Underdark Rises.

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by The Fox and The Spider, Oct 13, 2012.

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    In a state of Torpor the Underdark slumbered, waiting forthe opportune time to rise once more. Like a phoenix from its ashes; time and time again they crept forth from the belly of the earth. Stepping from a hostile world of darkness, to a more plentiful and peaceful realm of light. The drums of war now subtly beat, as the war machines of the Drow had begun to stir. From fire weapons were forged, legions outfitted for a single purpose. To enslave the cattle which claim the surface. Beings they felt to be unworthy.Undeserving of free will or rights; creatures bred for a single purpose, to serve the Drow without question.


    Kneeling was alwayseasier for these creatures. A truth which will soon be put to the test. Unlike most cultures of this Era; in Drow society it was the Women who ran the houses.The men existed as mere tools of war and manual labor far too insulting to be done by their feminine counter parts.



    The cries of blood deprived killers reverberated from thedampened walls of their tunnels. The shrills of their spider mounts overpowering the clamor of the masses. Soon it would be blood which waters the soil. The corpses of their enemies would serve as fertilizer and food for those they once thought themselves above. A humbling tale how even those high on the food chain will in due time fall and be devoured by those of lesser status. Ofcourse in the Drows eyes the worms which squirmed beneath the rain deprived earth were of higher birth.


    Their xenophobic mentality often made diplomacy impossible.However even the Drows were not as foolish as to fail to understand that the lesser races could be used as tools. An extension of their own arms accomplishing the will of their people. Any such race which bowed the knee would be spared. So as long as they proved worth the expense of tolerance.


    Most would label them as savages, ignorant of the complexity within their government and way of life. And the Leader of the Underdark's military might was a woman who went by the name of Valerna. Who was as insipid and baneful as she was beautiful. Showing a form of justice toward those under her charge void of clemency or remorse.She knew only atrophy and the blight that is war. If killing was an art, then she was a master. Her blade was like a brush her victims a canvas. Through their demise she would paint a gospel. They would serve as involuntary apostles.


    Even now as those who dwell on the surface went about their daily routines. The armies of the Underdark would awaken. Spewing forth from their tunnels and spreading acrossthe land. Clouds of smoke and desecrated villages were left in their wake.



    Like a cancer they would spread both with haste and potency.However despite their initial surge the pace of their advancement would slow down by their own accord. For the first time in their history they would set upc amp. Nesting within the walls of a recently claimed castle; the lord of whichno longer drew breath. His subjects and servants now being carted into the darkness of their home, they would all soon know enlightenment. Forcibly accepting their now role as a slave.



    Messengers would ride throughout the realm. Carrying a sealed letter filled with a finely grounded black mineral. As well as a map pinpointing their location. It was not a declaration of total war. Rather a summit of sorts. Offering all the nations one chance to elude destruction. The finepowdered mineral was stable, however if thrown into the fire it would ignite a glorious awe inspiring blast. A metaphor toward the fragile state shared between races.



    It would take many months before the meeting could begin. Valerna was no fool; she understood that while they flirted with their options. The kings and rulers of this land would ready their armies at home. But this was something she and her men welcomed. They adored the notion of a challenge…or as much of a challenge as a surface dweller could pose. In the nearby providence word had spread of the black army. Elves whose skin were as swarthy as night, with hair as white as snow. Who rode on the back of spiders and slew the dictator which had oppressed them.


    Some considered the Drow to be heroes. They were fools, the Drow were but the harbingers of their end. The reapers of the harvest, and the harvest drew nigh. The belief that they were saviors of some sort, gained followers as the Drow simply sat there within the castle. Showing no hostile intent; something they may utilize toward their advantage in the not so distant future.



    Within these stone walls they would wait and see who wouldanswer their call or dare approach the monolithic weather worn wooden doors. Those with enough courage to pass through the mouth of the castle would find themselves venturing into a new world.
     
  2. The darkness consumed him. Perfected him. Empowered him. Created him. And now he was using it to get revenge. Even those these people were innocent, the madness that came with this darkness assumed they were enemy. He pointed his hand toward the low roofed house in front of him, a torrent of black flame at the thatched house, sending it up in flames, before muttering a sentence in the language of Sin, saying "Ashros, Voder' Galimoto Ventei" as the house began to crumble into a million pieces. The curse was he, and he was the curse.


    Prince Hellshade of Ezra Province, killer of innocents, branded a villain by his own mother. Now he was letting his anger out. But inside his mind, there was a different story.

    He was on his own, surrounded in a dark fog, twisting and twisting, trying to free himself from this malevolent creature.

    Then a hand crept out, spindly and long, ready to take him out of this nightmare.

    He woke up.
     
  3. This human who wreaked havoc within these fortified stone walls. Thought himself as grand, as perfection incarnate. Such arrogance if it were to reach the ears of Valerna, commanding officer of the surge to claim the world of sun and sky. Would cause her stomach to churn. She despised anyone who thought themselves without error. A life without mistakes or weaknesses, is a stagnate prison with no release. The beauty of the struggle for survival was that there was always a bigger fish out there. And it was one's job to ensure their continued progression to face said fish when the time dawns. Thankfully such an egotistical mentality would elude her keen eyes.

    Bells would begin to clamor, piercing the normal banter of the wildlife. A cloud of smoke drifted skyward, decorating the cerulean skies. A sight the Drow would normally find beautiful. This recent development causing a rather different interpretation. This unwelcome disturbance drew Valerna away from her work. Rising from the iron throne adorned with specs of dried blood. She found herself hearkening to the harrowing of the bells. Narrowing her eyes she would gaze up at the smog of swarthy smoke. Her eyes darting toward the ground. There she saw the recent cattle they picked up from a nearby town. One of the few humans who seemed worth sparing for their own agenda of course.


    Clad in crimson and black leather armor, fitted perfectly to her form. A subtle smirk now adorning her picturesque feminine facial structure. As she now stepped onto the balcony over looking the ignited building. As if taking a leap of faith, the Drowess would propel herself from the third story. Elegantly falling toward the ground at an ever increasing rate. Seconds before impact her tail would wrap around her waste. As a warm amethyst glow emitted around her outline. Her feet slamming against the earth as a bright blast of energy rushed several feet from the impact. A thin cloud of dust and debrie would be hurled toward the heavens as Valerna could be found standing in the epicenter of the impact zone unharmed.


    Her guards would draw their weapons and ready their bows against the feral induced cattle. Preparing to drench the water deprived soil with his blood. With a wave of her wrist she would call off her soldiers. Causing murmuring amongst the ranks. A few finding this display a sign of weakness. While others saw the destructive potential this slave possessed. "Mir, nindol rothe zhah ssran mzild dro!" She bellowed. Her voice harmonious yet authoritative. No drow would converse with their own in the common tongue. They found the common language of the people to be colorless and void of life.


    Stepping forward to the man possessed by vice. She would close the distance so she was within arms distance. Showing no sign of either fear or sympathy for this creature. Valerna would reach out, grabbing the man by the neck. Her hands becoming engulfed in the same soft amethyst glow as earlier. Lifting him up, she would smile as she spoke to him in the Drow tongue. "Ku'lam rothe, ulnin dos yorn zhaun l' katrill..." As soon as these words parted from her luscious lips. The Drowess would slam him against the ground. Not once, nor twice but thrice.


    "It is not wise to entice the devil. And this devil thirst for a fresh kill human..." She uttered in the common tongue. Letting go of his neck as she withdrew her hand. Over shadowing him as he lied on the cold ground. "Rise, Rise less I change my mind regarding your usefulness." She would turn her back toward him. Motioning toward her men. "Ilkalik lil nota'manen chath." She would order her men to put out this devils fire. Turning her head, looking condescendingly down at the man wondering when he would actually awaken? Or if such a creature was capable of fathoming her words?
     
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    As his face pummeled the ground and pebbles embedded their shapes into his skin, he felt an otherworldly force near him. Then he saw her. Her magnificent, unseen beauty was a sight to behold. But she looked like one not impressed by shallow compliments. He stood up, body pocked with gravel.

    "Who.. are you?" He said, in a daze, with an almost pathetic attempt to sound strong. She looked like she would think to crush him if he stood out of line. Bowing down, to please her, he muttered a few words. "You have done me a service. I shall do one in return." He said, keeping head bowed, arm over right leg. "One question, saviour. Did I burn down that hovel?" He said, grovelling so this superior being would keep her cool and his life.

    His life depended on wether or not she was an accepting creature.

    And in all honesty, he hoped she was.
     
  5. He had awoken, stirring forth from a sense of obscurity.His memory seemed alter, as if he had kicked from a dream orcoma. This evoked many questions, all of which she was sure would be answeredin due time. With or without her inquries into the matter. The only conclusionshe could reach, though albeit flaccid at best; was that he was insane. Havinga duo personality...one being this feeble bag of flesh and bones before her.The other the beast of fire feral and rabbid by nature. Though the onlyquestion she wish to sedate by putting to the test. Was whether or not such acreature could be tamed or harness. This peek in her curiosity managed tobeguile her. Enthralling Valerna long enough to stay her sword in it's sheathe.Sparing this miserable cattle it's life for the moment.


    But what really struck her as odd was the sensation she felt coursing throughher body. Her power somehow seemed to increase in both scale and magnitude whenhe was in that form. She felt an ectasy which was deprived from her for sometime. That being the lust and quenching of a thirst for power. Her eyes wouldavert from this man as she turned to face him. Barreling down on her rightpalm, her hand shaking vehemently from that sensation. The arches of her lusciouslips would curve, bending to form a smile before allowing her gaze to grace himonce more. This smile oddly enough seemed sincere and flatter her ravishingaesthetic appearance.


    Stepping forth, closing the distance once more between them. Her stride subtlydemanding, the swaying of her hips demanding his undivided attention. Standingbut a foot or so from him she would look down upon him. Like one would do anant crawling across the wooden floor of their home. At first it would seem shewanted to snuff out his life, squashing him under her boot. Truthfully thisfrigid gaze was natural. A trait inherent in most great Drows, regardless oftheir position within society. As he spoke, she would listen. Her bearingunwavering, her face and body language would refrain from altering in anymanner. That potent stare of hers seemed to infiltrate his skin. Evaluating hisvery soul as if she were some sort of insipid demon coveting something fromhim. something most would fail to admire.


    Bending down she would grab him by his right bicep, lifting him to his feet sothat he stood at eye level. An eerie silence still engulfing the space betweenthem as she looked deeply into his eyes. Narrowing her own as if searchingdeeply for something. Her tongue now tracing the outline of her lips as shemoistened her lips. Her tail uncoiling around her waste as it swayed side toside. Opposing the wind as she took a few steps back. "Cattle, that iswhat you are. But for a beast of burden there is an ounce of potential. This iswhy you are not dead." She spoke before circling him, as if to size himup. "Tell me human, bag of flesh meant to be torn from bones. Do you trulyremember naught?"


    Abruptly she would halt, once more standing before him. Casually she wouldpivot so that shje faced him. Her tail now reaching toward his face, gentlystroking his cheek. "You are not so frail as the others. And I sensehonesty in your words. Very well..." a soft sigh parting from thosevenomous lips of hers. Her shoulders shrugging as she for but a moment closedher eyes. Opening her eyes lids to peer into those frighten eyes of his oncemore. "Yes you destroyed that feeble structure. That is why I am going tospare your life. Your body, soul and fate are now mine. I am your mistress andyou are my tool. If this pleases you then you shall live. If not then I willthink of a few agonizing methods to alter your mind." She would conclude.
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  6. He looked at her, almost dumbly. "It pleases me ma'am." He said, as he stood up, head bowed. "If my destructive ability pleases you I will destroy anything and everything troubling you, conscience taking no part. I am your tool. One warning though, m'lady. Do not blunt your tool. Or it will be of no use to you." He said, an incisor poking out of his mouth.

    He was her weapon, her will to be exercised, in human form.

    He mustn't disappoint her.
     
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  7. This man spoke boldly, clearly he did not fully understand the dire situation he was in. At best it could be summed up to a blighted flower, with each syllable parting from his mouth. Each warning issued as if he could counsel Valerna, the quicker his own demise would be wrought. In the end he would be the author of his destruction. He was her tool now, a pawn stuck in her world. He had no right nor place to issue advice of any sort. If she wanted to dull him out she would. If she wanted to gut him where he stands she would without hesitation or restraint. If he continued down this dangerous path no clemency would he find. His body would become another canvas which her blade would be used as a pen. Carving a baneful gospel on his flesh for all too see.

    The tail which once gently caressed his soft skin. Would suddenly pull back, flying toward him at full speed. Like a whip it would crackle as it simply grazed his right cheek. Leaving a cut, though not deep would still undoubtedly sting. Full of wrath she would then step forward, sliding her right leg behind him as her right palm slammed against his chest. Her leg causing him to loose balance as her weight pressed against his own. Sending him to the ground.


    "Rothe! Cattle! Your tongue is bold, it knows not it's place. An issue easily remedy if I were to cut it out. You are mine, I am in no way yours. You are but the clay and I the artist. You will do what I say when I say no matter your petty perception regarding nthe matter in question. As an extension of my arm; if you should prove dull then I will caste you into the fire. And watch as you burn. At least that way you could keep me warm at night at least." This was her way of laying down the ground rules. Showing her dominant side before turning her back toward him. Her guards now rushing to assume their post.


    "Rise, What was your name Rothe? What foul name did the disgusting creature which birthed you and nourished you with her saggy tits weaved?" She would ask, casting aside her anger with surprising ease as she attempted to start some form of idle conversation. Not wishing to completely break him in just yet. With a snap of the fingers she would order this fallen prince to follow her. As she made her way through the mouth of the castle. Her hips swaying elegantly with her stride. Her tail once more coiling around her waist as her arms nested across her abdomen.


    The two of them would traverse through the thin hallways adorned with fine decor fit for the most selfish and egotistical of lords. Paintings of the old master of the castle which reeked of borderline self infatuation. Coming to a sudden halt as they passed through the threshold of the throne room. "This is but one hold which has fallen, and many more are too soon succumb to our power. Your world will soon find itself in a major war. This is unavoidable. But this peace time has made you all weak. And us strong." She spoke grinning as her tail unfurled itself. Rubbing against the wound on his check to get a drop of blood. "Let's see what we have here shall we?" She would close her eyes as her tail now dangled inches from her face. Slowly she would stick out her tongue savoring and examining his blood.


    "I see, I was partially right. One vessel, but two souls. I wonder how this came to be? I doubt you can recall but the memory of your blood and flesh has provided a few basic clarifications regarding you."
     
  8. Din'agh overserved the proceedings with a passive expression. That was his role, to watch, to guard and when mistress grew tired of her playthings, to kill. His name reflected this:Din'agh or Strong Lizard, the name referred to the quicksilver lizards trained as guard dogs or ridden into battle by some of the nobles. He had seen this display before, the breaking in of a new tool. The human was daring yet all that would be eroded in time. He hiosted his shield onto his back noislessly and sheathed his sword. He had a dagger strapped to each forearm in the case of an ambush but he doubted one would come, humans lacked the subtlety and the mistresses rivles would have bribed him first if they wanted to kill her. The lady signalled him back into position, two of the younger guards eager for favour hung behind the mistress, holding steel against the human's flesh. Fools, he'd seen enough idiots eager for attention, they don't survive long once they get it....
     
  9. Inane Corvus had been walking for some time, a rather big, black raven sitting atop her right shoulder picking at her silvery white hair. Icy grey eyes with small hints of blue looked down the path. She followed the tracks of what looked like some kind of vehicle. Go to the Drow, follow the tracks of their last cattle and offer your hand my daughter. Offer your powers, your gifts to the Drow and pray that they leave us alone. The words of her father when she left home were still hanging in her head even though she had traveled far. she was send away from her home her father and mother afraid for the ones who had brought the message. She had obeyed to their will and left, trained and ready for that one day to come, they knew it would happen only not when, now they had known it was time.

    Her armor shimmered in the light, skulls and other bone like shapes forged by hands, even her raven had armor, protecting the bird from little harm it could get. She walked up straight standing 5'7" tall a pale skin shown where the armor would allow it like ivory. Her home, the house of crows as some wanted to call it due to the fact all of her family had a raven, was just a large mansion in the rocky regions of the land mass. Her own raven Messor never left her side as she traveled. On her back was a majestic scythe, silver veins neatly forged together to create a pole on which the black blade was attached this blade also looked overgrown with silver veins. She carried the weapon diagonally, the blade low to the ground on her right and the pole coming up from behind her left shoulder. Besides the weapon she carried what looked like a big bag and a armor piece for her head.

    In front she saw a small gathering, knowing she had reached the fortress of the Drow, she inhaled deep taking a few seconds to calm down and get the seriousness in her eyes hiding the fact she was only 15. The letter her father had received was in her hand as she entered, her head slightly bowed in respect while the raven cawed twice to inform the guards of their arrival. She made a hushing sound and moved her fingers along the creature's sharp beak. The last thing she wanted was draw out an attack of these people but if she was lucky they were busy now.

    "I am very sorry for my rude interruption, but I was send here by Lord Corvus of Raven hill. "

    She waited at a respectable distance making a slight bow with her hands to her side the raven sitting like a statue on her shoulder his head bowed just like hers when they had first set foot in the castle.
     
  10. Amongst the rank and file Drow murmurs had begun to be sown. Dispositions with their mistress stand point regarding these Rothe. In most Drows eyes any surface dweller was fit for slavery or the slaughter. They served no other purpose, no greater calling. This old Drow perception often serving as an anchor weighing them down into failure. Valerna understood all too well that if no one trust you they will rally against you. roving to be a thorn in one's side. But offer the illusion of hope, thje delusion of an escape and others will flock to you. Lending you their strength. This startegy for war and politics would never settle well with most, but she was confident soon none would be able to demerit the end result. That being the successful invasion and capture of the southern territories. So for the moment she would tolerate such whispers. Permitting these old fools to live. Something she may in due time live to regret.

    The man of sin, this cattle seemed content on keeping her waiting. Perhaps he was frightened, far too petrified to properly formulate an acceptable response. That or it was entirely possible that he simply discovered his rightful role. Either way she would grant him a few more moments before acting out of anger. A sigh parting from her luscious lips as these children far too eager for what they felt they deserved step forward. Placing cold steel against the flesh of her new toy. This irritated her, though maintaining military bearing her emotions or thughts would not resonate either on her face or body language. With a single fluid motion she would draw her blade. The mechanical shrill of steel frictioning against steel disturbing the normal clamor of the stronghold. This would be their first and final warning. Something she would never show them again...tolerance.


    "Back off or I'll have you chained!" She wanted to seak to them in the common tongue. A slap across their face as if saying they were unfit for their own dialect. Her eyes as frigid as ever as they fixated on these men's figure. The influence of her eyes crawling under their flesh and bone slithering like a snake on it's belly.


    Her eyes darting toward the one Drow who had enough sense not to step forward, a sign hinting toward his experience. With a wave of her hand she would invite him to step forward and ntroduce himsef. She had some vital word to pass on to him. But before he could speak another human would step into her domain. Her youth appearent to all. However unlike some cultures the Drow cared not for age only one's power. A swordsman cares not for a young or old blade. Just a tool that is sharp and balance. In this regard their forces would be no different. Stepping forward the Drowess would close the distance between them. Her hips swaying elegantly with her bold stride. Her hands still resting across her defined abdomen as those cold eyes of hers surveyed this stranger. Circling around both her and the male Drow; she would take note of each of them. As if prospecting their usefulness or place within her plan.


    She would keep circling till she reached the front f this woman. Coming to an abrupt halt, pivoting to face her standing but a foot or so from her. Calmly she would stretch out her hand. It would rest against her cheek caressing it softly. "No need to be frighten young one. Tell me why it is your Lord sent you?' She inquired into. The arches of her lips curving ever so slightly to form a subtle but sincere smirk.


    "For the sake of these surface dweller stomach their colorless tongue. Speak your name before all." She would order, her gaze drifting to him. Her tail swaying side to side as she waited patiently for a response.
     
  11. Din'agh maintained a still pose, like a statue of iron, artistic in poise yet hard of substance and finish. He looked towards his ladies face yet not maintaining any eye contact, a show of inferiority. Perhaps among other races this would be seen as a show of dishonesty or untruestworthyness but among the illithree such things were expected. Artolth nilat unelte nilt peralath; A spider without a web is no hunter; a drow with no scheme is no drow. He clung to the Jabbress's threads claiming morsels too plain for the ladies pallet, yet now the queen had turned and taken notice of his presence if not his deeds. With a steady voice he replied, "Din'agh Jabbress, born of House Opiun'kul, given in shame to your own house." He inclined his head once more, twisting his palm and forearm up in a show of fealty and submission, exposing the weapon strapped there. He waited for her reply, thinking, hoping, then chiding himself for such thoughts. Iun'kal morei forgiethai: A spiders gifts are always poison.
     
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  12. Isane waited, standing calm on her spot. Her eyes kept at the woman when she came closer though she still did not move. this woman screamed of power and authority, as was to be expected from the leader of the Underdark's military. Her eyes only followed. Respect was one thing she had to her superiors. Her body was well trained though rather slim. Her hands had some old scars the scar tissue white against her already pale skin. The cheek that was touched by the Drow lady was the one marked with a scar, going from just below her eye across her cheek to her jaw where it stopped.
    The raven had turned his head and when the hand came closer clearly wanted to bury his beak in the flesh, a soft hissing command however stopped the bird from doing so.

    "Nec cogitare."

    The bird cawed once before burring his head in her hair, shame? Probably. the hand in which she held the letter was also marked by burn scars, some old some rather fresh. That hand moved up slowly holding the letter up it had been opened and the black powder which had been in it was somewhere in a leather pouch inside the bag she was carrying. Her voice was steady yet cold when she spoke again.

    "We received this letter from a messenger, lord Corvus opened it and asked me to go to the location on the map to offer my help to the one in charge, which I assume is you my lady. My name is Isane Corvus, and the one keeping me company is Messor. I apologize for his rude behavior miss. "

    She again made a slight bow with her head for as far as the woman would allow it. Raven hill was rather far away from this place and she hoped that her father was save for now, especially now she wasn't there to aid him. Her eyes were fixed on the ones of the woman, it was rude not to look at someone whilst speaking to them, at least that was what she had been told. For one second her eyes moved away in that second she looked at the other ones around, counting them and trying to figure out their ranks. The one named Din'agh had some experience for sure though the ones who had drawn their blades and pushed it against the skin of the man on the ground clearly didn't. Her eyes moved to the side altough she couldn't look at the bird in the way she held her head.

    "Messor, si volueris laedas, hanc mulierem iterum vos mos adepto in adflictione magna.... Vereor ne sic dicam poenas. "

    The bird trembled when she looked at the woman again "I apologize again miss, he still has a lot to learn. "
     
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  13. This Drow offered out of shame to her might be of some use.But even he was just a tool in her eyes. Such were the way of the Drow. Thiswas something that he himself was more than aware of yet he embraced thisnotion no doubt. With a single motion she would order him to rise. At firstrefraining from uttering a single syllable from her luscious lips. Somethingstirred with Valerna, a chance to test this man as well as have a little fun atthe same time. Her tongue now tracing her lips as she prepared to speak. Forthe moment ignoring what the female Rothe had to say. The needs and want of herown kind will more time then naught supersede the wants and desires of thischild.
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    “Rise Din’agh, you are no longer of your old house. For youare not weak like your house.” She would turn to face him, attempting to lockeyes with him. A display of respect and much honor no doubt. Her tail nowresting on the ground. “You need only do one thing to prove of some worth tome. Punish these fools as you see fit. If your creativity amuses me then I willnot only spare your life. But offer you a place within my house and by my side.”Her words emitted a sense of integrity. But at the same token were as cold anddemanding as ever. Carrying much weight and power behind them…
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    To refuse such an offer would prove as unhealthy as it wouldunwise. For it was rare for a Drowess to welcome one not born of her house intothe fold.
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    Her once slumbering tail would begin to sway side to side,launching itself from off the cold ground. Wrapping around the woman’s waisttightly; pulling her close as she turned to face her. For a moment she wouldsay nothing. Allowing this little diversion to give the male Drow a chance to flirtwith his options. Valerna would attempt to lock eyes with this female Rothe.Her lips but inches from this woman’s own as her nostrils began to expand andcontract. Her scent to tickling her nostril as it filled her lungs. Like afarmer she was prospect a potential calf. If it proved deformed, sick or weakshe would butcher it. Thus putting her out of her misery, fortunate for herthis would seem to not be the case.
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    Her gaze casually jumping from this young woman to herwinged rodent that rested on her shoulder. Possessing more intelligence thansome of this human’s fellow kin, this was not a hard feat to achieve. She couldsee that this swarthy winged critter did not approve of her handling of hermistress. However Valerna knew all too well that any beast could be tamed orhave its perception altered. This bird would prove no different if it shouldact on its disposition.
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    “Keep your rodent in line. It seems dear to you…I would hateto remove such a bond.” She whispered to this woman. Her tail loosening itsgrip before once more wrapping itself around her waist. Her nails than tracingthe scar which adorned this rothe’s face. “I wonder how this happened? Nomatter such beauty marks suit you well.” Her arches warping to form a soft grin,but not her normal menacing grin. Somehow it was different. “Now tell me what servescould you offer me as a surface dweller?” She’d inquire into her eyes shiftingbetween this woman and Din’agh. Wondering which would entertain her first ifnot the most.
     
  14. She kept completely motionless, even when the Drow lady came closer and her tail wrapped around her waist, something to keep an eye on from this moment in time. That tail seemed rather dangerous but might also reflect the mood of the lady. Her eyes looked into the ones of the Drow, no fear was shown, a skill she had learned in her early years. However her muscles did tense in a natural reaction to a potential danger. Isane was aware that her companion might get in great trouble and she had warned him already for that one fact in the old language only some of her people spoke to their birds, the tongue of Latin. It was still a bit hard for her to speak it without any mistakes but her skill improved by the day.

    "I promise you m'lady, I shall not allow Messor to do such an act again. And this scar on my cheek is a wound reminding me never to drop my guard too soon, sometimes we humans have to learn things the hard way."

    The look in her icy grey eyes became slightly different by hearing her words and seeing the change of her expression. Carefully choosing her words she remained silent. The bird carefully coming from his 'hiding spot' and raising his head again. She breathed slowly and her head tilted slightly backwards feeling the weight of her scythe and the bag move on her back. What was there she could offer this woman, why is it that she was send and not her brother. Well she wasn't the only one who began the journey to this castle, but she was the only one still alive. One order was given when they left their house behind: Only the strongest one is to go to the Drow, one who isn't able to win in battle is not worthy to be of her use. So she fought, murdered and won.... Her eyes became more serious, her words cold like the steel of her blade.

    "Allow me to speak m'lady. I know how to wield the scythe and the way of battle, my hands are capable of forging weapons and other objects. They said the wind wants to obey me... that is why I was capable of putting the others down and make it here. The gift given to me by faith helped me. I know how to ride and tame beasts, how to make food. I know how to aid and how to destroy. My strength will be yours, my scythe your weapon, my body your tool of war. I can fight and I will fight under your command if that is your desire. "
     
  15. Din'agh looked up finally meeting his mistresses eyes. He should have spoken first he thought, establish a hieracy to his liking however his waryness had for once been a inpediment. He listened to the human's crude mewlings with passing interest. Perhaps she had power but common sense was lacking in that slight frame no wise man wandered up to a conquerer sword in hand and oath spilling of thier tongue and expected anything but death whether immediatly or in time. As she concluded her proclimations he spoke up in a measured tone, "My role and worth are as they always are, a warrior, to obey without doubt or question." He paused, hopefully that was what she wanted to hear, some Jabbress enjoy the facade of blind loyalty. Others would reckon this as the epithany of the downtrodden fool doomed to langish amid the rabble. He waited for her reply..
     
  16. This female rothe spoke boldly, claiming she could offer many logistical services toward the Drow. However her claims regarding her skill with a scythe would be entirely dismissed. This child was scrawny, andher scars contrasted her boasting. Painting an entirely different story in Valerna’s eyes; still she supposes she could find some use for this child.Those potently frigid eyes of hers would drift away from this human child.Resting on the Drow warrior who had responded toward her request in a rather bore some manner. In truth the drowses wanted to see this man slay his kin. Providing justice and displaying his strength and artistic nature at the same time. She cared not for idle words of praise. Such honeyed words seemed flavorless coming from his lips.

    <o:p></o:p>

    “I care not for your silver tongue. I will make this painfully clear for you…rise and strike down these foolish brothers of yours. Amuse me with your skill. I would butcher these vermin myself however I fear their blood would only serve to insult me. It’s hard for one to step on ants without crushing them. And even if I were to do so…there would be no spice in the kill.” The arches of her luscious lips bending to form an insidious smile as her gaze barreled down on him. At this point he would most likely feel his strength slowly being sucked out of him. As if she was some sort of vampire. And if he should somehow refute this side effect; then it meant he was more powerful than originally anticipated.

    <o:p></o:p>

    No doubt this female rothe and her winged rodent would findher words to be rather crude to say the least. At the same time she spoke her mind, which was an admirable trait in a handful of circles. It also served as areminder of her lack of atrophy and insipidly baneful nature. Which was something this swarthy beauty loved to flaunt; that and her unquenched sexual thirst.

    <o:p></o:p>

    Her picturesque face would avert from this man and once more face this human. Her eyes narrowing as her hand dropped to her side, letting go of her face. Her tail which once coiled around her hips would become unfurled, swaying side to side as her smile dissipated. An eerie silence could be felt between the two as she pondered what to do with this one. A part of her wanted to kill her; however she wasn’t fond of staining the fine tile which decorated the castle.

    <o:p></o:p>

    “Human child, I shall spare you. But you will have to earn the right to bear arms in my name. Which is something even the Drow must do. For now you will be my pet…You will cook my meals, follow me around and dow hatever it is I say. If your actions should one day support your arrogant post.Then you may find yourself bearing arms…Assuming none of the men try to kill you. Most would love to see you gutted like a swine.” Turning her head slightly she would peer over her shoulders, looking at the Drow warrior. Ponderingwhether or not he would serve s her muse for the evening.

    <o:p></o:p>

    “Tell me rothe, What do you think of your father? Do you love him? Do you hate him?” She would pose a rather odd inquiry. Her tongue now tracing the outline of her lips as a rather brilliant thought crossed her mind.Oh how she loved to juxtapose both pleasure and work. In her mind it was the perfect ectasy.
     
  17. ​She realized what she had said might have been too bold for someone of her age and race. She would've cursed herself if she wasn't in front of this drow lady which from this day on would be her superior. A pet... that was all she was in the eyes of this lady... new meat, a mere pet... a pet.... Her expression didn't change however by hearing the cruel words, it was how they spoke it was how every commander spoke to those in the lower ranks. The human tongue had learned her that time after time, crushing the confidence she used to had to rebuild new confidence.

    However the question she asked next made her widen her eyes and made her feel agony for a split second. She had to stay calm however her father... what was this lady up to? It made her catch her guard the raven felt her change of mood and his wings spread slightly though he didn't move looking more like he simply put his feathers in an upright position because he was cold. Her father, the man who had raised and protected her, lord Corvus of Raven Hill, Cinereo Corvus. She couldn't stop herself from maintaining the old habit of biting her lip while thinking a sign of being nervous. Her voice had just a slight tremble images of the burning fortress and screaming people flashing through her head, and her father... dead... pinned to the modest throne in which he always sat by a sword, his hands showing signs of a struggle to get the blade out of his chest although it was stuck in the wood of the throne.
    She banned the thoughts from her mind when she spoke not even wanting to think about how she could react if something like that were to happen.

    "Like every child I love my father, but as lord Corvus I have great respect for him. I couldn't hate him since he was the one who protected me and made sure I would be trained to the rank of Alatum gigans, winged warrior.... "

    She wanted to ad more but it would have had the wrong effect she knew that. She didn't want to risk it, it wasn't worth it.... Messor turned his head pulling the silver hair out of the way like he wanted to show the proof she was what she told. Her hand however was faster than his beak covering the Raven tattooed on her neck making a great contrast with her pale skin. She gave a cold glance at the bird and he hid his head under his wing

    "Noli illud iterum. "

    Raven_Tattoo_Revised_.jpg
     
  18. A foolish mistake. One who bared the touch of the Tan'ari was unlikely to be fond of pretence and subtlety. Yet now he had a chance to rectify his mistake, regrettable as its form may be. He felt no pity for the ignorant jaluk's lives yet he found it rancorous to be roused as a display piece so early in the grim play that unfolded before him. I t was his opinion that withholding knowledge of your prowess was a far greater tool then brandishing it for all to bear. Anything once shown can be quantified, and from their outmaneuvered. If a warrior knows his foe is an accomplished swordsman then he will hurl himself toward him with the hope of turning the odds by sheer probability and fervor, yet if he faces an enemy of which he has no recollection he will hesitate before battle giving you time to act with ruthless precision, ending the duel before its beginning. Yet such things would be forsaken now.

    Din'agh inclined his head almost imperceptibly ,walked purposefully around the Jabbress towards the young guardsmen, he loosened the daggers strapped to his wrists and dropped his shield and sword to the ground with a brief," I need them not." The guards looked up, one was hunched, blade and shield in either hand, His body taught like a lion about to pounce, fear forced into hate and anger. The other hovered behind uncertainly, he was smaller if if anything even less experienced, all Illithrie have at least some experience of violence: siblings, thugs and parents see to that but the figure striding toward him seemed different. No matter what cause one fights for whether gold, glory or power in the end when you strike a blow it resolves to a will for dominance. Your will and strength working as one to break your foe in body and mind. Even the assassin’s quick incision by the body of their target mirrors this; a perverse final show that his mind and wit was greater than yours. Yet the figure walking onward lacked any such energy, perhaps scorn shadowed his features yet no adrenaline not even the houndlike joy of the sociopath.

    Din'agh crossed the last few steps, the tense guard lunged forward with a wide swing towards his unhelmed head slightly unbalancing himself. As the swing approached Din'agh dived to the floor rolling forward then rising using the reversed momentum to swing round burying the dagger strapped to his right wrist between the overextended guard's left poudren and breastplate punching through the frail chainmail into the shoulder of his shield arm. The guard screamed as he twists the dagger breaking off the break in his flesh against the pouldren and his arm goes limp as the tricep is shorn in half.
     
  19. The woman’s confusion and fear served as a catalyst for ecstasy as the drowses peered into those potent windows of her soul. She could feel her resolve being drained from her. And like a parasite she fed off of it. Feeling empowered more so than usual. The arches of her lips would curve a sinister smile now plastering itself on her picturesque face. Those bold amethyst eyes of hers would survey this Rothe as Valerna began to enjoy the newly found sensation coursing throughout her slender frame. Her lips quivered ever so subtly as her pink tongue now traced the outline of her luscious lips. Her demonic blood now boiling as she weaved together a plot, though what transpired next would prolong the inevitable.
    <o:p> </o:p>
    From shadows swarthy obscured embrace it did creep. Its eight legs lightly planting themselves on the cold tile floor as it melted into the light. Tiny hairs adorning its ferocious appearance as the blade spider closed this distance between itself and its mistress. This monolithic monstrosity stood six feet tall. Over towering both the rothe and the drowess; slobber dripping from its venomous fangs. Leaving a small but noticeable puddle on the floor. Its tiny hair is capable of detecting the slightest vibrations within the air, granting it an eerie sixth sense. This beast is none other than Valerna’s trusty mount and perhaps only true friend. Like all Drow Valerna held Lolth in high regard. And like most she sought the power of darkness as a means of obtaining perfection.
    <o:p> </o:p>
    This pet of hers served as a reminder of all that was magnificent about her previous deity. Though in the eyes of the rothe the blade spider probably seemed grotesque. Few could appreciate true beauty such as this. A fact Valerna knew all too well to be true.
    <o:p> </o:p>
    Gently the blade spider would lower its head, pressing it against the open palm of its mistress. Casually Valerna’s eyes would wander down toward her mount. Its hairs prickling and stimulating her senses. Softly she would pat it on the head as her demonic tail swayed from one side to the other. This distraction however would dissipate like everything in this world. Once more her full attention would find its self resting on this rothe. “She is a beauty isn’t she? A step above your winged rodent no doubt…” Valerna did jest, a soft chuckle parting from her lips. “But back to your father…He sent me only you. Why is that? Doe she wish to insult me? Or perhaps he wishes to send the message that he entrusted his beloved daughter to me. Thus displaying a form of respect?” Valerna arched a brow.
    <o:p> </o:p>
    Drow culture and society often proved elusive. Few races understood them, and those which did to a degree only comprehended a few basic facts. The drow saw no need in aligning with those that were weak, for they only served as an anchor. As the popular human saying goes your chain is only as strong as your weakest link. Though the thought of using a surface idiom was almost enough to make her stomach turn. But at the same token they wouldn’t align themselves with anyone too strong. Less they suffer another betrayal.
    <o:p> </o:p>
    ”I wish to meet your father. If he is strong he will live. If he proves weak and his land a disgrace than he will die. A tree is judged by its fruits is it not? Then so shall our father…” A rather bold proclamation, frigid and straight to the point as usual. At this time the male Drow would rise, finally comprehend his mistresses wishes. She could tell he was a man of mystery, however though some mystery turned her on. Too much of it proved threatening. In this case she just wanted to see what he was capable of. Once blood had been drawn the blade spider would turn with hungering eyes. Preparing to pounce, however Valerna would place her hand on its thorax. Calming it down as she hushed the eiht legged critter.
    <o:p> </o:p>
    “Be still.” She whispered, this time her voice rather melodious. A complete contrast to that of her normal blunt approach. Being a masochist Valerna derived pleasure from pain and watching others suffer pain. Both of a sexual nature and a non. Turning her back toward the female rothe she would watch intently. “Behold how a Drow fights.” She wanted this child to behold the strength of her male counter parts. Which paled in comparison to her own. Or so she believed at least. "Watch this dance closely, don't blink or miss a single twitch of his muscles." She issued her first order. Arms nexting against her defined abdomen, her tail now sawying franticly as her finger nals drummed against her sides. Valerna was beating her fingers to the rhythm of this song. This song being one of death. Biting gently on her lip as he pierced the other drow's armor.

    With a snap of the finger she would signal the human to stand at her side. Keeping herself as a barrier between the blade spider and this child.
     

  20. Din'agh's left hand snaked forward to the wounded guard'sneck final dagger piecing the soft flesh exposed by the guards spasms of agony,his fingers found purchase thumb and forefinger clasping either side of theIllithee's throat. Then he ripped his hand away dragging the blade out throughthe guards flesh and voice box, blood sprayed outward in a crimson half-moonand he collapsed his sword and shield clanging against the floor. He paused;letting the flow run, head bowed. The second guard stood frozen watching andwaiting, knowing what would come next. Din'agh slowly bent down and picked upthe fallen guards sword, it was too light for his taste, yet its reach was sufficient,at least to finish the simpering fool behind him. As he leisurely rose and beganto turn the final guard managed to gather his courage and attack, he aimed a quickjab for Din'agh shoulder blades but the blow was too weak to make even a dentin the winding pouldrens that protected them. Din'agh whirled round aiming ahigh cut toward the guards face yet it was deflected without difficulty by thelarge round shield. He made a clumsy riposte yet Din'agh was alreadysidestepping to the left. He dropped the blade swiftly and grabbed both top andbottom of the shield renching it away and slamming it into the guard's swordhand before abandoning it with the sword on the floor. Then he lunged forwardsmashing his head into the young drow’s skull whilst simultaneously bringing anarmored knee up into the drow's groin . The guard staggered back losing balanceand Din'agh brought his gauntleted fist up into the fools face, he collapsed.Without any of the mocking unhurriedness he had shown earlier Din'agh picked upthe first guard's blade and drove it downward into the drow’s face.

    Perhaps a little too uncultured, akin to a tavern brawl or pit fight yet some demons have an appretiation of the crude. He walked back to the jabbress head bowed and recovered his armorments.