Its been asked of me to put forth those things which have befallen me in my time beneath Arelith over the last decade. I'll do my best to be true to form, though some artistic license is needed and i'll try to skip over those events which are less clear to me. Questions comments concerns and any and all criticisms of my hack based prose are always welcome. I'll of course be doing this on an ongoing basis as time and desire allow.
Dedicated to the Worthy: Shairin Dria'fiend, Phyr'lene Dy'nin, Kilena Xymox, Vasarra and Taly'rrae Xunvirr, Iima Rily'aun, Rith Elg'carin, Sinithra Auvry'ndal, and probably a couple others whose names escape me Because a worker is nothing without a Matron worthy of her skills.
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Mebrith didn’t think calling it a city made it any less of a dusty trading post. However with Udos Dro’Xun and The Pit lost beneath the endless depths of dank water, the aging Drowess didn’t really have much of a choice. There were some reminders life before the flood, and some of them were even pleasant. By some miracle, Siril, his bar and his wonderful glowing green whiskey had survived the flood. Mebrith wondered by what magic the male was able to re create his bar in stunning detail, first in the pit and now in Andunor
Others were bitter reminders of everything they had lost. She’d seen the new library with its history of the drow houses. Some of those names called to distant memories of her life before becoming a prisoner of the Illithids. And Then of course there was the golem, rotting away, but still staring at her judgingly.
“Do what she says Draada, save yourself the poison,” She could still hear those whispered words every time she looked at him. Respect may be a weak emotion, but whatever prophetess came up with that one must have never met Kirraz Elg’carin.
And what would he think, if it all were true? She saw them in the cave on the peninsula -human form slime creatures, perfected- and she alone knew their origin. The Aboleths needed a Drow female to perfect their design. Those males, Lloth curse them, had been more to happy to hand her over to save their own skins, and now everyone was paying was paying the price for her failure.
Mebrith took another pull from the bottle trying to quiet the turning in the pit of her overly scarred stomach. She sighed heavily and tossed a few coins at Siril.
The old thief grabbed her bottle and head off for one of the recovery rooms that Siril kept in this newest version of the spider web, a new feature this time. She shut the door behind her placing a deadly trap upon the door to ensure she wouldn’t be disturbed. she finished the bottle too quickly and collapsed onto the bed. In her drunken reverie, Mebrith allowed herself to reflect back on better days, before the flood, before the Aboleths and the Illithids
A tale of the ancients.
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A tale of the ancients.
"Save your fork, the best is yet to come"
-Baptist Proverb.
-Baptist Proverb.
Re: A tale of the ancients.
((before continuing I’d like to apologize both previously and in advance for any proper names the years have caused me butcher forget, and/or misappropriate.))
Eager young worker.
In the days of her youth when Mebrith emerged from the creche to begin her training, City of Udos Dro’xun was a walled and defended stronghold of the Drow. At that time, the main level stretched over a chasm and held the three academies, a thriving market place, the Spider’s Web bar, and two exquisite manor buildings that changed hands with the rising and the falling of the noble houses. A large gate lead out to the Towers of Woe, and beyond an underdeep river a planar portal connected to points beyond both below and in the hellish light above.
Other caverns on the city side of the gate lead to rothe caves and slave pits, where the young were given licence to cull the unruly among the beasts of burden both quadrupedal and upright. It was in such places where the young worker began to make her way, scavenging and trophy hunting from the storehouses of the unruly slaves, carrying their heads back to the commander, and making alliances with her peers among the unhoused.
As things are in the ways of the drow, it is often not long that before a houseless worker gains the attention of the Nobility and their underling soldiery. Often times they begin by making sure the common rabble know their place, bowing were necessary and addressing title. Discipline was iron in the City of Survivors. Bows were given upon meeting, titles were given upon address, dress codes were headed, orders obeyed without question and with a hearty “A’dos Quarth”, and Xanalress was not polluted with the casual slang of the common tongues. Infractions were dealt with swiftly and punishment doled out mercilessly, often at the end of Priestess’s snake whip.
The priestess Eclav’ala was one such dispenser of Lloth’s will. Not a noble herself however, she had been blessed fall under the banner of the first house in those times, the mighty Qu’ellar Elg’carin. The priestess was the embodiment of knowing one's place: Obedient and respectful to betters and a zero tolerance enforcer of the will of those betters to those of lower station. She had found many opportunities to correct young Mebrith, and upon such occasions was always quick to do so, and when needed drive those lessons home in painful and creative ways.
The young scout took everything in stride striving to improve her behavior and become a proper cog in the wheel of the drow. Even in drow society, such loyalty is occasionally rewarded and after a time the priestess offered the budding worker provisional status in the House. To seal this bond was to don house attire and present herself to the nobles of the house.
For all time Mebrith would remember the first time she stood before the winding staircase that ascended to a pillar of rock that overlooked the entire cavern of Udos Dro’Xun. She straightened her red and black vest, checked the straps on her leather vambraces ensured her rapier was properly in her belt. Once she was certain everything was in order, she climbed the stairs to her destiny.
Eager young worker.
In the days of her youth when Mebrith emerged from the creche to begin her training, City of Udos Dro’xun was a walled and defended stronghold of the Drow. At that time, the main level stretched over a chasm and held the three academies, a thriving market place, the Spider’s Web bar, and two exquisite manor buildings that changed hands with the rising and the falling of the noble houses. A large gate lead out to the Towers of Woe, and beyond an underdeep river a planar portal connected to points beyond both below and in the hellish light above.
Other caverns on the city side of the gate lead to rothe caves and slave pits, where the young were given licence to cull the unruly among the beasts of burden both quadrupedal and upright. It was in such places where the young worker began to make her way, scavenging and trophy hunting from the storehouses of the unruly slaves, carrying their heads back to the commander, and making alliances with her peers among the unhoused.
As things are in the ways of the drow, it is often not long that before a houseless worker gains the attention of the Nobility and their underling soldiery. Often times they begin by making sure the common rabble know their place, bowing were necessary and addressing title. Discipline was iron in the City of Survivors. Bows were given upon meeting, titles were given upon address, dress codes were headed, orders obeyed without question and with a hearty “A’dos Quarth”, and Xanalress was not polluted with the casual slang of the common tongues. Infractions were dealt with swiftly and punishment doled out mercilessly, often at the end of Priestess’s snake whip.
The priestess Eclav’ala was one such dispenser of Lloth’s will. Not a noble herself however, she had been blessed fall under the banner of the first house in those times, the mighty Qu’ellar Elg’carin. The priestess was the embodiment of knowing one's place: Obedient and respectful to betters and a zero tolerance enforcer of the will of those betters to those of lower station. She had found many opportunities to correct young Mebrith, and upon such occasions was always quick to do so, and when needed drive those lessons home in painful and creative ways.
The young scout took everything in stride striving to improve her behavior and become a proper cog in the wheel of the drow. Even in drow society, such loyalty is occasionally rewarded and after a time the priestess offered the budding worker provisional status in the House. To seal this bond was to don house attire and present herself to the nobles of the house.
For all time Mebrith would remember the first time she stood before the winding staircase that ascended to a pillar of rock that overlooked the entire cavern of Udos Dro’Xun. She straightened her red and black vest, checked the straps on her leather vambraces ensured her rapier was properly in her belt. Once she was certain everything was in order, she climbed the stairs to her destiny.
"Save your fork, the best is yet to come"
-Baptist Proverb.
-Baptist Proverb.
Re: A tale of the ancients.
Among the Giants.
“Always close the gate quickly. You don't want to let in an assassin do you?” the priestess barked and Mebrith made sure the gate around the compound was quickly closed. She followed the priestess into the large manor built atop the gates. They moved quickly through the foyer into a large, well decorated gathering hall. Two smaller thrones stood on either side of a grander one and two long stone tables stood perpendicular to those with three chairs on the outside, Mebrith tried not to gawk like the creche born slummer she was, but she apparently didn’t hide her expression too well.
“It is not customary for commoners to stand in the audience hall of the Matron,” the male mage’s voice overflowed with authority and promised death. Of course Mebrith’s knees were on the floor and her gaze already admiring the polished stone floor before E’clav’ala could even turn to regard her. The priestess herself was of course exempt from such things without the presence of the matron, who apparently had not yet arrived. The mage was named Amion, Mebrith would later learn. He was one of three “sons” who watched over the first matrons empire, along with his “brothers” Veynor the Shadowmaster, and Kirraz -Warlord of the Melee Magthere.
Before long a female with the adornments of a high ranking priestess entered the hall. Mebrith, when she stood briefly to bow saw that she appeared too young to be a great matron, Murmurs of the name Villa wafted through the room.
“What is this one?” She would ask of Mebrith. Eclava of course gave a brief summary of what she was, and mebrith simply nodded.
“You decorum is appreciated, Agent, but I must speak things that are not meant for your years,” Highpriestess Villa ordered, and when a Highpriestess orders, lowly workers do. Thus she stood, gave her bows and moved out of the plush tower to stand on the ascended pillar and look out at the city below.
It was a trivial duty, Mebrith understood, but she thought she was an omen of good things to come. By ordering her out to guard the door, it seemed the Highpriestess had given her tacit approval of her provisional status. Things were good, her time of running for scraps in the slave pens and sleeping on cave floors and common rooms could soon be over.
“Lloth tlu Malla”, she smiled slightly as the words of praise left her lips.
Never let it be said Lloth doesn’t have a darkly humorous sense of timing.
“Always close the gate quickly. You don't want to let in an assassin do you?” the priestess barked and Mebrith made sure the gate around the compound was quickly closed. She followed the priestess into the large manor built atop the gates. They moved quickly through the foyer into a large, well decorated gathering hall. Two smaller thrones stood on either side of a grander one and two long stone tables stood perpendicular to those with three chairs on the outside, Mebrith tried not to gawk like the creche born slummer she was, but she apparently didn’t hide her expression too well.
“It is not customary for commoners to stand in the audience hall of the Matron,” the male mage’s voice overflowed with authority and promised death. Of course Mebrith’s knees were on the floor and her gaze already admiring the polished stone floor before E’clav’ala could even turn to regard her. The priestess herself was of course exempt from such things without the presence of the matron, who apparently had not yet arrived. The mage was named Amion, Mebrith would later learn. He was one of three “sons” who watched over the first matrons empire, along with his “brothers” Veynor the Shadowmaster, and Kirraz -Warlord of the Melee Magthere.
Before long a female with the adornments of a high ranking priestess entered the hall. Mebrith, when she stood briefly to bow saw that she appeared too young to be a great matron, Murmurs of the name Villa wafted through the room.
“What is this one?” She would ask of Mebrith. Eclava of course gave a brief summary of what she was, and mebrith simply nodded.
“You decorum is appreciated, Agent, but I must speak things that are not meant for your years,” Highpriestess Villa ordered, and when a Highpriestess orders, lowly workers do. Thus she stood, gave her bows and moved out of the plush tower to stand on the ascended pillar and look out at the city below.
It was a trivial duty, Mebrith understood, but she thought she was an omen of good things to come. By ordering her out to guard the door, it seemed the Highpriestess had given her tacit approval of her provisional status. Things were good, her time of running for scraps in the slave pens and sleeping on cave floors and common rooms could soon be over.
“Lloth tlu Malla”, she smiled slightly as the words of praise left her lips.
Never let it be said Lloth doesn’t have a darkly humorous sense of timing.
"Save your fork, the best is yet to come"
-Baptist Proverb.
-Baptist Proverb.