many thick-haired legs between crowds of desperate hagglers.

Ruck watches the passing giant spiders and muses, "Scholars in the mage towers where I'm from have often discussed the merits of giant insects and beasts of burden. We've never actually succeeded in creating one, even through magical means since as the beast's mass grows, it's volume grows in an exponential rate that eventually renders its muscles unable to haul it's ever growing bulk. Once we got the insects around a foot tall they collapsed on themselves and were unable to function. How did the city manage these magnificent beasts, Wruz'roos? They should be physically impossible."

~SE++