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+---
+title: "Tastavi D'Maelnor of Llolethane"
+updated: "2016-08-30 Tue 23:56"
+html_head_extra: "<link rel=stylesheet href=DND.css>"
+tags: SS
+---
+
+<p>
+When I DM, I try to allow players to have as many options for
+character creation as I can. Usually, this manifests in pretty
+interesting, but stable, characters. And other times&#x2026; you get
+Tastavi.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi D'Maelnor of Lolathane-Mael'na'rath is not what I'd call a
+stable character: a CN half-(drow)-elf half-(black)-dragon ftr/rog/war
+hybrid sworn to an evil demigod who wants to swallow your dreams (and
+possibly the sun and all life) and fleeing one hell of a custody
+dispute.
+</p>
+<p>
+But I fell in love with the idea. I had to write it up. It
+started out as a three paragraph synopsis, but quickly devolved into
+the micro-epic below. He was only played for three sessions before
+dying to the most viscious and demanding opponent of all: sports
+season. Enjoy!
+</p>
+<div id="table-of-contents">
+<h2>Table of Contents</h2>
+<div id="text-table-of-contents">
+<ul>
+<li><a href="#sec-1">1. Ik'lithslaelith</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-2">2. The Drowess</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-3">3. The Tunnel</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-4">4. High Priestess Destiny</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-5">5. Soup for Dinner</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-6">6. Hunger and Possibilities</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-7">7. [CENSORED]</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-8">8. Visions</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-9">9. Visitations</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-10">10. Voices</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-11">11. jal'Bror-noloth</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-12">12. The Hold</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-13">13. The Pits</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-14">14. The Return</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-15">15. Tastavi</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-16">16. Trials</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-17">17. Transformations</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-18">18. Training</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-19">19. The Leader</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-20">20. The Contest</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-21">21. The Cell</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-22">22. Motherly Love</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-23">23. The Will of Lolth</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-24">24. Doom</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-25">25. Destruction</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-26">26. Dreams</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-27">27. The Surface</a></li>
+<li><a href="#sec-28">28. Credits</a></li>
+</ul>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-1" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-1"><span class="section-number-2">1</span> Ik'lithslaelith</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-1">
+<p>
+A dark form slithered though the deep, black against black in the
+sunless place. The form pulled its girth across the smooth stone of
+its cavern, uncoiling itself and scraping eons of accumulated filth
+from its obsidian hide. Too long had it slumbered here, content with
+its wealth and glories of days long past. A yellow eye appeared inside
+the chamber, burning with a delicate and powerful inner light.
+</p>
+<p>
+The dragon Ik'lithslaelith was awake. And he was hungry.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-2" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-2"><span class="section-number-2">2</span> The Drowess</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-2">
+<p>
+She walked nude across the parapet. Her onyx skin still glistened from her
+bath and her long white hair hung loose about her shoulders. She eyed
+the servants gathered along the tower's edge, daring them to look.
+</p>
+<p>
+Most simply bowed humbly before her, inches from oblivion, knowing
+full well the punishment. She reached the stair and snatched a
+loose-fitting robe from the extended hand of her favorite butler. His
+empty and scarred eye sockets heaved involuntarily at her
+proximity. It has been too long since she'd had a real excuse to user
+her power. Too long.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-3" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-3"><span class="section-number-2">3</span> The Tunnel</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-3">
+<p>
+<i>This was not here when last I was.</i> mused the dragon.
+</p>
+<p>
+He peered at the worked stone. Beneath his lair, along one of his
+favorite underground flying paths, a circular tunnel disappeared into
+the cliff face. Below him, the chasm loomed, threatening to consume
+any that strayed too far from the path's narrow ledge&#x2013;and could not
+fly&#x2013;to be burned to fiery cinders upon a lake of boiling stone
+below.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had always found the cavern poetic: no matter how hard the little
+climbers tried to rise, this was not their place. Their place was
+among the ashes.
+</p>
+<p>
+The newly hewn tunnel was far too small for him to squeeze into of
+course. But one does not reach advanced age as a dragon without
+learning a few tricks along the way.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>And one does not keep it by being over-curious either</i> he thought to
+himself.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>But I suppose it cannot be helped.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+Ik'lithslaelith breathed a deep echoing sigh, closed his eyes, and
+began to shrink.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-4" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-4"><span class="section-number-2">4</span> High Priestess Destiny</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-4">
+<p>
+The family estate was vast, and by all accounts, grand. Nestled in a
+isolated corner of the massive complex of linked caves that comprised
+the southern drow 'city' of Mael'na'rath, the layered structure
+resembled a spiked claw rising from on oozing wound.
+</p>
+<p>
+Grand, but hideous.
+</p>
+<p>
+Grotesquely complicated, but functional.
+</p>
+<p>
+In a word: Chaotic.
+</p>
+<p>
+From the single gate at the base of the claw to the tips of the
+fingers, every staircase was a spiral. Most with an open center so
+that the priestesses and noble family could levitate from floor to
+floor, but commoners or household slaves would have to climb the steep
+steps to get anywhere, and so guards could fire upon intruders the
+entire way up. Intruders who, would first need to bypass the acid
+pools which surrounded the fortress.
+</p>
+<p>
+High Priestess Ul'Ilindith D'Maelnor of the Second House of
+Llolethane-Mael'na'rath decended through the main stair upon a cloud
+of authority. Any walking the stairs prostrated themselves before her,
+and any family members floating up quickly stepped aside and bowed as
+she passed. Her name meant "destiny" and she knew it. She reached the
+floor she wanted and halted her descent. It was almost time. She was
+expecting someone.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-5" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-5"><span class="section-number-2">5</span> Soup for Dinner</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-5">
+<p>
+From the darkness, expectant eyes scanned the palace walls. The acidic
+no-man's land glowed an eerie green from the pools which dotted the
+cavern floor. But the eyes were not concerned with the
+defenses. Instead they clutched at one distant parapet and
+waited. Minutes passed, but there was no activity from the palace. The
+eyes closed. Impatiently, a dark form slid from its hiding place in
+the mouth of the abandoned tunnel to nowhere, and approached the
+nearest pool of acid. The bubbling glow cast flickering splotches of
+light over its distinctly feminine form, and she bent over the pool,
+moving one hand in intricate spellcasting and clutching something
+hanging from around her neck with the other. She felt at ease with it
+near her, a rare feeling for a drow, but she had been experiencing all
+kinds of rare feelings recently. Her divination spell failed, as they
+were oft to do since she had fallen in love. Terrified of her own
+feelings, she knelt in fervent prayer to the Spider Queen.
+</p>
+<p>
+Behind her from the tunnel, another dark figure crept close,
+unnoticed, a silent hand of death in the land of silent death.
+</p>
+<p>
+Perhaps her prayers were answered, or perhaps the Queen of Spiders
+simply thought it amusing, but with a gasp and a rush of power, the
+beautiful drow woman felt the impending danger. She spun around,
+calling upon years of training and the will of her goddess to meet the
+threat. A whip appeared in her hands almost instantly, its twin
+heads, each a living snake, hissed and spat. Smiling coolly, she struck
+out against her assailant, the snake heads reaching, mouths wide to
+bite deep into its flesh. A loud crack and hiss echoed through the
+chamber, but when she pulled back the whip for another strike, both
+heads lay limp and dead in her hands. A scaled form, black as onyx,
+stood before her wearing only a billowing cloak and a practiced look
+of grim amusement. The fangs had only barely scratched the surface of
+his scales, and though sticky splotches of thick acidic pus covered
+the point of impact, he seemed entirely unconcerned.
+</p>
+<p>
+He responded in kind, spitting a line of black acid into her eyes and
+face. She reeled backwards, clutching at her dissolving eyes, and fell
+backwards into the bubbling pool.
+</p>
+<p>
+The form approached the shallow pool.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Looks like I'm having soup for dinner" mused Ik'lithslaelith.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-6" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-6"><span class="section-number-2">6</span> Hunger and Possibilities</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-6">
+<p>
+She couldn't believe it! A dragon! And a powerful one from the looks
+of it. High Priestess Ul'Ilindith smiled coolly from her invisible
+floating vantage point, and watched him feast. Though the
+'opportunities' she had been pursuing with the High Priestess of House
+Undros were most definitely ended, perhaps even greater power than
+simply controlling a minor house was in her reach. She nearly shook
+with excitement at the thought of an ancient black dragon raining
+death upon her enemies. But as always, she was to be careful in
+this. A dragon, even a male dragon, was dangerous and difficult to
+control. She mused for a moment on the dangers, she could see them
+clearly before her even, the fate in store if she made a wrong move,
+or if he still hungered. But the possibilities&#x2026;
+</p>
+<p>
+And perhaps, she mused, he hungered for drow in a way that could
+benefit them both&#x2026;
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-7" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-7"><span class="section-number-2">7</span> [CENSORED]</h2>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-8" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-8"><span class="section-number-2">8</span> Visions</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-8">
+<p>
+She saw a city burning.
+</p>
+<p>
+She saw people screaming in pain and rolling upon the ground, trying
+to wipe away the tar that ate at their fingers, at their faces.
+</p>
+<p>
+She saw clerics casting frantic spells, only to have them fail in
+their time of greatest need, abandoned by their goddess, and likewise
+be consumed.
+</p>
+<p>
+She saw her son.
+</p>
+<p>
+Standing in the midst of it, unharmed, and smiling, wiping blood from
+his blades. When the fires died, his yellow eyes were all that
+remained in the darkness.
+</p>
+<p>
+The vision departed and the brazier bore once again the droopy-eyed
+oozing visage of a Handmaiden of Lolth. The priestess bowed and the
+messenger disappeared into the flames of the Demonweb Pits.
+</p>
+<p>
+She looked down upon her pregnant belly. He would become her
+weapon. It was the will of Lolth.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-9" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-9"><span class="section-number-2">9</span> Visitations</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-9">
+<p>
+<b>Ik'lithslaelith</b>
+</p>
+<p>
+The name woke him from his renewed slumber. He lay upon his
+newly-heaped hordes of gold and pools of melted bones. The echo of the
+name roared in his mind like a tempest. Like a wildfire. Like the roar
+of ten thousand dragons.
+</p>
+<p>
+The ancient Ik'lithslaelith, the proud Ik'lithslaelith, the noble
+Ik'lithslaelith, the silent hand of death in the merciless Underdark,
+Winnower of Worlds, and many more names long forgotten, cowered in
+fear before his goddess.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-10" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-10"><span class="section-number-2">10</span> Voices</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-10">
+<p>
+An ancient laughter hissed in the Abyss.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>The night is filled with voicess, so it seemss.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+She mused.
+</p>
+<p>
+Time stretched out naked, and the darkness prophesied:
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Two minds.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Two goddesses</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>of mixed intent</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>and muddled vows.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Scheming over one</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>neither shall have.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>The Nightmare smiled.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>For even gods must sleep.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>And neither see the</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>choices made when</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>nightmares reign.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Or hear the calls</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>of the forgotten</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>or the bound.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+Dendar smiled at the ironic cost of freedom.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-11" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-11"><span class="section-number-2">11</span> jal'Bror-noloth</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-11">
+<p>
+The pregnancy was a wicked affair. Any news of it among the common
+folk was quickly discredited, and to speak of it openly, even among
+the family, was dangerous. Lady Ul'Ilindith spent her days under the
+care of her most trusted subordinates in the priestesshood: the ones
+with no ambition to speak of, whom she ruled with fear. She craved
+meat, and so she feasted upon the flesh of exotic animals, taken from
+both deep within the Underdark and from far above it, scoured from the
+surface. Every day, the burden in her belly grew more intense, the
+child growing much larger than any drow child. Every night the pain in
+her abdomen became almost unbearable. But she bore it. She bore it to
+term by force of will and the whispers of Lolth, promising her power
+beyond her wildest imaginings.
+</p>
+<p>
+Her time arrived quickly and with little warning. Appropriating a
+hidden chamber deep beneath the complex&#x2013;aptly, one often used for
+summoning creatures from lower planes, and shielded against unwanted
+magical intrusion&#x2013;Ul'Ilindith labored for six days and nights. Every
+second, the unborn child tore at her. She used up every spell of
+healing from every priestess within the complex and more besides,
+calling upon the aid of magical items and elixirs to keep the child
+from tearing her apart. And the pain only heightened her
+determination.
+</p>
+<p>
+When the child was finally born, it was amid a spray of blood. The
+child poured forth wrapped in stinking muck, an acidic darkness that
+mirrored the hearts of its parents. His parents. Even with all of her
+powers of healing, it was weeks before Ul'Ilindith recovered. She
+named the boy jal'Bror-noloth, the Sudden All-Encompassing Darkness,
+and kept him hidden from the world.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-12" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-12"><span class="section-number-2">12</span> The Hold</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-12">
+<p>
+A sudden rush of fresh air and the sounds of grinding stone attracted
+a small huddled group of kobolds to the cavern entrance. Large eyes,
+well-adjusted to the darkness, peered towards the unblocked hatchway
+and waited. From the other side of the hole in the cavern ceiling red
+and purple faerie fire cast an eerie glow into the chamber. Usually,
+if someone had rolled away the blocking stone and ventured into the
+cavern, the kobolds would know if it, but these were dark elves, in
+their domain, and fully prepared for stealth. All the kobolds saw was
+a vague hint of motion and the sudden glint of steel at their throats.
+</p>
+<p>
+They prostrated themselves before their cruel masters and whimpered
+despite their better sense. Or rather all but one of them whimpered. A
+young female, untested, but strong, remained unbowed. This was her
+first encounter with the dark elves, and through either willpower or
+through ignorance she stood and stared into the eyes of the drow
+soldier that held her captive, brandishing a knife and scowling at the
+ambush.
+</p>
+<p>
+The soldier's face became a mask of rage. She was ibluth, a worthless
+slave, a worthless kobold. He had certainly killed avenging lesser
+slights. He moved quickly and knocked away her blade, pressing his own
+in the space between her legs, preparing to cut her from stem to
+stern, but a commanding voice held him at bay. From behind, a
+weathered face, drained, but dangerous and beautiful, approached the
+soldier and the kobold maiden. She carried a small bundle in her arms,
+breastfeeding.
+</p>
+<p>
+She stared down at the scaled creature, regarding her cooly. Then she
+carefully lifted the baby from her breast. He began to cry.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You. Raise this iblith."
+</p>
+<p>
+She roughly handed the child to the now-wide-eyed kobold and stalked
+away, the rest of her guard following her.
+</p>
+<p>
+The boulder ground back into place and the cavern returned to
+darkness&#x2026; but not silence.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sound of a baby's cry echoed through the halls.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-13" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-13"><span class="section-number-2">13</span> The Pits</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-13">
+<p>
+The smack of sweaty flesh upon hard rock, and the crack of breaking
+bones, and shattered maws, and the echoing bloodthirsty cheer brought
+kobolds from all parts of the hold to witness the spectacle in the
+pits. A pair of fighters were sprawled upon the ground, clubbing and
+beating on each other with their claws or hands or whatever tools were
+available. It was over quickly, the opening salvo of the contest. The
+winner was cheered, the loser tossed aside to make way for the next
+fight. This was the way of kobolds: fast brutal victory or slow
+agonizing defeat.
+</p>
+<p>
+A large kobold, round, his puffy skin bulging from around his scales
+like fishnet tights, sat atop a large boulder overlooking the pit. He
+called out for the next pair to enter the pit. Cheers erupted at the
+first volunteer, a tall specimen, muscular, and well-endowed. His
+reddish scales flickered brutally in the dim torchlight. He stood
+proudly waving a spear to the adoring crowd, so he did not note his
+challenger until the cheers turned to anxious whispers. A small boy
+stood squarely in the center of the ring, head downcast. Few could say
+the moment that he had arrived, but none could deny his presence now,
+nor what it signified. The challenge had been issued. The boy's scales
+contrasted greatly with the proud fighter that stood before him. Where
+the champion's scales gleamed in the torchlight, the boy's seemed to
+swallow it completely. Black. As the darkest night or deepest cave.
+</p>
+<p>
+From the crowd, an adopted mother gasped as she saw her son standing
+in the ring and not at her side. It was no secret that she had been
+commissioned to raise the boy by the drow themselves, and the sudden
+silence in the stands all but confirmed it. None knew for sure which
+would win out, their customs: the right of challenge in the pits, or
+their fear of the drow should anything happen to the boy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Their internal war was ended by the sudden motion of the
+challenger. He lifted his spear and lunged at the champion. The strike
+was short, but the damage was done, the fight had already begun. The
+champion returned the strike, only to have his spear deftly deflected
+as it came down. The young half-dragon took this opportunity to charge
+at the kobold before him, getting within the range of the spear and
+clawing at the hands holding the weapon. Long thick lines of blood
+appeared on the champion's forearms and he released the weapon in
+order to block the continued onslaught and return the favor. He led
+with a left hook that connected right under the boy's eye and sent him
+sprawling backwards, and quickly followed it with a kick to the boy's
+side, right beneath the shoulder-blade. The youth hit the ground and
+dove into a roll to come back to his feat. He had no more completed
+it, when another powerful kick knocked him back again, this time
+against the cavern wall. More punches followed and the boy fell back
+again and again against the wall and the floor, for support. His eyes
+were swollen, his hands and knees bloody, his body aching from the
+thrashing, but he did not signal his surrender. Instead he peered into
+the champion's eyes with determination and smiled, a bloody broken
+thing amid a silent crowd. The champion shook his head, but stalked in
+one more time to finish it.
+</p>
+<p>
+He never got a chance.
+</p>
+<p>
+The only sound that could be heard for miles was his scream. Not a
+person gathered breathed, nor heart beat for several moments, as their
+champion writhed pitifully upon the ground clutching the wreck that
+was once his face. Acid melted down into his skull and soon he could
+no longer draw the breath to scream and just shivered upon the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal'Bror'Noloth wiped the spittle from his mouth and looked up to
+regard the assembled, but from his vantage point, could see but one,
+the puffy chieftain upon the rock, as all bowed down to worship the
+dragon-blessed.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-14" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-14"><span class="section-number-2">14</span> The Return</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-14">
+<p>
+The hatchway was open and once again, the proud kobold mother stood
+before dark elves. Though this time, she did not stand alone. Her
+adopted son, nearly her height, stood, hands balled into fists, at her
+side. He glanced protectively from his mother and the kobolds
+cowering on the ground to the strange dark-skinned woman standing
+before him, who began to speak. She spoke slowly, as if to a very
+young child, and with an unfamiliar and decadent accent.
+</p>
+<p>
+"You appear to have raised him well. Does he speak Undercommon?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Aks him yerself." his mother spat back.
+</p>
+<p>
+The drow priestess held out a hand to halt one of her guards who had
+stepped out of the darkness brandishing a knife. He stopped with a
+quizzical look, and slipping his dagger back into his piwafwi cloak,
+disappeared again.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Do you know your name, little one?"
+</p>
+<p>
+The boy looked to her suspiciously, but answered proudly "The others
+call me Nightshade."
+</p>
+<p>
+She smiled coolly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"A fitting name I'm sure, but a child's name, a disguise at best." She
+stalked closer to the boy, peering deeply into his eyes, and reached
+out with a hand to trace the pattern of his scales.
+</p>
+<p>
+His mother attempted to interpose herself, to shield her child from
+the foreign touch, but instead found herself frozen in place
+mid-step. Wide-eyed she tried to cry out, but found no words. The
+paralyzing poison of the trio of small darts protruding from her back,
+neck, and leg had done its task.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I see it in your eyes little Nightshade. This place has made you a
+killer, as I knew it would, but you shall become so much more. Follow
+me, and rise to conquer nations! And you shall earn your true name!
+Jal'Bror'Noloth!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal stood dumbfounded at the revelation. He looked to the
+ground. Silence fell upon the empty chamber and all eyes upon the
+young half-dragon. He closed his eyes. Though he could almost feel a
+thousand heartbeats all around him, the one in his chest was the
+faintest. Here among the kobolds, he was revered, some kind of god to
+the dragon-loving fanatics. Could the same be true of wherever this
+woman would take him?
+</p>
+<p>
+No, he decided, his place was in the caverns. And he didn't like this
+stranger and her band. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I already have a mother." he stated flatly. "I have no need for
+another one, nor your names for me."
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith smiled, unperturbed by his response. She leaned down to
+his ear and whispered "You do indeed already have a mother. But soon,
+you'll have a goddess."
+</p>
+<p>
+A hundred drow warriors appeared from the shadows, blades
+spinning. Kobold blood splattered the ceilings, the floors, it
+splattered the pair standing undisturbed in the midst of it. Jal found
+he could not move his body, he could not open his mouth again to send
+acid into the faces of the attackers.
+</p>
+<p>
+It was over quickly. The cowering kobolds were all dead, cut into morbid
+ribbons that covered the walls and floors. As were all the kobolds
+that stayed in the darkness and thought themselves safe from the
+spectacle. Any that saw the return of the drow or the fate of their
+beloved dragon-blessed were left to feed whatever monsters that would
+inevitably take up residence in the food-rich cavern. The Underdark
+is not a place of wastefulness.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal watched as the only other survivor, his adopted mother, was put
+into chains and levitated up through the drow hatchway. Still groggy
+from the poison, he barely noticed when his own fetters were locked
+into place. Ul'Ilindith leaned over his shoulder and whispered once
+again,
+</p>
+<p>
+"You shall know your destiny my little iblith. And you shall know the
+futility of defying me."
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-15" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-15"><span class="section-number-2">15</span> Tastavi</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-15">
+<p>
+The aging Master of Arms, Elderboy Tastadraa D'Maelnor, looked over
+the boy's head to his sister Ul'Ilindith.
+</p>
+<p>
+"This? This is the one you bring to me?"
+</p>
+<p>
+The boy appeared unremarkable in every way. Average height, build,
+skin tone, hair style, musculature, almost a mockery of normalcy.
+</p>
+<p>
+"He is."
+</p>
+<p>
+"I take it then, he is some prodigy with a blade?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I doubt he's ever touched one."
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastadraa sighed and slicked back his receding hairline. Despite his
+position in the family, one can never take a demand from a High
+Priestess lightly. He nodded his head,
+</p>
+<p>
+"I will train him&#x2026;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very good."
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith turned to leave.
+</p>
+<p>
+"&#x2026;assuming he passes the trials of course."
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith stopped. Slowly turning around, venom oozing
+from her gaze, she asked
+</p>
+<p>
+"Trials?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Just a formality I assure you, since he does not appear to be
+of&#x2026; noble birth. I shall train him if he proves himself superior to
+my most recent student."
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith smiled. She looked across the room to the gangly youth
+attempting to lift a glave twice his size and nearly chopping himself
+in twain as the weapon fell to the ground with a clatter&#x2013;her sister's
+son would prove no challenge.
+</p>
+<p>
+"All right. He shall fight then."
+</p>
+<p>
+But to her surprise the weapon master called out, "Tastavi! Come hither."
+</p>
+<p>
+From behind a weapons rack, a lithe youth looked up and walked
+over. His gait was one of practiced grace and noble refinement.
+</p>
+<p>
+"This is my son Tastavi, he came of age just yesterday to start
+training with the group. Tastavi, you will be fighting this one to
+determine if he is fit to train against you."
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi glanced at the new boy and smirked.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-16" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-16"><span class="section-number-2">16</span> Trials</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-16">
+<p>
+Both fighters panted for breath. They dripped with sweat. From
+opposite sides of the perfect circle drawn upon the floor, they stared
+into each other's eyes, waiting. Tastavi licked blood from his
+battered lip.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had expected to finish the match quickly. He held his sword
+delicately but firmly, gently gliding it into thrusts and parries, as
+opposed to this stranger who held his sword like a club, and used it
+like one. But he quickly discovered that what the newcomer lacked in
+technique he made up for with ferocity. He looked so small and
+unspectacular, but possessed the raw strength of someone much larger,
+and the split-second reflexes of a master. The force and savage speed
+of his swings was jolting. Tastavi was able to stay ahead of each of
+them, but barely.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi had then moved to the center of the ring, expending as little
+effort as he could, dodging as much as deflecting, to tire out his
+opponent. Eventually the frustrated and slowing newcomer simply
+started swinging out as a distraction and using his body to push
+Tastavi towards the edge of the ring. Several times only his training
+in gymnastics had kept him from being bowled over out of the ring, and
+the last rush had been the closest yet.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi had to adjust, and began to counter the charges with precise
+blade thrusts, forcing his aggressor back, but took a few flying elbows
+to the face while perfecting it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Now mutual respect and more than a little exhaustion had the pair
+circling. Almost an hour had passed, with neither side backing
+down. His father, the Weapon's Master, stood by the wayside trying to
+look disinterested to Ul'Ilindith, while nonetheless remaining intent
+on every second of the fighting. The other students held no such
+reservation and watched the display with open wonder.
+</p>
+<p>
+As the two dragged themselves around they ring they knew that whatever
+happened here, it would be the last clash between the two. Tastavi
+hefted his blade and focused on his breathing and his feet, on his
+years of training with his father, and on his enemy: nearly collapsed
+on the ground, hands clenched upon the hilt of his broadsword, knuckles
+as white as the hair upon his head.
+</p>
+<p>
+And suddenly upon him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi stepped to the side, barely avoiding the downwards strike and
+stabbed out, piercing flesh and striking against bone. The newcomer
+fell past him landing with a dull thud against the floor, jutting out
+halfway from the ring and retching in pain. His blood bubbled from the
+wound on his side. Tastavi heard a strange sizzling sound and looked
+to his blade, the blood was slowly eating away the metal!
+</p>
+<p>
+The crowd cheered, but Master Tastadraa silenced them with a harsh
+reprimand and they reluctantly began to disperse. Tastavi nearly
+collapsed, but held his feat and his honor. Then nearly collapsed
+again as Ul'Ilindith surprised him by personally moving forward to
+tend to the boy. Tastavi found himself dumbfounded before Ul'Ilindith,
+who reached down and touched the boy, instantly healing him and
+vaporizing the bubbling blood before it burned into the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+The conversation between his aunt and father echoed far away.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I shall teach him."
+</p>
+<p>
+"But, didn't he lose your little challenge?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"I shall teach him."
+</p>
+<p>
+The tip of his blade fell to the ground with a loud clatter as the
+acid ate cleanly through the steel.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-17" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-17"><span class="section-number-2">17</span> Transformations</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-17">
+<p>
+He awoke to a Sending message in his mind.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Jal, it is time to train with Master Tastadraa.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Yes Mother.</i> he replied.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal lay upon a thin bisected cot, the center of which was cut away
+so that he could lay on his back without the ridge on his spine
+cutting at the fabric.
+</p>
+<p>
+He looked to the three other belongings his mother allowed him: a pair
+of clothes for training at blades and bows, a small key, and a thin
+mask of white velvet.
+</p>
+<p>
+He reached for the key, but changed his mind at the last second and
+went for the mask instead.
+</p>
+<p>
+He carefully set it place upon his face and grimaced beneath it as
+its magic began subtly changing him. He shrank, his thick arms and
+legs shriveling into the spindly appendages of the drow. The ridges on
+his spine disappearing into his back. His hair remained roughly the
+same, resulting in an almost comical effect if anyone were
+watching. However, if anyone were watching, they would almost
+certainly be dead by now. His room was one of the best guarded places
+in the complex.
+</p>
+<p>
+He left his chamber fully drow&#x2013;there was no illusion, his entire body
+was changed&#x2013;and made for the training complex.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-18" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-18"><span class="section-number-2">18</span> Training</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-18">
+<p>
+Tastadraa leaned against a trident and watched Jal and Tastavi
+spar. He marveled at the progress they made in such short time. Given
+years, these two would surely become the best fighters in House
+D'Maelnor, if not the best fighters in Llolethane-Mael'na'rath. But
+which would predominate?
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi represented perfection in discipline and form. He learned
+every technique: line, parry, block, feint, it didn't matter, after a
+few repetitions he would master them, and he followed orders to the
+very punctuation.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal on the other hand, represented pure natural talent and
+improvisation. He could find his way in any situation with no
+preparation whatsoever. He always tested his opponents, challenging
+their careful techniques and reactions, throwing them into
+unpredictable patterns and unfamiliar lines. He was dangerous and
+cared nothing for orders.
+</p>
+<p>
+Only time would tell.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-19" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-19"><span class="section-number-2">19</span> The Leader</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-19">
+<p>
+Flames billowed into the sky.
+</p>
+<p>
+The sky.
+</p>
+<p>
+Bright and blue, horrid and happy.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith shuddered.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Why do you show me this?"
+</p>
+<p>
+A caped rogue peered from the crystal ball to the priestess.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We all serve the Queen according to her will."
+</p>
+<p>
+He motioned for her to continue watching the silent scene unfold below
+in the glassy sphere. The sky came into view once again and then
+shifted to a quiet village in the middle of a great yellow plain.
+</p>
+<p>
+From the south a sweeping army of darkness crept upon the unsuspecting
+village, at its head an imposing warrior. Arrayed in thick armor, not
+much could be seen of his face, or much beyond the massive broadsword he
+carried upon his back. With an unheard bellow he hefted the sword with
+two hands and led the the charging army to battle.
+</p>
+<p>
+A charge that faded from her view as the scene changed
+subtly. Suddenly the army was on the road, traveling by the new
+moon. Then they were at the gates of a great city, then inside it,
+slaying indiscriminately. Then there was a throne, obsidian and
+bearing the mark of the Spider Queen, and an ancient drow upon it,
+casting traitors into the flames.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith struggled with the vision.
+</p>
+<p>
+"We shall take to the surface? An army?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Not we, but see the mark upon the leader?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"D'Maelnor!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, he carries your crest. And another, of the first house."
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith smiled. "Then it's true, the union shall take place?"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Yes, but keep in mind" said the rogue, "there is but one leader
+prophesied&#x2026; not two."
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-20" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-20"><span class="section-number-2">20</span> The Contest</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-20">
+<p>
+Tastavi held his bow carefully and exhaling suddenly, sent a perfect
+shot into the deep-rothe's eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Twenty-three" Jal sighed dramatically, his face emotionless.
+</p>
+<p>
+"If you hadn't wasted your shot on the bull you would be tied with
+me. Next time." Tastavi patted Jal on the shoulder mockingly.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I've got one shot left." Jal pulled the arrow from his dimensional
+bag.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Even if you somehow managed to kill two of them with that, you'd only
+match me." Tastavi gave him a superior look and started packing his things.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal stared out across the cavern floor at the grazing rothe. Slowly a
+half-smile spread across his face.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I've got one shot left." he reiterated.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi stopped and just watched. He knew that look well enough after
+all. It usually preceded something worth watching.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal lifted his bow, nocked the arrow and held out his hand encasing a
+rothe in purple flames.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi gave him a disapproving look, "Now that's cheating!"
+</p>
+<p>
+"No, that's not the target, watch." Jal replied.
+</p>
+<p>
+At first the rothe seemed not to notice, and Jal lifted three fingers.
+</p>
+<p>
+Two fingers.
+</p>
+<p>
+One.
+</p>
+<p>
+The rothe looked up and seeing the illusory flames encasing it, began
+to panic. It let out a mooish-roar and bolted for the water.
+</p>
+<p>
+It would have made it too, except for the very agitated bull rothe
+standing directly in its path with an arrow protruding from its
+hindquarters. The bull had almost come to accept the nagging itch in
+its backside, but being bowled over by a frantic, and apparently
+burning, female on her way to the water was not a good way to arrive
+at acceptance.
+</p>
+<p>
+He reared up and charged, looking to gore anything in its path. A
+couple of plump females stood nearby and he charged at them
+blindly. They looked up in time to see the horns, and bolted to the
+side.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal fired.
+</p>
+<p>
+His arrow whisked past the enraged bull, peeling flesh from his face
+and changing his course to plow, horns-first into the escaping females,
+skewering both of them before himself, crumpling to the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Ok, well that's just Twenty-three then. We're tied." Tastavi managed
+to stammer. But Jal turned to him and smiled.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Look again."
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi traced the arrow's flight from where it had been
+deflected&#x2026; into the water. The startled rothe, no longer in faerie
+fire, floated on her side, bleeding dark blood into the water from an
+arrow between the ribs and into the heart.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-21" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-21"><span class="section-number-2">21</span> The Cell</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-21">
+<p>
+Jal opened his eyes and realized that for the first time in several
+years, his mother had not called him to training. His room was dark,
+but there was no mistaking the time. She should have called by now.
+</p>
+<p>
+He donned his mask and hesitantly took up the tiny golden key.
+</p>
+<p>
+If she called, he would answer, but it was not often he had the time
+he needed, and he decided that he would not waste it.
+</p>
+<p>
+He dressed quickly and left his chamber, racing through the levels of
+the palace to the great stair. He usually descended the stairs on
+foot, but who knew how long he had to spare. He activated his house
+insignia and levitated down the center.
+</p>
+<p>
+Near the bottom, he jumped to the side and followed a narrow corridor
+to the cell block. He counted his steps and arrived at the correct
+door. He slid in his key and opened the lock.
+</p>
+<p>
+Inside the room was a small cell, only a few inches taller than he and
+only a few feet wider. It was empty.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No." He said.
+</p>
+<p>
+He had to have made a mistake. Where was she? He looked around, but
+found no signs of escape, nor of capture.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No!" He exited the room and looked both ways down the narrow
+hallway.
+</p>
+<p>
+He tried the adjacent doors, but could not open them.
+</p>
+<p>
+"NO!" he screamed, the sound echoing in the long metallic corridor. A
+second passed, then thirty. His head ached and his gut clenched and
+burned. A sending arrived from his mother.
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Jal, come to the throne room immediately.</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal's rage flared inside him. The truth he suspected burned his lungs
+and throat. He tried to be calm, to tread carefully, but couldn't help
+but scream back <i>Where is she?! What have you done with her?!</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+No response was forthcoming.
+</p>
+<p>
+He screamed. An echoing anguish mixed among the cell-block moans. He
+ran, dashing through the archway to the stair. He took no heed of
+those around him as he raced fate to the throne room at the top of the
+complex.
+</p>
+<p>
+He arrived at the doors out of breath, and furious. Guards attempted
+to bar his way to announce him, but Jal rushed deftly past them and
+stormed into the throne room without announcement.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-22" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-22"><span class="section-number-2">22</span> Motherly Love</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-22">
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith reclined upon the throne. A drooling zombie stood guard
+beside it, once a powerful priestess, she was now cursed to forever
+stand as a reminder of what may happen to those who lose the favor of
+the Spider Queen.
+</p>
+<p>
+Guards lined the walls armed with hand crossbows. Tastadraa and his
+son stood before the dais, waiting for the final addition to their
+ranks.
+</p>
+<p>
+It burst into the throne room.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where is she?! What have you done with her?!" Jal screamed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith remained seated and unaffected.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal screamed again, "WHERE IS SHE?!" The volume and the timbre
+contrasted dramatically with the unimpressive image of the drow
+youth. An aura of fear radiated from him, slowly affecting the nearest
+guards who stiffened and stood frozen beside the open door, mouths
+agape.
+</p>
+<p>
+"My my, Mother, what am impudent little pup I've raised." Ul'Ilindith
+lamented to the zombie beside her. It responded to the attention by
+lolling its head slightly towards the sound.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal looked to the pair standing before the throne with suspicion.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Where is my mother." he stated.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Jal, Jal, do calm down. I have liked your 'mother' from the moment I
+saw her. I believe that we share a certain&#x2026; bond. But display an
+attitude again in my presence, and I promise, she'll soon resemble
+<i>my</i> mother more than yours." Ul'Ilindith casually gestured to the
+guard zombie.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal deflated. The fire in his throat cut off any further words, and
+tears threatened to well behind his eyes. But his anger wisely turned
+to caution. He looked around the room and took in the situation, then
+wandered to his spot beside the other two males.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith was not sure about what she'd seen foretold, and thought
+about the rogue's warning. She had worried about the course set before
+her, but Jal's continuing insubordination left no room for doubt.
+</p>
+<p>
+She put aside her contemplation and said with a plastered smile,
+</p>
+<p>
+"A special opportunity has come to my attention. The first house has
+shown to me a great vision of the future. A great warrior, a son of
+D'Maelnor, shall join with the first house and lead an army of
+darkness across the surface world."
+</p>
+<p>
+Master Tastadraa's mouth fell agape, Tastavi focused on calming his
+excitement, Jal just strained against his rage, though there was dull
+curiosity there too. Tastavi was the only "son of D'Maelnor" he knew
+who could possibly wear the description of 'great warrior.'
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith just watched their reactions to be sure. Yes, the choice
+was obvious, but perhaps it should still be best left in Lolth's
+hands.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Brother, you're a bit too old to be our warrior. Step away from the
+dais. I will address the boys."
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastadraa bowed and stepped back into a line of guards at the side.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal felt isolated upon the dais. He looked to Tastavi uncertainly, but
+Tastavi looked at his aunt with expectancy, ambition gleaming in his
+eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith addressed the room. "Before me stand two great sons of
+D'Maelnor:"
+</p>
+<p>
+A dull question thumped in the back of Jal's mind. <i>What?</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"Tastavi, son of Tastadraa D'Maelnor."
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Two great sons? Tastadraa isn't up here, just Tastavi and&#x2026;</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+"and Jal'Bror'Noloth, my firstborn son,"
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal almost fell from the dais. No, she had been his 'Matron Mother',
+but he'd never believed that&#x2026;
+</p>
+<p>
+"whom I carried and delivered."
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal's rage flared, but his voice was nowhere to be found it in. He
+stood stone-faced and looked to the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi looked to his newfound cousin with surprise, and sudden
+jealousy. All this time, and Jal had never told him? There he stood,
+embarrassed to have his secret revealed. Were they ever friends, or
+only rivals?
+</p>
+<p>
+"Both of you have surpassed my expectations with regard to fighting
+prowess. But&#x2026; There is but one great warrior." Ul'Ilindith stated
+clearly.
+</p>
+<p>
+She let the statement sink in.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi turned.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal broke from his focused denial and turned to look at his friend. He
+shook his head, slowly in disbelief.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi reached his hands slowly to the hilts of his swords.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal made no move to match him. He looked to Ul'Ilindith. She smiled
+wickedly. He looked to Tastadraa. He looked lost, a mixture of caring
+father, and greedy coward.
+</p>
+<p>
+He threw off his sword belt. It fell with a clatter to the ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Tastavi can go. He can be your warrior."
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi looked quickly back and forth between Jal and Ul'Ilindith.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith's smile became a sneer.
+</p>
+<p>
+A muffled screaming came from somewhere behind the throne and an aging
+kobold, bound and gagged, naked and bleeding, was brought before
+it. The zombie drooled at her and strained at its magical restraints.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No. You shall fight, my little iblith." She held out her hand before
+her with an open palm. In it lay a small scrap of white velvet. Slowly
+fire rose from her fingers and ignited it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Immediately Jal was wracked with pain as if his face was being torn
+off. He screamed, a primal roar, a dragon's roar. Guards around the
+room stiffened. Tastavi's eyes grew wide.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith turned her hand over into a fist and crushed the ashes.
+</p>
+<p>
+The polymorph spell of the mask was ended. Jal knelt on the
+ground. He breathed heavily and shivered. His clothes were tatters. He
+held the thin mask in his hands&#x2013;his clawed hands. He looked up, his
+white hair falling over his yellow eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi looked upon him with a mixture of disgust, betrayal, and fear.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal shook his head, dropped the mask, and held his hands up
+defensively, waving away the accusation in Tastavi's eyes.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Kill him." Ul'Ilindith commanded Tastavi.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi drew his swords.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-23" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-23"><span class="section-number-2">23</span> The Will of Lolth</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-23">
+<p>
+Though years had passed since their first fight, Jal found the whole
+scene familiar. Tastavi would stalk forward blades drawn and execute a
+perfect series of textbook thrusts and faints. He'd win. He usually
+did, but this time he wouldn't stop. This was no practice spar; this
+was life and death.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal snatched up his weapon belt, pulling his blades from it&#x2013;a rapier
+and a dagger&#x2013;kicked it into Tastavi's face, and retreated. But
+Tastavi responded by slashing down in a brutal 'X' with his scimitars,
+cutting the tossed belt and bag into four even pieces. Jal tried to
+reason with him, but couldn't get out more than a word against the
+determination in Tastavi's eyes, and speed of his routine.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi came on in full. Emotions flooded his mind, betrayal was
+nothing new or exotic to a drow, but this was something more than
+that. Jal was a half-breed, a disgrace. He would put an end to this
+traitor, this ibluth masquerading as a D'Maelnor. Only a true D'Maelnor
+could lead an army of drow to bring justice to the surface world. Not
+this abomination. Tastavi thought back to every fight against the
+traitor, to the times he had beaten him. His training had always won
+out in the end. He couldn't help but think of the good times as
+well. But he violently rejected them. Lies, they were all lies.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi lunged forward, his whole body extending, uncoiling like a
+viper. Jal managed a half-hearted parry, sending Tastavi's thrust out
+wide, but lost space, as Tastavi dropped his blade below, tapped the
+tip of Jal's rapier harmlessly upwards with the strong of his blade
+and re-engaged. Jal managed to parry the first few blows of every
+line, but barely held on as the sequences progressed. He was never as
+good as Tastavi at feeling the parries and teaching his arms to
+remember them. Jal relied on the space afforded by his greater
+height, backing away, disengaging, dodging, and doing anything to
+break Tastavi's muscle memory. Several times he tried to flee, but
+whenever he came close to the guards, their crossbows forced him back
+into the fight against his friend.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal looked into Tastavi's eyes, but saw nothing but pain there. Deep
+welling emotion. Not regret, but pure righteous hatred. The look
+festered like a wound on his conscience. He felt the bile welling in
+his throat, preparing to send forth a blast of acid to burn away that
+look. But he choked it back and continued to parry.
+</p>
+<p>
+There had to be another way.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal felt strong. Free from the polymorph, he was able to stand to his
+full height, the chamber, the columns, even the other drow all seemed
+so much smaller now. The passing thought gave him an idea. But he had
+to act quickly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal flexed his thick legs, turned, back to the enemy, and rushed
+headlong into a pair of guards. He felt the wind of Tastavi's blade
+barely miss impaling him. The guards paled at the sight of a large
+black half-dragon barreling at them, and dodged behind a pillar, firing
+crossbow bolts at him as they fell. But they were poorly aimed and
+glanced off of his hard black scales. He followed them around the
+pillar, screaming. Then silence filled the chamber.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi soon followed, breathing heavily from his furious assault, but
+found nothing around the pillar but the pair of guards unconscious on
+the ground. He darted around the other side of the pillar to find
+nothing there either. He looked around behind him in frustration and
+caught a glance at another guard from the other side of the room
+staring dumbfounded at the ceiling. He turned to the pillar and found
+deep scratches on the intricately carved relief. His eyes followed
+them up, to find Jal climbing, tearing chunks of the porous stone free
+with his claws to use as handholds.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith held out a hand to keep the archers at bay, amused by the
+tactic.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi put away his swords and carefully followed him up.
+</p>
+<p>
+The chamber's ceiling was crisscrossed with the webs of thousands of
+spiders. Moths and flies, bats and even larger specimens struggled in
+freshly wrapped cocoons or lay very still. Drow-made archways that
+provided places for the webs to attach jut from odd angles.
+Crisscrossing struts connected them in intricate patterns. Jal leaped
+from the top of the pillar to one of these, sending its occupants
+scurrying away.
+</p>
+<p>
+He moved from strut to strut, displacing as few spiders as
+possible&#x2013;it was bad luck after all&#x2013;running where he could, climbing
+where he could not, and constantly dodging the think and sticky
+strands. He reached the end of one strut and turned to see Tastavi
+racing after him, swords drawn, hacking at whatever strands got too
+close. Jal looked around and dove into the thickest part of the
+webbing, directly over the throne.
+</p>
+<p>
+In the confined space it would be much more difficult to dodge, and
+impossible to run, but Jal took comfort in knowing that if he could
+find the right spot, it would also be impossible to lunge. His greater
+range combined with the sticky walls could then keep any advance at
+bay. He found a large strut, disconnected from the one he was on,
+probably two feet think, and curving from the ceiling like a
+hook. Tastavi was nearly on him. This would have to do.
+</p>
+<p>
+He took a deep breath, coiled like a spring and jumped. He tossed his
+rapier into the air, spun around, back parallel to the ground, and
+threw his dagger out behind him. He continued his rotation and found
+the strut at the same time the rapier bounced against it. The blade
+followed the curve upwards and then fell off to the side. Jal reached
+out with his legs and caught it with his foot.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi turned the corner quickly, moving to follow him, but had stop
+to knock aside the dagger inches from his face. He glared across the
+gap.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal pulled himself up with a deep groan and the heavy rumbling breaths
+of a dragon. More than forty feet below him from the throne chamber,
+Ul'Ilindith smiled wickedly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal watched as Tastavi's furious glare turned into a look of panic.
+</p>
+<p>
+Several web strands twinged near Jal's head and a slight clicking
+sound came from somewhere disturbingly close by.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's a spider isn't it?"
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi's silence was telling.
+</p>
+<p>
+"It's right behind me isn't it?&#x2026;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"&#x2026;"
+</p>
+<p>
+"Right."
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal dropped to the strut just in time for the spider's jowls to snap
+shut where he stood. He turned and sliced out with his rapier, tearing
+away a thick strand of webbing. He wrapped it around his leg, then
+jerked left and right, barely dodged the spider's next two rapid
+attempts to capture him. He kicked out against it, not to hurt it, but
+to use it as a springboard. He jumped back across the gap, sword
+leading his way.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi saw the move coming and instead of falling back, he leaped
+from the ledge as well in order to push Jal back into the line of attack
+from the giant spider. They collided in midair and struggled over a
+tiny ledge before both losing their footing and plummeting towards the
+ground.
+</p>
+<p>
+A sickening crunch echoed in the chamber.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi groaned upon the ground. Jal hung from the thick strand of
+webbing just above him. They had fallen towards the center of the
+room, nearby the spot where the fight had begun, before the throne.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi opened his blurry eyes to find Jal standing over him, or
+rather, hanging over him, rapier at his throat.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Very good, Jal. Now end it!" Ul'Ilindith cheered.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastadraa looked at her with disbelief.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal lifted his rapier, pressing it deep, drawing blood. Tastavi pulled
+away, but winced at his multiple broken bones, some of which protruded
+grotesquely and spouted little fountains of blood. He closed his eyes,
+ready to accept his defeat if that was the will of the Spider Queen.
+</p>
+<p>
+But instead, Jal shifted his weight to swing himself towards the
+throne, brought his sword around, cutting the line holding him aloft,
+and flipped over towards the dais. He landed with a roll, dodging the
+lazy lunge of the zombie guarding the throne and sprang forward with
+the grace of a cat and the speed of a scorpion.
+</p>
+<p>
+A deep thunk and sudden rushing of air shattered the sudden
+silence. Jal's rapier dug deeply into Ul'Ilindith's chest and blood
+spurted from the wound. A second later, two dozen crossbow bolts hit
+Jal in the chest and paralysis seeped into his muscles from each tiny
+pinprick.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith's voice came through ragged slurping breaths, a spell of
+some kind, and Jal found himself sprawling backwards, teeth chattering
+and sword shattered into shrapnel in his hands. He landed roughly upon
+the dais steps a few feet from the broken Tastavi who looked at him
+aghast.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith's eyes changed to a deep black, and raven flames engulfed
+her. She chanted with otherworldly power. Her wound closed. She began
+to levitate and ripped off her stained clothes with revulsion.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Once again you disappoint me my son. Watch what is borne of your
+failings!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith turned ruefully towards the bound kobold and sent forth
+waves of necrotic energy that quickly tore her apart. Jal tried to
+scream, but his mouth refused to open and his voice left him silent in
+his agony.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith was not finished though.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'll show you the cost of your weakness! Watch as I cut it out."
+</p>
+<p>
+Instead of turning her wrath on Jal, she turned on Tastavi, pointing a
+rueful finger and chanting. Soon lightning arced between her fingers,
+gathering for discharge.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Noo!!" Tastadraa screamed, breaking ranks and standing between his
+son and his sister. He held aloft a glowing shield emblazoned with
+the lightning symbol of the surface god Talos, and in his other hand a
+broadsword wreathed in black flames.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I shall not allow this!" He called to her.
+</p>
+<p>
+"This is not yours to decide, Elderboy." she spat back.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith let fly her spell, and lightning shot from her finger to
+the waiting Tastadraa. Electricity sparked and crackled as the shield
+focused and contained it. What little hair remained on Tastadraa's
+balding head stood straight but his look of determination and
+concentration disrupted whatever mirth could be garnered from the
+sight. He brought around his sword and rapped it against the crackling
+shield and then with a wave of his arm, released the energy at the
+ground beside him. Lightning arced into the stone and it exploded with
+a deafening blast.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastadraa stalked slowly forward towards Ul'Ilindith.
+</p>
+<p>
+"I'm sorry, Sister, but this is not how the D'Maelnor line shall
+end&#x2013;with an abomination."
+</p>
+<p>
+Guards swarmed from beside the throne and drew swords&#x2013;drow that
+Tastadraa had taught. But he had not taught them everything. Two moved
+forward to engage him. Their heads fell to the floor and corpses
+turned to ash beneath his wicked blade.
+</p>
+<p>
+The rest of the guards looked to the powerful siblings and decided to
+refrain from allowing their duty decide their deaths.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith sneered. She began to chant again, her eyes rolling up
+into her head. The air grew dense inside the throne room, thick and
+stifling, beads of sweat began to form and run down Ul'Ilindith's
+naked body.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastadraa stalked forward with the shield of Talos held high.
+</p>
+<p>
+Beside the throne, the twisted and battered form of Jal's adopted
+mother began to twitch.
+</p>
+<p>
+She finished her incantation, but waited to unleash the spell to
+gloat, "Lets see your blasphemous surface god save you from this one."
+</p>
+<p>
+Her hand jerked spasmodically and green bile erupted from the air
+around it in a stream and blasted Tastadraa to the ground. Contagion
+spread across his body wherever the stuff touched and ate away his
+skin. At the same time the kobold skeleton began to slowly shift into
+place, ligaments forming, muscle growing upon the shifting bones.
+</p>
+<p>
+But Tastadraa was not finished, he pushed with his rotting limbs and
+triggered the levitation on his amulet. He rose, blade poised to end
+the conflict with a single vorpal strike. Then his body fell limp and
+he hung awkwardly in the air, his head crushed from behind by the maw
+of a giant spider.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi cried out in anguish.
+</p>
+<p>
+Paralyzed by more than just the drow poison, Jal watched the scene
+progress in horror. Tastadraa was nothing more than a decaying pile of
+flesh, Tastavi lay broken by his fall, his adopted mother under the
+throes of some insidious magic.
+</p>
+<p>
+Only Ul'Ilindith seemed unharmed, floating above them all cherishing
+the moment.
+</p>
+<p>
+The ground began to shake.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Fool, don't you see? A traitor and his son are revealed and Lolth has
+shown me favor! The dead rise. Even Toril trembles! This is the will
+of Lolth!"
+</p>
+<p>
+She continued, addressing the guards, "Now. Do as I commanded."
+</p>
+<p>
+A crossbow bolt zipped past Jal's frozen face. The whole world seemed
+to stop. But the bolt was not indented for him. Beside him, Tastavi's
+scream became a gurgle as the crossbow bolt in his throat quickly
+drained him of both the air and the blood needed to circulate it.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal retched involuntarily, and could taste the poison on his lips.
+</p>
+<p>
+The shaking intensified in the chamber. A column came down in dozens
+of jagged pieces. Guards ran about, dodging falling debris and
+spiders.
+</p>
+<p>
+Tastavi breathed his last, slumping against the broken stone.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith, levitating, but stationary in the air was pelted with
+rock fragments and quickly began her descent.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal's anger flared within him, but fear helped him keep his head and
+push away the worst effects of the poison. What was going on?
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith reached the ground and began to hurry towards Jal, still
+paralyzed upon the dais steps, but a curious laugh stopped her.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Hahaha, 'da will a Lolth you say?" The scratchy voice became clearer
+by the second. Ul'Ilindith turned to the living kobold slowly standing
+up where her corpse should have rested. Her scales grew back in
+patches, and she peered at the Matron Mother with one regenerated eye.
+</p>
+<p>
+"No my dear, this&#x2026;" she gestured to the chaos around her.
+</p>
+<p>
+"&#x2026;is the will of Tiamat."
+</p>
+<p>
+The ceiling collapsed.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-24" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-24"><span class="section-number-2">24</span> Doom</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-24">
+<p>
+Often a dragon's roar precedes its breath, but Ik'lithslaelith was too
+cautious and too clever for that. When he roared over the shattered
+second house of Llolethane-Mael'na'rath, it was a roar of victory. He
+watched the wreckage from the shadows for a time, but his instructions
+had been clear: leave nothing behind&#x2013;and then leave. He disappeared
+into the forgotten tunnel and was gone.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-25" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-25"><span class="section-number-2">25</span> Destruction</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-25">
+<p>
+The palace fell.
+</p>
+<p>
+A lone drowess rose from the ashes at the edge of the desolation. The
+acid dripped from her hands, from her hair, and fell sizzling to the
+ground leaving her unharmed. Lady Lolth had long ago given her a
+defense against such poison, when she carried it in her womb.
+</p>
+<p>
+Ul'Ilindith stood alone in the rubble and followed the only other pair
+of footprints leaving the shattered homestead: her son's.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal limped through the wreckage, dragging Tastavi's body behind
+him. It had to be around here somewhere. He hefted a door-sized piece
+of slate from a shimmering object sticking out from underneath it. A
+drained and blistered hand held fast to a broken sword, but what
+attracted Jal's eye was a thin piece of white velvet. Jal took the
+mask and dropped the slate back into place, reverently.
+</p>
+<p>
+He turned to the body and rasped, "It doesn't look like either of us
+will be leading any armies today. Please forgive me." He placed the
+velvet mask on Tastavi's face and began the attunement ritual. He left
+the cavern once again fully drow, wearing the face of his friend, and
+carrying his inheritance, a silver shield of a strange surface god,
+upon his back.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-26" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-26"><span class="section-number-2">26</span> Dreams</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-26">
+<p>
+Three Years Later&#x2026;
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal lay on his back on a roof overlooking a bustling marketplace and
+stared dreamily at the cavern ceiling. It had been years since his
+flight from the shattered D'Maelnor estate, and he had managed to find
+some semblance of normalcy in Llolethane, the central cavern of the
+drow city of Llolethane-Mael'na'rath. He rested his head on his
+shield, now mostly painted black to blend in with the shadows, and
+wondered what life would be like without a thousand tons of rock above
+your head. He wondered what it would be like to fly.
+</p>
+<p>
+Below him he heard the telltale laughter of the fat merchant leader he
+had followed to this inn. He picked up his bow and his shield and
+stalked to the edge of the roof above a window. He carefully dipped
+the inner edge of the shield below the overhang and watched the party
+descending the staircase in the cool golden reflection. Then he pulled
+it back up, turned with his back to the alleyway, and counted
+dramatically, with a familiar half-smile.
+</p>
+<p>
+Three.
+</p>
+<p>
+Two.
+</p>
+<p>
+One.
+</p>
+<p>
+Then he flipped from the roof, dropping below the lip and firing an
+arrow through the window. He landed on the cavern floor with a roll
+and disappeared into the shadows&#x2013;just another renegade drow in a city
+of renegades. He did not stay to confirm his success or failure, but
+fled to where he could most easily disappear: the bustling
+marketplace.
+</p>
+<p>
+He strolled easily through the crowded streets. Though his appearance
+was quite a bit more handsome than that he had grown up with, he could
+still blend in with a crowd if he so desired. But then again, where
+was the fun in that? He was dressed in fine silks and jewels, not
+rags. And with a small lump beneath his throat, unquestionably
+covering a house insignia, he was obviously a noble and was given a
+wide birth by the lesser folk. He casually examined the merchandise of
+a few carts, but exuded little outward care for the whole venture,
+particularly when several guards burst from the inn and sent rogues
+into back alleys to seek an assassin.
+</p>
+<p>
+He eventually made his way into this same inn, and dodging guards
+carting some new lordling's inherited possessions from an upper room,
+was addressed cordially by a concierge, "Ah, welcome back Sir! It
+appears that you are in luck, a room has just opened up for you."
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal smiled to himself and turned to dismiss the man with a "Thank You."
+</p>
+<p>
+He never finished that thought.
+</p>
+<p>
+The man was dead.
+</p>
+<p>
+He stood, smiling pleasantly in demure house leathers with half of his
+face melted off to the bone, dripping tar-like blood upon his fine
+padded vest. A spider crawled out from where his ear should have been
+and snickered at him.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal backed away slowly aghast, but everyone else went stoically about
+their business, unperturbed. The room grew dark and Jal turned to the
+window. A thick spiderweb had covered it with a hand-sized spider
+hurriedly wrapping a struggling shape. A tiny dragon's wing jut from
+the bundle.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal ran.
+</p>
+<p>
+He sprinted from the inn and disregarding caution, fled through the
+black alleys and twisted honeycomb and spiderweb streets. It was like
+the passages were built to be confounding, and yet somehow mercilessly
+efficient. In a matter of moments he was back amid the ruins of the
+old city, broken homes and discarded people. Screams from behind him
+followed, the sounds of the guards seeking an assassin. But much
+worse, the sounds of shattering stone and a deafening roar echoed
+through the cavern. Jal scurried through the final alleyway and dove
+into his hideout in an abandoned sewer tunnel. He dropped his rich
+clothes in the muck and crawled away on hands and knees.
+</p>
+<p>
+He remembered the frantic cries of his mother being torn apart and
+then her defiant laugh as the walls fell. Her last words echoed
+through his mind, "the will of Tiamat!" Another vicious roar sent
+ripples through the water and shivers through the very stone. He heard
+the clicking of spiders in the distance, drawing nearer. Closing in.
+</p>
+<p>
+He was being hunted. Franticly he drew the shield from his back and
+over his head and grasped a small dagger in his hand. He was once
+again a child, in loose-fitting kobold rags and with weapons he could
+barely use. He huddled terrified in a dark corner. He closed his eyes
+and begged whatever gods could hear him to escape.
+</p>
+<p>
+A faint hiss cut through the clamor. Not a god, but a tiny snake, the
+size of a little worm, crawled from the loose stones and looked up at
+Jal, flicking its tongue inquisitively. The hiss grew louder, drowning
+out the skittering of the approaching swarm and rumble of the
+searching dragon. The serpent grew, coiling and stretching, always
+watching. Jal found that he was no longer afraid, but curious. The
+serpent grew to immense proportions filling the tiny sewer tunnel,
+which became a great cavern, yet it still barely contained the
+powerful creature.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dendar, the Night Serpent, the Eater of the World, loomed over the
+boy. She laughed with the might of thunder and the promise of
+disaster. Jal found he could not move.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Jal'Bror'Noloth, your dreamss are deliciouss."
+</p>
+<p>
+Her huge tongue flicked in and out of her mouth, creating wind eddies
+that buffeted Jal against the stone. Greasy spittle and half-devoured
+bones&#x2013;remnants of nightmares long forgotten&#x2013;dripped from her
+cavernous maw. Jal could not speak, not even think, as the stench of
+nightmare overwhelmed him.
+</p>
+<p>
+"Your nightmare though&#x2026; tastess unique. Because it is true. And
+closer than you think. Evil godss have planss for you it seemss." The
+serpent hissed.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal shuddered.
+</p>
+<p>
+Dendar laughed&#x2013;a terrible rasping hiss.
+</p>
+<p>
+"And yet&#x2026; perhapss their planss are merely dreamss. Join me, little
+drow-gon and while the godss fret for your fate, we shall feassst!"
+</p>
+<p>
+Suddenly the world returned and Jal awoke from his reverie. What a
+dream! What a nightmare! The details faded, chewed away from his mind,
+but the image of the serpent and her strange offer lingered.
+</p>
+<p>
+The quiet dripping of sewer water and occasional scurrying of rodent
+or insect were the only sounds to be heard besides the dull pounding
+of his heart.
+</p>
+<p>
+He sat in the muck for hours.
+</p>
+<p>
+They were never far behind. Staying in one place for too long was
+dangerous, but something held Jal in place. Could he actually escape
+it all?
+</p>
+<p>
+Soon a distant splash alerted him to company. Heavy footsteps,
+confident and strong, echoed through the tunnel. Throngs of rodents
+scurried away from the sound, fleeing in terror they trampled on one
+another. A light breeze blew through the stinking place from the
+opposite end of the tunnel and the insects stopped their chattering,
+frozen and reverent. Jal couldn't think. They'd found him. They'd both
+found him. It was too late.
+</p>
+<p>
+A lightning bolt streaked through the tunnel past him and a barbaric
+roar answered it.
+</p>
+<p>
+The wind began to howl through the tunnel like a cyclone and the
+sounds of crumbling rock assailed him from both sides.
+</p>
+<p>
+Jal grimaced and hesitated. But as the twin forms came into view, he
+shouted into the clamor, "ENOUGH! Dendar! We are bound, now free me
+from this place!"
+</p>
+<p>
+<i>Wissse Choissce&#x2026;</i>
+</p>
+<p>
+Instantly a portal opened before him like a tear in reality and
+brilliant light beamed through. Jal rushed into it and was transported
+many miles away in an instant. A startled yell and the renewed sounds
+of battle followed him through, but then there was nothing but
+silence, the gentle breeze, and the burning light of the midday sun.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-27" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-27"><span class="section-number-2">27</span> The Surface</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-27">
+<p>
+The blinding light of the Shaar's Summer Sun left Jal helpless.
+</p>
+<p>
+He lay upon the ground thinking it maybe better he have died quickly
+in the tunnels or upon his own blade. But such musings held no real
+power, and with the setting of the Sun, and the rising of the lesser
+evils of the moon and of the stars, he wept freely. For though he was
+bound&#x2013;and nightmares would indeed become routine while in service to
+their master&#x2013;for the first time in his life, he was free.
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>
+<div id="outline-container-sec-28" class="outline-2">
+<h2 id="sec-28"><span class="section-number-2">28</span> Credits</h2>
+<div class="outline-text-2" id="text-28">
+<p>
+[Thank you for Reading! I'm Andrew Murrell, an aspiring D&amp;D author and
+dedicated DM. Check out my blog at <a href="http://AndrewDM.me/">http://AndrewDM.me/</a> [WIP] for
+updates or if you'd like to see more stuff like this!]
+</p>
+</div>
+</div>