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diff --git a/src/writing/tastavi.md b/src/writing/tastavi.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d499fdb --- /dev/null +++ b/src/writing/tastavi.md @@ -0,0 +1,1965 @@ +--- +title: "Tastavi D'Maelnor of Llolethane" +updated: "2016-08-30 Tue 23:56" +class: "dnd" +categories: SS FR +--- + +<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… 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–and could not +fly–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… +</p> +<p> +And perhaps, she mused, he hungered for drow in a way that could +benefit them both… +</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–aptly, one often used for +summoning creatures from lower planes, and shielded against unwanted +magical intrusion–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… 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…" +</p> +<p> +"Very good." +</p> +<p> +Ul'Ilindith turned to leave. +</p> +<p> +"…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… 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–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–there was no illusion, his entire body +was changed–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… 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… 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… 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…</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… +</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… 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–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–a rapier +and a dagger–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–it was bad luck after all–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?…" +</p> +<p> +"…" +</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–with an abomination." +</p> +<p> +Guards swarmed from beside the throne and drew swords–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…" she gestured to the chaos around her. +</p> +<p> +"…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–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… +</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–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–remnants of nightmares long forgotten–dripped from her +cavernous maw. Jal could not speak, not even think, as the stench of +nightmare overwhelmed him. +</p> +<p> +"Your nightmare though… 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–a terrible rasping hiss. +</p> +<p> +"And yet… 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…</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–and nightmares would indeed become routine while in service to +their master–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&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> |