View Full Version : Ⱦђє Ʉɴɗєӷɗɑӷҟ- Σʂȼɑρє [PG-13]
08-10-2012, 04:47 PM
Rated PG-thirteen for violence, slavery, possible romance, and some scenes that could be disturbing.
Ϣelcome to the Underdark; a vast subterranean realm inhabited be drow (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drow_(Dungeons_%26_Dragons)) elves, aboleth (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aboleth), ilithid (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Illithid), and other strange, sinister creatures. It is a place where few humans, -or any surface dwellers for that matter- go, and from where even fewer return. Here, the inhabitants never feel the sun’s rays, or cool breeze. Nor can they taste saltwater air. Such things are… nonexistent.
The Underdark (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Underdark) is a vast system of underground tunnels, caverns, and waterways. It spans the length of entire continents, and it’s farthest reaches cannot be mapped. It fact… It’s so large, that it may as well be an entirely different world just below the surface of ours. Enormous cities, and great powers lurk, hidden here.
Indeed, the most prosperous races have built entire societies. The greatest of these are the Drow elves, the Svirfneblin, and the Ilithids (Also known as Mind Flayers).
Most of the creatures of the Underdark have evil, corrupted, and power-hungry hearts. Their veins are engrained with magic, hate, and lust. Such as the Drow, Deurgar (An unintelligent race of subterranean dwarves), and the Ilithids.
Some are more like the human race. A wild card. Each person in and of his own self. Such are the Sverfneblin (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Svirfneblin) (Deep gnomes), and the Pech (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pech_(Dungeons_%26_Dragons)) (A race of small people who are ‘one’ with stone).
Others yet are purely predators. Bent on one goal: survival.
However, those who rise to the top are those that are most power hungry, and the most willing to sacrifice anything, and anyone to get their own ways. The primary races? Drow and Ilithid. Those are the two you’ll need to worry about. For the most part… Just the Drow.
Ȥlomynsnost is powerful Drow city. It spans two hundred and sixty eight miles. There are seventy seven 'houses' there. Each house is run, and controlled by a Matron Mother. Each house has a place. Like a pecking order. There is the top of the city, and the bottom. Often wars are waged between houses to climb the social ladder.
Females have more status in a Drow society than males.
In the city there is such a thing as 'night' and 'day'. However they are called 'noc' and 'den'. There is no such thing as natural light in the Underdark. Most creatures rely on sense of smell, and hearing. However, many, such as the Drow, have developed an ability know as 'Darkvision' which allows them to see when there is no light present.
In Zlomynsnost, a fungi grows along all the cavern walls that emits a purple-blue glow. In the den it glows, and in the noc it does not. Thus, the Drows' day and night.
The Drow worship Lloth (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lolth), the Spider Queen. Also know as the Lady of Chaos, and Demon Queen on the Abyss. The Drow dedicate their lives to her. And female Drow are given the 'privilege' of becoming her priestesses. The males are often given the privilege of beings sacrificed to her.
ζife for you... isn't exactly pleasant. You're just a slave in the Drow city Zlomyslnost (http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll121/rose_t_bishop/underdark.jpg). You're expected to follow every order. And every whim. You are not to question anyone. You are not to speak for yourself. As a matter of fact, you are not allowed to think for yourself. You are allowed to obey. That is your task, to obey. You're not even a Drow Elf. You may have been born there, or you may have been captured in a surface raid. You might be a deep gnome from the city only a few leagues away, you could be a human, or you might be a sylvan elf, stolen from the surface. Who, and what you are is almost endless. Either way, life is torturous. And there is no exaggeration there.
Ɍebellion... something that is far from your mind. After all, life is most painless when you act mindlessly. Simply acting out your part in the household you are slave to. But perhaps the time has come to end this mindlessness. After all, wouldn't you risk your life for a chance at freedom? Or, you can always pick the safe path... Click the back button. Doom yourself to forever being enslaved.
After all, the city is hundreds of miles wide. Thousands of Drow, equipped with magic, and skills that you can't imagine, are... Everywhere. The only exits are guarded by statues that are told to spring to life if anyone tries to enter, or exit. If you even whisper of escape, you'll be killed on the spot. Not to mention the dangers that await outside the city... Maybe it's worth it to continue a half-life of slavery...
Naw. You can join together, and escape. And perhaps, with some help from a... 'different' Drow, it won't be so impossible after all.
Name: Fille (Fil-lee)
Age: Around 16, she doesn’t really count the time.
http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll121/rose_t_bishop/the_peasant_by_lanwu-d3hir0e.jpgFille has dark, curly, brown hair, and dark eyes that leave her as good as blind in the low light environment of the Underdark. She is extremely thin, and very weak, due to malnourishment as her only food is a barely palatable fungus which is fed to all slaves.
Because she’s so thin, and gangly, she’d often caught her stumbling over herself, which results in beatings. Her body is covered in scars from the bites of many whips. One thin, white scar runs across her jawline. Her hands are rough, and callused, and her unshod feet are likewise.
Personality: Tries her best to do exactly as she is told, she never speaks unless asked a direct question. She tries not to think for herself. This is hard to accomplish though… Her mind tends to be very active.
Thoughts on your current state of life: Hates life… Has tried once or twice to kill herself. She’s beginning to wonder if this ‘Surface’ that Jed E’Bezcitný speaks of might be a better world… Anywhere else has to be better.
How you became a slave to the Drow: Was born a slave to the Ilithids until she was about fourteen years old. After that she was part of a purchase of a thousand slaves who were brought to the Drow. From there she was bought in mass with twenty nine others, and became slave to the E’Bezcitný house.
Known family: Any blood relatives likely remain in the Ilithid city. She used to consider the Ilithid who she served to be family. Simply because he was all she knew. Since then she learned to despise Drow, who took her from the life where she was considerably content. And where the food was… palatable.
Other: Sometimes dreams of a place where light falls from an endless above… Started wondering if such a place could possibly exist.
Name: Lere (Leh-ree)
Race: Sylvan Elf
Personality: Lere is snappy, and to the point. She makes sure she's is clear, and this sometimes leads to her stating the obvious. She is a natural leader, strong willed and stubborn.
Thoughts on your current state of life: Long ago, she might have hated her life. Since, she's adopted a loyalty to the drow. It may not be a true loyalty, but she's taken her tasks to heart.
How you became a slave to the Drow: Long ago she was captured as a young girl. Since, she's tried her hardest to forget about her old life.
Known family: Only those she knew from the surface.
Other: Practically the 'head chef' in the kitchens. The drow don't need to oversee anything there, because she does that for them.
Race: sylvan elf
Sindri is a small woman, mostly due to lack of proper food she never got the chance to grow much taller then 5'2", and her body has been kept deliberately weak to keep her from being a physical threat. Her skin is naturally somewhat dark but lack of sunlight and malnutrition have caused her to pale somewhat, her hair is a sort of golden-red shade, and her eyes are grey.
While her face is more or less blemish-free, the rest of her body has dozens of scars.
Personality: Very meek in her interactions with other people, after a long life of slavery she'd had more then enough lessons on keeping her mouth shut unless it's very, VERY important. She'll obey her orders with as little delay as her body allows, and having known nothing else she considers the E'Bezcitný family the closest thing she has to family (Even though she would like to see them all dead).
Thoughts on your current state of life: While she hates the life she's been forced to live, she's accepted the fact that it isn't likely to change anytime soon. Her thoughts of escape are few and far between, and she knows that either a chance will come along eventually or she'll die, so long as she doesn't anger her masters in the meantime she doesn't really care.
How you became a slave to the Drow: Either born into it or kidnapped as an infant, she's not quite sure which but Sindri's lived in the Underdark her entire life. When she was very young she developed a gift for magic, since she was a slave she was likely going to be sacrificed but Nenávidět E’Bezcitný purchased her and has since used Sindri as an a glorifyed jester. Kept shakled with some enchantment that keeps her magic weak, Sindri is often trotted out when high status guests are present and is made to use her magic for silly tricks and light shows. When not made to perform she's often one of Kouzlo's test subects when he experiments with poisons and the like.
Known family: none
Other: If she ever escapes the first thing she plans on doing is murdering Kouzlo.
Name: Barrl of Clan Glanrak "Lost-Hammer"
Race: Shield Dwarf
Appearance: A sour-faced aging dwarf, his bare chest banded with surly knots of dense muscle. He swings a pick in each hand when he's about his work, digging tunnels and clearing blockages at the eager behest of his overseers. The heavy black outline of Moradin's Anvil is spans his stocky back, the blue-black tattoo split by gnarled lines of bright scar tissue. The brighter whorls of an electrical burn have claimed one of his eyes and left his root-like neck muscles striped with old burn.
Personality: Barrl fought fiercely when he was taken, and has turned his tools on his captors many times since. When whips would no longer quell him, a gout of witchfire served. In the past several decades, he has resigned himself to peace, and spends his days perfecting "The Dig", the art by which he strikes the veins and weak points of the stone to open new tunnels in the living planet. He is like a savant chef in the work shafts, barking threats and comands at the kobold rockhaulers who clear the gravel and broken stone from his feet.
Thoughts on your current state of life: The Dig is Destiny. I will strike the earth as Moradin did in the First Age. It does not matter where or why we dig. We dig to receive the gifts of Toril, and one day my answer will be there, behind the stone door.
How you became a slave to the Drow: Barrl's clan bred riding lizards on the outskirts of Iltkazar for generations. His great-grandfather created the Hookfoot breed, a lizard especially adapted to traveling the near vertical chasms that span many layers of the Upperdark. He was captured driving a herd of them to market in his fiftieth century. He has spent a greater part of his life in slavery than he ever spent free, and that life is a faded memory.
Known family: Clan Glanrak, an old shield dwarf family of no particular wealth of influence. A folk-hero of the clan was said to have lost his holy hammer in the same battle that Corellon Larethian plucked the eye of Gruumsh.
Name:Yasparr Ti'aminate tu-Lahndia (Yasparr or Yasp for short)
Race: Sylvan Elf
Age: 128 years (young adult)
Appearance:[/U] Yasparr is about 5'11", and slim. He has green eyes and light copper hair, and a semi-haunted look about him.
Personality: He is quiet and observant. He rarely speaks unless spoken to, and has learned to be out of the way unless he is needed by his owners.
Thoughts on your current state of life: Yasparr does not remember much about his past. He did remember his name and sometimes hears a man yelling it desperately. Lately he has had flashes of memory; a sunny streak through trees, a clear brook in the morning light...and it is making him wonder if he might have had a life apart from this one.
How you became a slave to the Drow: Yasparr was training to be an Outrider, an elite group of Elven rangers who patrolled the outer borders of their kingdom. He was still considered a child when he was caught nearly thirty years ago. His father and the entire regiment were slaughtered, but Yasparr was young enough that the drow took him as a slave. He had suffered a head injury during the attack. That, plus the trauma of seeing his father slaughtered, gave Yasparr a blissful three decades of amnesia. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) he is starting to remember his past life.
Known family: The Ti'aminate tu-Lahndia above-ground
Other: Yasparr had been quite the acrobat in his youth. Prior to his capture he was cocky, brash, and self-confident. It helped that he was naturally skilled at whatever he tried to learn and was quite bright.
Age: 21 (captured since 17)
Appearance: Lilly stands at exactly 6’2 which is average height for her race considering how much she looked like her demonic ancestors. Her skin is a lovely pale sky blue, even her eyes are seemingly this color the only difference is they have a glow to them that is ominous in nature. Her light navy hair is usually bulled back in some sort of pony tail. Her horns on the other hand protrude from her skull going up in height before growing towards the back. Her face is almost impish in nature with her pointed ears and delicate features. Her tail in length is about two and half feet long and normally adorned with a single ringlet that actually covers a small scar on her tail. Of course we cant forget the fact that instead of feet she has hooves.
Personality: Naturally Lilly is kind, sweet, and nurturing. This has been because as the years go on her mother gets weaker which is only natural for someone as they age but it seemed her mom’s immune system kept worsening with time. This usually meant Lilly had a key role in raising her little sister from the time she was born. After all with nearly ten years of age difference it seems normal. She would do anything for her family and was ready and willing to help out in any way shape or form. Not many people accept those of her race, family was one of the few things she had in life.
Thoughts on your current state of life: Just thinking about how her mother and sister are fairing without her brings pain to her heart. The thought that she couldn’t handle herself well enough to come back to them, if they are even still alive? Even if she did somehow manage to get out of this prison how would she manage to find her sibling.Sometimes it may be better to just stay in the dark then get your hopes up and find the worse.
How you became a slave to the Drow: Lilly was traveling learning useful skills that could help her support her sister when her mother finally passed. While staying the night on the outskirts of a foreign town (since most don’t accept her race so willingly) she was picked up and kidnapped. Of course others from inside the town were also taken, along with supplies since it was a Drow surface raid.
Known family: Her little sister (11) , older brother (29 and possibly dead), and mother
Name: Orryn sig Välderfaußt, of the clan Berrngetzt.
Race: Mountain dwarf
Age: 197 (middle-aged for a dwarf of his lineage)
Appearance: Though he considers himself much more handsome than most, Orryn is actually quite average. Thick, dark and long hair well past the shoulders, blend into a beard and moustache of the same weight and texture. While he used to take great pride in keeping them well-combed and braided, he has found that in captivity, a certain degree of unkemptness helps avoid the attention of his captors, and so leaves them wild, wooly, and dust-caked. *Unlike most of his brethren, Orryn has managed to keep relatively trim, finding the rotund physique to be hazardous to navigating the tight confines of the deep caverns. *He otherwise exhibits the iron-corded musculature typical of the career miner.*
Personality: Normally quite outgoing, in the reserved manner dwarves are often accused of, he is willing to work hard alongside those who will do so also. He has very little tolerance for slackers or for those who try to lighten their own load by silver-talking the boss. *Orryn has a deeply musical soul, and often hums or chants songs of dwarven lore or historical marches when deep in work. His knowledge of such songs is remarkably rich. This talent, of course, rarely comes forth in his present environs, for survivability, a situation he finds most irritable. *He enjoys heavy-bodied sweet ales and barley wines, and a good smoke now and again. Such luxuries, as with the songs he so deeply loves, are now nearly forgotten pleasures.
Thoughts on your current state of life: Stay low and invisible; work hard and give the enemy no legitimate reason to single him out for punishment; watch and learn as much as possible about the enemy; and wait for rescue or a chance to make a good clean escape.
How you became a slave to the Drow: *Orryn was attached to a deep exploration mining crew, called the Järgenkrempf. The nearest common translation would be Seekers of the Roots. They were charged with moving well ahead of the mining crews, scouting for ore veins worth exploring, clearing obstacles (both animal and mineral) and always seeking out signs of other deep civilizations or of what they referred to as "root fissures," areas of such geological instability that mining them could cause catastrophic collapses, sometimes extending hundreds of miles from their origin. *During one such mission, Orryn and his crew of six Järgenkrempf became trapped behind a minor cave-in, caused by their disturbance of a nest of deep-burrowing rock beetles. Seeking a way around the obstruction, Orryn's crew discovered a Drow city. Though they knew they were in mortal danger, and had to return to warn their brethren, it was only a few hours before they were discovered, surrounded, and captured by Drow patrols. They were split up immediately, taken away to separate work crews for all Orryn knew. He never saw another of his team from that day on. It has now been about ten months since his capture. With rescue now long having passed by as a reasonable expectation, escape is the only option.
Known family: Plenty of family and loyal friends above. He has a wife, Vasheyn, and two young adult sons, Peyther and Jykko. *Peyther is courting a young lady, and was planning on asking her father for her hand at the time of Orryn's disappearance. At this point, given the passage of so much time, Orryn is firmly convinced that he and his crew are believed by their loved ones to be dead and gone.*
Other: Orryn is a proud worker, a fair fighter, and an incredible observer. Very little is seen or heard and not remembered. He is even picking up some of the filthy Drow language, though he takes great care to reveal this to no one. He is a skilled miner, a well-renowned underground navigator, and a fine singer.*
Name: Zair Althidon
Race: Sylvan Elf
Appearance: Zair is covered in rippled lean muscles. All manner of scars adorn his body. Though he looks young, his bright blue eyes show deep wisdom. His hair hangs past his strong shoulders reflecting the light around him with it's silver strands. His skin is ghost pale and stands at 5'10". A little taller them most Elves. His hands calloused and moves with a grace of a very skilled warrior. For the most part his expression is grim. A very handsome Elf, though at times he wishes he was not. For he catches the eye of many Drow, especially the Females.
Personality: A fierce warrior and Champion of Corellon Larethian the Elves main god. He is soft spoken and passive. When left alone with no duties he meditates and trains his body, going over his fighting routine when he can get away with it.
Thoughts on your current state of life: Zair has seen many things. Once an adventurer then a Champion of Corellon Larethian. In his young Elf life he has seen countless enemies and has even slain a handful of Drow, then a few more when they took him in the night. He believes this a challenge from his God. That he is here for a reason.
How you became a slave to the Drow: As a Champion of Corellon Larethian he was required to protect holy temples. Three months ago, one night on a daily patrol around the city temple he spotted an intruder in the shadows. He took out his double-sided swords (long blades on ether end of the handle. He wielded one in each hand.) and shouted out, "Who goes there?" In his native tong. Before he could even blink Drow melded out of the shadows. They all came at him at once. Zair killed five of them before there poison bolts penetrated his armor and knocked him unconscious.
Known family: The Althidon family are of royal blood and have serves there god Corellon Larethian for countless generations.
6’4” Tall and weights around 225.
He was slimmer and less muscular when he was first brought to the underdark, but years of fighting has made him buffer and gave him a few interesting scars. Koin’s face was more pleasant to look at, not handsome by elf standards but not ugly is now bruised. His hair and beard running wild and long from lack of care, eyes glossed over as if seeing distant sights. Over all Koin looks like a wild animal trapped and angry at everything around him, almost saddening to anyone but the cruel Drow elves.
Personality: Koin behaves brutishly responding to almost anything with violence. So it’s safe to say he is aggressive.
(After being freed from where ever the drow was keeping him, probably chained up as well, he’ll be quick to anger still dull but reserved and tired. He’ll slowly digress back from a beast and into something closer to what he was before, a cleaver witty agile thief but still be tainted by the rage he was controlled by for years. So he’ll never be quite back to normal.)
Thoughts on your current state of life: “Rage, kill, blood” Is all Koin thinks of now, his captors have provoked him into raging so many times that he is mentally exhausted, all he thinks of is killing whoever he is sent after.
How you became a slave to the Drow: Before being captured Koin was a witty and agile rogue/thief after running from his tribe he took to stealing to survive. Him being part Orc made it harder for him but he learned faster because of it. He named himself Koin after the gold coins he’d take from purses. He used extra money to learn, eventually buying books and reading.
The Drow nabbed him in a dwarven city he traveled too for thieving reasons, thinking a “Orc” would be a fun toy for them. Using his wits he played the dumb Half-Orc role thinking he could work his way out of slavery if they thought all he had was a box of rocks for brains. 5 years later they reduced him to a brain dead rage monster.
Known family: Father was an orc in some tribal clan; he grew up there until becoming disgusted and running away at a young age. Mother was a human, probably dead.
Other: With a ton of rest he should be able to at least function without being enraged, the longer he goes without raging the more he returns to his original self.
Name: (Get creative! Especially if you're an elf, gnome, dwarf, etc.) Kyran
Race:(No evil races please) Human
Appearance: Kyron stands at an uncomfortable-for-living-underground height of 6'2''. He is also quite muscular, with a broad chest and broad shoulders. He often stands hunched over, as if trying to take up less space. He has dark hair and piercing blue eyes. On the surface, he would have been considered a very attractive male. He sometimes notices others, especially females, looking at him in an intense and odd way, but he has no idea why.
Personality: (May not be very developed if you were born into slavery) Since he was born into slavery, there isn't really much to Kyran. He has a gentle personality, which seems to be in direct contrast with his powerful body frame. He will sometimes make attempts to help the weaker slaves. Sometimes he is beaten for this; sometimes he isn't. He is very quiet and mostly keeps to himself. He is uneducated. His eyes show little more than an animal's eyes. He is like a large and gentle dog who has been beaten repeatedly. However, sometimes he snaps. He will completely lose himself and, due to his size and strength, can cause quite a bit of destruction before he is restrained.
Thoughts on your current state of life: This is all Kyran knows. He just accepts his life blindly. He fears his masters. He is also shy of his fellow slaves, although a part of him craves some form of companionship.
How you became a slave to the Drow: He was born into slavery.
Name: Zar Frostscale
This is Rimas is his old war gear, sadly all of it was taken from him on the day of enslavement. Standing at 5'11 and weighing in at 270 pounds of draconic muscle, this body was built for fighting, and that's just what he'll do. With crystal blue eyes, Rimas is a oddity among his kind, with snow white scales instead of the usual reds or brownish colors. Burned into his throat is rune that binds his dragons breath within him. The ruin can be deactivated by a mage, or priestess of minor power, sadly Zar is neither.
Personality: Honor in a land where there is none. Zar is one to reserve judgment, never fully letting his plans go, he likes to keep his thought and ideas to himself until absolutely necessary.
Thoughts on your current state of life: Battle lust is the only thing keeping Zar going at the moment, because that is the only thing keeping him alive. The drow kidnapped him to fight for there amusement, and to protect there precious priestess. Though he could have a civil conversation with anyone down here that spoke the same language as him, he chooses to speak more with violence, or not to act or speak at all.
How you became a slave to the Drow: Zar was a typical Dragonborn adventure traveling the world, making his fortune from that of other monsters, and in his favorite place in the world... the pits. A fighter body and soul, sadly this was the reason the drow captured him. One night at the pits Zar had won his fight for the night, and had a few drinks at the arenas tavern. Little did he know, the drinks he was being brought were laced with drow sleeping poison. Before he knew what was happening, a blanket of darkness had filled the tavern, 6 people were killed, and one large white dragonborn disappeared.
Known family: None.
NOTE: The order of appearance is also the order of authority. This order goes as follows: Matron Mother, daughters in order of birth, Patron, sons in order of birth. Slaves have no place in this.
Name: Matron Mother Nenávidět E’Bezcitný
Place among the Drow: Matron Mother of the Seventh house, and priestess of Lolth.
Personality: Paranoid, insane, and hunger craving. She knows that her oldest daughter is bound to kill her soon. After all, she killed the previous Matron Mother off the house as well. Her daughter can only follow the example laid out for her.
Other: Slowly falling out of favor of the Spider Queen… Trying desperately to regain it. Maybe a few sacrifices will help.
Name: Melancholie E’Bezcitný
Race: Drow Elf
Personality: Uncaring, and cruel. She is snappy, and often dares to backtalk her Matron mother. Everyone in the E’Bezcitný house is aware that it’s only a short period of time before she kills her mother, and takes her place as Matron Mother. She is spiteful, and jealous of her youngest sister.
Name: Gealach’Bhioma Fírinne
Race: Drow/Sylvan Elf
Appearance: http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll121/rose_t_bishop/images14.jpg http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll121/rose_t_bishop/images15.jpg
Naturally, Geala has white hair with very thin streaks of blond in them. Her skin is a light, shimmery grey color, and her eyes are hazel, flecked with silver. However, due to her position in Drow society, she powders her skin to be black, and dyes her hair starkly white. She disguises her eyes color using a potion that she was given by the Sylvan elf society where she was born. A drop each morning keeps them crimson.
Place among the Drow: Second daughter of the seventh house, priestess. (Note that she is invisible to Lolth, allowing her to hide the truth from the Drow. )
Personality: Geala has lost a lot of her former personality. Formerly she was bubbly, funny, shy, and caring. Since, she’s had to blend into Drow society. Taking on a new identity to benefit her people. She acts spitefully, maliciously, and cruelly. A constant scowl is imprinted on her features. She treats servants like dirt, even if they’re sylvan elves. Even if they’re ones who she knew.
Known family: Her mother is a surface elf. Her father was a Drow. Geala was conceived in a surface raid.
Her Drow family consist of three half-sisters (Melancholie, Dyka, and Hrichil), two half-brother (Both of whom she hardly know, since they’re so busy in their work as fighters), her father, who she secretly hates, and the Matron mother of the house, who she isn’t related to.
Other: Geala is a spy for the surface world. She lives as Verazda E’Bezcitny, second daughter of the seventh house. Her father is also father to the real Verazda, who she had to kill in order to seamlessly take her place. NOTE: As a slave, you know NOTHING of who she really is.
Name: Dyka E’Bezcitný
Personality: As the youngest daughter of the E ‘Bezcitný house, she is constantly striving to prove herself to her mother, and to Lolth. She is probably the most ambitious of the three daughters, and she has quickly brought herself into higher favor to her goddess than anyone else in the E’Bezcitný house.
Other: Lolth has found she so favors Dyka that she was gifted with a demon creature of the abyss. Which comes to her aid if ever she speaks it’s name, and that follows her every command.
Name: Jed E’Bezcitný
Place among the Drow: Patron of the Seventh house, fighter.
Personality: Cruel, and uncaring. He has a passion for surface raids, especially those that involve killing sylvan elves.
Name: Kouzlo E'Bezcitný
Personality: Almost as ambitious as his younger sister. He strives for perfection, and achieves it. Cruel, but respectful to his peers. Always obeys his Matron without thought. He’s one of the few Drow who can dare to offer his opinion to her without angering her. This is due to the way he’s mastered his words.
Other: Enjoys using live ingredients for potions and spells.
Name: Kreten E’Bezcitný
Personality: Closing his mouth would be a good thing. He often says things out of turn, and being the youngest son of the house, he often regrets it. His sisters love punishing him on behalf of their mother.
Place among the Drow: Second son of the seventh house, fighter.
Other: Quite skilled, however, his mother and sisters have been considering sacrificing him to Lolth.
Jed E’Bezcitný (Patron)
Matron Mother Nenávidět E’Bezcitný (Matron Mother)
Melancholie E’Bezcitný (First daughter)
Verazda (Gealach’Bhioma Fírinne) E’Bezcitný (Second daughter)
Kouzlo E'Bezcitný (First son
Dyka E’Bezcitný (Third daughter)
Kreten E’Bezcitný (Second Son)
Zrada Dvakrát’Kříž (Matron Mother)
Matron Mother Drae Vypovězení
You guys know the rules, so I don't need to repeat them. But I'm gonna! Because I wanna!
1. I am the GM. I'm the goddess of this role play, what I say goes, and is final.
2. Be respectful, nice, whatnot. IC is diffferent.
3. Keep cursing to a minimum, remember, your GM is fourteen years old!
4. Please post in Third Person. First person annoyed me terrible.
5. Follow general forum rules. No godmodding, no power playing, ABSOLUTELY NO Metagaming, as I will be revealing a lot to you guys in OOC. Play for characters.
6. This is a PG-13 role play, please keep posts as such. This does not include blood and gore so much. I love that stuff. Just as long as your don't overload. ;)
7. I'm allowing five players besides myself. I'll make exceptions as I see fit.
8. I expect a minimum of four hundred words per IC post. But this rule is very flexible. That's just my standard.
9. Please make sure your posts are grammatically correct, and that your spelling is accurate. Everyone makes mistakes, but I want this to be a literate role play.
10. If you disappear without warning, I WILL remove your character. This means: No posts for three weeks, no notice, I'll feed you to the dragon. ;)
11. Have fun!
Let's do this! Please wait for me to post first. ;)
08-10-2012, 06:02 PM
Jed E'Bezcitný had just returned from a week long journey. He and his band of soldiers, including his youngest son, were all in high spirits. They always were after a surface raid. Something about killing surface elves made their blood boil... The Faeries, as the Drow called them.
Jed was reporting to his Matron Mother, Nenávidět. In the Underdark, she was as good as his wife. But there were no such loyalties in that place.
During the raid, they had killed many innocent lives while the 'Faeries had held a festival there. They had gone in the night, since their pale eyes would burn in the day's sunlight. He described in great detail the kills. And he reported the exact number that each Drow had killed. There had been no casualties. Nenávidět was very pleased, and she told them that Lolth, their goddess, would be pleased. Her youngest daughter, Dyka, smirked, but her eyes did not catch it. Or... perhaps she had chosen not to react.
In the corner of the room, a pale, dirty-faced servant cleaned the floor with great detail. No one paid any interest to her. That was how she liked it. The servant's ears tuned into what her masters were saying. But she pretended that her mind was solely on her task. She pretended that she couldn't care less of the affairs of her betters. But in truth, this was the report she had been waiting to hear. Her mind was desperate for the Patron of the house, Jed, to say something about the light that fell endlessly from the sky. Such a thing was what the girl dreamed of. But it was just a child's dream.
The girl's name was Fille. It meant 'girl'. Half of the slaves in the house were named that.
She hurried out of the room before anyone payed her too much notice. As she left her foot caught on a piece of her torn garments, and she tumbled head over heels. Her mess of brown hair flew over her head. She mentally cringed. She was always clumsy, and her thin, gangly limbs didn't help. And she was always punished for it. As she was about to be, she knew.
A tall, regal figure came out of the shadows. It was the eldest son of the house, Kouzlo. Fille was surprised. Usually one of the daughters delivered her punishment. No doubt this would be different. The Drow looked at his mother, and with a respectful nod, spoke. "Don't worry Mother. I'll take care of her." He was one of the only of Nenávidět's only children who would get away with calling her 'Mother'.
Nenávidět nodded. Kouzlo gripped the slave girl's upper arm, and dragged her off down a hallway. Fille didn't fight. But she was sure she knew what was to come. Kouzlo just loved live test subjects.
He would need two for this particular test... And the wizard knew just the other person to test on. His favorite.
In truth, Kouzlo was supposed to be overseeing the mining. But he knew that old dwarf would be able to take care of it. What was his name again? It didn't matter. Who cared if a tunnel collapsed, or if they dug into a lake? That wasn't his problem.
He walked briskly through the hallway, until he spotted the Sylvan elf who he was looking for. "Oh Sindri..." She was the only servant who he addressed by name. "Come." He gestured with one finger for her to follow him. He knew she wouldn't disobey. She never did.
Verazda walked slowly out of the hall where her father was still speaking. She bitterly glared at everything. Verazda wasn't Verazda. But nobody knew that. Only she had knowledge of who she really was.
Her dark scowl was more than unappealing. It darkened the hallway she passed through.
A silver tear leaked down her cheek. It was a silent, invisible mark of the pain in her heart. When her dear father had reported the kills, he said that the most important thing they had done was murdered the High Priest, Serentry. He was Verazda's Uncle. He had always acted as a father to her. But nobody knew that. Because Verazda was not who she pretended to be. She wasn't even a Drow Elf.
She whisked into her chambers. There was a servant there, changing out the sheets. He was a Sylvan Elf, who had been captured during a surface raid long ago. He was a person who she had know growing up as a child. Even he couldn't know who she really was. Not that he remembered much of his past. She doubted he even remembered his name... She remembered it. Yasparr.
"Leave." She commanded forcefully. She couldn't let anyone see her. She had to cry, and mourn over her Uncle. Nobody could know. Not even someone who might understand.
Once he left, she shut the door, and bolted it firmly. A light blue glow encased the door, and then faded. The lock was magical, as well as physical. She stood in silence, and let the tears go down her face. Then she crossed the room swiftly to her mirror. She had to remember who she was. Too often were the days when she believed that she was Verazda, the second daughter of the E'Bezcitný house. When in truth, she was daughter of Jed E'Bezcitný, and her Sylvan mother, Amoretia Fírinne.
She whispered a single sentence to herself three times. "I am Gealach’Bhioma Fírinne." That was her name. Geala. "I am Geala." She repeated this several times to herself, as she did at least one a day. It was the only way that she wouldn't lose herself, and become the drow who she was imposing as.
08-10-2012, 09:28 PM
Yasparr looked up in surprise when Verazda burst into her chambers. He felt a moment of cold fear that she had returned, and he was not yet done making her bed or straightening out her room.
Would she order his punishment for his slothfulness?
Her sister, Melancholie, had once had him beat and thrown in a pit for three days without food or water for not having her floors scrubbed and dried by the time she returned to her rooms.
It was a lesson he had not forgotten.
He nodded and murmured "Yes, Mistress," before leaving the room. He leaned against the wall in the hallway and wondered where he should go next. If he was caught being idle he would be punished. If he wasn't working hard enough, or fast enough, or on the right thing, he would be punished. His back and legs were covered in long, light scars where the bite of the flogger and whip had left their lessons on his flesh. He watched the light blue light encase Verazda's doorway.
A memory flicked in his mind; blue light reflecting off the surface of a lake. An osprey flew overhead.
Yasparr shook his head. He started to leave the door when he heard a sound from within. Looking up and down the hall, he checked to make sure that it was clear. Spying on one of the household could cause him his head, but the curiosity overwhelmed his good sense. He cautiously pressed one hear to the door and listened to the words.
It sounded like mantra, and he only made out one word. Geala
08-11-2012, 02:02 AM
Sindri's mind screeched to a halt when she heard her name being said, the only one of her drow masters who called her like that was Kouzlo, and he only ever called her personally for one reason. Mentally crying a little, she straightened up and walked weakly over to him her feet weighed down by shackles that bound her hands and feet. ~I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.~ she said over and over in her mind. She had to reign those thoughts in however, as a woman with magic in her veins Sindri needed to be careful, if she accidentally shot even a tiny spell at Matron E'Bezcitný's favorite little boy she didn't know what would happen to her.
"I have been called to clean your sister's chambers today master, she would not be happy if you kept me from that." She lied hoping he would leave her be today, even with her shackles Sindri was still made to serve the E'Bezcitný family, so it was at least potentially true. She glanced behind the Drow to see him dragging off one of the younger human servents, one of the countless young girls named Fillie, she wasn't familiar with this Fillie but could only pray that Kouzlo would not take to her as he had with Sindri. "If you could please excuse me master." she said hoping to get away quickly.
08-11-2012, 02:48 AM
Far away, Barrl dug. He struck the flinty fissure in front of him with one of his heavy picks, causing a spray of sparks to brighten the pitch blackness.
With pick ringing in hand, this darkness felt like home to the long-exiled dwarf. Visible light came only in brief, rhythmic bursts here in his mine tunnel, the darkest place in the Underdark.
Further back, toward the city, the tunnels and chambers bloomed with the ghostly lights of luminescent fungus, but that nostalgic glow would not colonize this fresh-dug path for years.
Some hours passed, unmarked. Barrl's focus wavered and he lowered his dust-caked fists to his side, letting the points of his picks rest on the floor with a click.
He turned his head toward the black tunnel behind him, toward the city and his macabre excuse for a life. The direction his Drow overseers would come from, if he stopped working. He studied that interminable blackness, knowing that they could be standing just 10 feet away, staring at him with those red heat-seeing gazes, their graceful thin hands cluching a cruel whip, a sharp blade, or a thin rod, humming with pent-up hellsfire.
Barrl sniffed his long nose at the dark tunnel, and listened, turning his head this way and that. Finally he dropped his picks where they lay, and walked confidently out and up, remembering every detail of the terrain effortlessly, because he had carved it out himself.
After a longish stroll the tunnel opened up into a chamber dimly illuminated by a smoky and fitful fire of dry mushroom stalks. Diminutive figures hunched or sprawled around it, gnawing at bones and conversing in harmonic yips and guttural snarls.
The kobolds. Barrl had no way of communicating with them, nor they with him, but they had formed a grudging acceptance of one another.
Standing on tip-toe under a grove of low-hanging stalactites, the dwarf dislodged a largish spiky black ball from the dark space between them. Moving near the small fire, he smashed the thing unceremoniously on a flat rock, and emptied the viscous yellow contents into a chipped stone bowl. After a few turns nestled among the hot embers, the tart odor of poached cave urchin reached Barrl's nose and he sighed with sublime contentment.
08-11-2012, 11:40 PM
Oh clever girl... Kouzlo thought to himself with a small smirk. He ran his fingertips over his hair, and turned back to face her. His expression was almost... Kind. But he did not know such things as kindness. No Drow knew of such things.
"Oh don't worry about that, my dear." He said, waving his hand. With the wave of his hand, a small dust devil swept Sindri's feet out from under her, and turned her to face him. He looked her in her fearful eyes, and smiled. "I know how much you enjoy our little sessions." He said with much knowledge of how much she hated being his test subject. "I'll have someone else take care of my sister's room. I would never let you take the blame for such a thing. Not when you're so kindly helping me with my works." He said with pretend politeness. In a dark voice, he spoke again, more forcefully. "Now come. Do not make me repeat myself again, Sindri." As he said this, his fist clenched in slight warning. The girl, who's arm was in his grasp, tried not to cry out as his fingernails dug into her flesh. He loosened his grip again, and the girl looked at the ground, trying to pretend that she didn't care.
Again, Kouzlo turned on his heel to go. Expecting Sindri to follow as loyally as she ever did.
Fille looked at Sindri, her eyes pleading for help. She could tell by the elven woman's reaction that whatever was coming would be torturous. And it seemed apparent that Sindri had to endure it often. Fille had seen her before. She was Kouzlo's favorite. Something about her made her the perfect test subject. She prayed that when this was over, Kouzlo would forget about her. Unlike Sindri.
She walked slightly behind Kouzlo as he pulled her along. Her eyes dragged along the floor... And her broken spirit floated around her like her torn garments. Her hope darkened as they walked into the darker portions of the house. Where Kouzlo's 'Office' (As he called it) was.
On the way, they swept past a young elven servant who had just come from Verazda’s room.
A chill wind swept across Geala's shoulders. Of course, as far underground as they were, wind did not exist. However, great moths with ten-foot wing spans inhabited the cavern, as well as the Drow. They caused wind-like gusts that imitated natural breezes.
She sighed, and wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked in the mirror. At Verazda's dark, delicate features. She longed to look into the same mirror, and see herself. But that could not be.
"I am Verazda E'Bezcitný." Geala whispered the lie that hid her.
The lights of the city had started to dim, and the Drow of Zlomynsnost began toe rely on their heat-seeking infravision to see. Many turned in to sleep as ‘Noc’ set in.
The city was quiet, but for the resounding sounds of powerful wingbeats. Though many lizards scaled the walls of the cavern, their movement was effortless, and virtually soundless. Thus, their presence could not be heard.
The city would be like this until the day, or ‘Den’, returned.
However restful the city might have seemed, those in it were anything but at peace. Matron Mother Nenávidět E’Bezcitný and two younger daughters were discussing a disturbing piece of information which had been collected from a special source. According to their speech, another house was mounting an attack on them. All Drow knew the rules of house wars. Ever royal member of the house was to be killed, if the mission were to be successful. If any survived, the attackers were ‘guilty’ and they would be dealt with by the house at the top of the ‘social ladder’. This was the Drow’s version of justice.
However, if the attacking house succeeded in murdering every member of the house, the city went on, uncaring. The house, according to anyone you asked, had never existed. The same went for anyone who died. They simply were… Not spoken of. And to speak of them would earn you punishment… no matter who you were.
Nenávidět had chosen specifically not to share this information with her eldest daughter. The reason why was a white elephant in the room.
She spoke in hushed tones with the two people who she trusted most in the house. All of Nenávidět’s daughters knew that their matron was going… insane. But they paid her respect. She was still the wisest, and most powerful woman. Or at least, she liked to believe.
In the corner of the room, a lowly Tiefling slave girl was working. Her dirty, pale blue skin would have shimmered beautifully in the low light had she been clean. But slaves were not given time to bathe, or clean themselves. Their jobs were to clean everything else. But they paid her no attention. The girl knew better than to speak of this. Of to eve dwell on what she was hearing. She knew that to think of things for herself was not permitted. And they trusted that she wouldn’t. Slaves never thought for themselves.
Verazda silently watched her younger sister, and her mother talking. She interjected every once and a while, but other than that, remained silent. Her crimson eyes watched them like a cat.
Dyka, the youngest sister of the house, and the most favored by Lolth, spoke back and forth with Nenávidět. But her mother hardly listened.
“The Vypovězení House has recently come into favor of Lolth mother, they don’t have her trust like we do!”
“Don’t be foolish child.” Nenávidět said harshly. “We’re falling out of the goddess’ favor. She wishes this doom to fall upon us.”
“Matron Mother, please, listen to me. This house has fallen out of her favor, but I have not! She will not let me die with this house, we will live! Surely she will grant us favor! Our men are many more than the Vypovězení House, Kouzlo is a more powerful wizard than theirs is! The few sacrifices that brought them into temporary favor will not be enough! They are cocky with favor that was easily, and lazily gained. If we-“
“Quiet, child!” The Matron snapped. Verazda watched. “We will consult the goddess. If she is truly in our favor, than the rumors are only rumors.” She said firmly. Dyka tried to speak up, but her mother cut her off. “This conversation is over. We will summon a handmaiden of the goddess.”
“Silence!” Nenávidět turned to her older daughter. “Verazda, do you have anything else to say?”
“No, Matron Nenávidět.” Verazda said respectfully.
Deep in the mining tunnels where Barrl the dwarf was mining. The Kolbolds spoke in their deep guttural language that was made up of snarls, and grunts, as well as more yippy, whining sounds. They were a curious race.
Not too far away, an agent of the Vypovězení House had snuck into the tunnels that where owned by the E’Bezcitný house. His foot falls were silent. His breaths were white puffs of condensed moisture in the cold cavern.
He looked around, his heat-senseing eyes telling him that the coast was clear. There was no one for miles. Except for the few dwarves, and kolbolds who mined here. However… They were of no importance.
He looked around, admiring the structure that had been built. The tunnels were a master piece. A work that had taken time, effort, skill, and passion. Only someone who loved the molding of stone could have created this with the steady chipping of a pick. Throughout the runnel, pillars had been built to hold tunnels strong. Most of the time, such a tunnel wouldn’t need support beams. But… These were different. In this section of the ground, one needed to be careful. Since the ore was so plentiful, many Drow dug there. Repeatedly. Meaning that the tunnels wound around each other, over each other, and under each other. It became a fragile maze that… If one was to be careless, would collapse in an instant. Truly a work of art. And a dangerous work at that.
It was a pity he had to destroy it all.
A large concussion sounded through the tunnels. Rock, and dirt fell like rain as the catacombs collapsed. All the years of work had been put to waste…
It was really quite sad. The Agent had been waiting for the day when there wouldn’t be a Drow to oversee the miners. He had been waiting for the day one would be careful, and slip up. No doubt the miners would receive to blame for this. But that was off the point. For now, a fortune was lost, and many houses would be angry with the E’Bezcitný house. Which would make it all the easier to mount an attack.
08-12-2012, 08:22 AM
http://i1201.photobucket.com/albums/bb353/EvelynWillows/Yasparrcloseup.jpg Yasparr flattened himself against the wall and cast down his eyes as Kouzlo E'Bezcitný strode by. He had a slave clasped by the arm and another one following close behind him. The Sylvan Elf slave felt the heat in his blood rise up at the sight of the two women being pulled along behind the eldest son of the E'Bezcitný house.
Does that make you feel strong? Do you feel joy when you hurt the weak?
The words burned in his heart but Yasparr said nothing. His very life rested on the whim of the house of E’Bezcitný. He had enough scars to have learned that lesson decades ago. He glanced up as Sindri passed by. Her golden red hair reminded him of autumn leaves glimmering in the soft breeze....
Where did that thought come from? What was autumn?
The other slave was a human girl. They all seemed to blend into each other after awhile. He couldn't remember most of their faces, just that there had been many slaves who came to the house as children and died as worn-out, used-up rags in a few short decades. Yasparr was fortunate. He had been a child when he arrived, but the last thirty years had simply matured him. Among elves he was still considered a young man. The E'Bezcitný household would get their money's worth from him by the time he died of old age. If he died of old age. They seemed intent on sacrificing the best of their slaves to that filthy goddess of theirs. He barely kept himself from spitting at the thought of the spider goddess.
Disgusting. She should be squashed beneath our heels, not worshipped! The treasonous thoughts in his mind scared him. The mages in the family might be able to read minds! What if they read his?
He backed even farther into the crevice of the walls and found a tapestry to blend into. The shadows were a welcome embrace; a moment's peace when pain had no existence. The coolness of the rock felt like a solid relief to him. It seemed like only a few minutes later when Verazda left her room, a determined expression across her eyes. Yasparr cringed, hoping that she wouldn't notice him. He paid special attention to the crisp click-click of her boots on the pavement. She had a walk that was a bit lighter than the others; something that helped him to decide if he needed to move aside or hide. Some of the family were best avoided all together, others...they allowed the slaves to exist with minimal interactions.
Once Verazda had cleared the hallway Yasparr went back to finish her room. He tidied up the tables and finished making her bed, rolling the sheets from the previous night up in his arms to bring to the wash room slaves. They had a difficult job, keeping the family's clothing and linens perfectly cleaned. Yasparr grinned to himself. At least their arms were washed daily! He missed being clean, even though he could not remember exactly what it was like. It had been nearly thirty years since he had been captured, and even for a long lived race as elves, thirty years tends to play with your memories.
He paused for a moment when he lifted her linens to carry back to the laundresses. The faint whiff of her perfume haunted him. Yasparr swallowed hard. Was smelling the scent of your mistress a punishable act? Who knew with these people...they had no hard and fast rules when it came to when you punished a slave. As far as Yasparr could tell, they did whatever they wanted to with them.
08-12-2012, 12:48 PM
Barrl dreamed of the walled gardens of Iltkazar, where the noon-hour sun bathed the fountains and terraced meadows in delicious, golden light. The dazzling whiteness of the sun faded slowly to black, and the sun itself seemed to shrink and change, condensing as the smoldering embers of a mushroom stalk. It bathed a small stone bowl in red light, and Barrl's attention dimly registered that a roundish pebble had fallen into the thick custardy yellow of his poached cave urchin.
" 's a rock in it" he slurred to no one in particular, his vision slowly resolving to full focus. The ache of his body hit him like a wave, and the urgent throb of his limbs made his eyes roll back in his head. When he moved to get up, his head struck a stone ceiling. Gaping wide-eyed at the magnitude of the thing, Barrl realized that a massive chunk of broken stone was somehow suspended scant feet away from crushing his body flat.
Groping blindly, Barrl's hand closed around the well-worn handle of his pick. Squinting in the dark, he made out the red crescent reflection of the pick's head. By some quirk of fate it had lodged sideways, propping up the great stone.
He scrabbled out, and stood choking the dust out of his throat, leaning with both hands against the huge, knobbly limestone stalactite that had come so close to being his tomb. Turning, he took in the hellish vista of shattered stone, and realized with growing horror that the wreckage was teeming with trapped slaves.
Wrapping one gnarled hand around the protruding handle of his pick, he wrenched it free from beneath the stone with a spray of sparks and a scream of tortured metal. The stone crashed to the ground with an ear-splitting clap, and though white dust bloomed up to cover Barrl in a fog, one thought cut through his delirious haze with burning urgency: Dig.
08-14-2012, 08:41 PM
Lilly moved about the room silently sweeping, her face expressionless and eyes cold from the years of being slave to the merciless drow. Just the same the teifling race could be just a tricky and deceitful in their own ways. Lilly had learned quickly not to let her face soften, never let them realize you still meander in your own mind. Simply act as if you are brainless and they will leave you be, try and think of better things while acting accordingly. Several beatings had managed to get these types of rules in her head. None the less however even if you looked as if you were doing nothing or for that matter weren’t even thinking to begin with you could still feel their wrath. Those friendly reminders of where your place in this world of Drow was: a slave.
Her tail moved back and through as she walked to another corner of the room; it’s motion strange as if it had been damaged in places no longer able to move correctly. Of course her tail was one of the first things hurt on the girl when she disobeyed it kept her in pain and made sure she was still a capable slave. After all ruining a perfectly good arm would be one thing but a tail you simply don’t need those. While she cleaned her thoughts wandered meaninglessly until she heard the little debate going on. The words wandered through the back of her head as she kept up with her work but did not bother to strain herself to hear what they were saying.
This chatter seemed more like ambient noise in her everyday life. However one thing was noted another houses attack could be approaching. This could mean several things to the teifling, though for now she would not bother to dwell upon them. Those matters could be thought about more once they were permitted to sleep. However the topic was still noted in the back of her head stored in memory, the bits and pieces she managed to hear easily from the hushed tones.
Her eyes glowed softly in the low light one more so then another. This was due to the fact one eye was slowly but surely loosing sight due to a scratch that had gotten infected. Eventually she was sure it would consume her vision in that eye however for now she could still see and that was a small blessing in its own; and for now she could still see in the darkness. Her hooves made little noise as she moved about; of course this didn’t mean it would not disturb the Drow. If that were to happen more punishment could occur so she always tried to be silent as if she wasn’t truly in the room, a ghost. Lilly bent down to sweep the pile of dirt into a dust pan before disposing of it, as quickly as she finished the conversation was already over.
Once her task was finished the teifling bowed her head to the matron mother and her daughters, awaiting any further orders. It had been nearly a year and a half since Lilly had spoken. She eventually learned that even the smallest of words such as yes could earn you punishment simply for thinking. It was a disturbing and dark world she now lived in and thus there were rarely if ever need for words. She stood for a moment to simply check if they had any tasks they wanted done on a whim. If not she would simply find another room to clean or another task that needed done.
08-15-2012, 02:45 AM
Fille tried not to whimper as Kouzlo’s grip seemed to tighten every second. His claw-like nails digging deeper into her flesh. She mentally pleaded that they wouldn’t break her skin... She had enough scars as it was, and she didn’t need, nor want any more. Then again… She wasn’t supposed to want for herself.
She trembled violently as Kouzlo dragged her deeper into the complex that made up the E'Bezcitný house. Soon, they went down a spiraling stone staircase that seemed to carve into the rock itself. In this part of the house, there were no soft, violet lights, as there were in the upper stories. Fille's weak, human eyes became completely useless in the pitch-blackness. She tripped every other step, and Kouzlo's temper flared quickly, as it always did. He snapped at her, releasing her arm. Fille tumbled down a few steps, before coming to a stop at the bottom of the stairwell. Her hands shook, and she moved up against a wall.
Kouzlo's expression became a sneer as he looked down at the human. "You pathetic weakling." He muttered loudly. "Stop cowering. Stand up, and come here." he looked behind him, at Sindri. "You too, My Dear." He moved across the room, where a large, unidentifiable, and indescribable contraption stood. He seemed to take great pride in it, and had obviously been working on the thing for quite a while. Fille had no idea what the machine did, but she was pretty sure it would involve pain on her part.
"Alright, now, you-" Kouzlo was cut off by the sound of footsteps quickly descending into the laboratory. He glared at the doorway as his younger brother entered if 'Office'. "What do you want?" He said shortly.
"Mom's mad at you." Kreten said simply, folding his arms.
"Matron Nenávidět." Kouzlo said, his temper rising again. "You will speak respectfully of her, Kreten." He said harshly. "Now, why is she mad at me?"
"She's mad 'cause you weren't there to oversee the tunnel dig..."
"Well, you see, the tunnels all collapsed..."
Fille and Sindri were both left in Kouzlo's 'Office'. The Drow, in a frantic hurry, locked them both in an old cage that he sometimes used for creatures that he experimented on. He told them that they would proceed with his project the next day. After that, he left without anther word.
In the quiet, Fille's heartbeat became deafening in her own ears. She closed her eyes, so the darkness wouldn't seem so... Impenetrable. With her eyes shut, she could imagine that when she opened them, she would be able to see... And that when she opened her eyes, she would be in a world where light shone down from an endless above... That the light could warm her skin, and that she had a reason to smile. She longed desperately for a reason to smile.
She longed to be happy. But even that simple pleasure was a foreign thought to her.
Deep in the mines of the Drow, things were more than unpleasant. Dust filled the air, causing it to choke anyone who tried to breath it. If they could breath. Most had been crushed in the rubble of the collapse. Even more had been fatally wounded, and dealt with. The few who had survived were up to their waists with work.
Stone chunks were pulled out of what was left of the tunnels, and what was salvaged, was salvaged.
Five houses' mining tunnels had collapsed completely. The cause of the collapse was still undetermined. But it had been decided by the leaders of the city that it had been deliberate. Once it was decided who's fault it was, the debt for the seemingly endless damage would be given to them.
To say that many Drow were ill tempered... Would be a serious understatement.
Kouzlo had wormed himself out of blame, as he always did. Thus, Matron Nenávidět searched for someone else to blame. Somehow, the blame fell on Kreten, despite the fact that the second son had done nothing. In truth, it was just another excuse to sacrifice him to Lolth later on. That was something that made all of his sisters secretly rejoice...
Among the mining dwarfs who had survived were Barrl, and Orryn. Both of them had needed to dig themselves out of a small area where the tunnel had remained whole. They were the only dwarven miners who had survived in the E'Bezcitný house. The Kolbolds, though their numbers were many, were not of much help. They were good, and strong when hauling out large bags of small bits of rubble. However, they were unable to move the enormous slates of stone. In fact... According to the Drow, the rock would never be able to be completely carted out, for the fact that the area was now unstable with thousands of tons of rock.
No one mentioned that there were likely thousands of slaves trapped alive beneath the rubble. It was not the Drows' concerns when they heard desperate pleas for help from deep below the tons of stone. No... Those down there would find their own way out, or they would die. And that was fine with them. They couldn't care less. But for the exception that they had lost their slaves. But there was no longer a point. For why would one need mining slaves if one had no mines?
The work carried on into the wee hours of the night, and only then, did it let up, and were the slaves given a chance to rest, and sleep before they dropped dead of exhaustion.
Verazda returned to her room once the city at last began to settle down after the concussion that had caused the tunnel collapse.
She sighed, and walked to her mirror. She repeated the words she spoke every night, and reminded herself of who she was. When she had finished, she undressed, and crawled into her bed. She sighed, and stared up at the ceiling. Briefly, she remembered the servant who's presence in her room she had chastised.
Geala dug deep into her memories, and tried to remember what she could of him from before he had been captured. They had lived in the same elven city. But they hadn't been anything close to friends. Geala hadn't had any friends. Everyone had hated her... Well, most everyone. Her uncle had loved her like a daughter, and taught her everything he would teach his own child.
Her mother had died in childbirth. And city elders believed that it was Geala who had cursed her mother's body with death. After all, Geala was half Drow. And the Drow's hate for the Sylvan elves was only rivaled by the Surface Elves' hate of the Drow. They all called her cursed. It was all her uncle could do to stop them from killing her moments after she was born.
The slave who often tended to her chamber, Yasparr. He had been the worst of them. As a young, cocky, ambitious, handsome, and well-liked lad... He was Geala's opposite. Born into a good family... And born legitimately for that matter. Lets say Geala did everything she could to stay away from him. She was sad that he was here now though. No one deserved to be forced into this world.
Long story short, she had come to the Underdark, slain her half sister, Verazda, and taken her place. Thus, become a secret agent of the Sylvan elves. She didn't know if she liked living in a world of hate, or living in a world where she was hated, more or less.
She thought back for a moment, to the Tiefling girl who had been in the room with her as her younger sister, and mother spoke about the possible war to come. The girl was one of the more unique slaves. She wondered briefly if she had ever had a life outside of the Drow cavern.
Geala swore, if there was a way she could free all the people who had been snatched from their lives, and return them to their worlds, she would do so. However, such a thought was only a silly fantasy to her. For once the Drow got their hands on you... Your life was as good as over.
She sighed, and closed her eyes.
In one of the darker part of the house, was the slave housing room. It was one of the surprisingly cleanest places on the house, despite the fact that the slaves were not given time to clean it. They... Found time. Those who cared, anyway.
Here was one of the only places where the slaves could find temporary peace, and quiet. It was a place where they could fade into dreams for a few hours, and leave the world of the Drow.
08-15-2012, 06:04 AM
Idiots! Daft, skinny-brained, selfish, spawn of evil, with naught but dust and dung between those pointy ears...bah! Filth!
Though he was wise enough to have railed against his captors in mind only, Orryn quickly stopped himself; this path of thought would no him no good. Would do NO ONE any good. It was hardly his mission to educate the Drow of the nature of their mining folly. Such a mission would in itself have been the greatest of follies. Do they even dig for a purpose? Do they search for resources? Do they trade with the world above? With other clans, races? Or do they merely set the captive slaves to dig mindlessly as punishment for their very existence? Sure, they'd hit veins of iron, silver, copper, gems even; but none seemed to spark any interest in the dark-skinned elves. Onward they'd dug each time, leaving behind veins of great promise. Could it be merely mindless cruelty? Dig because you are worth nothing more? Irresponsible, if so, he thought. Criminally irresponsible.*
Stop! Think, Orryn!*
This root fissure they had blundered into had borne all the telltale signs of being far-reaching. He'd seen the signs for the past several weeks. *The choice to continue had been no choice at all, for whether he refused or dug in silence, the dig would go on. At least now, perhaps hope and patience and luck would converge and bring a chance for freedom. *The risk, though, lay in where the fissures would lead the collapse. And only after it had begun could he hear its voice.*
The rumblings had continued for hours and hours before he'd dared move, and as he'd lain there, immersed in rubble and dust. *He'd heard and felt the center of the event, like a living thing, traveling mile after mile through the mountain's roots. Two directions it had travelled: one to the southwest, along a predictable fissure beneath a massive watershed above, the river Haerth, sweeping down from the mountain tels to the Great Sea. *This one would end with a relatively harmless river rise, some disgruntled fishermen, and perhaps a dock or two swept out to sea. The other, though, sent shards of icy fear into Orryn's chest. *This one had struck sharply upward and east: toward home, toward the Geldberg range, the homeland of his clan...his family.
Dearest, most powerful Krx'd'snyu, please spare them! Do not let my beautiful people be ruined by the mindless cruelty of the Drow!*
Having sent his meager plea heavenward, Orryn scanned his surroundings, his vision enhanced by his lineage, allowing him to see in complete darkness. *Many figures moved about; kobolds mostly. Injured and bleeding, they herded together like sheep. In the aftermath of the collapse, only one figure emerged with eyes that shone of intelligence, of knowing the gravity of what had just occurred...one he had heard called by the name Barrl. A kinsman from a distant clan. He lived, still, moving cautiously about the still settling rubble. Opportunity seemed to scream in the emptiness. Their captors had yet to arrive to retrieve any survivors, and the cries and whimpers of the trapped began to rise like chalk-breathed ghosts from the rock. *Good could come from this! His pulse quickened at the thought of so many months, time he could never regain, not having been lost for naught.
Slowly, pick in hand, Orryn made his way toward the other dwarf. Perhaps an ally, or mayhap a willing slave looking to return to his masters. He spit at the thought. *Either way, he would soon discover. A partner would be a true asset, but if need be, he'd go alone. It was time.
08-15-2012, 03:10 PM
Barrl’s lined and ancient features were caked white with dust, and only his eyes registered any trace of life- a hollow lack of expression. He knelt over the kobold he had recently pulled from the wreckage, cradling it’s bulbous skull in his broad palm. He touched the neck, felt for breath. To no one in particular Barrl muttered, “He’s gone.”
Standing, he was surprised to note another dwarf, and in an instant he saw the lust for freedom illuminating his features. His own hope of escape had become a dimly registered memory, and he felt a phantom pain twinge along the ruin of his left eye, and crackle twisting across his jaw and neck. It was said that witchfire never left the bodies of those struck by it, but wormed and bounced along inside the bones, unable to ground itself.
Raising a grubby hand with open palm, he called out in a voice that cracked with disuse, “Stonebrother. Let’s get free of this tomb.” His gaze travelled up and out, to the dangerously stilted ceiling of rock shards. He grasped the well-worn tool in hand, what he had begun to think of as his ‘lucky pick’, and moved to join Orryn at his task.
Though he said nothing, the misgivings were heavy in his gut. He could not shake the feeling that his decision to help this dark-haired dwarf would, when events played out, only serve to extinguish his brightly-burning hope.
08-15-2012, 11:11 PM
Sindri followed silently and loyally behind Kouzlo as she always did, she could never disobey him no matter how hard she tried. As they passed another elf slave in the hallway her mouth formed the words "Help us." but he was not looking, and why should he, it wasn't any of his concern what happened to them. Sindri could only stare and Kouzlo's back and follow until they reached his laboratory, and when they arrive Sindri's heart utterly sunk at the sight of the machine ~This is worse then I though.~ she said to herself, so often she'd been used to test the horrid man's poisons, but she'd never been subjected to this machine before.
But hope came when Kouzlo's brother entered the room and took him away, when the sounds of their footsteps faded Sindri almost started to laugh, "The sodding gods have finally spared a thought for us." She whispered to Fille, "We finally have a chance, do you think you can lift that tool?" she asked pointing to a hammer that was hung on the wall right near the cage, it was slightly larger then a normal hammer would be, she could only guess why it was here since she'd never seen that particular item used, "If you can I need you to smash it against my chains, can you do that for me?"
08-16-2012, 04:46 AM
Yasparr had ducked into anther alcove as Kouzlo stalked by with his two slaves. The Drow didn't spare a glance in Yasparr's direction, which was what the Sylvan preferred. He pretended to straighten the chairs lined against the wall, but he was really struggling with memories of golden light and air that smelled like Verazda's perfume. He glanced at the slaves as they passed.
The slave only mouthed the words, but they burned like screams into his soul. Help us.
It was like a whisper you couldn't unhear once the words had been spoken. Like hearing the words I love you, or she's dead. Life was forever changed. He tried to walk away, to go into the slaves' quarters and disappear for a few minutes into the quiet of that dark and cool tomb. He tried to, but her silent plea rang in his heart and kept him from fleeing to the peaceful refuge of those rooms.
Yasparr followed the sounds of Kouzlo's footsteps. The Drow's footsteps rang firm, whilst the shuffling of the slave girls' feet contrasted like snowflakes sizzling on hot coals. Each step screamed help me.
He ducked under a bench in the hallway above the staircase that led to Kouzlo's 'office' and waited. The drow usually took long hours once he was encased in his playroom. Yasparr was ready to wait for half the night if necessary. He didn't know what he was waiting for; just that he would wait as long as it took.
Patience wins over strength. The young Sylvan pressed his lips together. He remembered long hours sitting in small spots waiting, slim pieces of wood in his hands, while the air grew brighter and...what? He was hunting for something...what was it? Who had he been in the past, before this life?
Yasparr was surprised when another of the Drow men, the youngest son, marched past and blew into the room. A few minutes later both Drow men left the office and hurried away, both blaming the other for some tragedy deep in the mines. The Sylvan waited for a few minutes, his heart pounding away at his sternum, while he debated his next move. If he was there without permission he would be beaten, maybe killed.
Yasparr climbed down the cold staircase and reached out tentatively to the door handle. He turned it softly. There was no resistance to his touch. He opened the door slightly, then stepped through. Hushed whispers reached his ears, but in the hard walls of the office the words bounced off each other and in their discordant reflections he could not make out their meanings.
He slowly moved deeper into the office until he saw the two slaves in the corner of the room. Yasparr's heart beat so loudly in his ears that he was certain that it would ring like an alarm and summon the Drow back. Then, in the quiet, he heard the words "Can you do that for me?"
He licked his dry lips and spoke the words. "I will help."
08-16-2012, 09:26 PM
Lilly sighed with relief as she entered the slaves housing room. It was finally the time of day she could rest for a little while. The moment she entered she started to pick up things, articles of clothing, plates that had once had gruel on them. Anything that was not supposed to stay there for long; the clothes she places on their owners ‘beds’ in actuality there were no real beds. Simply mats on the floor or small sections of the room in which they claimed as their own. The dishes in which she picked up were placed in a stack to be taken out when someone left, not even a scrap was ever left on the plates. Everyone valued what little nutrients they were allowed. The place was simply like a prison.
As she was fixing up the small dark room another servant walked in, it was one of the younger ones and human too. He was roughly fourteen years of age and one of the newer ones in this forced hell. Obviously by the bruises and cuts about him he had not obeyed as he should, and Lily simply shook her head. The child walked to a corner trying to hold back tears of both rage and anguish. He slide down the wall until he sat there holding his hand in his hands. Closing his forest green eyes, obviously wishing there was some way out of this hell.
Lilly thought about what got him in trouble; it was more then likely trying to escape. If you so much as stepped out of the house you could get punished; unless of course you were escorting someone or had a job outside in specific. Lilly walked up towards him before crouching down so she could look at him on the same level. Of course the boy looked up tears were running down his face, but still he did not move. In an effort to comfort the boy Lilly moved beside him and sat down, wrapping her arms around him like a mother would. Letting him lay his head on her chest and just sob. It was not much but it was all she could really do.
Her tail curled around him as much as it could to offer the most of the embrace. Soon he would fall asleep from the exhaustion and tears. But Lilly on the other hand had much to think about before sleeping. Things like what would happen to her and the other slaves if an attack were successful on the household. They could be killed along with them, or simply passed on to new masters. The lot of them could even be used to ‘please’ some of the invaders, or be tortured relentlessly after all Drow seem to love screams of pain. It was not a pleasant thing to imagine but there was always worse in this hell. For now she could not sleep but still she closed her glowing eyes resting her head against the cold stone wall. Thoughts buzzing like bees as her body took rest.
08-17-2012, 12:27 AM
"Stonebrother, let's get free of this tomb," the one-eyed one had said. "Stonebrother," he'd called Orryn, a term familiar, and yet distant...as distant as his family and homeland seemed at the moment.
"A tomb it is, brother. But it need not be so for us. This vein has opened ways never before seen by these Drow. Some large, many narrow and confusing. I am skilled at navigating such veins. It will take them much time to organize their...assets...and mount a search for survivors. By the time they do...best for them to assume we were buried in the rubble."
Orryn paused a moment to let the point settle in. Though he had heard the words from Barrl's lips, that was a far cry from what might lie within his heart: honor and loyalty, or deceipt and death. Beneath the cake of dust and debris, this dwarf looked much like those from his home, though his speech was slightly different. Dialect. Accent. Sentence structure, just hints of each led him to suspect a distant tribe, perhaps one Barrl himself was not even aware of. How long had this slave been a slave? Did he even remember what it was to be dwarven? His grip was firm on his pickaxe, but strength of body meant nothing: slaves could be immensely strong, and know nothing of their origins.
Brought something else to mind, though: "You happen to have an extra pickaxe at hand? We just might need those before long."
08-17-2012, 06:42 AM
Barrl bent to pull a pick from the grasp of a fallen dwarf miner, and paused to trace an anvil in the white dust on her forehead.
Tossing the sturdy tool to Orryn, he spoke, in the sparse manner of a career slave.
"He don't need this now. I will follow where you lead, navigator. Let's die free in the belly of the earth."
To emphasize his point, Barrl cocked back and struck his lucky pick abruptly into a large grey boulder at his side with a clang and a spit of sparks. The stone split in halves along a clean but crooked seam, revealing the creamy brown whorls of a solid flint core hidden in the treacherous and flaking limestone.
He fixed Orryn with a heavy one-eyed gaze, willing him to heed this sign, written in the poetry of stone.
"I am called Barrl Lost-Hammer" The dwarven syllables of his clan name rolled effortlessly into place despite the years of disuse. This bid for freedom was placed in his path, and by Moradin's beard he would pursue it. In the chaos of that collapsing hell, the look on his face made it seem that he almost believed they might make it.
08-17-2012, 06:01 PM
Fille jolted slightly as she heard a voice speak out of the darkness. Her heartbeat calmed slowly as she realized it was just the other slave girl who was with her. 'Sindri'. She had to take a moment to realize what the elven girl had said to her. Something about a hammer, on the wall... Fille knew of know such thing, since she was completely blind in the dark. According to what she could understand, she wanted her to help her break the chains that were around her feet.
Then another voice spoke, and Fille almost screamed. This time the voice was masculine. And for a moment, she feared that Kouzlo had returned to finish his plans with them. After a moment, her mind registered the words he had said. 'I will help'. With that, she realized that the voice, though it was masculine, did not sound like Kouzlo.
Reguardless, Fille shrunk back into the corner of the cage that she and Sindri were locked in. Her frail limbs locked up. There were too many people in this room who didn't act like she thought slaves were supposed to. Surely her masters would discover that they had spoken to each other, and punish them. Fille knew that even if she didn't speak a whisper, she would be punished too. A small whimper emitted from her lips at the mere thought of a whip's vicious bite.
A voice in the back of her mind told her that if she was going to be given punishment, she might as well commit the act that she would be punished with. "Hello?" She whispered in a voice that was not often used.
Her soft brown eyes scanned the darkness. But it was like trying to drink air. The task was pointless, and her weak eyes searched for what wasn't there. With the lack of light to see with, she was left surrounded in darkness, as she always was.
As the noc set into the city, Kouzlo and the other Drow who were involved in organizing the cleanup of the mines were finally called back to the house. The slaves were left in the mines to sleep. For the dwarves, and the kolbolds, the rock was anything but a comfortable bed. But the chance to rest their tired, overworked bones was welcome no matter where the Drow chose to let them sleep.
But sleep was almost impossible that night. The muffled, pleading cries from beneath the rocks echoed through the lonely cavern. Hopeless sobs could also be heard. As well as the whispered conversation from one trapped soul to another. The soothing lie of 'It will be okay' was spoken many times. But it wouldn't be okay for any of them. Maybe the few who were just beneath the surface. But those who were trapped deeper... They were doomed to die... For some, it might not be so bad. They had another miner near them, who they could talk to as the life faded from their bodies. But others were trapped so deep, and in such dark... That they couldn't even hear the others' cries. They were alone. Dementia would probably set in before they finally passed.
The night was filled with unearthly sounds...
08-19-2012, 03:44 AM
Yasparr tried to see what Sindri wanted. She was pointing to a hammer and had asked the other slave, a human, to help her get it and smash it against the chains. The human was huddled against the wall, and her pitiful wimpering and her blank stare told the Sylvan that she couldn't see what was happening around them.
"Don't be an idiot," Yasparr finally spit out. "She's human, she sees nothing." He found a burner that Kouzlo used for...something horrid, Yasparr was certain, and he lit it with a few strikes of a flint. Then he examined the small piece of metal and stone in his hand. A flint. How had he known about that? He had never been ordered to make a fire for his masters in the Underdark, yet memories of fluffing tinder and blowing softly to nurse a baby flame along came to mind. He brought the small burner over to the cage and put it on the floor so that the human woman could see him. He absent-mindedly tucked the flint and stone in a niche in his clothing.
His dirty light copper hair was ragged, cut makeshift with blunted edges when Yasparr had the chance to do so. He had found long ago that long hair gave his captives another leash to grab him with, so he decided that it was a luxury he was willing to part with.
He went over to the wall and lifted down the large hammer that had been hanging there. Tightening his grip, he swung the tool over his head and brought it down on the chains locking the cage door shut. ~Shlaaannng!!!!!~ The sound echoed in the large, dark office, making the shadows even seem to shift. A bright shower of sparks and energy swirled about, then retightened around the chain again. Clearing his throat, Yasparr tried again. The result was the same. He put the hammer back on the wall and began to examine the bars of the cage.
"If you escape, they will kill you. If you stay, they may kill you." He looked at the two women. "Either way, you will die at the end of this." And so will I, he thought to himself.
08-20-2012, 12:30 AM
Silence slowly seeped into the soul of the treacherous, collapsed mine areas. Whimpers of pain and fear, muffled scraping and clacking of rocks from those still buried and hoping for rescue, slowly tapered off into black oblivion. What kind of sickness of the soul could cause a people to view others as such refuse, to simply be abandoned to the cold, slow, suffocating death of the rock's embrace? What manner of gods could give life to a race so cold? So devoid of any emotion that would allow for caring or reaching out to another in need?
"Barrl, I confess, my first thought is to escape this place." Looking around the remains of the mine, he could see any of several avenues to begin, where their captors would be hard-pressed to find them. "And that thought fills me with shame. My gods would not shine their favor upon me were I to be so selfish. We have brethren who yet live, somewhere in this evil place. They deserve our help. Perhaps today is not our day. Perhaps to leave now would be rash, and uncaring." Orryn paused a moment, again assessing the collapsed warrens. "Perhaps if we don't leave today, we will never again have a chance," he muttered, almost to himself.
Orryn fixed Barrl with a steely gaze. "But that is just the chance I must take. I make no decision for you. If you wish to leave, I will direct you as to the best possible route, though I cannot guarantee your success, for I know nothing of your skills. I will stay to rescue our brethren. Then we must find a way to communicate with each other, to organize, and perhaps another day, together, perhaps we will succeed."
Orryn shifted his weight, laying his pickaxe over one shoulder, setting a cascading shower of rock dust free from his hair and shoulder plate.
"You have nothing to fear from me, and may Krx'd'snyu turn me to a pillar of stone in this very spot if my word or my heart be found untrue. What say you?"
08-20-2012, 04:11 PM
Barrl gazes into the middle distance, the gears turning in his head like ancient stoneworks. After consideration he nods gruffly, speaking.
"Wise words. But think on this.. You know the ways of these wild tunnels. Slip out and survive, but stay near. A dwarf on the outside will give us a card to play. Perhaps when our captors return I can distract them long enough for you to make your move." For emphasis he slammed his gnarled fist into the palm of his opposite hand with a puff of dust. His teeth gleamed white in the darkness as he smiled maliciously, imagining the look on that Kouzlo's face when a pick split his skull from the shadows behind.
"We'll have them between hammer and anvil then."
He turned his ancient gaze to the kobolds huddling useless at the other end of the chamber.
"I know these beasts, and can speak to them after a fashion. I'll set them to work and we'll free and arm as many as we can. They're in no shape for a slave revolt, but the element of surprise may turn the game."
Clapping Orryn on the shoulder with a rough paw, he turned to march toward the kobolds, barking loud orders at them. Docile from their time in captivity, they scrambled to the task, and stragglers still capable of work were encouraged by the tip of Barrl's worn boot.
08-20-2012, 04:37 PM
When Sindri heard a voice she went straight as a rod, and turned around, "It's you, thank the gods." she said recognizing the man, and then realizing he was right, she always forgot that humans couldn't see as well in the dark as Elves. "Look, if you can get this cage open, I can deal with Kouzlo once he gets back." She said to the male elf. Her hopes were dashed a little when the hammer slammed against the chains and nothing happened. She leaned fowrad to whisper to Yasparr "They probably would kill us if we tried to escape, but I'm not letting that bastard do to her what he's done to me." she said with a slight tone of anger, "She isn't strong enough to survive that."
She looked around the room to see if there was anything else, "Look if they find you here I don't know what they'll do, and if you can't find a way to get that lock open there's no point in you staying here." she said, Sindri wasn't trying to be rude to the man but it was true. "So if you can fit that hammer or something through the bars, you can get out of here and we can find you later." She turned to see Fille huddled down in the corner, her heart went out to the poor girl, "Whatever you're going to do, do it quickly, I'm not sure how long Kouzlo and his brother will stay gone." She said before going over to Fille and sitting down next to the girl. "Don't worry Fille, everything is going to be fine, I promise." she said trying to comfort her.
08-20-2012, 11:08 PM
Fille's pupils constricted at the sight of the small flame that the elven man had created. She could then make out the man's features, and realized that she recognized his face among the many sevants in the house. However, his name escaped her.
She listened to the conversation that went between he and Sindri. From what she picked up, the man's name was Yasparr. And apparently the two elves knew each other. To a degree, at least. Fille prayed to whatever god who would listen, that they weren't scheming to escape. As much as Fille longed to be away from this awful place, she wanted nothing to do with a plan that was doomed to fail, and get them all killed in the process. Though... Maybe death would be a merciful end to her life. She only hoped that it would be quick.
As she continued to listen, the word 'escape' was uttered many times. Each time a root of fear grew deeper in her heart. Fille tried not to let fear cross her expression, but it did many times. She half-listened to their conversation, and in the mean time looked around Kouzlo's 'office'. The firelight flickered over many unspeakable objects. Each seemed to be created to cause pain... Even the assorted bottles, and vials seemed to scream of pain, and suffering. She hoped that she would never have to face them.
Her attention came back to the people around her when Sindri sat beside her.
"Don't worry Fille, everything is going to be fine, I promise." The elven woman told her. A ghost of a smile crossed Fille's face.
"Perhaps." She said quietly, hoping she was right. However, she doubted that if Kouzlo returned to do what he had intended to do, that anything would be alright. For, as Sindri had said, Fille might not survive it. Her body was weak, even among slaves. She had always been built delicately. This hadn't been a problem when she lived with her Ilithid master. But she had had proper food then. Now her body was wasting away. She swallowed, thinking of how easily her bones would break if she fell badly. No doubt Kouzlo would find some torturous way to break her body. The only test subject he had ever bothered to keep alive was Sindri...
She looked back up at the two of them. Fear still flickered in her eyes, but something else did too. In a quiet, and underused voice, she spoke. "If you two are planning to escape... I want to too. But Sindri is right." Her voice shook. Any time she had ever spoken her mind before, she had been beaten. "Master Kouzlo may come back soon. You must go." If he did come back, Fille would try her hardest to survive whatever he did to her.
08-20-2012, 11:28 PM
Yasarr looked at the two women. To Sindri he said "If I give you the hammer and you fail, Kouzlo will know that you tried to escape." He saw the determination in her eyes and shrugged. "As you wish." He took the hammer and yanked it hard downwards, so that the hook it was hanging from broke. Then he smashed it against the stone floor to make a mark where the hammer 'fell', before tossing it towards the cage so that Sindri could drag it into her cell.
He stood up and began to leave when compassion gripped him. With a sigh Yasparr returned to the cell wall. He pulled out a section of dried drow bread and slipped it between the bars to the women. "Carry it inside of you," he said. Then he looked at Fille and in slow, broken Common he said "Eat. Bread. Now. Understand?"
Yasparr had never had any tolerance for the 'lesser' races when he was above ground, and some of that was still seeping through his persona. He was more compassionate with them now that he had spent so long as a slave, but he still found his patience stretched thin. He looked at the women's faces before he stood up to leave. His lip curled when the human began to give him advice. "I said nothing that you need to repeat, woman. Be still and be glad that you yet breath." he narrowed his eyes. "I'll check back on you soon."
Why did I promise that? He could have kicked himself. He quickly climbed the stone spiral staircase and paused to listen at the door. When he was positive that no one was on the other side he opened the door cautiously and peered around the corner. He eased himself out and closed the door softly behind him before sneaking back to the slave rooms.
He barely gave the tiefling and her companion a glance as he snuck back into his mat to steal a few hours of sleep. He hoped that whatever it was that was distracting the Drow would continue to keep them out of the slave's hair. At least for a little while.
I wish the whole caverns would collapse and bury us all! He closed his eyes and drifted off into restless sleep.
08-21-2012, 03:38 AM
Sindri just nodded, "Thank you, and don't worry, I know what to do." she said hurrying over to grab the hammer. She dragged it through the bars and lifted it to test the weight, she couldn't have said exactly how much it weighed but she could lift it easily enough if she used both hands. "Don't worry Fille, I'm taking you with me that's a promise." she said once the man left, the hammer was a bit too big to simply hide it behind her back, but the cage was slightly raised off the floot, and so had a space behind it where it might go unnoticed and sat infront of it.
"We should try and rest for now, once Kouzlo comes back we might not get another chance for a while." she said after she placed the hammer just outside the cage and sat down infront of it hoping Kouzlo would not see it when he returned. "Everything will work out Fille." she said putting the piece of bread Yasparr left into the girl's hand, "As long as I have a say in it." Sindri smiled at the girl hoping to raise her spirits. She then leaned against the bars, closed her eyes, and waited to hear the door to open once again.
08-21-2012, 10:02 PM
Slowly, the lights of the city began to illuminate, and cast a soft, violet glow over the Drow world once more. But however bright the city became, the city was still as dark, and deadly as ever.
The Drow were peculiar creatures. Their language was just as, if not more, complicated than any other. They had a kind of hand signing that they used to communicate with one another silently. Their nimble fingers could flawlessly sign out any of the complicated Drow words, names, and sounds. They had close to a hundred different words that meant 'hate'. Nearly fifty that meant 'Power'. And yet... There was not a word for 'love'. Such a thing was a foreign thought to them. The closest thing they knew to love was infatuation. But even obsession was nowhere near what the Drow were missing in their hearts.
Deep inside, they were really a pathetic, and meaningless race of people...
Fille stirred, waking from her sleep. She had drifted off in an awkward position, with her head leaned backwards against the cage. She slowly pulled herself together, like a puppet being raised up by it's strings. She yawned, and made a face when she realized there was a kink in her neck. When she had lived with her Ilithid master, he would fix such an uncomfortable problem for her with a mere thought. Her life with him had been such a luxury. He had been kind among his race. Normally Ilithids' cruelty was more so even than the Drows'. But he had been different. She sighed. That was a life gone and past.
She sat up, and realized there was a piece of bread in her hand. The light had gone out in the light, but she was able to quickly eat the food. It settled well in her stomach, and made her wish that her next meal wouldn't be fungus.
Her eyes searched the dark, and found nothing. Instead her ears tuned into the room, and it's many different sounds. She could hear Sindri's steady breathing, as well as the steady dripping of one of Kouzlo's experiments. She also heard the gently pitter-patter of a mouse's feet in the stone. She heard it make a small squeak. Oh how she wished her life was as simple, and easy as a mouse's. You got to scavenge for whatever you wanted, everyone ignored you. You could make you home whenever you wanted it, as long as no one would find you. Find a mate, have kids, end of story. Sounded pretty good to her.
It was then that she heard another sound... the sound of footsteps coming down to meet them.
In the slave hall, most of the people within had either left, or were still sleeping after a particularly exhausting day. This included Lilly, and Yasparr. For those who decided to 'sleep in' someone was usually sent to wake them up, and harshly order them to get back to work. Today, Kouzlo took the opportunity to do this, as he had noticed a certain problem with one of his test subjects... Her frailty concerned him. Not that he valued her life. Simply that she might die before he was able to complete the test. And that simply wouldn't do...
He unfurled a whip, and cracked it once. Every slave had felt the whip's bite at least once. They didn't need to be 'told' again.
In the corner of the room was a young Tiefling girl. She had her arms around a young human boy. Her pale blue skin beckoned him to find a way to cause her pain.
"Except you." He said, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "You come with me." She would do well. Quite well.
As the steps grew closer, Fille's mind began to create a terrible scene of what would happen to her. No doubt she wouldn't live through the day...
She heard two sets of feet enter the room. One was heavier, like a man. the second softer, and more timid. Likely a slave. Fille guessed a girl. She then heard the cage door swing open with a loud creack. Fille cautiously stepped out. She jumped, alarmed when Kouzlo told her to leave. Hurriedly she scurried in the direction where she remembered the stairs to be. In her blindness, she ran headfirst into a wall. Stunned, and afraid her clumsiness would cost her. However, Kouzlo seemed to ignore her as he rattled the cage that Sindri was in. "Wake up, My Dear." He said in a mocking tone.
Fille fumbled to walk up the steps. She paused as she was leaving. She didn't want to leave Sindri there... Or the other slave girl. She gulped, and promised herself that she would find Sindri when all of this was over. With that, she hurried up the stairs, glad to be free for the moment. And wishing that somehow she could help those who were behind her.
Deep in the mines, success had been... minimal. Barrl and Orryn worked hard, and managed to save four kolbold lives. They had also succeeded in saving a crushed dwarf. Sadly, he didn't live more than a few minutes after they recovered him. Solace could be found in the fact that he had not been alone when he had died. But he had been in the company of brethren. This fact made the trouble worth it.
Most of the voices that called into the night had faded. Either they had given up trying to call for help, or they had died.
The stone seemed deeper than was possible. And in the short few hours of night that they had, they were unable to recover any others before the Drow returned, and informed them that all of the miners would come to the main house, and work with the common slaves. They left after this, leaving the miners to follow their orders.
The Kolbolds grumbled to each other in their gutteral language. From what little the dwarves could make out, they were displeased that they would be turned to do such menial tasks. They spoke in bitter tones that their meaningful work of retrieving stone from stone, was gone. And that they would now be forced to do everything from cleaning the floors to wiping the Drow's bottoms.
Yes. They were very unhappy.
08-22-2012, 02:56 AM
Barrl walked quietly among the throng. Since no one had bothered to specifically take it from him, his pick bounced along at his back, the handle strapped securely to his midsection by the scrap of leather that served him as belt. The metal crescent of it's head followed the contours of his knotted shoulders, one sharp end laying against each of his round shoulders.
He spoke lowly to Orryn, "Taken without a fight. The Great Mason laughs at our crude designs." He abruptly burst into a rollicking belly laugh, silenced quickly by the turned heads of drow.
08-22-2012, 03:42 AM
The rattling of the cage jolted Sindri awake, she'd slipped far deeper into sleep then she intended and had not even heard Kouzlo open the cage. She saw that Kouzlo had brought another slave girl with him, one Sindri had not seen before, she'd remember someone like that. As she saw Fille hurry out of the room Sindri's mind abandoned her plan of escape, she would not leave without Fille and she didn't know this new slave but she looked more then strong enough to overpower Sindri easily.
"Yes master?" she replied meekly trying not to look at his face, he was smiling again. Sindri didn't know what she hated more about her masters smiling, the fact that they were never genuine smiles or the fact that most of them actually looked pretty when they smiled. ~No one so evil should look this fair.~ she had thought many times over her life, wondering what kind of cruel cosmic joke that was. Nonetheless she approached the door of the cage submissively, "Is it time for me to return to my duties?" she asked hoping that he would let her go without testing his horrible concoctions on her.
08-22-2012, 04:14 AM
Orryn cringed inwardly at Barrl's laughter. Such times were not for laughter. And though their captors had turned, frowning at the fact that any of their captives could feel anything approaching mirth or amusement, thankfully they had once again turned to depart the caverns, leaving the remaining slaves to follow in silence. The echoes of the old dwarf's chuckle seemed to linger and swirl in the lost corners of the mines.
Orryn grumbled to himself, shaking his head, wishing things were different, but knowing that he must play the hand he'd been dealt. Throughout the history of this world, the dwarven race had existed from the beginning; for dwarves were among the founding races: humans, elves and dwarves; the original three. From these, and from the evil of both gods and men, had sprung the rest. And though dwarves had forged themselves a mighty swath through the histories of this world, certain centuries were among their most mourned because of having been enslaved by other races. Indeed, once, to their great and everlasting shame, they had even enslaved themselves. But that was a story for another time, Orryn thought.
He spat once at the thought of his long-ago kin, bound into slavery, bent to the will of others simply because of the work they did so aptly and indeed so joyfully. Orryn glanced at Barrl, wondering if he'd taken offense at the spit, and at the same time realizing how little that mattered right now.
"Barrl," he spoke quietly, after the Drow had passed out of hearing range. "It was foolish to laugh before our captors. Before now, we were just faceless dwarves. Now, to some, we may be remembered. This cannot be."
Without waiting for a response, Orryn continued...
"Our peoples have been enslaved before. From those dark centuries we learned a great many things, some of which were passed on in our histories, our legends, and our song." He paused a moment, to let that last word sink in. "I am a bard, a historian of dwarven folk song. There will soon come a time when, I believe, we may be able to use song, as our people have before, to pass messages, to lift spirits and give hope, and eventually to bring our kin out of this bondage. But we must find them first. You are my elder, and what's more, you've been here longer. You know this place. We must begin the search for our kin. Five were with me when I was captured less than a year ago. I must find them. And I'm certain there must be more."
He looked around once more to ensure they were not overheard. Barrl was silent, his attention fully devoted.
"It's time to cut stone," he started, hoping Barrl would recognize the old dwarven expression, meaning to make a decision that could not be unmade. "I can get us out of here, you know that. But we must find our brothers. Tonight I will find you. When dark comes, and only the patrols are out, we will join together as only we stonebrethren can, and spread the word. I will be ready, and so must you. There is no cage that can hold me long. If I come not tonight, be ready the next, and the next. Do not let your faith wane! Let us share any tools or items that may aid our efforts. Let nothing pass your notice during the day! Not even the smallest thing, but it may have some use! These Drow are haughty, careless, they will leave us a wide gap for escape, for they think so little of us."
Orryn's eyes shone brightly in the darkness as he regarded his brother once more.
"I would rather death take me than see my people enslaved. So tell me: where shall we meet tonight?"
08-22-2012, 04:31 AM
"Perhaps we'll meet in the fifth circle of hell, and toast the demogorgan with his own ale," replied Barrl drily.
"By my wager they throw us all in a big pit together. Who wants to sort stinking slaves?"
"Now to sing, thats a thought. Best thing to do while yeh dig. I wonder can these shiftless dogmen be taught? They're worthless already, anything we try can only improve them."
08-22-2012, 05:51 AM
The sound of Kouzlo's bootsteps roused Yasparr from his sleep. He was up and out of the room before the first echo of the whip sounded against the stone walls of their room. Looking back, he saw the Drow turn his attention on the Tiefling in the corner.
Poor girl, he thought. Then he reconsidered. Better her than me. He found a place to hide himself against the cool walls, letting his body heat seep out and blend in with the surroundings so that he was less noticeable. He waited until Kouzlo had stalked off with his new play thing before following them at a distance. It was still an hour or so before he'd have to go clean the others' rooms.
Slowly, carefully, Yasparr stalked the Drow. It was still difficult, even though the former Outrider Ranger knew where the male tormentor was taking the slave. Yasparr had to keep out of Kouzlo's line of sight and his notice if he didn't want to suffer a worse fate than being experimented on. He wasn't surprised when the Drow nearly drug the Tiefling down the stone spiral staircase. He was surprised, however, when the human girl stumbled out of the office door and hastily climbed up out of the pit.
Yasparr stepped forward and clamped a hand over the human's mouth, shushing her with a soft "Quiet." He waited until she stopped struggling. "Why did Kouzlo release you?" whispered Yasparr. "What is he going to do with the Sylvan Elf you were with?" He pulled her into an alcove lest a passing Drow see them. The last thing he needed right now was the interference of one of their 'masters'.
08-22-2012, 07:33 PM
Lily’s eyes opened as soon as she heard the footsteps approaching, it was very rare that she would ever oversleep enough to be awoken. Of course it was just as rare for her to have something else to ponder at night other then the usual ordeals. As the heavy footsteps approached she realized it had to be one of the Drow men. Lilly quickly shook the boy in her arms awake; he looked up at her with freight after the sudden jolt before realizing what was happening. Lilly had hoped the boy would shuffle out of the room before the Drow male entered completely, hoping he could escape the waking call but unfortunately he did not.
There before the few who were left in the room stood Kouzlo, and for the female slaves he could have been one of the more terrifying of the Drow in the house. Often he preferred females to experiment on, maybe he just delighted at their screams or perhaps it was some form of mental complex none the less it was true: he almost always chose female victims. Lilly quickly helped up the small child pushing him to scurry past Kouzlo in hopes the whip would only touch him once. In the hurry and panic of everyone leaving the room, only Lilly was left. The child who she had shown kindness and compassion to the night prior left without a second glance back, of course what did she expect in a place like this.
In the commotion however she had attracted the eye of the one she wished so desperately to avoid. Cleaning was easy, even punishment could be dealt with well, but to be experimented on could easily mean death in a matter of hours. One more crack of the whip and it touched her thigh and instantly she sprung up standing tall, she moved briskly towards the only exit just past Kouzlo, until he beckoned her to follow him. Just three feet from the door and only a few inched from Kouzlo she was so close to avoiding the torture that now awaited her.
As Koulzo left the room so did she walking behind him as if she was being lead on a terribly short leash. Her hooves made a soft click clop sound as she followed, hands in front of her much like a prisoner being lead to the gallows. This would be the first time she would be subjected to the experiments and the thought of it did not comfort her; especially seeing as how few people ever survived them. Without realizing it her paces slowed just enough to cause Kouzlo to grab her hastily by the arm and drag her the rest of the way towards his laboratory. The grab itself was enough to cause a small bruise later on.
As she entered the room she watched as Kouzlo opened one cage letting out a frail and small human girl. She jumped out looking surprised and quickly scurried away running out. Lilly heard a crash as if the girl ran into something and internally hoped the child would be okay. In the room Lily’s eyes darted quickly from one item then to next seeing vials of bubbling liquid were everywhere, dried and pickled substances in jars lined the walls obviously used in poisons and potions, and cages both suspended from the ceiling and on the ground. A table even sat in the corner with leather straps to hold down a victim’s limbs. There was just so much that Lily had wished she would never have to see.
As she observed quietly Kouzlo rattled another cage talking in a mocking tone down towards whatever poor slave was stuck inside. The moment a female voice responded it caught Lillys attention, her sky blue eyes glowing softly as they started at her. It was an elf of sorts, her body covered in scars and looking malnourished. If there was one good thing about being a Teifling it was that you could easily better then most on very limited rations, though the strength that came with it would decline if you could not get proper nutrition. So while her body may look relatively strong and healthy she was nowhere close to others of her race. As she stood there her tail swayed gentle from side to side like a pendulum, never uttering a word as she waited for instructions or for the procedure to begin.
08-24-2012, 07:49 PM
Fille's limbs shook uncontrollably as she finally reached the top of the stairs. She was free from that awful man's hands... But she felt like a part of her was still stuck down there, about to be tortured. Deeply disturbed, she walked down the hallway, knowing she was supposed to go and clean Dyka's room today. She just hoped that the violent priestess wouldn't be there. She particularly liked to punish slaves like her.
Before Fille could take another step, a hand clamped over her mouth. A small squeak made it out of her throat. She struggled for a moment, before realizing that a struggle was useless, and she was more weak than a child. It was then, that Fille heard a familiar voice tell her to be quiet. A small, internal argument raged inside of her, but the dispute was quickly settled, and fear won her over. She obediently silenced herself.
"Why did Kouzlo release you? What is he going to do with the Sylvan Elf you were with?"
Quickly, a pair of arms pulled her off to the side where no one would see them. At first Fille was confused with what the man was saying. Until she realized it was the male elf who had seen she and Sindri the night before. His name was... She wracked her memory, and remembered. It was Yasparr, the one who had given them bread, and then told her to eat it as if she couldn't understand the Elven language. It made her wonder why he now spoke in his own language.
Once he removed his hand from her mouth, she spoke in a hushed, and quiet voice. "Don't know." Her body shook slightly as her fear began to wear off. "I don't know that either. He told me 'leave', is all he said!" She said in adequate Elven. "There was another slave. I wasn't see her." She whispered in a tiny voice. She hoped this was enough for him, and he would let her go. Not involve her in some plan to save Sindri, that would get them killed. But Fille was afraid that something just like that would happen.
“Hey you two! Stop talking!”
As the two dwarves, Barrl and Orryn, were transported to the main house. As they were taken out of the mine, they got a glimpse of the outside gates of the E'Bezcitny House. They were able to see that the house itself was built into the cavern wall that made up the city of Zlomynsnost. Around the entrance were many pillars where stalagmites and stalactites had met, melding together. Some of these pillars were big enough to make small houses out of , other were as thin as a person's body, and looked as fragile as glass.
Beyond the stone pillars was a shimmering force that created a semicircle around the pillars. It also covered the entrance to the house, which, oddly, was built twenty feet off of the ground. It appeared as though anyone who walked out of the door would fall to the ground below them. However, the dwarves knew better. Drow were built with the innate ability to levitate. Thus, the door was not so inaccessible. Unless of course, you were a dwarf, or a kolbold. In which case, you lacked the ability to float on thin air, and were tied to the ground. The idea of a flying dwarf was hardly practical. And unless they were to be thrown into the air, flailing limbs and all, there was a problem.
However, the Drow had solutions to such problematic problems. Sadly, the idea of a dwarf flinging catapult was never considered.
A large, translucent plate was summoned. It appeared to be a thin, circular piece of glass. The circle spanned over twenty feet, and hovered a few feet off of the ground. Gruff voices ordered them to step onto the shimmer, obviously magical, disk. When a few of the kolbolds tried it out, they found that the disk neither gave to their weight, nor seemed unsteady in any way. It seemed as though they had stepped onto a solid platform.
Once the slaves had been boarded onto the transportation device, it lifted into the air. When it did so, there was no jolt, that might cause anyone aboard to feel unstable. Rather, the ascent was smooth, and steady. There was no risk of someone falling off unless they willingly jumped. Some of the kolbolds were tempted, and uneasy feelings formed knots in the dwarves’ stomachs. It was in their nature to like their feet firmly on the ground.
The first room they arrived in looked like a hall for formal greetings. In the back of the room, there were two hallways. One on the far left corner, and one on the far right. The slaves were hurried down the right corridor. The hallway seemed to go on, and on, unchangingly. They travelled deeper, and deeper into the cavern wall. In the end, they all felt surrounded by stone. For in fact, they were. They passed a large, grand looking door. The double silver doors were carved with intricate designs of spiders. Hundreds, and hundreds of spiders, all surrounding one larger arachnid that had the face of a beautiful, lustrous woman. It was clear that within was a hall of worship. The spider goddess, Lolth. It was a doorway that was avoided my most slaves. They all hurried past it whenever attending duties. They thanked the good gods that they were never told to clean the hall. Only Drow hands were clean enough to care for the worship hall of Lolth.
Not far after the eerie place, there was a hallway to their right. The Drow pointed to it, and simply said, “You sleep down there. You stay there for noc. You leave in the morning. In the day, you do what we tell you to do. You do not speak. You do not think. You look at the floor. Step out of line, and we will enjoy punishing you.” The voice said harshly. “Start by cleaning the hallways. Rags are in the slave pit.” With that, their escorts left. The two dwarves, and nine remaining kolbold were left to begin attending their duties. It seemed they would be simple enough. Keep the whole place clean at all times. Never stop working. When you finish all your jobs, redo them. Easy concept.
In Kouzlo’s office, the Drow wasted no time getting right to work. The curious thing about this test was that he needed two subjects… Then and again, there were two women who’s screams he could enjoy.
He had strapped Sindri into the large contraption in the corner of the room. “Please do stay still My Dear, we wouldn’t want anything to go wrong.” He smiled wickedly at her as he strapped her into the uncomfortable seat. Kouzlo glanced over at the Tiefling in the corner. He had locked her in the cage where he had put Sindri and the human. “Perfect…” He crossed the room, and unlocked the girl, grasping her arm. His dark skin contrasted dramatically against her pale blue complexion.
He pushed her into another ‘chair’ like Sindri’s. It was also attached to the device. He strapped her in just as he had strapped SIndri in. Making sure that she could hardly move if she wanted to. He gave them both a once over, and it seemed he thought that their positions were acceptable. He walked swiftly over to his work table, and retrieved two thin syringes. Each were filled halfway with a faintly green liquid. He set one down, and brought the other to Sindri. “Hold still.” He slowly pushed the end of the needle into Sindri’s neck, and, rather than inject the fluid, he used the needle to pull out her blood, which quickly mixed with the green fluid. He pulled the needle out of his first test subject, and shook it slightly to mix her blood with his special fluid. Then he took a step over to Lilly, and injected the mixture into her.
He repeated the action with the second syringe. Only he took blood from the Tiefling, and injected it into Sindri. “Step one: Complete.” He muttered to himself.
Then his eyes turned to the device. "Alright, please try not to scream. After all, it is early in the morning, and some of those above are still trying to sleep." With that, he spoke a word of magic, and the contraption began to whir in an unearthly way. At first, it felt as though a warmth was spreading their the subjects' limbs. But this quickly grew into a burning pain. It seemed to make their insides writhe, and wither. It felt as if every fiber of their being was being broken down, and changed. Because it was.
After was seemed like hours, Kouzlo turned the device off. Neither of the subjects appeared any different. That was good. Kouzlo pulled out a small notebook, and a quill. "Alright, tell me. Do you feel nauseous, dizzy, or faint?" He looked at the two of them, and without an answer, wrote something down in his notebook. "Good."
08-24-2012, 08:09 PM
Yasparr had released Fille when she stopped struggling, and he listened carefully to her frightened answer. After a moment he spoke. "You speak well for a human." He looked like he would have liked to spit after saying the word 'human', but he refrained. "Very well. Let us return above before we are discovered missing."
He took the other slave's hand and began to quickly move up the hallway, pulling her into crevices with him when other slaves passed by. They were both house slaves, assigned duties in the rooms and living chambers of the E'Bezcitný family. To be caught outside their area of responsibility could mean harsh punishment, but Yasparr was beginning to remember more of who he was before his capture.
He remembered the sense of duty to his people that being an Elven Outrider entailed. The Outriders were the far-roaming rangers who guarded the outskirts of the Elven territories. They put their own lives in danger to ensure that the Elven society was kept safe for all, and they oftentimes lost their lives in pursuit of their calling. That was how Yasparr had come to be captured; he was on a routine route with his father and several others, combing the rocky ridges near the Borderlands when they were attacked in the early evening hours by the Drow. Yasparr's hands clenched. He would like to wring their thin dark necks and snap them like twigs.
Twigs. Trees, the wind, a gentle breeze on the evening air...he missed all of that. He couldn't die down here. His life couldn't end here, in service to these evil demon spawn! Yasparr didn't realize that he was frowning. The thin light cast by the illuminating lichen and translucent lines of glow stone in the caves gave the hallway a soft glow, allowing the human at his side to see nearly as well as he could. Yasparr kept a firm hold on Fille's hand as they made their way back to the slaves' quarters.
08-24-2012, 08:36 PM
Fille felt slightly proud of herself when he remarked about her speaking good Elven. But that feeling was short lived.
She felt the elf's hand take hers, and he began down the hallway. Whenever footsteps were heard coming down the corridor, they would duck to the side, out of sight.
No, no, no, no... Fille thought. She was getting dragged into the escape. A niggly voice in the back of her mind told her that she had asked to be part of the escape. She had asked to be involved in this. She was getting what she wanted, wasn't she? The image in her mind of light raining from the above entered her mind. That image brought her hope, and a reason to fight.
Fille was absolutely quiet as Yasparr pulled her along the hallways, keeping her hand tight in his. She hoped that she wouldn't be late to clean Dyka's room. And yet, she wondered why the witch couldn't clean her own room. She internally cringed. Such thoughts again her mistress could earn her beatings... Many times a slave would think such bitter thoughts, only to find that his master was listening to his mind. It never ended well.
She gulped, and quieted her mind. She looked around, and wondered where exactly it was that Yasparr was taking her. After a few twists and turns in the complicated structure of the E'Bezcitný House, Fille was able to figure out where they were going. This made her even more worried. Slaves were not allowed in the slave pit unless they were retrieving cleaning items. If a Drow learned that they were doing anything else, they would be punished for 'taking a break'. This made her insides churn. Many times she had collapsed of exhaustion in the room, only to be woken by the bite of a whip. The Drow never hesitated to punish. Mercy was against their nature.
Fille's mind confirmed her suspicions as they entered the slave room. She realized that really, it was the perfect place to go. If anyone asked, they were just taking rags to clean with.
"What is it we be doing here?" She said in a hushed voice, afraid someone would hear them. Luckily, though, the pit was empty, and still.
She looked around. Coarse sacks, and torn blankets were scattered around the room. They were the only warmth the slaves were given at night. And it was hardly enough with the number of slaves there were. Some slaves fought viciously over the measly possessions. Others would take turns with them, and make do as well as they could when it was someone else's turn. Fille always thought it was pointless. For sometimes another slave would snatch your blanket in the middle of the night for themselves.
She looked back at Yasparr, curiosity in her eyes.
08-24-2012, 08:53 PM
Yasparr scanned the Slave Pit. Thankfully it was still empty.
He looked over at Fille. "We have duties." He picked up an armful of rags and sorted through them, looking for the cleanest in the pile. "Here, take these and get to Dyka's room. If you are questioned say that Kouzlo just released you, maybe they will spare you the whip."
Now that he had a purpose he felt somehow more disconnected from their situation than before. He had once drifted through each day as if it was a dream. Now he felt urgency and fear for where they were. The girl in front of him was just a human but she was his fellow slave. Yasparr felt drawn to protect Sindri; she was a Sylvan like he was. Still, anyone not a Drow was his 'people' down here. He took a few rags for himself as well.
"You," he said to the girl as they started to leave. "You have to eat more. Strengthen yourself. Something will happen soon, I feel it." He glanced down the hallway to both sides, making sure that the coast was clear. "Alright, let's go." It had been years since he had spoken so much. His throat felt over-used and dry from the effort. He began to walk down the corridor, pretending that he was simply a slave on his way to his duty instead of one who felt the need to run.
Soon he would be in Verazda's room. At least there it should be quiet and he could quell the rapid beating of his heart.
08-24-2012, 10:11 PM
Fille gave a tiny nod to the elf. "I will try to do that you have say." She said, holding the bundle of rags in her arms. She watched as he left. Then she sighed. As she walked through the hallways, she felt... different. For once, she felt like she was important. Like she knew something that the Drow didn't know. Like she was more than a tool to do their every bidding. Like... She had a purpose. It was something that she had never felt before. And it was something that she savored. It was also, sadly, something that was hard to keep off of her face. Luckily, no one paid her much attention, and she kept her eyes on the floor, like a good slave did.
When she arrived at Dyka's room, she was relieved to find it empty. She quickly got to her duties, and thoroughly did her job, as she always did.
As she cleared the floor, and straightened the furniture, she noticed little bits of finger-length, coarse black hairs. They made her shiver. Because she knew of the beast it came from. The one that the goddess, Lolth, had given her mistress in repayment for her services to her. The thing was a creatures of the Abyss. A demon animal. It was something that belonged in nightmares, not the real world. She shuddered again, and forced herself to stop thinking about the terrifying creature.
She returned her thoughts to her duties, and tried to finish them quickly.
Verazda, or perhaps Geala, was sitting in her room. She looked at herself in the mirror. At her skin, that was paler than that of a normal Drow. And at her eyes. They were hazel... Such things would normally have given her away to the Drow. She sighed, and reached for a small container of powder, and a brush. She powdered the black dust into her face, and evenly spread it around. She did the same with her arms, and neck, and every bit of exposed skin. She hated this part of the day. Verazda waited for a moment. Her skin began to feel prickly for a moment, then it stopped. She ran a finger over her cheek. The powder did not rub off. It had bonded with her skin correctly.
Next she reached across her vanity, and took a small vial, stopped with an eyedropper. She upstopped it, and put the vial down, removing the dropper. With one hand, she pried her left eye open. With the other, she dripped a few drops into her exposed eye. She hissed in frustration as the liquid stung her iris. She quickly repeated the action in her right eye. Verazda put the dropper down, and shut her eyes, waiting for the intense pain to end. When it did, she opened her eyes, and looked at herself in the mirror.
Her eyes were no longer the mossy brown color that they had been before. But instead, they were vibrantly red. She gritted her teeth. By the next day, her eyes would be hazel again. And her skin would take on it's light complexion. Then she would have to repeat the terrible process.
She straightened up, and whisked her stark white hair behind her. She looked at herself, at Verazda. And she wondered how much she had become who she was pretending to be. She quickly hid the powder, and the eye drops.
Verazda swiftly existed her room, only to see the slave, Yasparr, who cleaned her room each day. "On time, for once." She snarled, sweeping past him.
08-24-2012, 10:31 PM
Yasparr had been deep in thought when he approached Verazda's room. He heard a chair scraping across the floor inside and stilled the hand that was reaching for the doorknob. One thing that slaves learned quickly was to never interrupt their masters. A slave who blended into the furniture was the most successful and long-lived of them all. He waited for what seemed like eons until he could hear her walking towards the door.
Yasparr stood against the wall and waited. As she swept past him he looked up at his mistress and watched her walk by. He didn't lower his eyes like he was taught, but studied the way she moved and what her mood was. Once thing was apparent; she was not happy. He kept watching her as she walked, and if she were to turn around she would see him staring at her.
She had a toe-heel stride, one that the Sylvan used in the dense forest floor. Most Drow practically walked on the toes of their feet and the balls, used to skipping off loose rock and hard surfaces all the time, and ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Verazda was...different.
08-24-2012, 11:01 PM
Sindri's entire body tensed as she felt the substance begin to take effect, the sensation was far different then what she'd been through before, but surprisingly less painful the the time before. It felt as if her ands and feet were being set on fire and slowly turned to liquid and back, "It's mostly in my hands and feet." Sindri said through gritted teeth, she knew how this went, he didn't simply want to hurt her he wanted her to describe it, and describe it well "They feel like they're being melted down and reshaped." Sindri leaned her head as far back as it would go and focused on one of the ceiling features, blocking the rest out. "I think I'm losing feeling in my arms now." She said trying not to cry from the pain.
All she could now do was wait for Kouzlo to speak again, but it felt like a small eternity of waiting.
08-24-2012, 11:47 PM
Orryn took measure of his new surroundings. So much to absorb, so much to memorize in such a short time. But if there was one thing this old stonecarver knew, it was that when it came to matters like this, haste was the enemy, and there would be an agonizing abundance of time to commit every hallway, every alcove, every doorway, and every movement of the enemy, to memory.
It had literally made his heart leap with joy to see that there were, in fact, so many more slaves here in this dark layer of hell than he'd previously known. A bittersweet realization, for he wished such existance upon not even the worst of his enemies. "Death before bondage," had ever been a tenet of the dwarven faith, as it were. And it applied to all, not only the dwarves themselves, but their adversaries as well. Some may deserve death, but none deserved to have their natural, personal rights taken away by another. Thought he had seen no faces he'd recognized during the short trip from the mines to the central house, Orryn's heart was full of hope that some of his team still lived. If he'd had any influence on them in the time they'd worked together, they would be doing as he was. Learning.
Alright. This mission starts off simply: start cleaning. Get some rags, find a spot in one of these hallways, start cleaning, and start putting that old mental mapping skill to good use. Pay attention to the time of day, and who is seen moving where. Look at the Drow when they aren't paying attention, study them and learn who they are. Look for insignia of rank or station. Pay attention to who defers to whom; who is in charge here? Which of their captors carry weapons, and of what kind? Which of them carry keys? And of course, always listen without giving any indication of such, and learn more of their language. Each word learned adds to the rest, and increases his chances of understanding a phrase here and there. Each new word is like a nugget of gold added to the sack.
Orryn began to clean, studying everything with care and diligence, and leaving no spot he touched beyond any measure of reproach: without blemish, smudge or stain, and perfectly polished. In fact he found comfort in the rhythm of the work, and before he knew it, a low, almost haunting melody emerged from his throat. Softly, without words, Orryn hummed. The tune was similar to many old melodies he knew, and simple enough to be...catchy. It was repetitive, with a turnaround so easy it was almost effortless to hum along to. Orryn made sure never to hum when any Drow were close. He didn't mind if they heard, he just wanted them to never be certain where exactly it was coming from. And whenever one of them would run around the corner, hoping to catch the slave who would dare make a noise, only to leave once again in frustration, Orryn made sure to make eye contact with another slave and wink and smile.
It was a game, with three rules:
1. Spread the tune to others,
2. Let them hear it and be irritated by it, and
3. Don't ever let them catch the singer.
Once the tune spreads wide, Orryn thought, it would be time to add a few words. The thought of that made Orryn smile.
08-25-2012, 06:42 PM
Kouzlo smiled at Sindri's words. She was such a good girl. telling him exactly what he wanted to hear. He wrote her descriptions of the bonding process in his notebook. As far as he could tell, this was all going as planned. He looked at the Tiefling. "And how do you feel?" He received no immediate verbal response. "Oh don't worry Sindri," He said, looking down at his notes. "The pain will fade soon. Please tell me when it does." He said with a sickly smile.
The wizard set his notebook down, letting his long, thin fingers slide over the leather binding. So many records of testing were in that journal. When he was bored, he would read through it, and find he could remember each and every one of their screams. He relished it.
Removing his hand from the journal, he reached for Sindri's arm. He slid his thumb over her wrist, feeling her veins and tendons beneath her skin. Kouzlo positioned his thumb nail in the center of her wrist, and pressed down sharply, creating a slight injury on her wrist. A tiny amount of blood seeped out of the ailment. Without a word, he stepped over to Lilly, and took her wrist as well. He saw the exact same injury on her wrist that he had caused in Sindri's wrist. A wicked smile formed on his lips. "Tell me... Do each of you hear a foreign voice in your head? I promise you're not going insane. The test is nearly over." He said, stepping back, and sinking into his office chair.
Fille's hand moved in a steady circle as she polished the floor. Her eyes and ears told her that there were new slaves in the house. Perhaps they were miners, given a new purpose... Though, of course, she tried to ignore them. Slaves were slaves. Still... Some of them seemed different.
As she worked, she continually glanced up at a dwarf nearby her. In all of her short life, she had seen very few dwarves. The Drow didn't like them working in the house. Not a lot. They preferred their brute strength in the mines... But now they were here, in the house.
Fille realized that it wasn't the dwarf's sudden appearance that made him so different from the other slaves. It wasn't his appearance, for he looked like any other dwarven miner, and his face was too dirty to recognize his features. But the peculiar thing... He was humming. It was an odd tune. It was unlike anything that she had ever heard in her life. But even so, she found it captivating. She felt taken by the notes, and found herself humming along. The wordless song continued in her mind like a loop. It became glued to her brain, and she was enraptured with it as she worked. It seemed familiar. Like something she had heard before. But she knew in her heart that her ears had never heard it before.
Fille looked around, and listened, making sure that no slaves of Drow were around to here her. She saw another dwarf. They had probably arrived together, so she decided that it would be safe to speak in the other dwarf's presence.
"That's a curious tune..." She said in the elven tongue, hoping he had picked up their masters' language. She was unsure if the dwarf would understand her. Sadly, if he spoke the dwarven tongue, she would be completely unable to communicate with him. But regardless, she would try. This person was different. She felt that she might be able to make an ally out of him.
As Verazda walked past Yaparr, she noticed that he did not lower his gaze. She slowed her step, and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She knew that the real Verazda would have beaten him senseless for such an action. She almost turned around and performed the action she had done so many times. But she realized that keeping her appearance as Verazda would not be important for very long.
She had confirmed the rumors. There would be an attack on house E'Bezcitný House, from the Vypovězení house. And it would end badly. Verazda did not know which of the two families would come out on top. The E'Bezcitnýs were known for their unique house structure. It was made in a way that was extremely difficult to get into, if there was an attack. The place was built with only one know main entrance, and the hallway was only wide enough for a few people to stand, shoulder to shoulder, in it. The Vypovězenís knew this, however. And Verazda was sure that they would find a way to kill them all. She suspected highly that it had been an agent of the Vypovězení house who had collapsed the mines. If they could cause that much damage in a mine, then they would have no problem blasting an opening into the cavern wall. The E'Bezcitnýs would be left without a defense. Most would have died from the blast. And their sheer manpower would overwhelm theirs.
Even the protective shield of magic would not protect them. After all, if the agent had gotten into the mines, then they already knew how to get through it. She needed to hide. If all went well, the E'Bezcitnýs would all be killed. However, if she survived, she could have the Vypovězení House eliminated. That Drow 'justice' would kick in, and two Drow houses would fall. She found that she liked the idea of that. She would be the only living E'Bezcitný. Life would be much less complicated.
Sadly, she would not be able to return to the surface. With her uncle gone, there would be no one to vouch for her. And she would be unwelcome. She would need to make the best of the Underdark.
However, the problem would be surviving long enough.
08-26-2012, 12:35 AM
Yasparr saw the sidelong glance Verazda shot him, but when she merely paused before continuing on down the corridor he realized that he had been holding his breath. He almost wished she had confronted him. His heartbeat pounded rapidly against his sternum, drowning out the voices in his mind urging him to run.
Drow! Get down! Run away! No!!! Yasparr, get away from them!!! Ancient echoes from a long-forgotten past swelled back into his memories. There had been a battle in the forest near dusk; other Sylvan Elves were fighting, but the numbers were overwhelming. Magic had flared across the glade, striking him in the chest and suddenly....suddenly he could no longer move. His limbs and his legs were frozen in place, and he stood helpless as a dark-skinned hellion from the deep cut down his father and his elder brother. A white-haired, sharp featured man walked up to Yasparr and grinned at him. The Drow brought a fist back to strike Yasparr, and then there was no more.
He refocused his eyes. He was still in the Underdark outside Verazda's room. Quickly Yasparr entered her quarters and shut the door behind him. He began to methodically go through her things, straightening up her bedding, gathering clothes for the wash, sweeping the floors and wiping down her furniture. As he organized her hair clips a thought began to form. What if he could find a weapon, any thing, really, and secret it away? Then if there was ever a chance to run, to escape, he would have something to fight with.
And go where? How many miles under the surface of the forests do you think you are?
Yasparr shoved down the voice of doubt and began to search her room more carefully. There had to be something here that he could use; the Drow were evil to their core. A woman like Verazda was bound to have a myriad of weapons stashed away.
Maybe one for each outfit, the cynical voice laughed in his head. It was worth the effort, though, if it gave him some leverage the next time he was alone with one of his 'masters'.
08-26-2012, 12:53 AM
The experiment itself was a rather traumatic ordeal for the Tiefling, while she was strapped into the contraption her tail flicked area wildly as the pain increased and nearly felt like the lava from Mount Caraustar was flowing through her veins. As she felt more pain and her own usually high pain tolerance went down due to the immense searing pain her skin darkened. This was a natural adaptations of some demons that when in enough pain or when hurt there skin will darken so they can escape into the shadows. Lilly’s turned darker in reaction to the process something to almost a royal blue coloring. Her head was spinning and body felt aflame all she thought was “I feel like I’m gonna puke..”
Of course the drow wizard berated them with questions on how they felt. The elf who the drow addressed as Sindri, obliged the man talking through clenched teeth. Lilly however much like any other time did not wish to speak as always. Her fists clenched from the pain that was still shooting through her body due to her high pain tolerance it too more to overload her nerves and cause numbness. Her fists clenched tightly till her knuckled turned the previous pale blue color she was before this excruciating experiment. Yes her pigmentation would change back once the searing was over but even then it would take a small amount of time.
After questioning Sindri the drow then looked over at her and asked the same thing, in response Lilly merely narrowed her eyes, all the while thinking to herself “you already want to see me in pain, I won’t describe it to you like a bedtime story….” Strangely enough the way she thought in her head sounded similar to when she actually spoke, her thoughts sounded unnatural but at the same time velvety and feminine. As if the sound was not from this relm, it had a strange echo to them like the words stayed lingering without sound as another started. Truthfully even if someone merely heard her voice and was blind they would assume her a demon but the sound of it.
Lilly watched as carefully as the drow continued to torment the elf causing her minor injuries just to see her squirm or that is what Lilly assumed until she felt the small pinch on her now sensitive skin (due to the inflammation). Her eyes glanced towards where she felt the pinch and almost as soon as she looked herself did the drow inspect her. She too had been injured in the same place as the elf. Of course the drow seems all to pleased and internally Lilly could guess why. In fact she mentally guessed “It’s a binding spell….” Now most binding spells are merely physical, but the moment the drow asked about voices she realized it must be more. Or at least attempting to be more, the last thing she had to herself that kept her at piece was her mind the memories of her past the thoughts that helped her sleep at night. If that were to be taken away it would be truly torturous.
As of yet she had not heard any other voices but she prayed that it would continue to stay like that. Of course the elf could just not be thinking to herself and Lilly had heard many rumors about the strange experiments that lurked in this room. Lilly closed her eyes simply waiting and listening to see if there was really anything else invading her mind. As the seconds pressed on she kept hoping it was a fluke experiment that it had not happened though subconsciously she was almost certain it had.
Lilly's hair would stay the same color and style she would simply turn more this shade of blue.http://th09.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/f/2010/299/f/1/f145a9a5d9fd3db6128e3fe6a8b373a0-d31kqkx.jpg
08-26-2012, 02:04 AM
Sindri could feel the pain begin to fade, she took a deep shaky breath slightly relieved, this particular experiment might be over soon. But suddenly she heard a vaguely otherworldly voice, almost like an echoed whisper, "you already want to see me in pain, I won’t describe it to you like a bedtime story….” She turned her head to look at the other slave, who'd turned a completely different color. Her eyes widened and she whispered, "W-was that you?" she wasn't sure how to feel about this, what in the hell had Kouzlo done to them? "I can feel my hands now." she said meekly obeying Kouzlo's earlier request.
Sindri's mind began racing, Did I just hear her? But did she actually talk? Kouzlo didn't seem to hear her. What the hell is going on?!~ Her thoughts stopped when he took her wrist and made her bleed with his nails. The pinch was almost beneath her notice after the injection, but when she watched Kouzlo inspect the other and saw she had blood on her wrist without him pinching her she realized that this ws far from over.
"A clever spell master." she told the Drow, she'd learned a long while ago that he liked to be complemented on his work, "Only someone as skilled as you could have imagined such a thing." Hoping that if she stroked his ego she'd let them go.
08-26-2012, 12:03 PM
Lilly head dropped as if in defeat. The combination of pain and panic had caused her not to hear the elf’s voice previously. Though as she calmed herself and listened she could hear the small hopes to be let go. It was the same voice that pushed the Drow’s ego up but it was almost as if while the elf spoke Lilly could hear what she really wanted, which in this case was to be let go and not experimented on further. While Lilly had not been skilled in magic she did know of it. Unless they could find someone to reverse this, the two of them would be connected through mind and body until the end of their days. Meaning if one of them died so would the other, like they were now just different halves of the same person. Her tail lay just as still as her body, this was in fact a new low for her.
True she did care for others but her minds sanctuary was now gone. Gone like her freedom, gone like her brother that left a few years before Lilly did. “Now if he experiments on one of us…..it will end up effecting both…” She thought going through the ups and downs of this new lifestyle that was thrust upon her. “maybe the same can be said for anything good though I doubt much good will come to us down here.” Lilly’s thoughts just rambled as she finally opened her eyes and glanced over to Kouzlo.
08-26-2012, 01:39 PM
Barrl was scrubbing a floor with a black and murderous scowl on his wrinkled features when the sound of a small voice hooked his attention. Looking up at Fille with a curious eye, a white-toothed grin cracked his stony facade. "This little tree-bird's twittering at us, Orryn. I think it likes your song."
He tousled her hair affectionately, instantly won over by her vulnerable expression. A rounded ear peeked though her dark tresses, and the old dwarf arched his furry brows in surprise. "But look there, she's human."
Fixing her demure gaze with his own questioning eyes he asked, "Don't you speak the tongue of your fathers, child?"
08-26-2012, 09:14 PM
Orryn smiled wistfully at the exchange between the girl and the old man. It was touching to see hope germinate in fertile hearts, hearts which have never known the feeling before. What a wonderous, magnificent organ, the heart: designed to grow and produce love, and caring, and joy, and mercy, gentleness and grace; here cultivated only with such things as fear and worthlessness. Hope was a dangerous thing to grow. For in hope is a life that is impossible to contain, a growing yearning for something more, something new. But the thought that this girl would soon be a soldier in a war she had never even dreamt of, for a cause she only just began realizing existed, made Orryn's heart heavy.
Not all things new are good, though, Orryn thought. This growth of hope must be carefully tended, lest it grow out of control, and too quickly. If a plant grows too quickly, without first establishing roots, it is easily toppled or uprooted by even the mildest of winds. This would have to be taken a step at a time. The roots must grow, underground, where they cannot be seen, so that when the time comes to strike forth, there is strength to be drawn from.
The first volley has been fired, and it will only be a moment before the enemy recognizes it, feels the sting of irritation, and decides to return fire. But hope is a difficult fire to extinguish.
Orryn shared his smile with the girl and the old dwarf he had come to regard as a friend, and turned once more to his work. As always, when the drow were not present, his barrel chest thrummed softly with the tune he had imagined. He was glad to have seen the song go full circle, being passed from this house to the next, from slave to slave, and to return to this house even within a day. His soul rejoiced to see slaves dare to lift their eyes and regard one another, to recognize each other as individuals, as people, despite racial differences, despite potential danger. Eyes that now saw, recognized, focused. The realization was dawning, slowly, but naturally, in their hearts: we are individuals - we are special and unique - we are allowed to feel something more than fear.
This will not come without a very large cost, Orryn thought. But though the cost may be great, the blood spilt will be worth the reward.
Orryn had once heard a very wise old dwarf, who had lived through a season of great tribulation, say: "The tree of liberty must occasionally be refreshed with the blood of tyrants, and of patriots."
Yes, Orryn mused, this war will have its cost. But what cost could be too great for freedom?
08-27-2012, 07:33 PM
Fille looked curiously at the two dwarves. One had spoken to her, and the one, who was humming to the tune, didn't answer. He simply smiled, and continued working. She thought it was interesting...
"Tree? Bird?" She said quietly, turning her head at a slight angle. Both of these words were completely foreign to her. And yet, it seemed that he had deemed her 'Treebird'. She wondered was a 'treebird' was. She looked at him cautiously as he touched her hair. She was not sure how to respond. The elder dwarf spoke in the common tongue, and asked her if she spoke to language of her fathers. She nodded, and in a tiny whisper, said, "A little." She hadn't know her father, so the idea of knowing what language he spoke was... Odd. And it didn't make sense to her. To know the language of one's father, one would have needed to learn that language from her father. It seemed to her that these dwarves had not been born as slaves, like she was. They had been born free.
Freedom. Such an unfamiliar, and curious concept.
With that, she looked away from the two dwarves, and continued to polish the floor. Her hands made circling motions, shining the floor. Why did the Drow insist on everything being so shiny? She sighed, and found that the dwarf's tune began to float over her vocal cords again.
Kouzlo flashed a triumphant grin at the two. Sindri had expressed hearing the other's thoughts. She could see in the Tiefling's eyes that she was experiencing a similar reaction, and was indeed hearing the other's thoughts. "Wonderful..." He muttered, again scribbling something down in his journal.
He seemed to think for a moment, and consider something, He tapped his finger on the tip of his chin, apparently deep in thought.
Kouzlo heard Sindri speak to him, and couldn't help but glow with pride. "Thank you, My Dear. I do believe this was quite a breakthrough me." He said with an arrogant smirk. "Of course, I couldn't have done it without you." He said, smiling as he unstrapped the restraints which were holding the elven girl down. "Until next time." He said with a dismissive look, moving to release the Tiefling.
Once both slaves were free from the contraption, he didn't pause to order them out. Kouzlo claimed he had important things to consider, and made sure that the two of them were quick to leave the place. He also told them that they would be required to be back there in the office the next day, once noc had fallen. “Enjoy this little connection between you two.” He said as they left. “It won’t be there long.” Little did Kouzlo know that he would have trouble reversing his ‘brilliant breakthrough’.
Meanwhile, Matron Mother Nenávidět E’Bezcitný was working desperately for a solution to their current problem. After a few, short investigations it became all too clear that they would be attacked. And the attack was coming soon. She surmised that it would happen within the next week, and that the attack would be strong. She had done well to listen to her daughters’ suspicions. In the short time that they had spoken, her children had already come up with several ways that the Vypovězení house could overthrow them. If they, in that short time, could come up with affective ways to destroy the house, then the masterminds among the Vypovězení would have been plotting for days. They would already have a flawless battle plan. And so… They needed to come up with a counter. They needed to make alliances. That would be more than simple. It would be effortless.
There was an upcoming ‘social’ event being held by Matron Mother Zrada Dvakrát’Kříž, of the first house. In fact, it was being held the next day. All of the ten houses of power were invited to a friendly competition, of sorts. In Drow society, there was a game that they played. It was like the surface game, Chess, but much more complicated. The game took hours to complete, and was often made up of three players. Though it could also be played with two.
In the game, you were a kingdom at war. You had over a hundred pieces under your control. The pieced were made up of soldiers, wizards, spies, assassins, and of course, the queen. Who was to be defended at all costs. You could choose to make it every person for himself, or you could make alliances and team up on an opponent. Betrayals were not uncommon, and mercy did not exist. It was a game of wits, and trickery. It was also a game that Matron Nenávidět was gifted at playing.
It was a game that she intended to win. But she wasn’t only going to win the game. She was going to win the alliance of another house. It was a move that was unforeseen by the Vypovězení house. And it would turn the tides, letting favor fall on the E’Bezcitnýs. For one thing, and one thing only, would win Matron Mother Zrada’s respect. For she was undefeated at this complicated, and lifelike game.
________ Next Day________
As den rose the next day, the day seemed as doomed to disaster as any other. As the slaves woke up, they were delivered a large, metal bucket that was filled with edible fungus, and table scraps from the last day’s meals. The slaves scrambled over one another, fighting and pushing as they always did to get the food. There was much violence and greed among the slaves. It seemed that, in their own way, they took after their masters.
Fille stood back, unsure of how to proceed. It was because of how slaves acted that she often decided to go without food for a day. Or for a few days, even. She remembered what Yasparr had told her, though. She needed to start eating more, and building up her strength. However, this would not be an easy task to accomplish. She looked around the large room. Slaves swarmed it like rodents. She wished that she could find a face that was familiar. Maybe if the elf was there with her, he would be able to help her get some of the food that her body desperately needed. But among the throng of people, he would just be another head in the crowd.
FIlle pushed her tattered sleeves up, and plunged into the mass of slaves. Immediately, she realized that she was in for more than she asked for. She was pushed, shoved, and hit out of the way. As quickly as she had entered, she had been forced out. Fille pouted, and, fearing bodily injury, waited until the others had gone. This took a good ten minutes, and by the time that they were finally leaving, only a few of the most distasteful fungi, and a few crumbs were left. She sighed, and scavenged for what she could. She was lucky to find a forgotten, and crumbled bread loaf. It was dirty, and a little musty, but it was food. She wandered into the corner, nibbling at the corner of the small half-loaf. Fille looked around as a Drow came in, hurrying them out, and wakening those who were still asleep. She ate more hurriedly, trying to consume the food before she was hurried out as well.
Suddenly a body barreled into her, a slave who had been pushed roughly by another. In surprise, Fille let go of her bread, and it tumbled across the floor. It was quickly snatched by a kolbold, who ran off with it. FIlle got up, upset, and hungry. She gathered her cleaning supplies. It was going to be a long day.
Meanwhile, the house was buzzing with the news that the royals and even some of the slaves would be attending a special event that evening. The great thing about a day like this, was that any slaves who came with the E’Bezcitný family would be allowed to bathe, since each house was trying it’s best to impress the matron mother of the first house. So far, it had been loosely told that their jester, the slave girl who’s name only Kouzlo ever remembered, would be coming. As well as a few of their more unique slaves. Again, taking the more noticeable of the scullions, to show off what they had. Every house would be doing their best to impress upon Zrada Dvakrát’Kříž. Thus, the Tiefling would be brought, as well as the dwarves, who were so unique to have within a household, and not in the mines.
Only a few hours remained before all of those attending would go up to the Dvakrát’Kříž house, and try to be noticed among all of the others.
Geala swept into her room. She and her sisters would be going with their mother that day. And, just as the others were, she would need to dress herself properly. Geala had never been one to enjoy make-up, or anything of that fashion. But Verazda? She groaned.
As the began to hour-long process of setting out her clothing, she never even noticed the single, silver pin that was missing from her vanity.
08-28-2012, 06:53 AM
As the new day began with it's promise of mindless chores and senseless violence, the dwarven miner sensed something amiss; something different. There was an energy in the air; an intensity that almost seemed to snap like static between the Drow whenever they passed. Something was occurring soon, something important, perhaps even today. Or else something already had. No, the intensity was still growing. Flashes of anger, distrust, malice, were the theme of the day, where normally there were only disgust and disdain. Today would be no ordinary day.
Orryn moved quickly with the groups of slaves dispersing from their disgusting morning feeding, toward their places of work for the day. Admittedly, he had pushed and forced himself into the midst of the group, the same as the rest, but he bore no shame for having done so. Orryn moved to an ornate doorway in one of the great halls, a doorway covered with slender silvery horns, shaped to imitate the thorny growths on a huge spiders legs. With his typical heartiness, he began wiping, cleaning and polishing, making sure that no trace of dust nor tarnish remained.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the little human girl from the day before. Making his way unobtrusively closer to her, he caught her eye, and offered a smile. She did not return it.
"What troubles you, little bird?" he asked quietly. "Have you no song to sing today?" In his hand, he discreetly held out a rather large hunk of bread. When she hesitated, he motioned for her to take it, saying, "Eat. Do not worry, I have more. You need to stay strong." It was a small lie, it was the only crust he'd been able to snatch from amidst the mob. But a missed meal would affect him far less than her.
Barrl was nearby, and probably heard the exchange. Orryn contemplated discussing wih him what might be done about it. But really, there would always be those who bullied their way to the front of the line. Those who believed themselves entitled. In the end, even if a few of them took charge and tried to make the food distribution more equitable, would they not then effectually be the bullies? Perhaps, perhaps not.
Orryn turned back to his work, and began polishing once again, noticing how convenient these silvery, metal horns would arm about twenty or thirty of them with crude daggers if and when the time was right.
O rest ye souls, your burdens bear;
An' ne'er your bones grow weak;
For all is passed down from the strong;
An gi'n unto the meek.
One verse; just a beginning. Orryn only hoped the words would catch, and make a difference; teach this people to begin strengthening themselves as a whole, rather than acting as individuals. In the meantime, he kept his ears alert for any sign on what may be going on today that had the Drow so uptight, and decided he'd let Barrl in on his thoughts about the silver-horned door, too.
08-28-2012, 02:09 PM
Barrl sidled up next to Orryn and Fille, idly pretending to wipe a patch of floor with a rag twisted around his big toe. His arms were crossed, his searching eyes watching the bustle of activity.
"Mind what you feed this one, Orryn, her little gut's liable to blow up like a pigeon after a wedding," He flashed the girl a grin, then made a face of mock horror at her thin waist, "It's happening! Hit the deck!" He laughed at his own joke, stifling himself quickly as a perturbed drow hustled past, hissing orders at a following servant.
Barrl's lingering gaze followed the pair, searchingly. "What do ye reckon has their heads full of hornets?"
08-28-2012, 07:28 PM
Yasparr had waken with a start when the food was thrown in to the slave pit. He looked up and noticed the Drow overseers bringing in pots of grub and tossing it on the stone floor. Bits of bread, soft fungi, rotted gobs of 'meat' and mostly bare bones of some creature were mixed into the pile, and the slaves were clawing their way forward to grab what they could to survive.
He never gave their feeders much thought before, but now he looked at them and wondered who they were. Perhaps lesser born Drow, or the unfortunate, unnamed children of long-dead households? They seemed to be all men. That made sense in this woman-powered society. The door behind them was still ajar. Yasparr had never gone into that door. The only time it was opened was when the food arrived.
He watched to see that the others were still distracted, then he snuck out the mysterious door and began creeping quickly down the corridor. He was hungry; but more than food he craved knowledge, and perhaps after that, freedom.
08-28-2012, 10:30 PM
When Kouzlo had released her Sindri gathered the chains on her wrists into her hands and hurried from the room, ~What am I going to do now? I'm gonna need to completely rethink things~ she said inwards trying to keep her thoughts of bashing Kouzlo's pretty little teeth out deep in her mind so the other slave would not hear them, though she had no idea how successful something like that was. Feeling more then a bit defeated she went off to the sleeping quarters to rest, now instead of just looking after the girl Fille, she'd need to gain this other slave's trust before she could try anything and who knows how long that might take.
Sleep did not bring much actual rest, but break from the outside world was welcomed. As Sindri and everyone else awoke her mind was a haze, ~Did I dream last night or was that our link?~ She thought as she struggled through the crowd to get food for herself. As she got some of the less horrible smelling fungus down her throat Sindri caught sight of Fille, and watched as one of the Kobold slaves snatched the bread she dropped. Feeling an anger she'd never felt before the elf took a step and struck the thing across the face sending it to the floor, being constantly shackled had a few advantages after all as the iron left a mark in the Kobold's scalie skin. "You will not take from her ever again." she whispered to the creature as she picked the bread back up but looked to see Fille was already gone.
She'd have to return the girl's bread to her later, was Sindri's thought as she set herself to her tasks. Sindri placed the chunk of bread into one of her tattered pockets and went to find out her day's work. For reasons beyond her understanding (Potentially due to Kouzlo's 'preferance' for her) Sindri's work was not assigned a regular work detail like many others, so she often had to ask her taskmasters to put her somewhere. On most days they were in a good enough mood to simply swear at her for being stupid and drag her to somewhere where work needed to be done that day she must have been extraordinarily lucky, "You are to go to the bathhouse and clean yourself, after that report to Matron E’Bezcitný's chamber." The large female drow told her, towards the corridor that lead to the baths.
Cleaning herself instead of something else was a good change of pace for Sindri, but Sindri couldn't really enjoy it, she was only given permission to bathe when Matron E’Bezcitný was making party arrangments. That meant that Sindri would be forced to perform for all manner of gawking Drow nobles, using her magic to make pretty sparkles instead of setting them all alight as they deserved. Not looking forward to what Matron E’Bezcitný had to say, Sindri stayed in the bathhouse for as long as she could possibly get away with.
08-29-2012, 05:58 AM
Barrl sprawled in a shallow stream, his eyes closed. The nostrils flanking his large nose flared as he breathed in the damp mineral smell of thewater. Life's good here at the end of the world, he thought, scrubbing his arms with the threadbare rag he was able to procure for the task.
"I gather we go to some hellish standoff with another family of black elves. P'raps they'll make us kill one another for a laugh," Barrl spoke freely, to no one in particular. A subterranean crab clicked its claws at him in passing.
"But it's said there's to be," Barrl's eyes flashed involuntarily at the word, "Entertainment."
08-30-2012, 10:48 PM
As the day begun Lilly awakened her dreams were strange last night as if only half of them were her own. Of course Lilly was easily able to push and shove her way through the crowds grabbing just enough to nourish her for the day. As said before her body could work efficiently on only small amount of food. Lilly then scurried off to go and start her daily duties, nibbling on the cave fungus she managed to obtain. After finishing about half of what she grabbed she placed the rest in a small pocket that still remained intact upon her clothing.
Lilly normally saved whatever she didn’t eat for when she was not able to get food or ended up giving her share away to some of the weaker slaves. Despite the kindness she tried to show towards other, some of the salves were almost as afraid of her as the Drow. It could have been her strange appearance or large stature but with so many variables it was hard to pinpoint.
Lilly went about her daily duties, avoiding the drow as much as possibly. Not just simply because they were usually cruel and the last time she did not avoid well enough she ended up getting experimented on. It was also because there was a rumor going about the house that the Drow Matron and her family would be attending a gathering or party of sorts. Of course this meant that the most unusual slave got to accompany her, but Lilly did not like to be the center of attention. In fact she almost hated it, and considering her appearance she would be picked. Despite how wonderful a bath sounded, even with the coldest of water; Lilly still did not want to be made a spectacle of.
For nearly two hours she managed to avoid the Drow up until one caught site of her. It was a female drow guard and the rather strong women grabbed Lily by the arm and spoke. “I have been looking for you slave. You are to escort the Matron mother tonight so cleanse yourself.” She said her voice harsh and uncaring as she dragged Lilly through the back of the house. Taking her to a small river with frigid waters that ran beneath the house, only handing Lilly a bar of soap before sitting and waiting for her back inside.
Lilly sighed softly luckily she was on the farther end of the stream away from the males that would be attending tonight as well, so she had a small bit of privacy. Aside from the fact Sindri was also there. Lilly disrobed and stepped into the water only to sit down so she could lather herself. On her back were many scars from beatings of the past, whippings to be precise; no one was safe from the Drows cruelty. While she may not have been able to avoid getting caught she would at least take this time to cleanse herself thoroughly, after all who knew when her next bath would be. Every once in a while she would glance over towards the one she now shared a link with, knowing that they both wanted the same thing. To not be made a spectacle of.
08-31-2012, 09:44 PM
The frail human girl walked swiftly down the hallway. Her stomach complained to her, but she ignored it. She was used to ignoring hunger pangs on a daily basis. It was something that she associated with day-to-day life. Just another part of the nightmare.
Fille gathered the stray pieces of cloth that threatened to fall from her grasp. She tucked the corners under her arm to be sure she wouldn't lose any. Dropping something in the hallway could mean punishment. Anything could mean punishment when you were a slave to the Drow. That was how her life went, sadly. She hoped with all of her might that she would be able to change that awful fact. The night before, she had dreamed of light. Fille sighed wistfully, a smile coming to her face.
The image of the dream enveloped her mind, and her feet slowed without her knowledge. She could still see it. Fille had been lying down, looking up. There were white, fluffy balls of cotton floating high above her. A beautiful ethereal light was showering down on her from an endless above. Streaming through the soft masses. Her eyes had been blinded by this light, and it had stung her eyes. But the breathtaking, surreal radiance was too precious to blink, lest it be gone when she opened her eyes.
The crack of a whip against her skin woke her from her daydream. She shrieked, and hurried down the hallway, mentally scolding herself for becoming distracted. She glanced once at her arm where the whip's lash had struck her. Luckily, it hadn't broken her skin. But a red mark had stained her skin, and served as a warning to the girl.
Soon, she had escaped the Drow's watchful eyes. She came to a corner where a familiar face was studying an ornate doorway in one of the great halls. This particular one was sometimes used for sacrifices. But only on special occasions. Most sacrifices were carried out in the worship hall. Fille thanked the good gods that she had never had to lay eyes on the place. For if a slave was allowed to see the chamber of Lolth… It would be the last place that slave ever saw. She shuddered at the thought of an ornate, sacrificial dagger piercing her back, severing her spine… Such had been the girl’s nightmares.
She began to pass the dwarf by, but he stopped her. A ghost of a smile crossed her face. ”What troubles you, little bird?” He asked her. Have you no song to sing today? Fille slowly shook her head with a sad expression. She noticed then that in his hand was a large hunk of bread. Though it appeared to be the crust of a loaf, which had been hollowed out. She hesitated to take it. When she did, he insisted, telling her that he had more. She wondered how this was possible, but didn’t argue.
“Thank you.” She whispered, afraid someone would hear them talking to each other. Her frail fingers reached out, and took the husk of bread. She broke off a piece, and put it in her mouth. A small smile came to her dirty face. She looked around, then sat her rags down, turning to the door that he was standing next to. Fille tucked the remainder of the crust into a fold in her clothing, obscuring it from view. She picked up one of the rags, and began to polish the door beside him. Her eyes looked to her left, and to her right, making sure that no one was near enough to hear, or see them. Then she looked at the dwarf. “What is that song that you sing?” She asked in a quiet voice. “It did not have words before.” She said, making sure her hands were busy with the door as she spoke.
She jolted when the other dwarf, whom she was also familiar with, came up between them. Her face turned into true, honest horror when he began to jest quite loudly. She didn’t understand what he meant, but didn’t need to. The girl looked around, fearful that someone would see. Indeed, a Drow did pass by, but Barrl was quick to stifle his loud guffaw. Fille looked at him almost scoldingly. He wasn’t acting as a slave should. She wondered how long he had been down there. The girl supposed that perhaps more speaking, and laughing was allowed in the mines. She hoped that he would quickly learn that they weren’t in the mines anymore. She didn’t want him to be beaten. And she knew that the Drow wouldn’t hesitate if they caught him in the act.
FIlle swallowed hard, and looked between the two of them. “Tell me about your song later?” She whispered to them. Then she gathered the rags which she had dumped on the ground, tucking the ends into her arms again. She hurriedly moved off down the hallway before either if the two could say another word.
As Yasparr stepped into the dark corridor, smells of food, and decay wafted to him. The hallway was dark, and musty. The floor was not swept, and a fine layer of dust coated it.
There were three doorways on each side of him. Each doorway led to a crudely made, stone room. These rooms were square, about ten feet in each direction. The ceiling was only six feet high, giving the place a claustrophobic feeling.
Each was filled with a mound of food. It looked like years of table scraps, with dug mixed into each batch. A soft, blue glow emitted from each of these rooms. But it wasn’t the rooms, or the scraps that were glowing. Rather it was a small blue fungus that was growing from the mix of fertilizer. He recognized them as the fungus that he was fed from day to day.
Upon closer inspection, Yasparr would find that the fungus was… moving. If he looked even closer, he would find that the mushrooms were not actually moving, but growing. The rate of which they were growing was barely perceptible to the naked eye. But it was clear that these mushrooms grew to full size in a single day. It was an endless source of food that could easily be harvested each twenty four hours.
At the end of the hallway was a dead end. The Drow had seemed to vanish.
A couple of hours passed. None of the royal women were anywhere to be seen. Anyone who paid attention could tell that the four of them were in their rooms, preparing for the remainder of the day. Smells of strong perfume could be found ten feet from their doors. They were sure to make a serious impression.
Drow soldiers quickly rounded up the most exotic slaves to bring with them to the 'Battle of Wits', as many were beginning to call it. It was also starting to become a battle for survival, as the E’Bezcitný house seemed to become more and more frantic. Most slaves took little notice of this. But any who were aware of themselves, and their surroundings, could tell that something was bothering their masters.
Fear... It was something that the Drow did not often express. The Drow liked to be in control. They liked to be the ones who were in power. But when their stability was yanked out from under their feet, they shook like mice. It was then, when suddenly someone else had the upper hand, that they began to get desperate. They began to think rashly, and pay less attention to details. They would work quickly, and sloppily... And in the end, they would slip up, and they would fall. Fear was a creature that did not bode well with them. It crept into their minds, and changed the way they thought... And it had won more wars than men, or magic ever could.
And Matron E’Bezcitný was afraid.
A Drow's boots walked swiftly down the corridor. Throughout the day, the Drow had paid very little attention to the slaves. The elven female, SIndri, knew what was expected of her, and they trusted her to wash herself. Since the girl would be performing, she was allowed a special soap. This was something that caused the skin to glimmer, and sparkle. It also stung when applied. The Matron Mother and her daughters used a similar product. Nothing in the Underdark could be painless, so it seemed.
The Drow solider was simply glad that he did not have to experience such things. In a way, he was glad to be as unnoticed as the slaves.
The elf’s sharp, heat-seeking eyes were quick to find the dwarven slave who he was looking for. “Slave.” He spit the title out, as if the word tasted bad on his tongue. “Come. You will be accompanying The Matron Mother and the Priestesses tonight. You must bathe.” He said, giving the ex-miner a harsh look. “Follow me below.” He told him, turning, and walking down a corridor that was not too far away. The corridor was a long series of steps that lead to the underground river beneath the house. Orryn knew this place well. He often had to come to this frigid stream to collect water for the kitchen, or to clean with.
Laying, prone, and naked was Orryn’s fellow dwarf, Barrl.
“Hey you! Time’s up, get out!” The Drow walked over and jabbed the old dwarf’s side with the hard toe of his boot. He waiting until he had stood up, and had gotten out of the stream to dry. The Drow tried to ignore the water that splashed on his boots as the dwarf got out of the water. The annoyance still crossed his face. He gestured for Orryn to get in the water. “Just take your clothes off first.” He said, scowling. He was quite frustrated. Earlier he had had three male elves come to bathe, and they had jumped into the water, fully clothed. It was something quickly sorted out. Still, it had annoyed him.
He sighed, leaving two sets of simple, sturdy clothing. The clothes were by no means new, but they were clean, and untorn. “I will be back in ten minutes. Be done by then.” He said with a dark scowl, turning and leaving.
Not too far away, Sindri and Lilly were being hurried along as well. SIndri was given colorful garments that she was familiar with. They were the same things she wore every time she was forced to perform. Feelings of hate, and loathing were associated with them. Lilly was given garments similar to those the Dwarves had been given. They were white, and clean. The material was common, but it was much nicer than anything she had worn in quite a while. Their old clothes were taken, along with anything that was in them when the Drow came, after they had dressed into their new clothes.
At some point, Yasparr had also been rounded up, and bathed. He was grouped with the other three elves. It was apparent that the four male elves, all of similar build, and strength, would be used for the same task. What that task was, was yet to be discovered. They were all given simple, dark blue garments of the same style.
Fille looked to her left, and to her right. Her heart beat fast in fear. She wondered for a moment what she was doing. She knew that Drow soldiers would pay no attention to her as long as she acted like she was supposed to be doing what she was doing. The problem was, she wasn't.
No Drow were in sight. She let out a breath of relief, walking up to the grand hall where meals were held. This was the only room in the house that had windows, besides the odd bedroom of two. She walked to one of the walls, taking her small, stained-brown cloth to the wall. As she cleaned the walls, and the window sills, she gazed out the window into the Drows' 'Front Yard'. She looked at the assembly before her. Melacholie, Verazda, and Dyka were standing side by side at the front of the group.
Behind them was a grand, gaudy litter (Example) (http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRM308ER0NTk1P0_nd3_cICzHAi1okUu E_QVlE5YQw_D3R93y-WGg). It appeared to be like a carriage, but it had no wheels. It was small, only big enough for one person. On the front, and back, there were two pairs of steel rods that were parallel with the litter's floor. These rods were being held by four elven figures. They held the litter four feet above the ground. Long, velvety black cloth was draped over the top. Small, glimmering jewels hung off of it by golden strings. Rubies were sown into the fabric, and they were large enough that Fille could make out each individual gem, even from the distance she was at. Fille's gut told her that Matron Mother Nenávidět E’Bezcitný was within the carriage-like litter. She would be carried all the way to her destination.
Fille thought it was clever. The Matron Mother was having the Drow's most hated enemies, the sylvan elves, carry her. Her enemies were at her feet, in the most literal sense. What an interesting way to snatch the attention of a powerful house.
On each side of the carriage, three guards stood in formation. In the back, there were two dwarves who she recognized. They were side by side. Also, Sindri, dressed in bright clothing, and a Tiefling, who Fille also recognized, were also standing side by side.
If she looked very hard, it seemed like the male elf at the back left corner of the litter was... Familiar. She thought it was Yasparr, but she could not be sure. Fille sighed as the group departed. Anyone who meant anything to her were... Gone. She returned to cleaning. She wondered where they were going, and when they would be back.
Bats screeched loud, and clearly in the space above the city (http://images.wikia.com/pathfinder/images/8/8b/Zirnakaynin.jpg). Their webbed wings made interesting sounds in the air. It was like a wet cloth being shaken out. It was almost as if you could hear their wings cutting through the air. You could almost feel the freedom they must have had, soaring across the cavern.
The E’Bezcitný entourage found it hard to take in the scene that unfolded before them, with each step. They walked swiftly, and with purpose. The sisters were expressionless. Their presences alone caused those in the streets to scramble for safety. Surrounding them were the lower houses of Drow. These houses held no power in the city. But they were made up of the same values. They had little money, and no influence, But their hate, and cruelty was as great as the ten houses of power.
But they were still Drow. They had the same nature to flee once they were at the bottom. And they did. At the mere sight of the powerful Priestesses their hearts went into panic, their limbs froze.... And those who did not get out of the way fast enough were... dealt with. Quickly the news was spread ahead of those who were coming, and the streets were clearer. Drow children watched as the grand entourage passed. They whispered, and pointed, only for their mothers to pull them inside, scolding them harshly.
They continued the walk for miles through the city.
Glowing fungus lined the streets. It lit them up, giving the whole place an eerie light. The Drow had tried before the rid the city of this weed-like fungus. But it grew so quickly that the task was impossible.
After a few hours of exhausting travel, it seemed that they had left the Drow city entirely. The Cavern spanned on however. It continued in a wide, open expanse. And finally, at the end of Zlomynsnost, was an incredible, intimidating sight. The Dvakrát’Kříž house. It was the most powerful family in the city. Matron Mother Zrada Dvakrát’Kříž had ten daughters, all of whom were high priestesses of Lolth. The power emitted from the towering structure (http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll121/rose_t_bishop/30.jpg) caused a fear to wash over the slaves. It made the E’Bezcitný house look small, and pathetic.
As they approached, some of the elves considered fleeing. But the fear of the certain, painful death that would follow was too much to bear.
They walked to the gates. Even the front entrance of the house was grand, and overwhelming. the gates themselves rose fifty feet into the air. Unlike many Drow houses, the base of the door was situated firmly on the ground. The Dwarves in particular were struck with awe. With their vast knowledge of valuable ores, they could tell that the gate was not made of common iron. No... The white metal was easy for them to distinguish. Mithril. A metal that would not give should a kingdom fall upon it. It was virtually indestructible. How the Drow had acquired so much of the precious metal baffled them.
Click, click, click, click, click! The sound rang across the open space. A disturbing creature greeted them. The sight of it caused chills to run down even the Matron Mother's arms. "Greetings, Drider (http://i287.photobucket.com/albums/ll121/rose_t_bishop/images23.jpg)." She said strongly. The creature appeared to have once been a Drow, like any other. But it was greatly changed. From the torso up, it appeared to be a dark elf. But his abdomen, and legs were replaced by the body, and legs of an enormous spider. This was what happened to Drow who betrayed their people. Their wills were taken from them, and they became tools. Slaves of a different kind.
The Drider nodded to them, and gestured for the group to enter the gates. At first, this seemed a puzzling task, as the gates were closed, and were no doubt enchanted with some kind of magical protection. However, the great mithril gates opened, seemingly of their own accord.
A tall, finely dressed woman stood, waiting within. Zrada (http://t3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcT-qq7UzNtL1ibRTtQoX7XAfryOcBH9xyieV3v2knz6ENDgKTZE7g ) smiled. "Welcome." A obscuring shimmer hung over the colorfully dressed woman as she walked forward to greet Nenávidět.
09-01-2012, 06:15 PM
Damn it! Yasparr (http://i1201.photobucket.com/albums/bb353/EvelynWillows/ElfforRPcopy.jpg)clenched his fists in frustration as he explored the hallway and the food storage areas. There was no way out, but those Demon-Spawn Drow had come through the doorway! He had seen it! Their magic was a foul, wicked thing, unlike the light-infused magic of the Sylvan Elves.
He finally accepted the fact that there was no way that he could follow them. He returned through the doorway to the slave quarters and hurried to his duties. Two Drow soldiers passed him in the main corridor and then did a double-take.
"YOU!" One grabbed Yasparr by the upper arm. "Come with us."
Yasparr's teeth clenched. Somehow they knew. Someone saw him follow the Drow into the back hallway. No...maybe Verazda discovered her missing hair pin. He was the only one who ever entered her room. She found out, and now they were going to punish him. The skin on his back involuntarily flinched at the prospect of being whipped. He pressed his lips together and allowed them to drag him along. They went down a winding path until they finally reached a larger cave, bisected by a shallow, moving stream.
A stream! Yasparr felt a new surge of hope. A stream...water came from the sky. If the water could get down here, he could get up there.
"Wash!" One of the Drow pointed to three other Sylvan men who were already bathing in the stream. The Drow looked at Yasparr as if he was an idiot. "Take off clothes. Wash body. Put on clean clothes. Wait. Understand?"
Yasparr bit back a retort. "Yes."
The Drow shoved him forward, and he went to bath in the cold waters of the Underdark. He palmed the thin, metal hair clip as he undressed. It would be unfortunate to lose it so soon after acquiring his new weapon. The other men had a pale, sunless quality to them. Yasparr had seen them briefly once or twice, but never up close. As he watched them move and interact he realized that they were probably slaves born into captivity. They looked young for Elves, but a bit older than he was. He couldn't imagine never having seen the sun.
Once out they were brought to a litter and shown how to lift and lower it in unison. Then they were taught quickly how to walk in unison. With each act there was a Drow command given, and any who faltered was whipped. Soon they were working as a unit, and they were brought to carry the Matron Mother. Hours they walked, through their 'Home', their city, and then through miles of Underdark tunnels until they came to a large, imposing home in a massive cavern.
Yasparr felt his limbs quaking at the thought of all this evil under the roots of his forest home. How could any God allow such horror to exist? The Drider was an abomination, and every Drow he saw only strengthened his resolve to leave this nightmare. Somehow, someway, Yasparr knew that he had to leave soon rather than spend his days serving such an atrocious race of people.
09-01-2012, 11:05 PM
Sindri could feel it as her bonded partner approched, she had no idea what she could say to the woman. The amazing thing was that bonded as they were, Sindri still wasn't even sure what her name was, their connection was still so jumbled. She watched the Tiefling enter and disrobe, the life of a slave allowed so little privacy she hardly even noticed nudity anymore. "Can I trust you?" she asked the Tiefling, "I really need to be able to trust you." She said hoping for a sure answer.
Though none came in time, she'd spent as much time here as she was allowed, one of the younger Drow guards came and sharply ordered, "Elf, come now." And Sindri obeyed, she stood up out of the water and dressed as much as she could before the guard took her by the arm and led her away. ~I will find you again.~ She thought in the direction of the slave she was leaving behind as she fell into step with the guard who brought her to a wardrobe and left her. There she changed into one of the colorful jester's suits she was forced to wear hating the entire ordeal. Though if nothing else she had help changing from another slave, not a drow.
Before she knew it Sindri was put into a procession heading for the estate of one of the other Drow houses of the city. She didn't know which one, she only had to remember which spells Matron E’Bezcitný liked and go over how to cast them in her head. Before long she noticed that the blue-skinned slave and a pair of dwarves were being marched along side her, the guard of the procession was lighter then what Sindri had seen before and that gave Sindri an idea. As they arrived at their destination Sindri spoke to the white bearded dwarf beside her, "Hey dwarf, this the first drow party you've been to?"
09-02-2012, 01:12 AM
A battle of WHAT?! Orryn thought to himself, not sure he'd correctly interpreted the foreign language. The word seemed familiar, but his recollection of basic elven was hazy at best, and the Drow tongue confounded his limited understanding with an almost caustic dialect. Well, a battle, at least. That, understand. All dwarves understand battle. But what, I wonder will be the stakes of this one?
Orryn glanced over at the little human girl, as their little entourage prepared to depart. She seemed so frail, so alone. And yet, he detected just the smallest glimmer of something...something he couldn't quite identify. All he could say for certain is that it hadn't been there a couple of days ago. Her question, no less than an hour ago, had caught him off guard. The words to the song had already spread, put to flight by the song, and taken root in the fertile minds of many slaves.
"Songs are wonderful things, little bird," he'd answered. "They give us a place to go when we are afraid, they can lift us up and encourage us when we feel lost or alone, they can remind us of things we might otherwise forget, like our history, and..." he'd leaned in nice and close at this part, "they can also help us talk to each other." The little girl's eyes had grown a bit foggy at the word 'history,' and Orryn recognized that to her, to one accustomed to giving her entire attention to surviving each day, the concept of a true historical record would have absolutely no meaning. But he was pleased to see her eyes sharpen again, fully understanding, when he mentioned the concept of communicating through song. To have said more would have been premature, but in his heart, Orryn hoped that the song would grow on its own, with words added here and there by others, until it flowed throughout the Drow city just as blood flows through the body, carrying with it all of the things needed for all the parts of the body to survive.
Taking measure of his new situation, Orryn marvelled at how quickly his circumstances had changed. Just a few days ago, he'd been carving rock in the mines, covered in dust and anonymity. Now, he was clean, had a fresh braid in his hair and beard, and was preparing to either 'escort' or 'entertain' the highest and most powerful personages of this Drow city. He wondered idly whether they would toss him in a pit with Barrl, give them both crude weapons, and tell them to fight to the death; and what his response might be if they did. But rather than allow his mind to follow such unprofitable paths, he instead turned to doing what he did best: observing, and enscribing everything he saw onto the scroll of his mind. He also wondered at the surface elves who were also part of this little party wagon, along with another strange creature: tall and horned, it looked fearsome, although decidedly female. Would the battle involve this one as well?
Breathing heavily, and consigning himself to whatever fate this night led him to, he uttered a prayer to his patron deity, asking for protection for himself, his brethren, and the little human girl they'd left behind.
Thankfully, he thought to himself, thinking of the four silvery spikes he'd gathered from the ornate doorway he'd polished a day before, which he'd concealed in various parts of his clothing, they hadn't bothered to search us.
09-02-2012, 05:20 AM
Barrl raised a grizzled white eyebrow, blinking as his eyes focused on the small figure of the elven girl.
"Look at you, yer head as red as mushrooms in may. Dear heart, I were 'partyin' with drow when you was face deep in yer mother's blouse."
Casting a glance at the nearest dark elf, he angled his head naturally to seem as if he was marching along in grim silence as he should. After a moment of thought he continues, staring past his prominent nose at the back of the next slave's head. "Though with elves ye never know. Perhaps yer kind grows fer a thousand y'ars in a bean pod afore ye drop to the ground fully formed, with thirty-two teeth and a full 'ead of hair." His face remains stony, and he's silent for a long moment.
At length he abruptly continues, "Ti answer yer question, no I never have. I'm nae shocked that they brought you, tho. They do seem to love you forest elves. Perhaps you remind em of themselves."
09-03-2012, 06:40 PM
When the dwarf began to reply Sindri began to greatly regret speaking to him. ~Do all dwarves ramble like this?~ she thought as wonderedshe if he'd ever get around to answering her question properly. Almost every word out of the dwarf's mouth seemed to make Sindri angry, from bringing up the mother she'd never even seen, to some nonsense about Elves popping out of beans. It got to the point where she just wanted to smack him across the face and tell him to get to the damned point.
When he finally did get to the point Sindri still wanted to strike him when he seemed to think there was any kind of love between her people and the Drow. That was perhaps the most insulting thing of all, "Do you ever stop speaking?" she snapped under her breath wanting to grab him by the beard and shake him around. "I have been to more of these hellish get-togethers then I can count so I know how they work." Sindri could not count very high but that was not the point, "What happens almost without fail is that when one of these goes well, the main guest will invite the host to their own home." She spoke quietly and slowly to ensure the Dwarf understood her, "What I need you to tell me is if you know how to ruin a party when this other clan comes to Clan E’Bezcitný's home." She said forgetting her connection to the other slave for a moment, "And before you think of ratting me out, know that Matron E’Bezcitný does in fact love me, so there's no way she'll take your word over mine."
Sindri couldn't remember the last time she told a lie like that, she knew Matron E’Bezcitný had a certain fondess for her, but she knew it was only by comparison to other slaves and that she'd have Sindri killed without a second thought if she suspected anything. Hopefully however she had been able to sell the lie well enough for the Dwarf to cooperate.
09-04-2012, 06:27 AM
"Well, it's my first Drow party, if the question's still open," Orryn interjected after a moment's hesitation. He was a tad troubled at the possibility of alienating himself from the only dwarven brother he had at the moment, but in that ultra-pragmatic mindset one assumes when one believes himself to be living out his final hours, Orryn was willing to take that risk.
"And I'm not at all sure what to expect. Apparently this isn't your first, which means not ALL the slaves die." He allowed himself a slight measure of relief, which he hoped hadn't been too plainly evident on his face. "Is there anything else you would care to share about what this battle of...something...might entail? Once we know more about the party, lass, then we'll do our best to crash it."
He winked once at her. Orryn fought against the impulse to say more at the moment, until he had heard the elf's response. For though he had not thought to find an ally in an elf, he found himself hoping against hope that he had.
09-04-2012, 06:30 PM
Verazda and her sisters parted as Zrada walked forward, allowing her to walk into their midst, and greet their matron mother. She tuned her ears into the conversation, but was only half-listening. Her eyes scanned over the towering fortress that made up the Dvakrát’Kříž House. It looked like a kingdom, not a single family's house. But in the Drow world, Zrada was as good as the queen of Zlomynsnost. And in fact, she held the most power of any other Drow in the city. She was feared, and respected. But fear came first among the Drow.
Her eyes flickered back to the slaves. She could hear them making small conversation. But rather than apprehend them, she ignored them. It wouldn't do to bring attention to them, and thus, bring Matron Zrada's eyes negatively upon them. Verazda didn't care for her Drow family, but while she was a part of them, she needed to give them every possible advantage. And yet... Every disadvantage.
Her eyes flashed around. Waiting. Listening. Watching. Preparing to leave when the house collapsed. Because she knew that the E’Bezcitný house would in fact fall. And it would be very soon. She could tell. This frantic attempt to secure an alliance wouldn't be successful. She longed to finally be free from her family. They were wicked people. And she was becoming more and more like them. The thought disgusted her.
The E’Bezcitnýs and their entourage were invited into Zrada's home. The inside of the house was even more impressive than the outside. The walls were embedded with rubies, and garnets. These gems were placed precisely so as to create swirling patterns on the walls. In some places, beautiful, detailed pictures of spiders, and snakes had been created with the use of a mixture of blood stones, and rubies of varying color. Every wall was a work of art. The floors were made out of pure obsidian, giving them an endless, gaping effect. The black ceiling was decorated with opals.
It reminded Yasparr, Sindri, Lilly, Orryn, and Barrl greatly of the surface. Because it looked like stars, dotting a vast, ebony canvas. The idea played in their minds that perhaps the ceiling had been designed this way. To resemble the night sky. But why would Matron Zrada imitate a world that she knew so little of? Then it seemed to come clear. The swirling rubies on the walls represented fire. It was a picture of the surface world turning to ash. That was what the obsidian floor represented. Charcoal.
The image sent shivers up their spines. The remembrance of home had suddenly become bittersweet.
They were swept down a series of hallways, each as dizzying, and complex as the next. Soon, garnet images of Sylvan elves could be made out, burning in the flames of the walls. The sight disturbed a few in the group. But the Drow were in awe. They thought that the image was beautiful. It was the dream every Drow dreamed. But sadly, the world of the Sylvan elves was much too large, and expanded for that dream toe ever come true. Revenge on their surface brethren would have to wait. Perhaps forever.
The reached a large room with many comfortable chairs, and couches. The slaves were told to stand to the side. It seemed that they were the last too arrive. The room was filled with other Drow. Many Matron Mothers were dressed even more gaudily than Nenávidět, or any of her daughters.
Multiple rings adorned each of their fingers. Several necklaces laced their necks. Their hair was slicked, or curled into impossible shapes, and configurations. Their faces were painted with intricate images that looked like they should have been a painting on a wall, not something temporary on a woman's face. Small jewels sparkled across their skin, and their clothes hung in elegant, embroidered folds. The slaves they had brought with them were... Incredible. One house had a team of Dryads, beautiful nymph-like people of the forests. They were akin to elves, but they had an immaculate connection with the forest. In fact, each of them had 'sister tree' which they were bonded with at birth. If the tree died, or was hurt, they would also die. It was as if they shared a life force. For these people to be down here would mean their trees were also brought. Such a thing seemed impossible.
A particular slave, who seemed to be the main topic of conversation, was a dragon. This woman, who had silver hair, and eyes... Her skin appeared to shimmer slightly. A collar was around her neck. Her eyes radiated hate. It seemed that that collar around her neck was what prevented her from using magic, or from becoming her true form, rather than the human one she was trapped in. She sat still, letting the Drow examine her. The look of defeat on her face was clear. There was a haunted look in her eyes. She had had her hope burned out of her. Just a shell of the mighty creature who she once had been. She was owned by the Vypovězení family. The immediate tension in the room between Matron Mother Drae Vypovězení, and Matron Nenávidět E’Bezcitný was silencing.
"Matron Mother Nenávidět E’Bezcitný, or the seventh house, has joined us at last!" Zrada announced. "The games may begin." She said with a devilish grin.
Across the room, five intricate playing boards appeared in thin air. The pieces, and the boards appeared to be an illusion. A trick of a skilled magical hand. But they were all too real. The boards were nearly five feet wide in each direction. Each one was covered in small octagonal cubes, which marked each place a piece could be set. An army of pieces was set at opposite ends on each side of each board. The possibilities of how the game could be played was unending. The idea of learning how to play dizzied the minds of any who didn't know it.
The matron mothers from each of the houses stood up. They crossed the room, formally finding a place at one of the ends of the boards. The would all play each other. The winners, then playing each other, until they at last would the final winner play against Zrada. She had never lost one of these games.
Melancholie gestured to Sindri. "Make lights, girl." She ordered with a scowl. "Fascinate us." She said, falling back into one of the plush chairs. The slaves were told to stand back, and stand still.
As the competition waged on, light conversation began to be made among the Drow. A url=priestess of the fifth house commented. "A Tiefling?" Her eyes went up. She looked across the room, at Lilly. "A fine specimen too." She asked with a small smirk, expecting her to be as dumb as a doorknob. All of the houses had had their chances to show off. "And... dwarves." She said with boredom in her voice. "How wonderful. And what can they do?"
"Mine." Melancholie said plainly.
"As they all can, so it seems." The woman leaned back into her chair, a winning smile on her face. "Can she do anything?" She asked, gesturing towards the Tiefling.
"Yes." Melancholie said bitterly, eager to show this snobby noblewoman. She stood, and grabbed the Tiefling's arm, pulling front and center. "Show her." In truth, the Drow woman had no idea if this girl could even speak for herself. But she would find out. If Lolth was with her, this girl would have some talent to show.
Verazda never sat down. She kept herself standing upright. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her. Her hawk-life eyes glowed red as she took in every detail of the room. The people's habits, their quirks, their flaws, their strengths... Drae Vypovězení, her immediate subject, she paid particularly close attention to. She could tell she was confident. She was prideful. Why..?
What are you hiding? Verazda thought. What is your secret? She looked at her critically. After a moment, Drae looked up at her. The scowl on the Matron Mother's face was apparent. She held Verazda's gave for many long moments before finally looking away. You looked away first. I win. She watched as the woman returned to the competition.
Verazda let her gave float around. All of the gleaming, sparkling objects in the room made it hard for her to see. The overwhelming scent of perfume blinded her nose, as well. She would have listened into conversation, but there were about a hundred and fifty people in the room, Drow, slaves, and guards alike. Many were in discussion, and there was too much chatter to distinguish anything. Her other two senses were useless to her. She was as good as blind in the room. She couldn't recognize her own sisters among anyone else. The only ones who she distinguished were the sylvan elf slaves behind her and to her right, standing formally by the wall.
Among all the glimmer in the room, looking at the plainly dressed elves was a relief to her eyes. But even then... Another sparkle caught her eye. The elf, Yasparr. There was some sort of reflective object slipping out of a fold in his clothing. She looked around. Everyone in the room was far too busy to notice her. She stepped towards him, and without a word, slid the pin out from the fold. She held it up to him, letting him clearly see that she had found it. Verazda recognized the pin from her own jewelry box. "I will speak with you later." She said quietly, tucking the pin into a secret fold in her sleeve. She stepped away, paying him no more attention.
09-04-2012, 07:35 PM
Yasparr was certain that they were walking into their doom. The fortress laid before them; an opulent show of power and prestige. If any ruled the Underdark it was this family, the Dvakrát’Kříž. He found himself briefly wondering how many daughters they had, and how many female Drow would have to die to wipe this family from history. He was starting to think like a Drow, and it made him sick.
The stunning ceiling and gemstone mosaics made him yearn for his home. He could almost imagine that he felt the movement of the wind, but of course that was merely the drafts of different temperatures wafting through the tunnel as the warmer air rose to push the cooler air back down. As Yasparr moved with the other Sylvan Elves in the group his eyes caught sight of images of his brethern burning in giant flames. They made the bile rise up in his throat and his step faltered. Thankfully the Matron Mother seemed to ignore his stumble, and he and the other litter carriers continued through the opulent halls to the room prepared for their entertainment.
As the Matron Mother descended from the litter a Drow soldier told the Sylvan men to set the litter on a pedestal and to stand against the wall. Yasparr tried to disappear into the wall, hiding as close to the cold surface as possible to avoid notice. His eyes darted over the other slaves. The dryads broke his heart. If they were here, then their trees were as well. There was really no chance of escape for the forest fey creatures; they would die here. Yasparr felt his hatred for the Drow swell up like a festering wound, threatening to burst and infect all it came into contact with. He averted his eyes from the Dryad and looked around as inconspicuously as he could.
The silver skinned woman looked elegant in her sadness. There was a sort of regal defeat in her eyes as the Drow with their contrasting skin pawed and fawned over her. Yasparr heard the words "mighty dragon" and a twittering of laughter from the Drow women, and he felt the weight of the slave's captivity upon him. She was completely nude except for barely concealing 'garments' that were there merely to show off her submission more thoroughly. Around her neck was a finely wrought silver collar embedded with a stone of darkest blood red. It was nearly black. Obviously, magical, thought Yasparr. The dragon in her humanesque form looked away and Yasparr had an urge to see her transform and fly. He could imagine her stretching her wings, the sun glinting off every contour and valley in her true form as she screamed her freedom to the sky.
There was the smell of vanilla and cinnamon, the scent of a woodland forest, in the air. The scent was familiar to him. It was the perfume that Verazda wore. With a start he realized that she had sneaked up to him while he was gazing at the dragon and she stood before him now, not two feet away. He brought his eyes to her and tried to drop his gazed obediently, but his eyes caught hers as she reached forward and deftly plucked a silver pin, her silver hairpin, from the hem of his tunic.
I've been caught.
Yasparr felt the heat rising up in his cheeks as he realized that he'd been caught stealing from here. His pulse slammed against his chest and he had to quell the panic in his breath. She knew. She knew, and he had no way of denying what she had in the tiny cave of her palm.
"I will speak with you later." She said quietly, tucking the pin into a secret fold in her sleeve. She stepped away, paying him no more attention. Yasparr brought his gaze up and tried not to panic. He found his eyes caught again by a strong gaze, but this one belonged to one of the new dwarves. The miner's beard was in new braids, and he had been bathed and dressed in fresh clothing like the others of the E’Bezcitný House. He was standing next to another dwarf, but his gaze....his gaze said I saw what happened.
09-05-2012, 02:28 AM
"Oh, by the tears of..." Orryn caught himself, and glanced quickly around to make sure no Drow were near enough to have heard his involuntary utterance. The elf had been caught with something, something shiny, something he wasn't supposed to have had. And that spelled disaster. Whether this party went well or not for the Sylvan elf slave, this night would most assuredly not. Secondly, it heightened the likelihood of their captors conducting a bodily search of the slaves for any additional...indescretions. The metal spikes Orryn had secreted within the thick, rope-like braids of his hair and beard, suddenly felt quite heavy.
Orryn realized he'd been staring at the elf. The implication of his stare had almost surely sent an arrow of terror straight into the elf's heart. Not only had he been seen by his master (who might merely punish and move on), but also by another slave, a slave who has already been stirring up a certain brand of trouble. Orryn did not wish for the elf to now view him as one not to be trusted. With the elf's eyes still upon him, he closed his own eyes and shook his head slightly once, indicating that nothing would be said. Meeting the elf's gaze once more, Orryn winked, and slowly turned his attention elsewhere so as not to draw any unwanted attention.
The presence of Barrl, the older dwarf, by his side tugged at Orryn's consciousness. He knew little of this "stone brother," and it seemed the more he tried to learn, the more distant and cryptic his responses had become. Orryn wondered that perhaps the many years of enslavement, and perhaps age, may have seasoned the old rockcutter's mind a bit too much. But since the elf girl he had been speaking with moments ago had become quite overwhelmed by the appearance of the captive dragon and dryads, Orryn realized that his only hope of knowing what this "party" would later entail lay with Barrl.
"I hope they don't demand me to create little balls of flame, as well," Orryn grumbled in Barrl's direction. "Because there's only one way for a dwarf to do that."
Zair Althidon stood in a beautiful meadow. The long grass tickled his bare feet as the sun shown brightly down upon him. Butterflies flew about lazily as he let out a boyish giggle as he ran around in circles. A sweet voice called out to him from the trees. He turned around with a big grin on his face, seeing his mother holding her arms out to him. He ran to her in full flight, laughing all the while. Right before he could feel her warm embrace he awoke with a start.
Earlier that morning when the bucket of slop was thrown in the slave pin, the slaves rushed for the food. The dream was a childhood memory. The load grunts and yelps awoke him from his wonderful dream. Now he was surrounded in darkness. Filthy slaves gobbled up what ever they could get there hands on. Zair looked on with slight sorrow in his eyes. He stood, his impressive build, strong. He rolled his neck and stretched out the kinks in his muscles from the hard cold stone floor. Matron Mother Nenávidět E’Bezcitný kept him on a special diet, keeping him strong. Though with this came other misfortunes. He was always being watched. Even now he could feel the burning eyes of the hateful Drow on the back of his skull. For being a Champion of Corellon Larethian, he was the exact opposite of the Drow priestesses of Loth. For that reason Zair believed Nenávidět kept him around her. To show the power she had even over there most hated enemies. Another reason was that Zair in his near perfect health and warrior physic was hauntingly handsome.
Zair closed his bright blue eyes in prayer to his God. Hoping today would be the day he would rip out the Marton Mothers heart out. A male Drow walked up to Zair and prodded him with a thick leather whip. Many scars lines his back from such whips. Silently Zair followed the Drow, his long silver hair flowing behind him to a small private room where food was laid out to him on a thin carpet. He ate and fell into a light mediation.
After a few minutes a female Drow this time lightly kicked him in the back. He stood and turned, keeping his eyes down. She dragged him out, "Come, the Mother want you." Though Zair has only been here for a short time he knew of the Drow tong. When Zair was younger he would go on Drow hunting parties. He was required to learn there foul language, though he never let on that he knew it. As they entered the main chamber he was kicked in the back of the nee, forcing him to kneel. He knew better then to resist. There is a time and place for everything. And he prayed to Corellon Larethian for such a moment.
Matron Mother Nenávidět E’Bezcitný smiles wickedly down at him. She was dressed more fine then usual, "Ahhh...my sweet Zair. You will make the others swoon my pet." She walked up to his kneeling form and rubbed her delicate hand across his face. Forcing him to look up. As he did she slapped him hard across the face. Zair stayed completely calm. Using his training to keep his anger in check, "Up." He stood. She then flicked her fingers and two female guards ripped what little clothing he had on, "Now go bath." She waved him off.
He was forced into a underground stream. He walked into it, rubbing down his finely toned body. He spied other male Elves in the stream as well. He hoped they were not to be sacrificed. He noticed a blond Elf was not the same as the other two. He must of not been born into this like him self. If they met gazes he would give a subtle nod to his kin, firmness glowing in his warrior eyes. After they ushered him out they made him wear a small piece of leather encrusted with jewels that barley covered his private part. The Drow woman handing it to him smirked lewdly. It was a curse to be noticed, and he was the top. He let out a silent sigh as he put it on. Then a collar and a thick leash attached. Other slaves then attached gems to his body, showing off his body.
When finally he was outside, he was forced to carry the small chair that held the Marton Mother with the other three Elves. When he saw the unholy palace he wanted nothing more then to burn it down. It was a blasphemy that it even existed. He was lead on the leash by Nenávidět. Other Drow would come and poke at him and talk to Nenávidět on the fine catch. Forcing him to show his battle prowess. He felt humiliated. But did not show it. Corellon Larethian show me the way, He thought to him self as right then he spied the Elf he saw earlier get caught with something. He frowned slightly, then noticed a Dwarf staring at the Elf. He would let his gaze linger tell the Dwarf saw him and gave a subtle nod to him before looking away.
09-06-2012, 04:18 PM
"Well, this little suaree is becoming more and more exotic by the moment,' Orryn grunted, mostly to himself, but still keenly aware of the elf girl and his kinsman standing nearby. He reflected that it was quite a blessing to be outshone by the other captives on display here. What did the average dwarf interest the drow, when compared to dragons and dryads, and now an imperial courtesan. Hmph. And to the Matron Mother, no less. Orryn supposed it pleased the Drow immeasurably to subjugate other races, especially elves, to performing every kind of labor, no matter how demeaning. Orryn's heart went out to this new elf, now being paraded about amidst the matriarchs. For he recognized something in the elf's demeanor, and the set of his gaze, that reminded him of himself. Not that Orryn was ever a renowned warrior, but he sensed that they had at least one thing in common: both knew their place for the moment, and both were resolved to do everything in their power to change that for the better when the time was right.
Until then, Orryn would continue to observe and silently build bridges with such other slaves. Having a contact within the household of the Matron Mother could indeed prove useful. Orryn returned the elf's nod, and turned his attention to the dragon. If he could somehow get his hands on that collar she wore, Orryn knew in his heart that no amount of ensorcellment could prevent him from unlocking it for long: it was made of gemstone, and gemstones were Orryn's life work. An elf warrior and a dragon. This could work.
09-06-2012, 09:10 PM
Yasparr watched as other slaves were forced to perform magic tricks and dance for their Drow captives. He was thankful that they saw him as merely a source of muscle. A pretty, common mule to carry them about on his shoulders. He watched the blue tiefling and wondered if she thought about her circumstances at all. She had been brought into the "Office" to take the little human's place. Whatever they did to her there, she seemed none the worse for their experimenting.
He tried to keep his eyes averted from the Drow as much as possible. There was no reason to attract their attention any more than he already had. He glanced at the other litter carriers beside him. They had the look of those resigned to their fate. How do I make myself look like that? It was harder now that he was remembering life before the Drow. He gazed at the Sylvan male who was being paraded around and he wondered if the Drow women used him for their entertainment as well.
No, they wouldn't.
The Drow despised the other races, especially the Sylvan. Why would they desire the touch of their enemies? There was one girl in his homeland, a half-breed who was the result of a Drow rape many years ago. Even the Sylvan who grew up with her avoided her, as if she was somehow tainted. Maybe she was. If any Drow were to breed a half-breed here it was certain that they would kill the child at its birth. The mother too, perhaps. Yasparr looked at the Matron Mother Nenávidět. He couldn't imagine her taking pleasure in anything but the destruction of his enemies.
Then his eyes flickered to Verazda. His knees felt weak. After they were done here, once it would no longer reflect poorly on the house E’Bezcitný she was sure to punish him for his theft. He suddenly wished that he had died all those years ago instead of being captured.
09-07-2012, 01:02 AM
An astonished gasp silenced the room. It was amazing that that small, barely audible sound had caused the quiet. But the sound itself was not what caused this. Rather, it was the mouth the gasp came from.
Zrada stood in shock, her mouth agape. She looked across the game board at Nenávidět. The Matron Mother of the seventh house had a look of triumph on her face. The five playing boards suddenly vanished in a small swirl of smoke. "Well played." Nenávidět said respectfully. "This was a surprising turn of events."
Zrada, beaten, was silent for a moment. Then she held a hand out to her fellow Matron. "Indeed." The corners of her mouth flicked towards a smile as Nenávidět shook her hand. The handshake was almost... Sisterly. As if the two were more acquainted with each other than it had first appeared. "This is a first for me. You have gained my respect."
It was clear that the impossible had finally happened. Matron Mother Zrada Dvakrát’Kříž of the first house of Zlomynsnost... Had been beaten at her own game. Never once had she lost this game, to anyone. And yet, out of some twist of fate, Nenávidět had managed to complete that task. How? That was a question that remained open to thought. But Zrada's challenger did not seem surprised by her victory. She seemed quite confident, and sure that this was how it was meant to turn out. The Matron seemed as if... She had never suspected Zrada would be a challenge. The smirk on her face was more than a little suspicious.
"My dear Zrada." She said, looking at her with an almost kind smile. "I invite you to come and have supper with myself and my daughters tomorrow evening. It's the least I can do to repay you for this glorious event that you invited me to. As well as this.. invigorating game. I must admit, I haven't had a true challenge in quite a while." But Nenávidět didn't sound like it had been a challenge.
Zrada gave a small nod. "I will be there."
"I'm sad to say, I must depart now. I have important matters to attend to. I hate to dismiss myself so quickly."
"No, it's more than fine." Zrada said, smoothing a hand over the elaborate designs in her clothes, that couldn't be seen due to the odd shimmer around her. She smiled through the blurring barrier. "Your presence was greatly enjoyed. Do travel home safely." She said, giving her a polite, dismissive wave of the hand.
The party that was said to last for hours, was finished in less than thirty minutes. Somehow, whatever Matron Nenávidět had wanted to accomplish, she had accomplished in the short time that she had been there. And in fact, she had. Everyone in the entourage could tell that the woman was relieved as they left. A sense of security had fallen over her. As if... She now knew that any of their worries were over. She now knew that things would turn out well for her family. She believed that she already had an alliance between herself and Zrada. She believed that she would have the Dvakrát’Kříž family at her back when the attack came. A powerful aura came around her. For she no longer was afraid.
Fille sat in a dark side corridor. This hallways was never used.
She sat hunched against the wall. Her tangled brown hair draped over her face like a veil. Her features couldn't be seen by anyone who looked. She twiddled her thumbs. Her eyes were closed, and her eyelashes fluttered slightly. The back of her clothing was torn, and ripped. New scars for her collection. The blood had almost dried.
She stayed motionless, letting her body ache, and wishing it wouldn't. A small, lone tear leaked down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away. The young human didn't even know what she had done wrong. A Drow had grabbed her, and just... Started beating her. It seemed like he was in a bad mood, and was taking out his anger on her. It wasn't as if she expected any fairness from the Drow. But... She found a lingering bitterness in her heart. It didn't seem right. She didn't deserve what he did to her.
Fille sighed, and slipped her hand into the folds of her clothing. She withdrew what was left of the bread crust the dwarf had given her. She brought the hardened, crunchy food to her mouth, and slowly nibbled at the corner. She let her saliva soften the dried sustenance, and slowly used her teeth the scrape off layers of the soft bits. the girl was grateful even for this small belonging. It was something. And what more... It had been a gift. She had never been given anything before. Unless you counted being 'given' beatings.
After a few long minutes of this slow working at the bread, and ripped a hunk off, and stuffed it in her mouth. Without chewing, she put the remaining bread away in her clothes again. She slowly worked at the bread in her mouth, as she had done before.
Fille stood up. As she did so, she felt pain on her back as the fresh scabs began to pull at her skin, causing her to bleed again. She sighed, and wrapped her loose clothing around herself a little better. She would have to see about somehow getting some new clothes.
She left the small corridor, quickly making sure her hands and feet were busy. But a small flame of hope kindled to life in her heart. Because by the buzz in the house... She could tell that they were back. She would not be so alone, and so vulnerable, for very long.
When the entourage arrived back at the house, things happened rather quickly... The slaves who had accompanied them were quickly stripped of their clothes. They were given plain garments that resembled those which they had owned previously. The only exception being that they were new. Or perhaps they were only clean. The task of removing the gemstones from Zair's body was one that took quite a bit longer than undressing the other slaves. And so, they were released to go to their duties much sooner than he was. Though he was let to go to his assignments not soon after.
Relief washed over the makeshift group. The three elven men who had carried the litter with Yasppar wandered off rather quickly. But the others... For some reason, found themselves moving with each other. No matter how many times they moved away from each other, going to their tasks, they always found their ways back to each other. And they recognized their faces. These were people now. Not just slaves. It was as if they had unconsciously formed a group. In each of their minds, the others had become allies to them. How? That was not something possible to comprehend. But each of them knew that they others were different. They were like them. They thought for themselves. They wanted escape.
As the day waned on... Things seemed oddly quiet. As if the whole house was waiting for something to happen. For some reason, you felt like whispering. As if silence was required. As if anything loud would be punished. The uncanny silence was deafening.
Yasparr felt jumpy. The shadows seemed to launch at him. They seemed ready to rip his throat out, splattering the walls with his blood. Because guilt, and fear were in his throat.
Verazda's light, airy footsteps seemed to be everywhere. Her footsteps were a song stuck in his head. They were so elven. So familiar. So delicate... And strong. Yet; so broken. It was a brokenness that he had seen before. It was a brokenness that he had ignored. That he had mocked. And it was almost as if it was coming back to get him. In fact, it did. All too quickly.
It was almost as if Verazda knew where he was. As if she could feel his guilty eking out of the walls. As if she could smell his fear. It was too soon when her bootsteps were no longer in his imagination. They were far too real.
Fille cleaned. She cleaned with a secret motive in mind. As she moved about the castle, she kept her eyes peeled. She looked for the others... the others who were different, like her. She looked for Sindri, and Yasparr. And even more, for the dwarf with the song. Or perhaps the dwarves. She couldn't tell if they both sang the song on not. But she could tell that this curious tune was floating around the castle. It made her stifle giggles when she saw Drow humming to it, only to realize that they did not know the song. She could tell that it frustrated them. Because no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
09-07-2012, 10:34 PM
Just get it over with already! Yasparr both dreaded and anticipated Verazda's presences.
He remembered how cruel he had been in his youth, when it was a simple matter to know who was 'good' and who was 'bad'. He had been cocky, confident in his purity of blood and his abilities, vibrant and strong and afraid of nothing. He had been the firstborn son of Pont'u Ti'aminate tu-Lahndia, First Outrider to the Elven nation. Yasparr had virtually been a prince in his own fashion. He had teased and tormented those who were not as perfect as himself, and one whom he had tormented had walked with the same brokenness that Verazda walked with now.
Perhaps it was because she was a middle daughter, caught between a sister intent on killing her one day for the position of Matron Mother, and her own vile ambitions. Maybe it was just that all Drow walked with broken souls, but Yasparr only knew one well enough to notice. Whatever the reason, he noticed Verazda now, and every shadow or movement cause him to jump with the certainty that pain and death were right around the next corner.
Stop being so afraid! She probably already forgot about it, what with the special party coming up tomorrow....RELAX!
He turned around and she was there.
Yasparr forgot to breath.
He looked into her red eyes and felt the chill of despair creeping into his bones. "Verazda," he breathed, aware that he was looking down into those eyes. That would never do. Slaves had to be beneath their masters; it was a rule. He dropped down to his knees, placing his palms on the ground as he had been taught and waited. His breathes came in short, shallow draws, waiting for the first strike with fearful trepidation. He shut his eyes briefly, wondering if this was the gods' way of punishing him for his past haughtiness. He looked at her boots and waited.
09-08-2012, 01:11 AM
Orryn's head was abuzz with questions. What was going on with the Drow? What were the possible implications of the Matron Mother being beaten at her own game: apparently an event that had never happened before? Speaking with the other elves in the caravan, he'd learned that the victor had been invited to come dine privately with the Matron Mother. Orryn was quite sure that was an unsafe invitation. The good news coming from all of this, though, was that the most powerful households in the city were certain to have all of their attention fixed on politics for at least several days, leaving lesser matters like slaves and their doings to go on without their direction. Another bonus, he reflected, was the fact that he now knew more about his enemy, and about his potential allies. That elf warrior and the dragon, for starters.
As the entourage arrived back at the E’Bezcitný house, Orryn finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief. Relief he realized was misplaced, for this place was really no better than the last, only more familiar. With a start, Orryn glanced around at those who had returned with him. Where was Barrl? The elf called Sindri? And the horned one, with the blue skin? He whirled around, taking mental inventory, searching faces and figures. Had they been left behind? Perhaps traded or sold to another house? Possible, he thought, but not likely. It didn't seem to have been a slave swap meet.
From amidst the sea of faces, a familiar one finally emerged. Timidly, the ragged form made its way out into the open, and the eyes finally met his. The little bird: Fille. Her eyes were haunted, limned in red, and clean streaks wound their way down through the dirty smudges on both cheeks. She'd been crying. Orryn glanced about once to make sure no Drow were watching, and went to her.
"Did you miss us, little one? You didn't miss much. There wasn't a thing to clean there."
Orryn chuckled, and patted the girl softly on one shoulder. His hand came away wet, and slightly sticky. His fingers had small, partially dried gobs of some reddish black substance on them.
"Oh, dearie. So that's why you've..." he looked about in fury. "Come, let's get you cleaned up."
09-08-2012, 01:48 AM
Verazda's face was stoney as she looked up into Yasparr's eyes. She watched him as he obediently dropped to the ground. He was trying do hard to be respectful... He had always been quite respectful to her. To Verazda.
She could feel his fear.
He's such a different creature than he used to be... She thought. He's a different person. So humbled. I wonder if he would still call Geala cursed. Perhaps she was. Such thoughts used to sting her heart. But she had changed too.
"Yasparr." She said quietly, looking down at him. Her expression never changed, but it remained like a statue. Like it didn not have emotion. Verazda gazed down at the back of his head. She knew his eyes were on her boots. That was where all slaves' eyes belonged. He was trying so hard to be obedient. But he was not an obedient slave. However... This fact did not anger her. Rather, it piqued her interest, and it gave her a sense of hope. But was this hope false? Would she be forced to kill him? She dearly hoped, for his sake, that he had changed. And that he was different.
"Didn't I tell you, that I would come and talk to you?" She raised an eyebrow. "Did you hope that I had forgotten?" She asked, almost as if she was reading his mind. "I did not forget." She said coldly. "I have a lot of things that I need answered, Yasparr." She said, reaching down with a delicate hand. As she did so, she also knelt down, balancing on the balls of her feet. She tipped his chin up, so he would look up into her eyes. "Did you know that what you did is punishable by death, slave?" She asked in a silky voice. "Did you know that you would already be dead if one of my sisters caught you? You may still die yet."
After that, she was silent a moment, looking into his eyes. She ran her nails alone his jaw line. Her head turned side to side, reminding him of a predator studying it's prey. Trying to figure out how she wished to kill him. Her crimson eyes were hinted with trails of brown, and streaks of olive. She roughly pushed him backwards, away from her, causing him to fall, sprawled on the floor.
She stood up, looking down at him coldly. "Get up." When he did so, she coiled her ebony fingers around his wrist, and dragged him behind her a short ways. Her eyes searched the hallways. Anyone who passed quickly shrunk away, whether they were a drow, or a slave. the fury of Verazda's face was clear, and no one wanted to get in her way. Her eyes burned with hate, and her lips were slightly parted in a feral snarl. Her purpose was all too clear. She wanted blood. And she would get it. They were all sure of that. The faces all looked at Yasparr with pity, for they were sure they would not see the elf alive again.
After a short ways, she reached her room. It was the best place to speak to him. She opened the door, and flung him inside, closing the door with an alarming slam.
When she turned around, she sighed, her features returning to their calm neutral. Her body language told him that she was no longer angry. But how could that anger vanish so quickly? Unless it had never really been there.
She crossed the room, ignoring him for a moment. At her vanity there was a small silver pin (http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRFI7EjtZ5JzzyXdFpeSv06IQbH1NrO_ hwXSOfXT0C-yQUJHnPASQ). She looked at the metallic item for a moment, before marching back up to him. Her alarming pace forced him to take an involuntary step back.
"This! You took this from me! Tell me why. I will know if you are lying, give me the truth." She said, narrowing her eyes.
Fille walked slowly through the hallways. Her spirit was down. Her eyes stung from tears, and exhaustion. Her feet ached, but it was just another pain she was used to. Each step seemed to open her wounds more, and she could feel the trickle of warm blood seeping down her back, and matting itself in her clothing. She prayed it wouldn't drip on the floor. If it did, she would surely be punished more.
The eyes of a familiar face caught hers. Relief washed over her like a calming wave. She could see the changing expressions on his face as he seemed to notice things about her. She wondered her eyes were marked with the stains of tears. Fille always felt awful when she cried. She never saw other slaves cry. They all seemed to endure whatever they had thrown at them. But tears seemed to pour down the emotional creature's face so easily... It made her feel weak. As if she needed another reason to feel that way.
She quietly watched the dwarf come up to her. "Did you miss us, little one? You didn't miss much. There wasn't a thing to clean there." He told her. His words brought a tiny, barely perceptible smile to her face. She didn't move as he touched her arm, but was horrified when he pulled his hand away only to find her wet, matted blood on his fingers. She frowned. "Oh, dearie. So that's why you've..." She was slightly confused by the fury on his face. She wondered what, or who he was mad at. Surely he wasn't upset at her... Could it be he was mad at whoever had done this to her? She begged that such an anger at the Drow would not cause him to be beaten as well.
"Come, let's get you cleaned up." He told her.
Fille looked at him with a pained expression. Her eyes darted around the corridor. Was it possible that he actually cared for her? No one was nearby, but a lowly kolbold working hard at the floor. The creature wouldn't day anything, she knew.
She looked back at Orryn. On impulse, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder, and digging her fingers into his hair. She didn't know why she did it, but the embrace came naturally to the human race. Why she did it wasn't really important. She only wished that he would wrap his own arms around her as well. Then she would feel safe. She would feel cared for. ...And she might even feel a little loved.
A small sob shook her shoulders, wracking her body and causing the scabs to crack more. "Yes." She choked out. "I missed you."
09-08-2012, 03:30 AM
The little human's embrace had completely caught Orryn off guard, and the sheer fierceness of her hug spoke of a heart sorely in need of being cared for. She had probably never known that the physical touch of another could be a comforting and healing thing.
Oh, Orryn, you're getting yourself in too deep here. This is going to cost you.
Softly, very aware of her injuries (which just might be anywhere on her), he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up into his own. She was lighter than he'd imagined. Apparently, the clothing made up the majority of her bulk. Orryn made a mental note to make sure she got more food. Quickly, the dwarf also snatched up a pair of water buckets, and made his way down to the underground caverns where the stream flowed. getting her cleaned up was priority number one. Finding her some cleaner clothes was next.
"Don't you cry anymore, little one. I'll not let anyone harm you again. Not so long as I am around to stop them."
On the way down the passageways to the subterranean streams, Orryn hummed softly, the tune so well known by now, and which this little thing had learned in a day. His heart stricken to the core, more so than he'd been prepared for, he began to put new words to it...
09-08-2012, 03:52 AM
Yasparr trembled when Verazda lifted his chin to look at her. He half expected a blade to cut across his throat like ice. Then she shoved him back to sprawl on the ground like so much garbage. He wondered if she was going to kill him with magic or if her decision involved drawn out torture. The cold anger in her eyes was more frightening than anything he had seen. The fury of a Drow woman was worse than a Drow soldier's. A soldier did what he did because it was what he was supposed to do. A Drow woman? She was created to cause horror and pain to all who defied her goddess, Lloth, and Yasparr had defied the Drow spider goddess.
"Get up." It was a cold command, seeping venom from Verazda's lips. Yasparr slowly got to his feet, aware again of being taller than her and knowing that she was bound to grow more furious for his insolence. She grabbed him and drug him down the corridor and he followed, vaguely registering the pitying glances of others as he was being taken to where ever she meant to torture him. They passed the corridor leading to Kurzo's Office and for a moment Yasparr's heart stood still. NO no no no! He nearly stumbled in relief when they hurried past the corridor and towards the private section of the Drow home.
He was surprised when she brought him back to her room and flung him onto the floor. He slowly got to his knees and looked up at her, watching her face go from furious to simply displeased. AS Verazda crossed the room Yasparr gathered enough courage to stand in her presence again. She grabbed the silver pin and rushed across the room, forcing him back with the ferocity of her glare.
"This! You took this from me! Tell me why. I will know if you are lying, give me the truth." She said, narrowing her eyes.
Yasparr swallowed. He was going to die. He knew it. But whether he died with courage or with fear was his to choose. "I was going to kill Kouzlo for hurting the other slaves," he answered. "I wanted to make a weapon."
There. He had said it. He stood and looked down into her eyes.
The hateful red eyes of the Drow...now streaked with the warm brown of earth and olive like summer leaves. Yasparr tilted his head and studied her. He forgot to be afraid for a moment and reached out and took her cheek in his palm. "Your eyes Verazda...what's happening to your eyes?"
09-08-2012, 04:45 AM
"Don't you cry anymore, little one. I'll not let anyone harm you again. Not so long as I am around to stop them."
"You're nice..." Fille's eyes closed slowly as safety, and comfort enveloped her. She rested her head against the dwarf's chest, listening to his steady, rhythmic heart beat. The sound of his humming blended with the gentle drumming, and created a song of it's own. This soft melody lulled her into a sense of sweet serenity. It was a feeling she had never felt before. Except maybe when she dreamed of the light... This was a similar feeling.
"Where are we going?" She mumbled, hearing Orryn's footsteps as he descended a series of steps. The sound of his feet on the stone added to the lullaby. She sighed happily. Scents of moist, underground air came to her. She could feel the cool draft created by the stream's gently movement. She felt as though she had been plucked out of the hands of misery, and pain. Now she was wrapped in the arms of protection, and rest.
"Whassyer name?" She whispered, not opening her eyes.
Verazda's eyes seethed as he told her that he had planned on murdering her brother. Deep inside, she knew that even she would have killed Kouzlo. Had she gotten the chance.
"Give me one reason why I shouldn't turn you over to him r-" Her eyes widened slightly when he put his hand on her cheek. "What are you doing?" His words put a cold grasp around her heart. She was caught in the nearly concerned look in his eyes. The gentle way his hand was on her cheek was almost a caress... She looked like she wanted to say something, but she was caught speechless for a moment. His daring move had stunned her.
She snapped out of it. "Nothing is happening to my eyes!" She growled, at last slapping his hand away. Verazda glared at him, before walking swiftly to her vanity. "Damn it!" She hissed. Her eyes were nearly their natural color. There was not time to apply her coloring. If she found she couldn't trust him, the secret would have to die with him.
She sighed, resignment on her features. "Nothing is happening to my eyes." She said again, more quietly. She avoided eye contact with him, but he could clearly see that her eyes were now void of their previous red color. She skin also appeared much lighter. There were hints of light, peachy colors in it. Like her skin was trying to be a pale flesh color, but had a thin gossamer shadow over it. Golden strands showed in her hair. "I didn't realize the hour was so late." She sighed. "Are there others like you? Who think for themselves? Who wish the rebel?"
09-08-2012, 05:00 AM
Yasparr was astounded at himself. He should have died for touching her, but she only walked away. "I didn't realize the hour was so late." She sighed. "Are there others like you? Who think for themselves? Who wish the rebel?"
He took a step back. Were there others? He didn't know, but if there were he would never tell.
He lowered his head. "Of course not, Verazda. I'm sorry. I'm the only one who you need to deal with." He looked around the room. He could probably out fight her if it came down to it, but he found that he didn't want to kill her. Of all the Drow he knew she was the one he hated least.
Was it familiarity? The fact that she was a woman and she hadn't killed killed him yet? He didn't know what the answer was. All he knew was that he wanted to live, to see the sun again, and he wanted the Drow to be punished for killing his father and the others with them on that fateful day.
09-08-2012, 05:38 AM
Verazda scoffed. "Of course there are others." She turned to him, no longer avoiding eye contact. What was the point anyway? He had already noticed their significant color change. If he remembered anything of his past life, he would remember who she was. Eventually. But she wondered if she wanted him to remember Geala. He respected her more now. He saw her as a threat. But she was still the same monster. She was still cursed with the same blood. "Who were you protecting? Who did Kouzlo hurt?" She shot a penetrating glare at him.
"There must be someone who holds some importance to you! Otherwise you wouldn't have bothered to steal this pin!" She said, growling and shoving the small metal object before his eyes. Her desperate eyes met his.
The frustration on her face was mingled with the odd kindness in her eyes. Those eyes... They were so soft. The scarlet haze was gone from them, replaced by a warm hazel, that was much like the mossy floor of the forest.
Laughter floated to him. It was distant, and echoing. Light streamed through the trees, dappling the ground around him. He could see a face, smiling at him. Her skin was dark, like the night sky, and her hair was pale, as if aged by time. But soft, blonde streaks ran through it, giving it a playful glow. Her smile was so innocent, so pure. She was peeking around a tree, as if afraid that he would see her. But yet, daring his eyes to find her. Taunting him to be her friend. She giggled, covering her mouth with an ebony hand.
His lips moved. Distorted words came out. He couldn't remember what they had been. But her smile vanished. She shrunk back into the shadows, obvious hurt in her face. The girl's playful life was killed as her eyes filled to the brim with tears, and finally spilled over. More words came out, each one seemed to dig a lash into her heart. To wound her even further. His brother laughed beside him, applauding the jab at her feelings. Deep inside, he felt a small sting of guilt. But she didn't really have emotions, did she? She was cursed. She had tainted blood in her veins. She was a half breed.
She stepped into the light, timidly, as if asking forgiveness for who she was. "You don't really mean that, do you?" She asked in a quiet voice. Those words, he remembered. The silent plea to be accepted... It was all she had ever wanted. "I promise. I'm not who they say I am." She made the elven sign of promise over her heart. "I'm not cursed."
A few more harsh words were spoken, but again, he couldn't seem to remember what they were. But after he said them, it was clear that she had given up. Her hope was gone, and she had been denied what she sought for most. Tears glistened down her cheeks as Geala turned, and walked away...
Very suddenly, Yasparr was staring at the same face, though aged by many decades. "I asked you a question." Verazda said harshly. "Answer me!" She ordered.
09-08-2012, 08:20 PM
"Your nice," she'd said. "Wassyer name?"
Orryn stopped his humming for a moment, but his feet never stopped moving. His name? It was the first time anyone had asked his name in almost a year. He'd unconsciously forgotten he'd had one! Useless, they seemed, here in the dark. But then again, that was just the way they wanted it. A name is an identity. A name gives you uniqueness, and personality, a will of your own. A name is the first step to freedom of the soul.
"My name is Orryn, little Fille. Orryn Vӓlderfaußt, of the Clan Berrngetzt." He wasn't sure if she heard him, so deeply was she buried in the folds of his clothing and hair. He half suspected she had fallen asleep.
Good. She needs the rest.
Continuing to hum softly, Orryn picked up his pace slightly, making the last few turns down the rough cavern tunnels to the stream caverns. The sight of the flowing water always gave Orryn hope, for if water can flow through, that meant that there was a chance of natural fissures and caverns leaving this room. Getting out of here could start in this very room. The temptation to simply go, right now, with Fille, to make a break for it, was almost overwhelming. But a moment later, logic took control again. There was a time and place for everything, and a dwarf is better than most at being patient.
Softly, Orryn laid the little girl down near the water. He quickly gathered up some cast off clothing and rags, apparently left behind by someone after bathing. They weren't very clean, or in very good repair, but at least they weren't blood-stained. They would do, at least until he could find her something better. Going back to Fille, he gently sat her up, and affording her as much modesty as possible (though she probably had little concept of what that meant), did his best to wash her wounds, and the rest of the dirt and filth, from her body. One limb at a time he washed her. One wound at a time, he tore the cleanest strips of cloth he could scavenge, and bound them. When he was done, he clothed her with the newer clothing, and rinsed out the old tattered ones. In a place like this, nothing can be let go to waste. Everything that can be saved, must be.
Having finished, he looked back to where the little one lay. If she slept, he thought it might just be best to let her rest. Otherwise, heading back before they were missed might be for the best. His mind churned with anxieties about how he might keep her safe, and how best to get her and himself out of this layer of hell. He would find a way. With Krx'd'snyu's help, he would find a way.
Softly, he called her name: "Fille. Are you awake lass?"
09-08-2012, 11:19 PM
The memory of the girl he hurt, the look in her eyes, nearly brought him to his knees. He looked at the woman in front of him and knew that it was his fault she was here. She only wanted to be accepted, to be told that she was not the sum of her parts, and Yasparr had been the worst of the other children. He had taunted her and said horrid things about her ancestry, called her cursed and evil, and never saw the person inside the half-breed body.
She was the result of the rape. Her sire's actions were not her fault but Yasparr had blamed her for every evil act the Drow had ever commited. He looked at her hate and anger and knew that it was his creation.
"I'm so sorry," he breathed, "I was so cruel to you." He dropped his eyes and felt the shame flush into his cheeks. He earned this; it was the gods' way of turning back on him the misery he had dealt others. "Verazda...Geala...do what you will to me. I deserve it, but I will not betray any others." He looked up at her. "I'm not going to bring anyone pain again, even you."
His voice caught in his throat as he struggled to find his words. "I'm...I'm so sorry for hating you. Forgive me, please Geala. Do what you will, give me to Kouzlo, but please forgive me first." His eyes seeped over with tears of regret for all that he had done, for all that he had been, and he went down to his knees and placed his forehead on the ground before her.
09-09-2012, 02:04 AM
"That's a... Nice... Name..." Fille mumbled. "Orry-in." She smiled, mumbled some more indistinguishable words as she drifted into a half-sleep. Her breathing became steady. Fille wasn't tired enough to let herself fall into a deep sleep. But her eyelids felt like they were weighed down with lead. She would only close her eyes for a moment, she told herself.
Soon she felt herself laid down on the ground. She winced slightly when the old clothes were pulled off of her. The wet, matted substance holding it to her skin was reluctant to let go. She tried her best to hold still, never opening her eyes.
As Orryn cleaned her wounds, and wiped away the blood as well as he could, her frail structure was revealed. Her ribs could be seen clearly through her skin. Her spine was vividly visible in a clear line down her back. It was clear that she wasn't eating most days, and the days she did eat, she ate very little. What food she managed to get was not usually very nutritious. the bread he had given her earlier that day had probably been the first substantial meal she'd eaten in a while.
Soon she felt hi put the clean clothes on her. They were by no means new, but they were better than what she had had before. And she was grateful of them. To her, they would feel like soft cotton on comparison to the dirty, gritty garments she had worn before.
"Fille. Are you awake lass?" Fille's eyes opened for the first time in a while. She sat up, and nodded to him. The previous sorrow in her eyes was gone. The red tinge in her eyes was almost gone, and the tear stains on her face were gone, letting her pale features show through. She gave him a small smile, and slowly stood up on wobbly legs. She felt slightly faint due to the amount of blood she had lost. But that, added with how little she had eaten, meant that she was not very strong. Though, much longer without rest, and she might have collapsed in the hallways, only to be killed by the drow because she had 'served her time'.
"Yes." She said quietly, fingering the clean garments on her body. "Thank you for helping me." She said, a tiny smile crossing her face. "You've been so nice to me today, Orry-in." Fille was suddenly overcome by a wave of dizziness, and her knees buckled. She reached out, desperately grabbing Orryn's clothes to keep herself up. Her arms shook with the effort of holding herself up, and in the end she let go, falling on her butt. She frowned, and folded her legs, putting a hand on the ground to prevent further such moments of weakness.
"What will happen now?" She asked quietly. "My masters will kill me if they find out I am so... So weak." She looked away, as if ashamed.
It had been a long time since Geala had heard her name spoken to her. She had spoken it to herself many times, but it wasn’t the same. Hearing her name gave her a clear feeling of who she used to be. For a moment, she was that girl. Her innocence returned to her eyes for just a second. For that instant, all she wanted was to embrace him, and tell him she forgave him. That all she had ever wanted was for someone to say that she was a good person. Maybe for one person, besides her late uncle, to love her. She wished to tell him that they would escape to the surface, and perhaps things would be good again.
But a second after her name faded from sound, Verazda was back. She glared down at him, sneering. “If you want my forgiveness…” She shook her head slowly. “Yasparr. You have to have a heart to forgive. Mine was broken a long, long time ago.” She scowled.
For a moment, she considered it. She thought about turning him over to Kouzlo, and watching him tortured. The thought almost brought her satisfaction… But then she was disgusted with herself. That was Verazda, not Geala. She would do no such thing… That wasn’t her. She was better than such thoughts.
Geala bent down, looking at the broken way he put his forehead on the ground, submitting himself to her. Her expression softened for just a moment. Then it hardened again. She grabbed the folds of his clothing and pulled him up, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Listen to me right now.” She said firmly, her eyes tracing over his tear-stained face. “If you really care about the others, you need to tell me who they are, now. Do you understand? I don’t intend on harming you, or them.” She looked at him. Her expression was almost distasteful. Had her appearance really caused him to fall into tears this quickly? Perhaps the Drow were right. Maybe the Sylvan were weak. Or perhaps it was emotion, and kindness that made them so different.
Yasparr’s knees were too weak to hold himself up, so Geala held him up herself, and leaned in. Her lips were right beside his ear as she whispered. “I’m going to help you, and the others out of here.” She paused. “I want escape as much as you do.”
09-09-2012, 02:44 AM
He stood there and looked at her, and the doubt crept back in. She said that she didn't have a heart, that hers was broken long ago. He knew what it was like to hold a grudge. Elves were very good at it. They were known to hold onto hurts for decades, passing old hates down like other families passed down precious heirlooms. He shook his head and looked into her eyes, his resolve growing stronger by the minute.
"No. I don't know if anyone else thinks like I do, but if I did I still wouldn't tell you!" He wretched himself from her grasp, using a pressure hold he had forgotten that he knew. "I don't trust you." He knew that it was the wrong thing to say...but did she honestly think that he would believe she was going to help him escape? She must have thought that he was weak and stupid.
"Why should I trust you after what I've done?"
09-09-2012, 03:32 AM
"Well, that's what we're going to find out, little one," Orryn stated gruffly, trying unsuccessfully to catch and support the little girl as she stumbled and fell. "There, now, you just sit. Now that we've gotten you cleaned up, I think the first order of business is to get you need some water and food. Yer all bones, little bird. No strength, and certainly nothing left to heal with."
He shook his head in disbelief. He'd known she was frail and weak, but the extent of her weakness, malnutrition, and injuries were worse than he'd believed. She couldn't be moved now, nor probably for some time. Orryn thought for a moment. He couldn't leave her here; someone was sure to come and find her. He'd have to scout out a place. There had to be a chamber somewhere, maybe one of the several he'd passed which appeared never to be used, where he could hide her until she could recover a bit, and he could figure how to get them both out of here.
Snatching up both of the water pails, he filled them from a cool, dark pool in the stream, where the water was cleanest. Setting one aside, he took the other to Fille.
"Drink, little one. Take it slow, but get plenty of it into you. Probably been a long time since you had enough water in you."
While she drank, Orryn clambered over the stream to the other side of the cavern, where a wall glowed with the semi-nutritious glowing fungi that seemed to infest this place. Peeling a few of the more tender specimens from the wall, he returned to the girl and offered her some.
"Over there," he pointed at one of many natural niches in the rock cavern, "is a little recess I think you can hide in for a little bit. I'll help you get over there, and cover you with some of these cloths that look more like rock than the rest. Then I need you to lay low and be quiet for a little bit while I check something out. I need to find a place to keep you safe. Alright?" Orryn saw worry in her eyes. "Now, now. I won't be gone long. I promised I'd not let anyone harm you, and I meant it. You've been a brave girl for so long. I need you to be brave again. Can you do that?"
09-09-2012, 05:16 AM
The party seemed to drag on forever, throught the whole thing Sindri was forced to perform for the red-eyed monsters that filled the feasting hall. She'd make pillars of light appear like she was breathing gouts of flame, she'd make flashes of light that crackled all along the ceiling, in the brief periods where she needed to recover from a spell she'd dance so as not to appear lazy in her performance. All the while she kept an eye out for the other slaves and for people who'd likely come back to their home if all went well, but she was a poor spy and performing as she did she could barely tell one face from another.
When all was said and they were dragged back to their so-called home, Sindri barely had the energy to stand when the passed through the doors. Using magic took so much out of her even with such simple tricks, and now that her performance was done she'd be shakled again to slow down her regaining that magical energy. She was happy however when the drow who locked her shakles on said, "You're to be allowed to bathe again, go and do so now and get to bed, you've got alot of work to catch up on." The drow said it in an almost subdued voice. Sindri was glad to be given the privalige once again in such a short time.
~Am I imagining it or are they being nice to me?~ she thought wondering what reason any of the drow would have to be kind to a slave. No matter she was not about to squander this opportunity and made her way to the bathing stream as quickly as she could, but what she saw horrifyed her. She saw one of the Dwarves who'd come with her, and Fille, who was covered in injuries, "Fille!" She called out panic racing through her mind as she got closer to the pair, "Here let me see if I can help." She said putting her hands together and concetrating. Between her fatigue from the performance and her shakles she could only summon a tiny bit of magical energy, but she had to do something, anything to help.
When a little bit of power built up in her hands Sindri placed them over what seemed to be the worst of Fille's injuries and released it. It was only a healing spell in the most basic sense possible, but it was all Sindri could do, "Thank you for helping her Dwarf. Fille, I'm going to stay here and do whatever I can, alright?" She said gently pulling the small girl into a hug, "My name is Sindri, and I may need further help Dwarf."
09-09-2012, 08:24 PM
Orryn heard a voice cry out, nearly causing him to soak himself with his own water buckets. Looking sharply up, he saw one of the elves approaching, one familiar to him: Sindri was her name. Quickly, and with apparently genuine concern, she approached the place where Orryn had thought Fille to have been quite artfully concealed.
"Here let me see if I can help," the elf muttered, looking the little girl over. She seemed to have fallen back to sleep, or passed out from exhaustion, one or the other.
"I've cleaned her up as best I could, and replaced her garments with some better ones. She's had some water and a nibble of that glowing fungus, but she could use more." Orryn paused, wondering whether he should say any more...about what he was planning. If he was to keep the little girl safe, though, Orryn had to admit he would need help. "I'm not going to let them do this to her again. She needs food and rest, and probably medicine. But mostly rest. I'm going to find a place we can hide her to keep her safe. Can I trust you to watch over her?"
The elf looked as though she was praying over the girl. Well, prayers certainly can't hurt. Orryn waited until she looked as if she was done. When she was, she spoke:
"Thank you for helping her Dwarf. Fille," she turned to reassure the girl, "I'm going to stay here and do whatever I can, alright?" She turned once again to regard Orryn. "My name is Sindri, and I may need further help Dwarf."
"If your interest is keeping her well, you've got my support. I am called Orryn. May Krx'd'snyu bless you for your kindness."
After the party they took them all back to there "House". When they peeled off the gems on Zair's body they left little red marks and was handed white cloth paints and no shirt like the Marton Mother always wanted for her personal slaves. The Drow who handed him the paints pointed to a down stairs chamber, "You are to bath again, go!" He shoved him slightly, using the momentum to walk there faster, Zair smiled to him self as he easily absorbed the shove. Be he kept his back to the Drow as to not get punished.
As he entered the underground steam he started to bath. He ducked his head under the water then came back up to find a Dwarf cleaning a little girl. He blinked, wiping his bright blue eyes and brushing back his silver hair. It was the same Dwarf he nodded too, perhaps this would be good timing to talk to him. Zair would blink again, hearing a another call out, he quickly turned, warrior instinct kicking in. He calmed when he saw an Elf. He watched the Dwarf and Elf exchange words, "Corellon Larethian, guide me and may this be the way you wish me to take." Zair mumbles to him self as he makes his way over.
"Hail." Zair simply stats as he walks up to them in common. A slight smile on his handsome features to show he can be trusted.
09-13-2012, 12:04 AM
"What in the...?!" Orryn started, as suddenly another elf showed up, where he'd thought himself quite alone. "Seems elves just pop out of the ground around this place! Hail, yourself! You're that elf concubine from the party, aren't you?" Orryn glanced around the room once more, scanning for additional intruders. Slowly, he began moving to one side, positioning himself between the elf and the little girl. "What's your business hiding under the water like that? Did your mistress send you to spy on us? You may be some great hero wherever you 'hail' from, but I think you'll find this dwarf a little more gristly than you'd expect." Orryn kept his full attention on the new arrival. If he made a move for the girl or the other elf, there was bound to be trouble.
09-13-2012, 06:13 PM
"Thank you Orryn, but my skills are far too little. We need some real medicine and I know where there is some." She was about to give him directions, but another elf came out of the water. For a second she hoped it would be Yasparr, but it was not. "Not another step closer." She snapped at him as he approched, picking up a rock and pulling her arm back as if to throw it.
For a few seconds Sindri sat Fille in her arms staring at the smiling elf man, he certainly had a handsome smile but Sindri was about as willing to trust a handsome smile as a fly was willing to trust a spider. "If you want us to trust you, you'll need more then a smile. Orryn, how good are you at going unnoticed?" She asked trying to fomulate some kind of plan.
09-14-2012, 01:24 AM
“I had thought so, but apparently not when it comes to elves!” Orryn complained, spitting on the ground. “I believed I had hidden the little bird there amongst the rocks, but then you showed up and saw her as easily as if she were on fire! And then to make matters worse, just when I thought I knew who was in the room…whop! Another elf! Can we trust this one, Sindri? I sure wish he’d make his intentions known.”
Orryn had to admit to himself he’d been a little shaken. The events of the last few moments had completely changed his concept of how to achieve his immediate plans. Now, not only did he feel responsible to protect, care for, and find a way to rescue little Fille, but the elf maiden had willingly entangled herself in the matter—though fortunately as an ally—so he felt obliged to safeguard her well being and secrecy also. And now this other elf...things were getting complicated far more quickly than he’d expected.
“I can probably move about, just as any of the slaves can, without drawing too much attention. But it all depends what you have in mind. We dwarves aren’t the best at sneaking. Moving silently, blending with the shadows, that’s where your kind are far more gifted. But I really don’t feel comfortable discussing any of this until we’ve heard this one's heart and mind,” he indicated the elf warrior.
09-14-2012, 01:26 AM
With Fille's thirst quenched, she was much happier, and far more content. The pain in her back had subsided to a dull throb. She had never known wounds to stop hurting so quickly. Then and again, she had never had someone care for her when she had been hurt.
"I... I think I can be brave." She said in a tiny, fragile voice. She gave him a firm nod, as if starting over. "Yes, yes I can. I will stay here, and be quiet. And I will not be to let anyone to find me. I will be as the stones are." She gave him a small smile, looking at him through the messy, tangled hair that covered her face.
"Fille!" A familiar voice called out to her. At first, her heart leaped in fear, for she thought that they had bee caught. But looking to the side, she could see a familiar face in the glow of the nearby fungus. Her eyes smiled at Sindri. The elf looked immensely worried, and she wondered why. A moment later, to her surprise, she found that it seemed that Sindri was worried for her. Her heart was filled with a feeling that she had not known before. It made her insides seem to glow. It made her feel stronger. Like she had something to live for.
The elven woman's hands began to glow. "What..?" But her unfinished question was soon answered when SIndri laid her hands on the young human, and the glow seemed to spread through her limbs. For one second, the healing magic burned like fire in her veins, but a moment later it became a dull warmth that left a lingering strength in her bones. The pain in her back was nearly gone, and she couldn't feel it if she didn't think about it. "Thank you." She whispered. Fille feared that she would still need to remain at the stream, though. The injuries were not healed enough for her to leave the place, and she would need to stay for a while longer. She was still weak. Very weak.
Sindri thanked Orryn, and then turned to Fille, promising that she would do everything she could. The girl was shocked as she was hugged, but the happy glow in her heart grew a little bit brighter. The hope, and meaning in her life was growing in these simple acts of love. Acts that she had never experienced before.
She watched as some words were exchanged between the two. Drowsiness enveloped her once again, and her eyes closed a little. She was comforted by the words of her friends. From what she could make out, they were both going to try and help her. A soft smile graced the girl's cracked, chapped lips. They were going to help her. They cared about her The feeling of joy in her heart wasn't something that could be understood. All her life she had been told she meant nothing. She had believed that she meant nothing. But something must have changed. All of the sudden, these two people were going to risk their lives to make sure that she could live again.
Suddenly the sound of water erupting from the stream filled the small cavern. Fille's eyes snapped open as Zair made his presence know.
"Hail." Fille knew it. They were caught now. This elf was seen often with the Matron Mother. Many believed that he was a 'toy' of hers. Of course, Fille knew better. Though Drow women had no virtue, they would never share themselves with a surface elf. Still, the idea remained in many people's eyes. Fille believed she liked to 'look' at him. She swallowed hard. If anyone had more favor with the Matron, it was him. Though perhaps among the other more handsome elves, he was not so different.
She heard exclamations of surprise from her companions. All that Fille wanted to do was get up and hide behind her rock of protection, Orryn. But try as she might, she could not stand up. Her arms bucked beneath her feather-like weight. She prayed to the good gods that he was on their side, and that they were not all doomed to be sacrificed to the spider queen.
Verazda was close to exploding. "What are you talking about?" She looked harshly at him. He was now standing, and Verazda found herself looking up into his eyes again. How dare he do so audacious? How dare he defy her? How dare he speak against her? She raised her hand as if the slap him. Then she stopped. No... No... This wasn't her. This was Verazda. With escape so near, she couldn't afford to fall back into the personality she had adopted.
"Fine." She said, the emotion gone from her voice. "Get out. We never had this conversation. You know better than to tell anyone. The offer still stands, though. Whether you tell me about the others or not." She grabbed his upper arm, pulling him towards to door. "I'd suggest that you accept soon. Because if you don't. you're going to fall with this house. And I won't come for you when I leave."
She reached for the door, but then stopped, as if in thought. The small, silver pin was still in her hand. Verazda turned the item over in her hand, letting the cool metal slide over her skin. She pushed the item into his hand. Her face expressed no emotion as she did this.
"If anyone asks, I tortured you, but did not draw your blood. Don't let it be discovered again." She opened the door, pushing him out. "Be here on time tomorrow."
Zair maintained a calm air about him self as he smiled warmly to the three before him. They seemed paranoid at his sudden arrival and disruption. He held a hand up to silence them a moment, "Please, I mean no harm." His voice soft, He did not blame them for there paranoia. These slaves seemed to be here longer then him self, and not as well treated, he thought to him self as he eyed the young human girl. He held his hands out to show he meant no harm, "I wish to escape this place. And I hope to save as many good souls as I can in the prospect." He bowed with a natural grace that only comes from a Elf warrior. The others would most likely think it strange for such formality, though he has not been here as long as them.
"I am Zair Althidon a Champion of Corellon Larethian. And if need be I will die to protect any of you." His voice low and soft, yet his eyes burned with an intensiveness that would give any chills, "I have stayed passive and observed the Drow all the time I have been here, waiting for the ripe time to escape. And hopefully launch an offensive campaign on the Drow here after I speak to my counsel back on the surface. But one thing at a time..." Zair looked over his shoulder to make sure the Drow where not about, "So..may I help you all?"
09-14-2012, 08:06 PM
Yasparr flinched when Verazda's had came up. He shut his eyes momentarily, expecting the sharp explosion of pain that was so common from the Drow. When no pain came he opened his eyes and looked questioningly at her. He released the breath he had been holding and searched her eyes for an explanation.
She gave none.
Instead she dragged him by the arm to the door and warned him to decide soon whether to trust her or not. Her words, though, sent a cold fire through his heart. This house was going to fall, and she was going to leave.
Leave? And she was planning on taking him and the other slaves with her?
She reached for the door, but then stopped, as if in thought. The small, silver pin was still in her hand. Verazda turned the item over in her hand, letting the cool metal slide over her skin. She pushed the item into his hand. Her face expressed no emotion as she did this.
"If anyone asks, I tortured you, but did not draw your blood. Don't let it be discovered again." She opened the door, pushing him out. "Be here on time tomorrow."
Yasparr closed his hand over the smooth metal pin and looked up at her in surprise. Her eyes were blank; her face emotionless. He stepped back into the door momentarily and stood next to her, almost touching her body with his. He looked down into her eyes. They were warm now that the red had left them. Yasparr pulled the door closed behind himself and leaned close to Verazda, putting his mouth next to her ear.
"Thank you," he whispered, before turning and leaving her room.
There was hope.
Now he had to find others like himself. Tomorrow was the dinner party with the highest house in the Underdark, and the storms of intrigue were brewing. Things were going to happen, and they were going to happen fast.
09-15-2012, 01:54 AM
Fille looked at the elf, and became a little more relaxed. She stopped struggling to run, and looked at him curiously, clutching her clothing as if it would protect her. She looked at Orryn, and Sindri. She didn't know this 'Zair' person. She had never seen him before. He was unfamiliar to her. And he did not act like a slave. He didn't act like the Drow, either. He had confidence, like the Drow did. But... The evil air was not there. Unsure how true her assumptions could be, she waited quietly for someone else to take the lead in greeting this newcomer.
However, her mouth twitched towards a smile at the thought of yet another friend. She raised her hand slightly, in a silent 'hello'.
Verazda looked at Yasparr in confusion as he came back into her chambers. He stepped towards her, and her first thought was to back away. However, she stood her ground. She remained motionless, allowing him to come close. Very close.
She could feel his body heat in contrast to the coolness of the room. The half-Drow looked up into his eyes, and for just one moment, she permitted emotion to cross her face. The look on her face was one of trust. But it also revealed many years that had corrupted who she used to be. But his eyes were a cool relief in comparison to the searing hate that all Drow held. It felt good to look into the eyes of someone who knew more than just power, lust and hate.
He closed the door behind him, and leaned close to her, putting his mouth next to her ear. Verazda watched him out of the corner of her eye. She was cautious. But she did not find his closeness unpleasant.
"Thank you." He whispered. She could feel his breath as he spoke, and found betraying chills running down her arms. Then he turned and left her room. Verazda almost wished he could have stayed. It had been so long since she had spoken with someone who knew her. More precisely, someone who knew Geala.
She sighed, resigning herself to a while more of loneliness. She hoped that he would trust her. For otherwise, she would have to leave him behind. It would sadden her to leave him as the house crumbled. Because then she would be doomed to live the rest of her life in solitude. She would no longer have a place among the Drow. And she would never be accepted on the surface... It was a fact she knew to be true. A half-breed had no place in the world. She wondered for a moment why she was even going to escape. Was eternal exile a life worth living for? Even if she convinced Yasparr to come, she would not be able to find a home. With or without him, or any others, she would wind up wandering lost forever. She wondered if there was even a place in heaven for someone like her. This was a heavy burden on her heart. She wondered why she had ever been born if this was all she was meant to do. Perhaps saving the others would be worth it.
Verazda sighed. She needed to get thinking. Wrecking tomorrow's dinner would be easy enough. The problem would be getting Matron Zrada Dvakrát’Kříž to betray her beloved 'family.
09-15-2012, 11:09 PM
Sindri glared straight into Zair's eyes, there was something in them she did not quite like, a slave having such fire in his fires made her wary. But whatever her other feelings he seemed honest enough and worth a chance so she put the rock back down and kept Fille close, "This girl needs medicine." She repeated before giving him an orryn brief directions to Kouzlo's laboratory, "Turn right as soon as you're past the door, if you're seen just tell them that Lord Kouzlo sent you to retreive something. There's a set of drawers just beside the door, in the second from the bottom there are a bunch of red vials. I don't know exactly what's in them, but whatever it is it helps you heal quickly and they probably won't miss one or two." Being the subject of Kouzlo's attentions so often was actually helping her for once, if she were alone Sindri would've laughted at the thought.
"And if you see any keys in the room, bring them back." she said lifting her hands to more fully show him her chains, "I've had enough of these chains." She then turned her head to Orryn. "If you think we can trust him do whatever you can to help him." she suggested before turning her gaze back to Zair, "If you pull this off I will be in your dept Zair."
09-17-2012, 01:37 PM
Looking at the three of them (Fille and Sindri huddled together against the rocks, and Zair still rooted like a statue in the midst if the stream), Orryn finally began to relax. The elf girl had said she'd trust the consort, and even little Fille seemed more relaxed now than when this Zair had first arrived. Sindri had provided directions to get medicine from a Drow lord's chamber, and possibly keys as well: a dangerous proposition. But then again, Orryn had already crossed a line. He was prepared to do whatever it took to ensure the little one's safety. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Orryn realized his legs were shaking from the tension he'd held so long, and he shifted back and forth a bit, hoping it would go unnoticed. A dwarf has his pride after all.
"Alright. Sindri, it will be up to you to keep her safe until we return. I don't know how you spotted her when you first came here, but you obviously have eyesight I can only dream of. That makes you best qualified to hide her better than I did. Don't let them find her! Zair, are you ready to get your hands dirty? Because if this doesn't go well, if we are discovered, this will get ugly and quickly. Understand, I will not fail. And if this Kouzlo gets in our way, he just might suffer a horrible accident in his very own laboratory." Orryn smiled at the thought of that. "Lets go, Zair. I am Orryn, and so long as you remain true, you may call me friend." Orryn extended his hand to the elf warrior in friendship. "Now, let's go get some medicine, shall we?"
Orryn winked in Fille's direction; a wink that said "Rest easy, lass; I'm going to take care of you now."
Zair listened calmly to them. First the female Elf tolled them of medicine in a Drow-Lord's chambers. He knew of this Kouzlo and the strange experiments he did on his subjects. When the Dwarf gave his little speech, Zair nodded, "No worries Orryn. I am at my best when things...as you put it, get "ugly". Zair took the Dwarf's hand and shook it. Orryn would most likely be surprised by the strength of his grip. Elves not known for there strength. Though it was plan to see Zair was stronger then any normal Elf, muscles rippling across his body, perfectly sculpted, "And if you remain true, I will not have to kill you." His voice flat and calm. As if it was just plan fact. He could not risk his mission. And one always had to be ready for anything in this place. For all he knew the Dwarf could be in league with the Drow. Though he highly doubted it.
Zair eyed the female Elf and Human girl for a moment then headed out of the stream on the other side. His icy blue eyes glowing slightly in the dark as he looks over his shoulder, waiting for the Dwarf to follow.
09-18-2012, 05:31 PM
The halls of the E'Bezcitný house seemed different to Yasparr. They were less confining. He had secreted the pin more securely on his clothing and now worked his mind for ideas of other things he could use as a weapon. The pin was sharp; enough to sever an artery or blind an opponent. What he really missed was the feel of a bow and arrow in his hands. They were once an extension of him, a way to reach out without magic or great strength and still bring down a deer or an orc.
One for eating, one so he didn't get eaten.
He found the broom and began to sweep the great hall of the E'Bezcitný. Other slaves were dusting and polishing the walls, wiping down furniture and mending small tears in the cushions. Every little aspect of the house had to be perfect. Glowing fungus and iridescent metals decorated the hallways. After he was finished cleaning the great hall he kept the broom in his hand and began to look for other ways to appear busy. The sturdy staff of the broom handle felt good in his hands.
Yasparr watched in awe as Dyka E’Bezcitný, the youngest daughter of the household and easily the one most in favor with Lloth, cast enchantments along the walls to create a glow that radiated softly and shifted in color as one walked past. She didn't acknowledge Yasparr's presence but he could feel the unseen eyes of her demon familiar from the abyss. He shuddered and walked away.
Eventually he found himself wandering the private back halls of the caverns, near Kouzlo's office. He glanced at the corridor that led to the stairwell and wondered if the Drow sadist had any other 'experiments' in his chambers.
09-19-2012, 04:26 AM
With one final glance at the two ladies, Orryn's turned to follow the elf warrior. Water buckets in hand, he hoped to appear non-conspicuous should they run into anyone unfriendly. Still struggling to deal with the sudden changes to his situation (dwarves aren't usually the best at adapting to change) Orryn's figured he'd better take advantage of the moment and learn a little more about his sudden "ally."
"Alright, I don't really know you, and you don't know much about me either. But I figure if you mean to betray us, youre probably skilled enough to overpower me, and you know enough to doom us all already. So I might as well let you into my mind." He eyed the elf for any sign of emotion or response. As usual, the guy was hard to read, so Orryn's continued. "I think it's obvious I mean to keep the girl from harm. She's been abused, and never did a thing to deserve that. But beyond that, I mean to get her out of here, for good. You take my meaning? This run for medicine and keys is just the beginning."
Orryn's walked beside this taciturn stranger for a few moments, collecting his thoughts, wondering if he was building a bond, or sealing his fate, and Fille's for that matter.
"Zair. You've been in the Matron Mothers company. You know of other slaves, others who may wish to join us; who may be worthy allies. There were others...in my company...others like me, dwarves, my kinsmen. Do you know anything of them? Whether they live, and where they might be? They would be most helpful to us if we are forced to carve our way out of this mountain. There was also that woman...the one who is a dragon. She wore a binding collar of stone. I have a way with gemstones; there isn't one in existence I cannot unlock, whether ensorcelled or not!" Orryn's eyes gleamed fiercely. "If I could just get my hands on it, just for a few minutes..." he paused. They were nearing the city margins again. They would have to be quieter now, lest they risk being overheard.
"Tell me, Zair. Where do your loyalties lie? What do you dream of when you close your eyes at the end of the day?"
For the most part Zair was silent as he let the Dwarf speak his mind as they walked toward there goal. His icy blue gaze forward, foot falls silent compared to his Dwarf friends. The Elf would nod when Orryn spoke of himself being in the company of the Matron Mother, "Indeed I am in her presence most of the time I have been here. I am nothing more then a show peace to her." The Elf frowns slightly as he looks over at his stout friend, "Sadly I have not much contact with other slaves besides the others that clean her chambers. And they are broken beyond help sadly. May Corellon Larethian give them a swift death and guide them to peace." The last part he whispered on a lower tone, "Though the she-dragon....she is...well from what I could tell she is long been broken. Even if we did some how got to Vypovězení family's house and freed her, I can not guarantee she will be of much help."
He looked forward as they made there way slowly as to not draw attention, "Though I do believe they might use the dragon to attack this house...I think she is of the silver race. I over heard at the party that they murder her draclings one at a time if she disobays. Perhaps if we are cunning enough and if Corellon Larethian is watching over us...we might be able to use that to are advantage some how..."
"Tell me, Zair. Where do your loyalties lie? What do you dream of when you close your eyes at the end of the day?"
Zair blinked slowly then looked back at the Dwarf and stopped in his tracks, his icy blues eyes having that same burning fire in them, "When I close my eyes, I envision Loth her self burning upon Corellon Larethian's blade. I will see this place wiped from existence, and perhaps one day, all the drow." He turned back and continued on with the same study, determined, and silent walk.
09-21-2012, 12:13 AM
"I like your vision," Orryn replied. "I must admit, the idea of this stinking, reeking, horrid perversion of nature being wiped clean..." he paused. Orryn realized he was speaking louder than he should have been, and that was never a good thing. "Zair, what are your plans? You've obviously been sent to bathe, and you're expected back...well, now. You don't blend in as easily as I do, either. What are you going to say when someone recognizes you?" Orryn thought for a moment, stopping in mid-stride. "Listen, Zair. There's something else I need, and maybe you know where you can get it. I need some tools. Like a hammer, any kind of hammer, and a chisel...a sharp one. Even if it's not sharp, I can take care of that. Do you know where you might find those? I used to have some really nice tools before I was caught. No telling where these filthy slime have taken them off to. But if I can get the medicine and the keys from the laboratory, then you can go make sure no one misses you, and see about some tools. Maybe check in on the dragon? What do you think? I really don't know what you're capable of, or what kind of freedom they allow you, so you tell me. Would you be better off going with me to the lab, or going back and trying to find some tools?"
09-25-2012, 01:17 AM
Fille listened carefully to everything that was said. She memorized the words, taking it all to heart, and finding herself entranced. She had never heard so many people speaking kindly to one another in the same place. To her, it was incredible. It was magical... It was freedom.
She heard Sindri speak of Kouzlo's office, and a small fear came over her. The memory was not a good one. She knew that Sindri, and the Tiefling girl, had both been experimented on. She wondered briefly if the girl was like them... If she thought differently, and wanted escape. She would have to ask her if she saw her again. Of course, she would have to take great caution in this. If she was not independent, as they were, then bad things might happen.
Fille saw Orryn wink at her. She smiled. Although she was unsure what the gesture meant, she felt safer. Like he was telling her to trust him.
When Orryn and Zair left, the young human nestled herself a little farther back into the concealing rocks. She and Sindri were now alone. She supposed it would be a good time to speak with her. Speaking... It was something that she was so unfamiliar with. Perhaps the practice would be good. Or maybe it would be best to stay quiet. However, her young, naive lips began making noises before she could stop them.
"Sindri?" Fille's voice was soft, and stumbling. "What did Kouzlo do to you and that other woman?" She asked. Her eyes were brimming with curiosity. She was a little bit afraid to hear what she might say, but she felt that it would be good to know. Perhaps she could learn from this.
As Orryn and Zair walked, and talked. Nobody really paid them any attention. Despite the fact that dwarves and elves rarely walked side by side, they weren't very different from anyone else. Not in the eyes of the common Drow guard. As long as they kept their eyes down, and were quiet when they were near, nobody suspected them. Slaves often found other slaves who they got along with better than others. They would sometimes accompany each other to do their jobs.
Who ever said slaves couldn't have cliques?
As the two moved cautiously, and carefully, they passed a hallway, only about a couple hundred feet from the stairs that lead down to Kouzlo's office. They knew that down this hallway, and to the right, was the hallways that lead to the guard barracks. No one had ever said slaves weren't allowed down there. Though... The guards tended to take care of their own messes. In a way, they were as much the slaves as the kolbolds were. The only difference? After a certain time period, they had a home to go to. They were a little more respected. But they were just as disposable.
That was when Orryn remembered that it had been the guards who took his tools. Perhaps they were there, in the guard barracks. Or perhaps the soldiers had turned them over to their masters...
Meanwhile, Lilly was walking down the same hallway. From where she was standing, she could see the dwarf and the elf walking side by side. And her keen ears tuned into their conversation. From what she could make out, she could tell that they were heading to Kouzlo's office. Not only by the snippets of conversation. In fact, from the conversation alone, she could tell almost nothing. But there was a way they were walking, and a way that they were talking. It told her that they were going against their masters. They were rebellious. And from the direction they were heading, the only mischief they could get into was in the wizard's laboratory.
What was their motive? She was unsure of that particular fact. But as the two rounded the corner, another set of footsteps came her way. the menacing sound of Kouzlo's boots ringing on the stone. From the direction he was walking, he could only be heading one place. The elf and the dwarf were likely doomed if he found them. That was, if they were going to seek trouble in his office.
Now Lilly had a choice. She could risk her life to try and save them from danger that might not even be real, or let the two face whatever fate they had coming.
09-25-2012, 07:08 PM
Lilly’s fluorescent blue eyes watched as the elf and dwarf walked with such a unusual stride. She stopped in her tracks to observe them, watch as they past her and proceeded down the hall towards the dreaded laboratory. There was not much else they could get into; especially, since they seemed to have already passed the halls that lead to the barracks. The only thing left waiting at the end of the hall was the lab. Nothing good ever seemed to come from that area of the house. Aside from that, Kouzlo refused to let anyone clean his area unless it was under his watch. The wizard was either paranoid or loved to torment those who entered the room, watch them and find ways to make their lives miserable. Seeing as how Kouzlo was nowhere in front of the duo, Lilly only assumed the worst. This new stride, the lack of the drow accompaniment, the chatter that was barely audible; it all seemed to add up to mischief.
The teifling sighed softly her head lowered as the two rounded the corner, unsure of their plans but knowing deep down it would get them in trouble if they were caught. ‘I wish them luck’ she thought to herself continuing with her walk down the hall but quickly stopping once more. The teifling who often avoided the drow knew who’s footsteps she heard walking towards her direction, and the direction of the odd duo. Why did everything always seem to turn into the worst possible event? Kouzlo was walking towards his lab and sure enough if he saw those two there, sufficed to say they would wish for death. The tiefling cringed as she had to quickly deiced what to do, instinctively turned around and moving swiftly down the hall to catch up to the two who were approaching the lab. All the while cursing in her mind about how if people decide to be mischievous they should be more careful. Aggravated with herself for being so protective and kind, it was simply in her nature. Watching someone get hurt never appealed to Lilly and any time she could prevent it she would.
She had very little time to act as she moved down the halls with purpose, the thud of Kouzlo’s boots never ending as they chased behind her. When she reached the door of the lab she found the two with the door opened. Either it was left unlocked or they had managed to pick it themselves, either way this whole scene looked bad. The tieflings face expressed worry, as she approached the two could have heard the steady clop clop of hooves hitting the stone ground. The two would be caught here in this position by Kouzlo himself and that could not end well. For the first time in over three years, Lilly opened her mouth to speak. The voice that came out was soft and kindhearted but had a strange echo or aura about it. “Kouzlo is on his way….here,” She said being as quiet as she could, knowing full well her voice was easily heard and could stick in someone’s mind.
The words that escaped her lips felt strange to her, like a small weight being lifted she allowed herself a small freedom of speech. Something she had refused to give herself once she was captured. The teifling who towered over both the male elf and dwarf pressed her foot down onto a small cobblestone beside the entrance to the lab. The stonewall seemed to open to a small passageway that was in no way designed for someone of Lilly’s height, but it could easily help the dwarf and elf.
This passageway was designed so that when and if the Matron of the house held a party the slaves who were not being displayed could continue with their duties. The passages simply moved from one room to the next, or to different halls so that the ugly sight of a filthy slave would not off put a party or gathering. All the while allowing the slaves to clean and continue with everything they were expected to do. In fact, Lilly herself had discovered these passages about two years ago and often used them to avoid the Matron and her children. It was one of the many ways the girl stayed out of trouble and was not picked up for random duties. Unfortunately the passage did not lead anywhere outside of the home but it was useful, and for now it meant these two would not get caught with whatever they were doing. The door would only stay open for so long in fact once the two were inside the passage there was usually a trigger (much like the one Lilly pressed) a few feet into the passage that would close the door behind them.
“You don’t want to get caught do you?” She questioned her eyebrow raised at the two as she expectantly waited for them to accept her offer of safety. Lilly knew darn well that someone would be blamed for this and there was no way she would be able to squeeze into the passage with Kouzlo just moments away. She could never rush into them due to her size and besides if the door to the lab was open, someone would be blamed. To Lilly it was better if she was, she healed quickly and had a high pain tolerance, to her there was little they could do to her physically that would ruin her. If the two chose to not accept her kindness they two would be punished not just for invading Kouzlo’s space but also knowing about things they were not taught (the passage).
09-27-2012, 04:50 AM
"You don't want to get caught do you?" the strangely beautiful, but horned and hooved, creature asked them.
To Orryn's recollection, it was the first time he'd heard her speak. Ever. And despite the warnings in his head, his instincts told him he could trust her.
Allies are just peeling off the walls around this place! he thought.
"Alright, missy," Orryn said, looking up--far up--into the face of their rescuer. "We'll take your advice," he glanced at the doorway, wherefrom came the quickly building echoes of the footsteps of Lilly's pursuer(s). "For now," he added. "But we came here for a reason, and we're not leaving without it. And if that means we have to save you from this...thing," he pointed at the doorway, "then we will. Right Zair?"
Stepping into the narrow confines of the secret passageway, Orryn crowded against the elven paladin, and then felt his foot shift on a stone plate of some kind. The doorway swung with a whisper back into place, leaving him and Zair in near darkness. THe ability to see in the dark ran in the blood of both him and the paladin, though, so he was certain that when he put a finger to his lips, the elf would see. Quickly, Orryn began undoing his the braids of his hair, freeing two of the long, slightly curved metal spikes he had stolen from the Lloth sculpture. He handed one to Zair, almost apologetically. He knew the metal wasn't weapon quality, but it was strong enough for a couple of good thrusts. And that was all it would take. He nodded at the elf once, as if to say, "I'm ready," then he pressed one ear to the door, listening intently to learn all that he could about what was going on in the laboratory, and when the time would be just right to reenter the room and do what was necessary.
A lot of crazy things were happening at once. But Zair stayed calm and cool during all of it. When the blue horned girl came into the room with the Dwarf and himself, he was ready, spinning around with hands out in a fighting stance. But when he heard her voice and what her intent was he trusted her and nodded along with the Dwarf silently.
As they cramped in the Dwarf handed him a curved spike. He looked it over silently and nodded. The time had finally come where he could draw Drow blood again. His warrior instincts kicking in high over drive. The adrenalin rush of battle to come, pumping in his veins. How long he had waiting for this. He missed it. He stood ready next to his Dwarf companion. Wanting nothing more then to slit the next Drow's neck wide open. His eyes having that intense burn. Zair stayed perfectly still, waiting to strike.
09-30-2012, 01:28 AM
A million thoughts of what things he could do whizzed through Kouzlo's mind. Of course... It was probably about time he attempted to remove the bond between Sindri, and the Tiefling who's name slipped his mind. He considered this, but decided that it was not the time.
Kouzlo sighed, bored. He wanted so badly to be filled with inspiration. He longed to feel the rush that came with hearing a slave scream in torment. He didn't know what it was about a shriek of hopelessness; it just made him feel so alive. Like he could take on the world and no one would ever stop him. It was what he lived for...
Kouzlo took a moment to revel the feeling before turning the corner to enter his office.
Whatever he did today would have to be quick, sadly. Mother needed him to prepare for the next day, when Zrada and her family would be accompanying them at dinner. And his mother would forge an alliance with her, therefore, sealing their safety. He sighed. Bad things happened when Drow forged hasty alliances. He really did pity himself, and the household he lived in. Hopefully, Lolth would be kind to them, and the alliance would be an honest one.
Oh how he wished Nenávidět would listen to his sisters. Or even to him. But it was not so... She was paranoid. He almost longed for the day when Melancholie killed her, and became matron mother. Then things would be run more sensibly. Then they would be the ones attacking houses. Not the ones being attacked.
He shook his head, and rounded the corner. His eyes widened in slight surprise as a young, beautiful slave came into view. Her tall stature and pale blue skin were familiar to him... Her presence so near to his office was suspicious, in the least. Kouzlo looked her up and down, taking in the expecting of pain in her body language. Not only did it suggest that she expected it, but that to a degree, she excepted it. ..What was she up to?
"What are you doing here, girl?"
10-01-2012, 04:06 AM
Yasparr had nearly fallen asleep wedged in his crevice in the wall behind a pillar of marbled polished stone. He heard footsteps and a voice out of a nightmare. Squinting in his tiredness he peeked out to see his most hated Drow master scowling at the blue skinned tiefling who had been taken into the office with Sindri a few days ago. he hadn't seen Sindri since the dinner party the day before, and until now Yasparr thought that this slave was going to wind up 'missing' as well.
He racked his mind for the woman's name. It was a flower...something pretty, something small. Lily.
His heart pounded as Kouzlo questioned the Tiefling with the interest of a spider looking over something caught in her web. Nothing scared him more than being 'punsihed' by the men. They seemed to take even more pleasure from tormenting their slaves then the women did, and that was a lot.
Yasparr stepped out and approached the two. "My deepest apologies Master Kouzlo! Your Matron mother has called for this slave to be brought before her to be prepared for tomorrow. I must bring her there immediately." He bowed his head and kept his gaze down, but he knew that it was just a matter of time before his lie was found out. Still, he had to do something. The drow would be their death if the slaves didn't make some kind of plan for escape, and for Yasparr's part he had gotten to the point where death was preferred to eternal slavery to these Underdark vermin.
10-02-2012, 04:14 AM
Orryn's eyes widened in surprise at this turn of events. With one ear still to the door, he met Zair's gaze, placing a finger to his lips. Knowing that the elf could see as well as he in the dark, Orryn mouthed silently the words, "We may not need to rescue her." A moment later, an expression of frustration and embarrassment crossed his face. With the fingers of one hand, the dwarf spread the hairs of his beard and moustache away from his lips and repeated himself.
Listening at the door, Orryn became hopeful for Lily. But not for whomever thus slave was who had come to save her. The timing was just too perfect. It had to be a lie, intended to save the horned one. And that spelled death for the unknown slave when Kouzlo uncovered the lie. And he would. Orryn could think of only one remedy for that:
Kouzlo needed killing.
Zair's eyes narrowed at the new comer. An Elf like him self. He had seen him around but never thought anything of him but a another broken one. It would seem not. For Zair could tell this other Elf was trying to save the blue horned one. An honorable deed of self sacrifice, just as the female did. Seems this place is with some hope still. Zair thanked his God as he raided him self.
He nodded to the Dwarfs reaction to this new comer. It was too late though. Zair planed on killing Kouzlo no matter what the circumstances. He needed to die, other wise plans would get muddied up. No one would think it odd that Kouzlo be gone for a few days, perhaps even weeks with his experiments. That gave them time, and if this Drow got away, things would get much harder on all of them. He gently taped the Dwarf's shoulder and held up the "shank" To show him he meant to go through with it. There timing would have to be good. Zair waits tell Kouzlo speaks again, hoping his back will be to him and the Dwarf so that they can stab him in the back. Of course Zair preferred the fight to be straight, and face to face, fair. But when one fights a Drow, you must fight like one your self. Or be dead.
10-04-2012, 09:30 PM
"My deepest apologies Master Kouzlo! Your Matron mother has called for this slave to be brought before her to be prepared for tomorrow. I must bring her there immediately."
Kouzlo looked back in surprise at the elf who had dared to speak to him.
"How odd." He said, turning to face him, and turning his shoulder to where the secret door was. "My dear Matron Mother never sends for specific slaves." his eyes searched the elf, trying to see into him, and to see into his thoughts. With a thought, his magic silently wormed it's way into the slaves mind. Kouzlo was immensely surprised at the intentions he found there. He meant to rescue her? to trick him?
He must have been either very desperate, or very stupid. This would be dealt with. "Well in that case, perhaps I should accompany the two of you to her presence." He said, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
10-04-2012, 11:12 PM
Yasparr felt his heart stop. This was it; he was going to die. They'd get to the Matron Mother and she would deny that she wanted Lily, and Kouzlo would know that Yasparr had lied.
He nodded. "Thank you Master Kouzlo." He tried to guide Lily to walk before him, hoping to at least put himself between the two and give her a chance to...to what? Run? He didn't know what he was planning. It was just one impulse to another, and a prayer that somehow it would all work out well.
The one thing that Yasparr didn't want to do was give Kouzlo his back, but he would either have to do so or attack him. There wasn't much time to think. He had to decide now.
10-05-2012, 01:10 AM
Lilly looked to her hooves as the little scene before her played out, the connotations behind doing this were kind. But she was prepared for what would have come to her, in fact she made the decision to put herself in the situation to behind with. It would have been so much easier if the elf had never approached. Letting her take the beating and stay as silent as always. After all half the drow believed her to be too dumb to talk, a simpler race much like the kobolds. Besides, in time of questioning she knew how to dull her thoughts and focus on something meager and beneath the Drow. Heck all she had to do was think about the outside world, of course it would be punishable but not nearly as much as hiding other slaves from view. Keeping them safe when they were obviously plotting again the Matron Mother and her family. Her brilliant blue tail swished back and forth as stood there mute, refusing to speak much like any other day.
Silently cursing herself for even bothering to help, it seemed the more people tried to help each other around it the more trouble it seemed to bring. Just a simple action made on a whim had lead to this. The second they made it to the Matron they were be punished ten times worse then before. It was like digging yourself deeper in your own grave, but what else was there for her to do? Lily placed on foot forward the touch of her hoof hitting the ground making a soft hollow sound. The other foot following behind it as she began walking back toward the direction from whence she and the elf came. Placing her tall slender statues form between the elf and Kouzlo with ease and without hesitation in the matter. Her hands placed in front of her as if they were bound tightly together by chains, these chains. The chains of slavery and nothing more, despite longing to see her sister and mother once more Lilly had lost hope for it in the years she spent here. Besides, while they make break and maim her, she was still a prized specimen and she knew it all too well. Not once in any agenda has she ever seen or heard of another of her race being down here. Just to beat and break her into submission was far easier then getting a unique slave to show off. So she walked before she would have faced her punishment without fear but now as the situation escalated Lilly had her doubts if she would be able to escape alive.
10-05-2012, 01:30 AM
Through the thin stone panel door, Orryn heard it all. The elf arrived just in time, offering up an excuse for the tall, horned girl to leave with him. But something was wrong...the drow, Kouzlo, had hesitated before he'd replied. Orryn could hear the smile in his voice as he slyly replied that he would "escort" them to the Matron Mother.
He knew! Orryn realized with a start. But how?!
If they could read minds, could this drow read theirs as well? Did he know they were just lurking behind the doorway, poised to strike? If they emerged, would they have already surrendered all of the element of surprise, and be facing a readied enemy? Regardless, the girl had saved them, placing herself in bodily peril to save them. He could not let that go unanswered, and allow her to be led to her torture and possible death, along with the elf.
"This is going to be ugly," Orryn whispered to the elf paladin. Steeling himself, holding the curved metal fang in one hand, he checked over his shoulder once more to see that Zair was ready. With a mighty heave of his powerful, short body, he quickly forced the door out of the way. Before him, within arms reach, stood the drow, quartered away from him. Orryn moved toward him and to the right as quickly as he could, getting out of the paladin's way, circling around so that at least one of them would be behind the drow elf.
Which way the drow turned would determine who struck first...
10-05-2012, 03:04 AM
"A wisp of air traveled past Kouzlo’s cheek. The wizard’s head whipped around as he felt the breeze caused by the door being shoved out of the way. His eyes narrowed in loathing, rather than widening in surprise. Yes another figure had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere beside him. A feral growl escaped his lips as his mind’s eyes reached out farther, seeing those around him in a three hundred and sixty degree angle. There was a dwarf, and a tall, uncommonly strong elf. Both of them wielded weapons made of pure silver. The wizard immediately recognized the craftsmanship.
Not only had these slaves plotted against him. They had defiled Lolth’s temple by taking the horns from the door. They had destroyed the monument that his ancestors had offered humbly in her presence! They had spit at his goddess’s feet. Anger rose up within him, and the edges of his vision were tinged slightly with red. How dare they do such a thing? Anger burned brightly in his eyes. “You!” He looked at them all, turning slightly. He realized that no matter how he turned, either the dwarf or the elf was at his back.
“Já jsem princezna víla!” Kouzlo shouted, power ringing from his voice as he whirled out from between the two, his clothes flaring slightly with the movement. The foreign words of power seemed to hang in the air for a moment, making the air thick, as if one was trying to breathe in water. “Úklona před mou kytkou proutku!” The air’s thick quality did not cease. For Orryn, Lilly, and both elves, movement was quite difficult. It felt as if they were trying to walk through molasses. But Kouzlo seemed unaffected. Quickly he ducked out of the way of both, taking the moment to get away from his aggressors.
He turned, saying a few more words of power. “Tady to je, se bát!” A long, transparent blade appeared in his hand. The item looked like it was made of smoke, and indeed wisps trailed from it as it moved through the air, apparently weightless. He faced them head on, prepared to make quick qork of them.
In truth, to him, the magic sword was just a show. He had no doubt that he could have killed them already. But he was bored. So to make it interesting, he was adding a few extra elements.
He had no idea how much he would need them.
Zair rushed out in a fury. Eyes ablaze and strangely a wide wicked smile was splayed out on his face. His expression did not even change when the Drow wizard worked his spells. For Zair himself had a few surprises of his own, "Corellon Larethian, I call upon you!" His voice rang out in power as he spoke in his ancient Elven tong and the silver spike in his hand all of a sudden glowed bright blue, most likely hurting the Drow's sensitive eyes. A strange flame leaped out, making the small spike spring forth blue fire the size of a sword. He came straight at the Drow, sword poised in front of him. As he reached the Wizard he fainted a stab to the Drow's face then quickly rolled to the side, stabbing out at the Drow's side in a sudden fury and speed that would make anyone blink twice. Zair had to use all his speed to his advantage. Due to this one being a Wizard..and with slow spells none the less!
10-05-2012, 01:33 PM
The air suddenly felt as if it was air no longer, but rather water or sand. Such was the effect of the dark magic woven around Kouzlo. This would change things. Surprise was no longer theirs, but HIS. As was the advantage of speed. But Orryn kept a small portion of hope to himself, for he knew that even a death dealing blow could be delivered slowly. And the thought of that warmed his soul.
The elf was quick, and somehow possessed a magic of his own in this dark place. Orryn lamented that what little magic he could control consisted of the manipulating and enchanting only of stones and metals. No, his talents were not likely to do much good here, amidst the pure malice that fueled the arcane arts of the drow. If they were to succeed he would need to give the paladin his best chance possible. Zair had somehow turned the silver spike into a sword of living blue flame, and the fury and potency in his gaze assured Orryn that this Kouzlo would be focused on him, considering him for the moment to be the greatest threat.
With a cry that he hoped sounded like startled fear and hopelessness, Orryn threw himself into a huddled mass against the wall, covering his head with his ragged clothing, and babbling incoherently. He tried to keep his thoughts covered with a wall of that babble, a shell through which the drow would have not the time nor the patience to probe, to see the machine of Orryn's plans beneath.
Amidst it all, Orryn waited, silver spike in hand beneath his garments, for the instant the drow mage sharpened his focus on the paladin. For in that moment, he would strike.
10-05-2012, 04:01 PM
Yasparr was in the midst of his decision when Kouzlo began his magical encantatoin. He turned in fear, thinking that the Drow was going to kill him right there, but then he saw the Dwarf and the other Sylvan Elf behind the mage. Where had they come from?
He stepped back a few steps but then was caught in the thick, syrupy air. His limbs grew heavy. No! Movements were difficult, and as the sword flared in Kouzlo's hand, then another appeared in the other Elf's hand. He saw the other Sylvan try to feint and stab at Kouzlo, but even though the warrior Elf was quicker than most would be in the confines of the spell, his actions were still horribly slowed. Only Kouzlo was able to manage moving through the spell's effects as if they were not there.
Yasparr slowly, painstakingly, tried to move himself out of the perimeter of the spell. He didn't know how far the magi's magic reached, but unless he could get out of it he knew that there was little he could do at this point.
10-06-2012, 07:38 PM
Despite Zair's best efforts, Kouzlo's spell held him in a force that resisted his movement, making him feel sluggish and unable to move to his full potential. When he called upon his deity, he found his movement freed slightly. However, he was not yet completely able to escape the enchantment. In his blind fury, he barely realized how his movements were restricted. Until, that is; Kouzlo seemed to move with blinding, impossible speed. Only then did he realize just how entrapped he was.
The wizard easily deflected his blow. But his movements seemed to be far more restricted by the presence of Corellon Larethian. He almost appeared to be in pain. Perhaps it was because of the light, which, in the dark tunnel, was nearly blinding to many. Luckily though, the small lights they were so used to, which lined the hallways spared their eyes from too much shock when this happened.
"Může motýli plivat na nos!" Kouzlo spit out the Drow curse, glaring at Zair. He would kill this surface elf. He would tear his entrails out, and hang them in his office. "Mroži nyní plácat vy!" He shouted angrily, and sloppily. A gust of wind pushed Zair back. Kouzlo seemed frustrated by this, as if the spell had not gone the way he had planned. He looked around, the slaves around him seemed to entrap him, though many were not acting aggressively. In fact, one was shrunk against the wall in apparent terror.
"Ať vaše vlasy se nabubřelý!" He shouted, this time enunciating his words. A blinding flash, which he had not anticipated, filled the room. Zair's summoned sword vanished, and Kouzlo's did as well. The frustrated wizard shouted another curse.
At this moment, Kreten was walking down the same corridor.
He heard a familiar voice call out strongly in a string of curses, and then words of magic. He frowned deeply, and quickened his stride, breaking into a jog. He wondered what had gotten Kouzlo's undergarments in a bunch. Apparently he was extremely frustrated about something. His brother had a short temper, after all... And when he was alone, it quickly got out of control. Kreten dearly hoped that he wouldn't be required to clean up the mess again. Often it was gristly, bloody, and... Yucky.
The youngest Drow in the family rounded the corner. What he saw was really quite a surprise to him.
What did he see? He saw his brother, reeling back in surprise at his own spell, groping for a sword that didn't exist. He saw slaves surrounding him, a few appearing surprised, one appearing aggressive, and yet another shrunk back into the corner, in fear for his life.
"Kreten! Get him! He attacked me!" Kouzlo pointed at Zair, shaking his head to clear his vision of the white stain caused by his spell.
10-06-2012, 11:41 PM
Another drow! Now there were two of them! This was dangerous and...well bad, to begin with, but two drow would bring this encounter to an entirely new level. The new one looked similar in appearance to Kouzlo...but then again, all the gray-black-skinned, red-eyed, skinny, no meat on their bones having, pointy-eared rejects of the world of the living looked the same, didn't they?
Things had changed, Orryn calculated, but their decision must remain the same. Their resolve must deepen, for to lose this fight would mean horrible consequences, and not just for them. For Fille. The stakes were just as high, but the odds of survival...
Small chance of success...almost certain death, dismemberment or prolonged torture...what am I waiting for?
Kouzlo appeared to be dazed and frustrated by a string of uncooperative magic-casting, and was shaking his head as if to clear it of something. His hand was empty of weapons at the moment. Orryn could think of no better time to act. Silver spike gripped in one hand he uttered a simple but powerful enchantment, such as he would have on a fine gold or silver ornament, to strengthen it and protect it from scratches and bending. Then with all the strength and speed he could muster amidst the quickly failing wild magic of this drow monster, Orryn leapt to his feet and surged toward Kouzlo, the spike protruding from between his fingers like a punching dagger. His plan: to stick the spike in with one shove, and to follow it up with a heel strike to bury it so deep it could not be pulled out. Ever.
Aiming for the sweet spot just to the left of the spine, just below the shoulder blade, right behind the lung and the heart, Orryn struck.
Thanks to his faith and his prowess, the sight of yet another Drow just drove him harder. In the corner of his sharp Elven eyes he saw the Dwarf going for the Wizard's back. He had to keep them all focused on him. He spat out in there Drow tongue, "Pathetic lower beings! If you knew better you would scurry away in the darkness and hide like your pathetic Goddess Loth, like the puny insect she is!" Then in his own native tongue he roared with fury and anger of a thousand generations, "Corellon Larethian! Your humble servant calls upon you to punish your most hated foes!" Zair reached up as he called his God, the room filling with light as a beam hit him, filling him with holy light. He pulsed with holy energy, shining like the sun it self. Armor seemed to flout around him, shining brilliant gold. With all the faith he could muster he held on to this enchantment from his God. Thank you... He humbly thought. After this fight he knew he was going to be drained. Never before has such holy energy flowed through him. But he had to do it. Things where looking bad.
"RRRAAAAAAAGGHH!!!!" He charged forward at the Wizard, a golden curved double sided sword, appearing in his hands, glowing brightly, "FEEL THE WRAITH OF CORELLON LARETHIAN FOUL CREATURE!" He rolled forward spinning his blades over his head with a swift double chop at the Wizards knees.
10-07-2012, 04:43 AM
Yasparr still hadn't gotten out of the range of whatever foul magic the Drow had called forth. He Saw Kreten move forward, though, and could see the Sylvan and the Dwarf attacking Kouzlo. The last thing that they needed was another adversary.
He fought the thickness in the air and moved to intercept the younger brother. As he pulled his limbs slowly he also removed the three inch pin he had secured from Verazda. A full insertion into Kreten's temple should kill him, but if that wasn't possible, Yasparr could severe an artery with the pin, or crush his windpipe with a well-aimed blow. If only he could get out of the range of the spell!
He saw Kreten moving in their direction and wondered if the younger Drow would be affected by the spell as well, or if he, too, had wardings against such power.
10-16-2012, 04:30 PM
“Mami zachraň mě!” With a vacuum-like concussive whoosh, Kouzlo disappeared from thin air, causing Orryn and Zair to stumble into each other, luckily, not harming each other.
In that instant, Kouzlo’s earlier spell dissipated. Limbs were freed of the thick feeling that had previously hung in the air. At first, it seemed as though the air was too thin. Everyone over compensated their movements, and the air felt lubricated with oil, causing them to slip, and slide. After a few seconds, the world seemed to accept them again, and the effects of the spell were finally gone.
Kouzlo did not reappear. It seemed as though he had vanished from existence. Was this something that had been caused by Corellon Larethian? Had Zair’s deity simply snatched the wizard from existence, casting him into eternal limbo? For the moment, the truth was unclear. However, the fight was not over. For there was yet another aggressor. Kreten, the younger brother.
Fear flashed across his features as the warrior realized that he was now alone, abandoned as his brother vanished.
He muttered a Drow curse. At first, his only thought was to flee. But what if they struck his back? Kouzlo had told him to attack… In all technicalities, his brother was his better. Therefore, he had to follow through with the order whether he wanted to or not. Kreten’s face screwed up in a bunch as he saw one of the two elven slaves struggling to approach him.
Kreten drew his sword, taking on a fighting stance. The Drow wasn’t of much use when it came to spells or politics. Or anything at all. But he was a skilled warrior. Probably the only reason who he was still alive, and hadn’t been sacrificed to the Spider Queen, Lolth. Though, once or twice his sisters had thought about it. He knew that his mother would never have had an objection… He wondered briefly if he had lived through all those years, finding ways to escape being sacrificed, just to be murdered by slaves. Well. It wasn’t the worst way he could die.
10-18-2012, 03:50 AM
It was gone....that syrupy, drugged feeling of being a fly trapped in a vial of oil...was gone!
Orryn stumbled forward, barely managing to avoid striking Zair with the spike, and only narrowly avoiding the paladin's blades as well. Thankfully, the warrior's reflexes didn't seem to have faded with his time of captivity. Orryn couldn't spare the moment to do much more than recover his balance, for there remained one enemy in the room.
Orryn knew that Kouzlo had likely escaped, was very likely somewhere telling all of his foul drow friends of their little rebellion here, was even at this very moment bringing down the forces of this place to converge on them in this tiny, filthy, epicenter of evil. They had to get out of here, and quickly. Which meant Kreten had to die before he, too, could slow their already sliver-like chance of escape.
Pretending to still be off-balance, Orryn allowed himself to "trip" and fall over Zair, rolling toward the feet of Kreten. As he came to a rest he struck, driving upward with one fist, the one still holding the spike, aiming for the inner thigh just above the knee. There was a particularly large artery there, he knew. If he could just rip that open--yes, it would be messy--but it would also be horribly painful, and death from exanguination would come quickly. Perhaps, if he was lucky, Zair might even finish the drow off before he had a chance to strike back at the dwarf in his pain and anger.
10-19-2012, 07:31 PM
It felt like his body had been moving through warm wax, even his ears were filled, and then the wax was gone and he could hear again. Yasparr took a deep breath and assessed the situation. Orryn and Zair stumbled against each other, but then Orryn seemed to fall over Zair. He flipped over with surprising agility for a Dwarf, and then looked like he was going to stab the younger Drow brother with a horn-like shank.
Yasparr saw Kreten with his sword, prepared to strike the brave dwarf down. He knew that the Dwarf had made a decision that he couldn't turn back. With teeth clenched, Yasparr rushed forward to try to grab Kreten's sword arm and give Orryn a fighting chance.
10-31-2012, 03:14 AM
Pain filled the body of the youngest Drow child. His mouth opened in shock as he realized that he was going to die. Orryn's makeshift blade had pierced deep into his gut, ripping through his intestines and stomach lining. The damage could not be undone. Even a healing spell in that very moment wouldn't be enough to save him.
Kreten began to raise his sword, ready to use his last moments to kill the dwarven filth. But hands gripped his sword arm, pulling it back. He was helpless. Defenseless. The warrior had been beaten by his own slave...
The Drow fell to the ground. His sword clattered against the ground with a loud 'Clang!'
His eyes were wide with disbelief. Kouzlo left me to die... I came to help him. He had been betrayed. It's not like he ever cared, but... But... The Drow was never able to finish the thought. His blood created a crimson pool around him, soaking into his clothes and staining them red. His mouth was open in an eternal, silent scream that would never be answered. His eyes were wide, staring at the ceiling as if wishing some god would accept him into the afterlife. But none had. Lolth was not as gracious and caring as the Drow believed.
Silence filled the chamber. The group had survived their first fight with their masters. Kreten was dead. Kouzlo was gone. No doubt he would come to get them soon. Perhaps the tunnels would provide a faithful escape route? Was it worth it to try and blend back into slave life? No... Orryn, Zair, and Yasparr were all too distinguishable. Not to mention Lilly.
As the slaves looked around, trying to take stock of all that had happened, they realized that the Tiefling was nowhere to be seen. As a matter of fact, none of them could remember her being there in the last moments of the fight. The last time any of them remembered her being present was right before Kouzlo had vanished. Had he taken her with him? Or had she run, trying to save herself? The answer was unclear. But taking into account her selfless nature, the second option was far less likely than the first.
Now, the problem would be staying alive while Kouzlo knew about them.
Fate seemed to desire their death, though. Another set of footsteps came down the hallway. These were rushed. The quick 'heel toe' stride was crisp, and authoritative. But... Concerned. Another, final Drow came into sight. The first woman of the three, Verazda looked shocked. Her dark features froze at the sight of her dead brother. Her eyes came up to the two elves, and the dwarf. The seen was bloody. A dark red substance was splattered over Orryn's clothing. Yasparr, nearby, had not avoided getting dirty either.
Verazda glared at Yasparr, as if to say 'You've ruined everything!'. The dinner party might be delayed now. It might be rushed! Her plans could all be ruined! She was about to demolish several powerful drow houses, and now this? Granted, no one would miss Kreten... But that was an irrelevant fact.
What really mattered, was that Orryn and Zair didn't know who Verazda really was. Adrenaline was still rushing through their veins, and to them... Verazda was just another enemy.
Fille's question hung in the air for several seconds. Her eyes traced over Sindri's face, wondering if she had asked a sensitive question. Maybe she shouldn't have spoken...
In that moment, there was a vacuum-like 'Woosh!' Fille shut her eyes as there was a bright flash of light that stung her eyes. When her eyes opened once again, she found that she was... Alone.
After the Drow Wizard vanished Zair spat out, "Coward!" Spinning about to see the last moments of yet another Drow. An Elf held the Drow's arms back as his Dwarf friend shoved his spike into him. But before he could even blink another Drow showed up, looking shocked. Probably due to the fact a slave could even harm them must of shaken this new Drow, Zair thought as he spinned his holy blades around him, the blade's glow leave a trail behind them as he approaches this new threat. Then he burst forward, "Time to end yet another one I see!" He spook to her in the Drow tongue, hoping it would draw her attention and perhaps catch her more off balance. But them something happened and the holy enchantment broke and Zair stumbled and fell down hard on the floor. He could no longer move. At first he thought it might be the Drow woman but then realized his holy strength got the better of him and now was drained. Why had his God stopped him now? He prayed that the others cold defend themselves.
10-31-2012, 06:18 PM
Yasparr stepped between Zair and Verazda, putting his back towards the Drow woman. "Don't harm her! She's...she's on our side." He held his hands out towards Zair and Orryn, palms outwards. He glanced at Kreten's still form. "Let's put that one's body in one of the tunnels. We can wash the blood away and no one has to know."
He turned to look at Verazda. "Except Kouzlo. He was just here fighting us, but he vanished. And..." he looked around. "I think he might have taken Lily with him too. The uh, the blue girl with the horns." He frowned slightly. "Verazda, you are on our side, aren't you?"
11-01-2012, 04:24 AM
"Oh, of course! Ask the drow if she's on our side! Of course she's not, she's with them!" Orryn fumed, the blood of Kreten dripping down his arm onto the floor as he stood. He was surprised at how easily the elf had died, but reminded himself that the gods didn't seem to make elves out of stuff as tough as dwarves. There were exceptions, he noted, glancing at Zair, who at the moment looked to be considering exactly how to carve up the female drow.
"No time to waste cleaning up this mess. It's not the first blood that's hit this floor, and it won't be the last. If there's a way to quickly stow the body, fine. He doesn't know we've killed yet. But we've got to deal with her and get out of here, fast! By my measure she's got about three seconds to convince us she's trustworthy before the royal consort over there starts filleting elf-steaks!"
He looked Verazda in the eye. "One...two..."
11-01-2012, 05:12 AM
Verazda’s crimson eyes widened at Yasparr’s sudden attempt to protect her. What was he doing? She had never seen such a selfless action in all her life… Certainly never one for her.
“Yes of course I’m on your side.” She said in a low whisper, keeping her eyes on the others. She was ready, in case they decided to stab her to death despite their friend. “But I can see that you lied to me when you told me there weren’t any others.” She said, frowning. So there is a group of rebels… Geala wondered why he hadn’t told her. But the obvious answer (That she was a bloody drow) came to mind.
She swallowed hard when the dwarf started to threaten her with being cut into a fillet. “I think Yasparr can tell you that better than I.” The drow woman said, looking unaffected by his words. “The truth is, I don’t think I can tell you why you should trust me. But what I can tell you, is that you’ll need me to get out of here.” Her eyes flicked back and forth, between the rather muscular looking elf, and the dwarf. “You’ll have to take a chance. Because without my help, Kouzlo will have the entire house down upon your heads.”
Verazda really didn't want to have to fight them. She would either die, or have to kill them. She didn't like either of those options, considering that they were good people who wished to escape the tyranny of the Drow... She wanted to escape the same thing, after all. The difference was that they had a home to go back to. She? Did not. At the least, she wanted the chance to aid them before she died. They deserved to go back to their families... But they had to trust her before she could do anything for them.
11-05-2012, 04:19 PM
Yasparr flinched when Verazda accused him of lying. "I didn't know there were any others," he said. "Not conclusively, anyway."
He looked from Orryn to Zair. "I stand between you and she and I will continue to defend her until my death. Do not let your hate overwhelm your reason. She will help us." He extended one hand behind himself, towards Verazda. He needed a weapon. "Give me your dagger, Verazda."
He was tense, ready to intercept any attack on her from these two fellow slaves. When they were children he had failed to defend her in any way. Among her tormentors, Yasparr had been the worst. Now...nearly thirty years later, he would do what he should have done all those years ago. He would be an elf who looked first at the heart and then at the face; he's be the protector of his people, and Geala was the first on his list.
11-05-2012, 08:46 PM
Again, Verazda was shocked by Yasparr’s display of selflessness on her behalf. She heard his request, and thought briefly. There were three different daggers strapped to her body in different places, all arranged so as to look like they were part of her outfit. Most of her weapons were the same as any other, despite being finely crafted. But there were a few that were far more than that. She reached to her side, using one hand to unbuckle the dagger that was strapped around her hips. She pulled it, along with its sheath, off of her body, placing it in Yasparr’s hand.
She didn’t tell him what the item’s properties were. For it was more than just a tool to defend with. It had magical qualities as well. They were the kind that a person wouldn’t notice. The kinds that would allow him to block a blow at the last second, where he wouldn’t have been fast enough before. Geala had decided that it would do him more good than it would do her.
“I understand if you don’t trust me.” She said, looking at the other two slaves. “But we really don’t have time to stand here and glare at each other until one of us drops dead.” She looked at Kreten. “He has weapons on him. Take what you can. Get into the secret tunnels. I’ll take care of the body. Don’t worry about me betraying you. Kouzlo will already be looking for you three.” She turned her head slightly at Orryn. “I have the feeling that there is someone you are worried for, who is not here. I would try to get to whoever that is immediately.”
“S-Sindri?” Fille’s tiny, broken voice was deafening in the silence. She swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. What was she going to do now? Sindri was gone, and the others had not returned yet… She got a feeling that they had run into trouble. She hoped that they would all be okay.
The sound of the water trickling beside her was comforting… It was soothing, almost like a melody. A small smile came to Fille’s face. She squirmed back, deeper into the rocks, and rested her head on a stone. She could sleep until the others came back. Of course, she would just have to hope that no one came and found her. “Please come back soon.” She whispered into the dark, worried that she would never see her friends again. After all, they might find a chance to escape, and forget about her… She didn’t know if they truly cared for her as much as she thought they did.
Sighing, Fille closed her eyes. It wasn’t very hard at all to fall asleep, there, in her uncomfortable position. She had slept in worse places. And the calming sound of the stream was lulling her to sleep…
It seemed like two minutes when a hand roughly grabbed her shoulder, throwing her to the side, onto the hard stone ground. Fille’s eyes snapped open as she was wrenched back into the world of pain. She had been thrown on her back, and she could feel old wounds reopening. Fille fought back tears as she realized she had been found. The others had not returned in time.
“Get up, human filth!” A drow hissed. Fille felt the hard toe of his boot jab her side. The pain made her want to throw up. “You know better than to sleep during the day!” Fille tried to stand, but she was shoved back down. This time, she fell into the stream. Cold water ran over her body, sending chills into her bones. She shrunk back against the wall, again, attempting to stand. She kept her eyes on the ground, in shame.
“I wasn’t come here to try to fall asleep.” She said in broken Drow. “Very sorry.”
“Get out of the water.” Fille obeyed, stepping out of the stream. “You will be punished for this.” Fille shut her eyes, wishing she was anywhere else in the entire world.
“Yes. I deserve punishment.” She had been taught to say this. Fille might have even believed the words she was saying.
The Drow pushed her towards the stairway that led away from the stream. Fille stumbled, and fell on her hands. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet, hoping that her clumsiness wouldn’t earn her more punishment.
Deep under the E’Bezcitný house, laid the dungeon. There were several layers to it. There were the cells where ‘undesirable’ people were kept. And there were holding cells where people sometimes would await torture. There were areas where special people were kept until it was just the right time to sacrifice them, and there were cells where people were kept until they died of starvation.
It wasn’t a happy place. There were moans, and screams that echoed through the halls. Growls, and guttural voices snarled from deeper within. Sometimes crazed whispers could be heard. Sometimes, screams for help when the danger was inside the minds of those who were trapped there. The worst of it was the steady clicking sound that could be heard from time to time. It was said that there was a beast there that even the Drow could not contain. One with many thin, long legs. It was the nightmare of those who were doomed to spend eternity there. Once every night, it was rumored to find someone to fill its belly.
Of course, there was another section of the dungeons. It was quite a bit different. The cells were stronger, and larger. There were few of them, ten in all. It was almost an entirely different dungeon in and of itself. Within were… People. They were slaves. Just like so many others in the Underdark. But they were very different from those who served the Drow in a more common manner.
There were six of them. They were like champions. Captured to fight. Their bodies were scarred, and their minds were filled with screams, and blood. Their former selves had mostly wasted away. Their personalities were different… They were much like mindless husks at times. But some of them had managed to store their sanity away, saving it for when they would be able to use it again.
They were Fighters. Champions, if you will. The Drow enjoyed watching two people tear each other apart. And so, they kept special slaves just for the ‘tournaments’ that were held. Sometimes, the Fighters were also used to attack, or defend a house. Their uses were endless. But in the end, they were just fighting machines to the Drow who used them. Some of them enjoyed it. Others simply did what they had to, to survive. It was a hard life for those of them who had good hearts. But eventually, the task became an objective. Killing became much easier. Winning; was all that mattered.
All of the cells were on one side of the hallway. It was built this way so that the Drow could stay out of arms reach if one was in a particularly foul mood.
Of the Fighters, some were more distinguishable than others. There was one who looked like a simple human. His body was scarred, and one of his eyes had been torn out long ago. His hair was long, and matted in a brown heap at the back of his head. The crazed look in his eyes displayed that he had absolutely no control over his actions. His arms, torso, and legs were quite muscular, but…Sickeningly so. He appeared to be about fifty years old. The Drow had mentioned earlier that day that he was likely to die in the next tornament. Most humans didn’t live to be any older than thirty. He was long gone.
There was a pair of dwarves who were, likewise. However, they were in their prime. The two usually worked as a team, fighting by each other’s sides. Somehow, they had a sense of loyalty to each other. But besides this, their minds were also gone.
In the fourth cell… Not even the drow really knew what was in that cell. Her name was Ona. The slaves never fed her, and she was never taken out of the cell. When she went to a tournament, no one saw her leave. But she was always victorious. In truth… She might have scared the Drow a little. Sometimes her quiet, indecipherable whispers could be heard. But she had never spoken a word that someone could understand.
The last two slaves were Koin, and Zar. They were both excellent fighters. Both in their prime. No one knew if Ona had retained her sanity. But among all of the Fighters, only Koin and Zar were known to speak intelligibly. Though, it seemed as if Koin was speaking less and less. It was becoming easy to enrage him. That was how the Drow liked their Fighters. Dumb, quick to anger, and easy to manipulate. They worked hard to try and break their minds.
Two regular human slaves fed and cared for the Fighters. One was quite tall, the other… Rather short. They were both male. One, was Kyran. But he was known to everyone else as ‘slave’. The other didn’t know his name. He was also known as ‘slave’. They lived right there in the dungeons, far from the other slaves. There was a second slave house for those who were in the dungeons, apart from the one attached to the main house. For this reason, the two groups of slaves never crossed paths; just as the common slaves had never met the miners before the tunnel collapse.
Every day they came, and tried their best to feed the Fighters without being killed. Making eye contact sometimes spurred the Fighters into attack. Sometimes it didn’t. Sometimes they received gratitude. Other times, they were grabbed, and pulled against, or through, the bars. Often, killed. Whenever this happened, a replacement was brought from among the common slaves.
Sadly, that was exactly what happened that day. It was over in a flash. The slave who worked with Kyran was suddenly attacked by one of the dwarves. Somehow, he had been greatly angered when the slave had tried to take his waste bucket. The human’s head was smashed against the bars in a bloody display. It was over before he even knew what had happened. It wasn’t as if the two slaves were ‘friends’. But the sight of yet another of Kyran’s partners, dead, was… Horrific.
It seemed that he would be receiving someone else to help with the monotone job. Would this one die too?
A few hours later, the Drow sorted it out. The body of the dead slave was carried off, probably to be fed to some monster. Fille was dragged into the dungeon, thrown into the hallway where the Fighters were being kept. Kyran was there too. It was feeding time. Fille had some of the bland food with her, which she was to give the Fighters. Shakily, she stood to her feet. Was this her punishment?
11-06-2012, 01:02 AM
Kyran watched his partner get killed by one of the dwarves. Such bloody displays had never disgusted him. When he was young, he may have had a natural visceral reaction to such displays, but no one taught him how to truly react to such violence. The instinct of disgust was thus slowly drained out of him, until he felt it no more. However, he did feel something negative at the death of his partner. He knew nothing of emotions, so he didn't know what he felt. It felt like an emptiness in him. The constant presence next to him had made him feel...safe. He and his partner rarely spoke together, but they were always together. Now they would not be together. This, of course, was not the first partner he had lost. He had felt this emptiness when they were killed, too. He wondered how he had survived this long as a Fighter slave. Perhaps it was his size combined with his meek disposition. He appeared as if he could stand up for himself, but did not challenge the Fighters. Perhaps, being little more than beasts themselves, they could sense the beast deep with Kyran. If a Fighter grabbed him, Kryan would fight back. He would fight back well. Sometimes he lost himself and destroyed things.
A replacement was soon sent down. Kryan was feeding the Fighters, who all seemed to have forgotten what had just happened. The monster inside of him wanted to kill the dwarves. However, he kept calmly feeding them, avoiding eye contact, hunched over and walking surprisingly quietly for a man of his size. He glanced over as Fille was dragged into the dungeon. Another small one. The Fighters seemed to target small ones. He watched her slowly get to her feet, looking very frightened. It was bad to look frightened. The Fighters could sense it. They would sometimes be spurred to violence by it. He finished giving food to the dwarves. Fille had the food for the Koin and Zar. He slowly and carefully approached her. He would inform her in the same way his first partner had informed him. This was one of the closest things to camaraderie amongst the two lonely Fighter slaves. The old partner would tell the new partner how to decrease the risk of being killed. When he reached her, he felt as if he were towering over the small woman. He attempted to make himself even smaller. His piercing blue eyes darted from the ground to Fille as he said softly, "Do not be frightened. They will know." Kyran had an air of calm and meekness about him, tinged ever so slightly with anger.
11-06-2012, 10:43 PM
The air was still, and quiet for a moment. Fille listened to his words, but they were surely lost on her. Her eyes expressed the same fear. Her body shook with the same terror. She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but words would not come out. It seemed like everything in the Underdark could feel her fear. Everything preyed on her. It was a wonder that she had survived so long...
Fille heard shuffling footsteps beside her. She stiffly looked to the side where the human Fighter was inside his cell. The way he was looking at her scared her. His head was cocked to the side, at a slight angle. His mouth was opened in something of a grin. It made Fille's insides writhe. She felt sick just looking at him. Slowly, she turned her head back to the slave who had spoken to her. She thought it was odd, the way he was hunched over the way he was. It was almost as if he was ashamed of being so tall.
She edged away from the cell bars, wishing to be far away from the sickly human Fighter. Unconsciously, she also moved closer to Kyran. Fille mentally scolded herself. This person probably wasn't like Orryn, Sindri, or Zair. But maybe she could get his help. She was sure he knew a way out of the dungeons.
Finally, Fille responded to his words. "Okay. I will try to not be afraid." She said, glancing up quickly at the towering man. It appeared that the food in her hands was to be given to the Fighters... There were only two left who were not eating. One was an orc, who looked far... Different, than most she had seen. The other looked like a large... Lizard. But a lizard put together with a man. It was hard for Fille to understand. His scales were white, and he looked far fiercer than any lizard she had ever met... Cautiously, she first approached the dragon-born. She decided that they both looked equally terrifying, so she had approached the one closest to her. In her hands were two crudely made metal plates. On each was some kind of food... She had never seen it before. Not on her plate, at least. It was over-cooked meat.
Cautiously, she slide the plate under a small door at the bottom of the cell. "Here you go." She said quietly. Her naivety got the best of her and she looked at the funny-looking person. An innocent smile tugged at her lips. Abruptly. she realized that this could have been the biggest mistake she had made in all of her time in the Drow caverns. Quickly, she backed away, hoping that he wouldn't hurt her. Hadn't the last slave been killed by one of the Fighters? She gulped, and hurried over a couple more cells, this time, keeping her eyes on the ground. She didn't say anything when she slid the food under Koin's door. Again, she backed away as quickly as she could. She moved to the back wall, which was about ten feet away from the cell bars.
Fille turned her head, looking parallel along the wall, her eyes meeting Kyran. Carefully, she edged along the stone, scared to move even near the cells. When she finally reached the other slave, she was shaking again. "I'm not doing a very good job of not being afraid, am I?" She mumbled.
Cautiously, she looked up. "What do we do next?" She inquired.
Kyran knew that for that day, they had another set of meals to deliver before noc. There were also two Fighers who were injured. Koin, the half orc, had minor injuries that needed to be checked up on from a fight about a week ago. Basic maintenance, such as changing his bandages, were in order. The dragon-born also required basic care of his wounds.
The two also needed to take out the waste buckets that evening. The Drow had recently changed up the cells where each Fighter was being held. So there were empty cells that needed to be cleaned. These things could be done within a few hours if the two worked quickly, and efficiently. But they were never aloud to rest. When they had 'spare time' they were to sweep the halls of the dungeons. ...Whether they maintained those parts of the dungeons or not. That evening, when light (Except for the weed-like fungus that glowed at night) was gone, they were aloud to sleep until den. That was pretty much how the days went.
Darkvision was something very handy in the underdark. Probably the best thing Koin’s father ever gave him. Even though he could see the only view outside his cell was a bare wall, occasionally he would see two slaves scurry past to do their chores for the day though they were always too scared to talk with those inside the cells. Koin was sure they thought of them as beasts which wouldn’t be too far off. The drow reduced them to it some with less prodding then others. He could count at least four that were completely mad, always rambling strange non-sense, two spoke in dwarven but he didn’t understand the words perhaps he did at one time lots of things escape his mind.
The Drow and their tricks have a way of throwing Koin into a wild rampage when it came time to fight. He have no control, though his mind was intact his body ran on pure primal rage with little sense or intelligence. Easier for them to control him Koin guessed, still not understanding how they did it but probably through magic. It’s been a week since his last fight, minor cuts and bruises were already healed but two wounds were still bandaged. A vertical cut across his midsection not deep enough to spill his guts but it will leave a scar and a gash on his left arm, a nick from a rogue blade thrown in his direction. Guessing they’d be healed by now he expected someone to check soon so he left the bandages on.
Earlier when the slaves came by he heard slamming sounds coming from the dwarven speakers’ cell, bone against the metal bars of their cells. Another dead slave, it happens from time to time, he noticed that the taller slave lived still. Perhaps the ones in the cells were dwarves and could only reach the smaller ones or they were just cowards picking on small fry.
Hours later when it was time for food again he saw that the drow brought a new slave, a young human girl, he thought to warn her of the dwarf tongues but waited until it was his turn for food. He hear her scurry and jump back from his more sane neighbor then she did the same after sliding food under his door. A funny display that almost drove him to laugh, instead he just smiled. New ones were always funny the first few days.
“Don’t worry little one, I’m sane.” He said while reaching down to pick up his food tray, dry meat a few years before this and he would be angry but now it’s welcomed. His teeth and tusks chomped down on his food ripping out a chunk, chewing then swallowing the meat down. “I do need my wounds looked at, I figure they are either healed or about there. Like I said I’m safe to be around for now. Just don’t try to be so close after fights and you’ll be fine.” Another big chunk of meat devoured. “Same doesn’t go for all of us.”
He walked back to his cot and sat down going about finishing the meal stopping to drink water only when he finished.
11-07-2012, 04:52 AM
Well, this certainly changes things... Orryn thought, considering how very many things had gone completely the opposite of how he'd expected them to go. This whole situation had, in a matter of moments, become three times as complicated, and more urgent even than that.
"Fine. You all want to trust her? Great. Just killed one, now we've got one for an ally. Why should this surprise me? Why am I asking myself questions?" Orryn wore a puzzled expression for the briefest of moments, and then fixed his gaze on the drow woman. "I'm no warrior. I'm a miner, a musician and a historian. And I mean to get back to the surface to return to my family, and my kin. And there are a few of us who want the same. If you want to come along, it looks like you'll be welcome, but I don't think I need to tell you what'll happen if you turn on us."
Orryn regarded her for a moment in silence, and then looked to the body of the drow elf he'd just slain. "We need to get rid of the body, and quickly. The blood isn't a problem: I'm certain this particular floor is quite used to blood, being Kouzlo's torture lab--" Orryn stopped mid-sentence, looking around in alarm. Rifling through several drawers and boxes and cabinets, he found what he was looking for. Holding his prize gently in one hand, he looked to Zair.
"For Fille. I need to get back to her. Can I count on your help? We may be able to get partway there without being noticed, but once Kouzlo raises the alarm..." he left the sentence unfinished. He turned to the others once again. "I might be able to lead us out through the cavern systems below, near the streams. I don't know for sure, but where there's water flowing, there's hope of escape. Unless you know another way, Verazda."
11-07-2012, 07:58 PM
Kyran watched as Fille failed miserably at not acting frightened. Fortunately she had only served to two more sane Fighters. They were safe to be around, so long as it wasn't any time before or after they had fought. Of course, it was inevitable that they would soon become as insane as the rest. He listened to the orc one speak words of comfort to Fille. They were empty words to Kyran. Soon the orc one would be crazy. Perhaps he would even be the one to kill Fille. Kyran rarely used names for the Fighters. Truthfully, Kyran had a pretty active loathing of the Fighters mixed in with his fear of them. He saw them as bloodthirsty monsters who were worse than the Drow. The Drow possessed the ability to take care of their own waste and could better use reason and restraint. Kyran, of course, knew little of how Fighters were broken.
Kyran went and fetched the long apparatus used to fetch plates. The more insane the Fighters became, the less likely they were to cooperatively leave their plates outside of their cells. Kyran sometimes thought about how to modify the device so that it could be used to deliver the food. One for taking out the waste would be good, too. Then they would never need to go near the cells of these cruel creatures. He handed one to Fille, saying in his usual soft and inexpressive tone, "We must get the plates. Then we have to clean those." He pointed at the empty cells. Then it would be feeding time again. Then waste collection time. It was the same routine every day. The same routine with the same loathsome creatures. Sometimes there were different ones, but they were all the same to Kryan.
11-07-2012, 10:28 PM
Zar looked at the small girl that had handed him his food. So she was the new slave they had brought them? interesting.... Zar had been in these cells for a long time... and seen many slaves get killed... specially by those damn dwarves. quickly eating his meal he slid the plate back out to them, he didn't want to make things harder for them then needed... "Fear not little one... I, and the orc in the cell next to mine will cause you no harm, as long as are battle lust has settled." He whispered in his deep voice. He started pacing his cell... there wasn't much left for him too do other then pace... At least until the drow brought him out to fight...
Zair shook visibly a moment as his heavenly might fadded, tell it was just him in his plain cotton paints once more. He no longer had the shining blades and armor. He eyed the Drow woman closely as she explained her self, "Kin, if you think we can trust this one, then by all means I will, but first please at least explain briefly why." He spook to the other male Elf as he slowly walked up to the dead Drow and took his blade, spinning it expertly in his hands to feel the wight. Most likely enchanted, Zair thought as he kept his eyes on the Drow female, "Before you can blink I will put this in her eyes..perhaps even yours kin, if I find out your a Drow spy or she is not to be trusted. Perhaps I will die in the attempt, but at least I will give my Dwarf friend here a chance. And besides, I do not have much to lose at this point." He points the blade in there general direction as he speaks, "Now, out with it quickly, for we do not have much time."
11-09-2012, 10:29 PM
Verazda sighed as she received yet another death threat. "Alright, okay I get it." She put her hands up as if to somehow show that she was honest.
She then looked at the dwarf, shaking her head. "I wouldn't go to the river. After a little while the water travels to where there is no air to breathe. You would surely die." She smiled wryly. "Of course I know another way out." She chuckled. "Go, find your friend. Then meet me in the room with the mushrooms. Yasparr, you know the one." She looked at him, flashing him a quick wink. There was no way to tell how she knew he had been there before, but there was no time to argue. "Go, quickly! Before another of my siblings arrives and we're forced to kill them as well."
Fille couldn't help but smile when one of the Fighters spoke to her. "Oh you aren't so bad." She seemed to relax considerably. As Kyran left to go and get something. Fille walked over to the half orc. Of course, she couldn't tell that he had human blood in his veins. She only knew that he looked quite different than most orcs. She glanced down the hall, seeing the other human was still gone. So she approached the bars, this time, less afraid. A few words of comfort were all it had taken to gain her trust completely.
"What's your name?" She asked curiously. "I'm Fille." Her messy brown hair was strewn across her face, giving her a childish look. "Though, a lot of girls here are named that." She shrugged as if it didn't matter. After all, she didn't know that her name meant 'girl'.
The cell right next to the green man's was the one inhabited by the lizardish person. A moment later, the man with the white scales spoke to her as well. It seemed that they were both of the same disposition. Both were sane, until they had been spurred into battle lust.
"Battle? What kinds of battles?" She frowned.
At that point, Kyran came back, and she was forced to back away from the cells again. She got the feeling that she would never dare to get as close to the others' cells as she had these ones.
She listened carefully to the other slave's instructions. Fille nodded, and accepted one of the long metal rods from him. She frowned, wondering why there wasn't such an instrument to put the food into the cells as well. Glad for the tools, she carefully completed the task, asking questions along the way.
"So what's your name?" She asked the tall man as she retrieved a plate from the cell containing the two dwarves. "Why do they get to be in the same cell together?" Fille had never been curious in her life. Ever since she had heard the song Orryn sang... She felt different. Like all of the sudden, her mind was awake, and her thoughts could begin to escape their confines. "How long have you been here?" She inquired. "Do they feed us mushrooms down here, too?" She made a face, expressing her distaste for the fungus. "What is that stuff we fed them?" She paused.
11-09-2012, 10:54 PM
At the elf woman's chuckle, Orryn rightfully felt a little abashed at the idea that she might not know another way out. Of course she would!
Gotta get your head straight, Orryn. All this excitement's got you fuzzy-headed, with no good spirits around to settle you back down. But if all goes well, there'll be some fine ales and whiskeys aplenty.
"The room with the mushrooms, huh?" he couldn't help himself. Sarcasm runs deep in dwarves. "Glad you narrowed that one down for us. We'll all just meet there, huh?" He looked to Yasparr. "I hope you know what she's talking about!" Looking back at the drow woman once more, he continued, "There's someone down at the streams waiting for me. That's my first stop, but afterward, I suppose we'll just follow the smell of mushrooms until we find you."
He turned to Zair, the one person in this particular room who had proven he could be relied on. "May I assume you're still with me until we get everyone back together again? That blade looks like it suits you. If you happen to see a nice dagger somewhere along the way, it'd probably be a good trade for this," he held up the gory silver spike, still clenched in one bloodied fist. "Though it certainly did it's job."
Orryn pocketed the medicine vial he had taken from Kouzlo's lab. "She is right about one thing: we need to get moving." Orryn headed for the door with a glance to see who was with him.
11-11-2012, 08:46 PM
Kyran said, "I am called Kyran." He shrugged in response to her second question. He answered her third question, "Forever." He couldn't remember when he was first sent down here. He never bothered counting the days. He had few memories of the time before he was put here. So, to him, he'd been here forever. As her questions continued on, Kyran gave Fille a sharp look. This girl was noisy. She was making two of the Fighters noisy. Kyran could not decide if he liked it or hated it. Well, he definitely didn't like the Fighters speaking. Their reassurances were the lies of madmen. They wouldn't hesitate to hurt Fille if their twisted minds decided to do so. He was undecided as to whether or not he liked Fille talking to him. He was accustomed to silence only broken by the brutal sounds of the Fighters. Hearing a human voice directed at him sparked some tiny warmth in Kyran. However, Kyran knew nothing of emotions or the need for companionship, so he could not decide if he liked this warmth. Part of him wanted to hit her and order her to be silent. Another part of him wanted her to keep prattling on. Until his slow mind, unused to making decisions, decided whether she annoyed him or not, he would leave her alone. In response to her fourth question, he answered, "They feed us what they feed us." He had long ago stopped noticing his food. He simply ate what was given to him in order to stay alive. He shrugged in response to her final question. He didn't know nor care what those beasts ate. He didn't care whether they ate at all or not. He lead her to where they would drop off the dishes, which were taken care of by other slaves. They would now begin to clean the empty cells.
11-11-2012, 11:30 PM
Zar couldn't help but smile... a rare thing in theses dark days, at Fillies stream of questions to the tall slave. It'd been so long sense the fighter cell block had heard a voice such as hers. He wondered how long this would last... And how long would the young girl last in possibly one of the most dangerous parts of the complex. Carefully Zar traced the magic rune that quelled his mighty breathe, and his smile vanished. When they had taken his breathe... part of him had died, loosing a connection to his races ancestors. But Zar did not linger on these thoughts, to dwell on despair, was to dive head first into madness.
11-12-2012, 03:14 PM
Yasparr looked back at Verazda as he followed Orryn out the corridor. He hoped that she was right; they'd find their friend and then be able to leave this wretched place. He nearly tripped over Kreten's body. His kick revealed a long, curved dagger, meant for ceremonial kills.
"Will this do?" he asked the dwarf as he quickly undid the sheath and belt that held the ensemble on the drow and handed the entire set up to Orryn. "Now if a nice bow would drop out of the stonework we'll be perfectly equipped for whatever this place throws at us."
"Koin" He spoke his name for the first time in years, no one down here was really interested in learning names nor were they interested in know when he was brought into tournaments or one of the Drow's silly house battles. He slid the plate across the floor towards the door so the slave girl and reach it, hearing her name as Fille didn't stick in the half-orc's mind. Laying back on his cot he thought of freedom, ignoring most of the chores that the slaves were doing knowing they wouldn't open the door. He tried bashing it down a few times with no avail now only dreaming of being free without any hope of it.
11-21-2012, 12:32 AM
Orryn gladly took the blade proffered by the elf, and stowed it safely within the loose, ragged folds of what passed for his clothing. Seeing Yasparr motion as if to follow, he eyed everyone in the room once, as if to gauge their committment, and left the room. Walking down the hall away leading from Kouzlo's lab, the dwarf couldn't help but feel a twinge of paranoia. Was that the sound of running footsteps? Was that shouting in the distance? Would the first person they encountered be the next person who died? Would his cohorts back in the lab succeed in concealing the body and themselves before the drow soldiers arrived? The questions went on and on, without answers. Looking back once to assure himself that his companions were still with him, Orryn deliberately slowed his pace, hunched his back, and cast his eyes slightly downward. He hoped the others would get the hint. If they were seen, they needed to be seen as normal slaves, mindlessly going about their daily chores; not criminals fleeing a crime scene.
Don't worry, little bird. I shall soon be there, and then you shall be free. I promise.
11-21-2012, 11:53 PM
When Orryn arrived at the stream, what he saw was devastating. They were gone. There were no traces of either Sindri, or the young, human girl who he had become so fond of in the past days. Fille was gone. There were no signs of a struggle, or a fight. They were just... Gone. Fille had been too weak to get the strength, and will, to get up and walk away on her own. There was something wrong... Very, very wrong. It was clear that someone had found them.
The quiet trickling of the stream echoed the silence.
Fille smiled, learning the name of one of the people she would be living with for a while. Koin. What an odd, and unusual name.
She looked at Kyran, sad to find that some of the answers he gave were inconclusive. But she now knew his name as well. That gave her a small sense of security. Knowing someone's name might as well have been knowing the person, for all she cared.
"Forever?" She looked at him curiously, then giggled. "You must be very old."
She accepted the long, odd-looking rod which she was to use in order to retrieve the plates from the cells. "Who designed these?" She asked, wielding the thing in a funny way. She used the thin, heavy pole to retrieve the plates she could. But when she approached some of the... scarier, Fighters, she decided to leave those to Kyran. He was a lot more intimidating and far less crunchable than she was.
Stretching out with her fatigued, tired limbs, she felt the scabs on her back crack, and a gasp escaped her lips. She dropped the rod, receiving an angered scream from the human fighter. Fille cringed, and reached back, carefully folding a piece of her clothes over her shoulder, where fresh blood was again trickling down her back. She hoped that Kyran hadn't noticed. She was still incredibly weak, and this was.. Hard, for her.
She refused to complain.
As the next day rose, and noc fell away, darkness seemed to have dampened everyone's hearts.
Despite any efforts that were made, Sindri, Fille, and Lilly, could not be found. It was as if they had vanished out of thin air. Barrl, also seemed to have disappeared... But in a different way than the others. He was still seen. But he didn't speak anymore. His eyes were haunted, and distant. He was an empty shell like the other slaves. Perhaps something had finally pushed his mind to insanity.
No one was sure how Verazda had managed to get rid of Kreten's body. But it had vanished. Before she had finally departed from the elves' company, she had told them that she would make sure to 'make use of it'. How she intended to do so remained a complete and utter mystery. She had also quickly reminded them of where to meet her, and to do so the next day, after the slaves had been fed for the first time. She had also advised them to try to hide who they were as much as possible.
For a little while, everyone was forced to 'return to normal'. And lay low.
Now it was time for them to meet her in 'the mushroom room'. A place only Yasparr supposedly knew about. They could only hope that she had some kind of a plan. And one that would come into effect quickly, for the Dvakrát’Kříž House would be arriving that day. Possibly far before dinner would even start. And if a treaty was made successfully between Zrada and Nenávidět, then the E’Bezcitný House would not fall, as was planned.
Rest had not come easily to Fille. Down in the dungeons, it was little colder than it had been on the 'surface'. But still, the damp air seemed somehow... Muskier. Darker. Colder. She was nearly blind, as normal. Luckily, the infectious glowing fungi that littered the Underdark were also here, growing in the dungeons. Whenever she was unable to find the short-lived mushroom, she always had the soft, glowing lichen that had once been given to her by an elf. The lichen had not ceased to fade, and had proven quite handy for the girl.
Her tasks never seemed to cease. When she could, she attempted conversation with Kyran. If he wasn't near, she would wander back towards the Fighters, trying to speak to Koin, and the dragon-man who she had come to know as Zar. None of the others had spoken to her. Unless to say that she looked soft and edible.
But most of the time, she didn't talk. She hummed a familiar tune that a dwarf had taught her a little while ago. She didn't know how, but... Words, came to her. Ones that brought hope, and seemed to fit perfectly into the tune.
At this particular time, the Fighters had been moved. The Drow came about once a day to oversee everything, and to open the cells to allow the slaves to clean Fighters' wounds. For those Fighters who were particularly violent, sedation was used. Others, like Koin and Zar were usually allowed to stay awake during cleaning. Unless of course, the wounds were particularly nasty. In those cases, they knocked them out in case the pain spurred them into attack.
Fille knew that the Drow would come again soon. She didn't need to feed the Fighters for another hour. So she was doing to long, simple task of sweeping the halls. This menial task was what they were required to do whenever there 'was no work to do'.
Sighing, she began to hum quietly. Before she knew what she was doing, words formed on her lips. "Oh rest ye souls, your burdens bear..." She sung, before humming again for a short period of time. Her voice carried to the Fighters' cells, before she heard some of them growl. Cringing, she sung more quietly. "And never your bones grow weak." She gazed cautiously down the hall, receiving no negative response this time. "For all is passed down from the strong; And given unto the meek."
The words brought her some strength. She didn't know that in fact, the song was hewn with magic. And hope. It had been woven by a friend... Who, at the time, had been trying to spread hope, and light. Now, it would continue it's journey, weaving into the minds of those who heard it. Making them feel as if they had something to live for again.
11-22-2012, 08:08 PM
Zar awoke to an odd sensation working its way through his body. Magic! without thinking Zar dove to the side, and was rewarded with falling off his cot onto his cold cell floor. With a low grumble Zar slowly scanned the dark room, shifting into the infrared spectrum so he could better see. But there was only him in the cell, no drow, no wizard, nothing but him and the cold cell he was locked in. Shaking his head in self disappointment, what a fool the fighter felt like at the moment, the only satisfaction was the fact he was alone. Slowly rising from his cell floor Zar walked to his cell door and tried to see if there was anything going on in the hall. Slowly the young human girl came into view, she was sweeping and... singing? Zar shut his eyes and tried to focus on the song the girl was singing, and quickly a warm sensation began to flow through his body, and realization soon dawned on the Dragon-born. Her music holds magic within it... but how? Zar thought as he slowly opened his eyes. What was this feeling welling up inside his heart? happiness? No, something else... Something Zar had not felt in what seemed like a age. It was hope, the one emotion so rare down in the hell forsaken realm. Hope, the one thing drow wanted to extinguish more then anything. "Young girl... Come here..." Zar quietly called out, not wanting to wake the wild ones, who would surely cause a ruckus due to the sweet melody.
11-22-2012, 08:48 PM
The cavern was empty.
Empty! Not a trace remained of where the little girl and the elf woman who'd sworn to watch over had gone. Water appeared to have been disturbed alongside the stream's edge, but that wasn't uncommon. Anyone could have come down here for water in the past hour or so that he'd been gone. There were no footprints, though, nothing that would indicate who had come, or where they had gone. Orryn splashed headlong through the stream, a shower of icy droplets settling onto him, running off of him in tiny rivulets and for a moment causing his hair and beard to appear bejewelled. Frantically, he searched the far side of the room for anything, even the smallest scrap of a hint of a whisper of where they'd gone. Nothing. He touched the walls of the room to gauge their temperature, and then quickly moved his hands to the spot where they'd been hidden, trying to feel any residual warmth from where they'd lain. He closed his eyes, concentrating, but finally conceded that any variance he suspected was likely just wishful thinking. The creeping, eternal cold of the deep was as unstoppable as the tides, somewhere far above.
The bottom fell out of Orryn's heart. He had no idea where she'd gone, or even where she might have been taken to. For taken she must have been. She could not have summoned the strength to walk far, not in the condition she'd been in. Orryn's hand fingered the phial of healing medicine in one pocket, taken from the drow tormentor's lab, and hoped wherever she was that he would be able to get it to her in time. He turned to Yasparr.
"I'm not leaving this place without her. I can't. So I'll do what I can to help you, but..." he left the sentence unfinished, not really knowing what his decision would be when that time came. Would he stay until he found her? And what then? Well, that would depend on her condition when he did, he realized. Orryn might not ever see his surface family again, but he had as good as family here who needed him.
"Alright. No use in staying here any longer. Unless either of you know some kind of magical spell for finding people. If so, I beg of you to use it. If not, then I suppose we head for 'The Mushroom...uh...room.'
11-22-2012, 11:01 PM
Yasparr followed the Dwarf back to the stream, and watched in sad understanding as the man searched in vain for his little friend. The despair in the Bard's eyes was palatable. He searched the small crevice behind the stream as if there might be a sign left of where his companion had gone to.
"I'm not leaving this place without her. I can't. So I'll do what I can to help you, but... Alright. No use in staying here any longer. Unless either of you know some kind of magical spell for finding people. If so, I beg of you to use it. If not, then I suppose we head for 'The Mushroom...uh...room.' Orryn did not look happy at all at the prospect of leaving the room without his friend.
Yasparr went to the crevice and peered inside the crack. Then he slid into the darkness and felt the walls, bringing his fingertips close to his face to scent what he could from the hiding hole. "You put her here..." He slid back out and looked around the small patches of dust and dirt that had collected on the stone floor for any evidence of what had happened. A small, barefoot pattern was pressed into a bit of sand. The elf crouched down on his hands and feet, examining the ground like some alchemist interpreting the minerals in a stone.
"Here," he pointed to a single, hardened line in a subtle arch. "Boots. The guards were here." He moved forward slowly, his eyes still focused on the stone and sand. Another arch, this one more curved then the last. A heel. The heel had a small notch on it though, a distinctive cut from missing the head of a slave and kicking the wall instead. Yasparr frowned. He knew that boot. One of the slaver drow had nicked his heel when he kicked to death an old slave two months ago.
He looked up at Orryn. "There's a Drow guard with a notched boot, a male with a scar on his cheek and golden eyes. He's the one who took Fille." Yasparr stood slowly. "I've seen him a couple of times. He serves our matron mother, but he's not one of the family." He frowned. "Perhaps Verazda will know where he took your friend."
11-24-2012, 04:32 PM
Kyran swept the hall along with Fille. After years and years of performing the same monotonous task, Kyran had fallen into a sweeping routine. He could therefore perform the task almost mindlessly. This time was therefore his time to allow his mind to wander. In his life, he had seen some things, although precious few, that were different. These few things remained in his mind and entered his dreams, his mind somehow combining them and enlarging them to help him to escape these dark caves. This sweeping time was when Kyran would remember his dreams and add to them. In brief, Kyran would daydream. Thus, at first, Fille's singing was highly annoying. It was distracting to him. He kept trying to shut her out. His temper was steadily rising. It almost got to the point that Fille was in danger. Then the magic that was in the song finally pierced through Kyran's dark and cobwebbed mind. His sweeping rhythm changed to match the rhythm of the song. The magic was adding to the variety of his daydreams. The images were making him feel kind of light. Kyran's face slowly relaxed from the face of anger and aggression it had been forming.
Zair followed the Dwarf and his kin. He stopped next to his fellow Elf as they watched there Dwarf friend scramble about. While his Elf companion looked upon the sight with sorrowful eyes, Zair griped the handle of the Drow-made sword, eyes burning in anger. After a few moments Yasparr walked up and started to study the ground. Zair was silent as Yasparr explained the tracks. His body was still slightly weak from the large enchantment he used in there last fight, so he was conserving energy by not talking. For now he would just follow, conserving his energy when they needed his blade.
11-25-2012, 04:43 AM
Yasparr nodded at Zair and Orryn. They were a team. Or at least, as much of a team as any slaves of the drow could be. He lead them out the stream cavern and back through a few out of the way tunnels until they were behind the slave's sleeping quarters where the hallway to the kitchen was.
They had to hide a few times and at other times pretend to be simply going about their duties to avoid being stopped by the drow. Finally Yasparr was able to lead them to the room with glowing mushrooms. Most of the variety in the room were edible, and though the ranger knew that mushrooms didn't provide much energy, they were food and they filled the void in his stomach. "Here we are," he said, though it was quite obvious that they were there. "Now we just wait for our friend."
He didn't want to say Verazda's name. If he was responsible for her getting caught helping them he would never forgive himself.
11-27-2012, 02:38 AM
Fille was completely unaware of the anger that had been building inside of Kyran. In her mind, softly singing the song, she was completely safe. Somehow she had gotten it stuck in her head that she could trust Kyran completely. After all, they were both on the same side of the cells. That had to count for something. She didn't know how lucky she was that her song was more than just a song.
"Young girl... Come here..."
Fille looked around, surprised to be addressed directly. She edged towards Zar's cell, trying to smile. He was one of the people she had subconsciously put in the 'friend' category. Her mind had been doing quite a lot of subconscious thinking lately.
The young slave girl slowly walked so that she was parallel with Zar's cell. She never let her broom leave the ground. She had to make sure she could seamlessly get back to work if any Drow showed up. "Yes?" She asked with a smile, letting her broom gently stir up the dust on the ground.
Verazda wasn't dressed quite how she usually was. Her attire was simpler now. It was still the dark, pitch color that the Drow seemed to favor. But the cloth wasn't embellished as it usually was. There were no fancy embroideries, or colorful gemstones. It was the kind of thing someone might wear when they wished to go unnoticed.
Carefully, quietly... She walked through the hallways. All of her family members were preparing for Zrada and her entourage to arrive. The Drow priestess needed to get to Yasparr and the two others who's names she didn't know. This had to be done before dinner. It was far too important. If she somehow failed, then her beloved family might not fall... There were so many variables! Oh she hated variables with a passion.
Sighing, she walked down a hallway and entered a door that the slaves were never allowed to pass through, no matter which side they came from. As she stepped through the doorway, she could hear pots and pans clanking. All kinds of smells drifted to her. Small, gibberish voices could be heard shouting orders. She had arrived in the kitchens. To the slaves, this was an entirely different, unknown world. The slaves who worked in the kitchen were few in numbers. They had little Drow supervision, due to the small number of them. They were treated just a little bit better, being allowed to eat the scraps of food that were left after each meal. This also encouraged them to cook the food well, due the the fact that it would in turn be their meals at the end of that day.
When she arrived, the slaves moved out of her way without being told. They were not fearful, as the other slaves were. Simply put, they were respectful of the power that the Drow held over them. It made life much easier between the slaves, and the Drow. It also made the kitchen the best, most convenient hiding place for the slaves whom she had found trustworthy, and useful. The ones she might dare to call 'her friends'.
There was a room, leading from the kitchen to the common slave hall. This was the room which she called 'the mushroom room'. The name coming from the six compartments that were filled with scraps of food, atop which there were growing hundreds of the weed-like, glowing fungus that appeared all over the Drow city, Zlomynsnost.
Yasparr had visited the room out of curiosity once, seeing a drow enter the room after feeding the slaves. When he entered it he had found a dead end, and an absence of the drow. The mystery had gone unanswered... The dead end was, in fact, not a dead end. It was a hidden entrance to the kitchen.
She walked to a part of the wall that looked no different than any other place in the stone, and simply... Touched it. The wall became translucent, and gave to her touch, allowing her to pass through it. When she stepped through, she smiled at the sight of three familiar figures.
"Glad to see you three again." She said, the wall becoming solid behind her once more. Verazda wasted no time in explaining her intentions.
"Beyond here, are the kitchens. That is where you will reside for the next few days. Please, if you don't know how to cook, just stick to cleaning. We don't have a shortage of chefs. Just keep yourselves busy. There, you will not be found by Kouzlo. There are few Drow who are there often, in fact. Only about fifteen slaves reside there, but none of them will notice you either. They are very driven by their tasks." She took a deep breath. "From here, you will not be able to find your friends. Wherever they may be, you will not be able to reach them. I will keep an eye out for them, but if this works, it is likely that you will not see them again."
"Now..." She reached to her side, where there was a small satchel at her belt. She opened it, and removed a vial of clear liquid. It appeared to be water. "This is tasteless, scentless, and virtually undetectable. It's not deadly. But the symptoms that will follow if anyone ingests it will make it seem like those that proceed death." She looked at them, trying to make sure that they were catching on. "This needs to go into the food that will be served to the Dvakrát’Kříž entourage. Do not let it enter the food of the E’Bezcitnýs." She said, hoping that had been straightforward and clear. "Don't get caught." She added. "If you dab a little of the solution on your finger, that amount, even dried, will be enough to discreetly slip it into the plates with a single touch."
"Make sense?" She hadn't explained any of the motives behind the actions she wished them to perform.
In the dungeons it wasn't long before several drow arrived to oversee the inspection of the Fighters' wounds. Fille and Kyran were no longer at a lack for what to do.
11-27-2012, 06:21 AM
Yasparr looked at Verazda and felt a slight bit of disappointment. "You want us to murder your family's enemies. I understand... but why not all of them? If we are to escape, wouldn't it be better to kill them all off?" He looked at the vial but was loathe to take it from her fingers. "Will it not go through our skin and kill us if we touch it?"
With a nod he looked back at the half drow woman. "I know who has Fille. Or at least, I know who took her. There is a drow guard with a chipped heel on his boot. He kicked to death an old halfling a few months ago. He was the one who drug the little human girl away." He glanced at Orryn. "Please, do what you can to save her. I know it means much to our friend here."
Zair's eyes narrowed as the Drow female approached, explaining her plan to poison the other Drow. He did not like underhanded tactics like this. it went against everything he stood for. But he understood his situation, "I agree with my kin here. Why not just poison them all to death?" He took a step forward eying the half-drow closely, hand on hilt, "If you wish to escape with us...why only make them seem dead? Why not use a deadly poison?" Suspension started to fill his words as he slowly walked around her as he questioned her. Zair nods after his kin speaks again of the small human girl, "Indeed...we will not leave are friend here to rot in this hell." The way he said it seemed final. No room for debate.
11-27-2012, 07:15 PM
Verazda looked at Yasparr. "You really want me to explain this, don't you?" She sighed. "You deserve that much..." She shook her head, scowling slightly as Zair began to speak, and even walk around her, as if examining her. She fought hard not to react.
"This is why." She said. "If we try to kill them ourselves, we will fail." The way she said it was really quite abrasive. "We are few in number. None of us know the Drow as well as another Drow house would. You all know about the coming attack from the Vypovězení House. Yes?
"The point of this is not to kill members of the Dvakrát’Kříž House. Not even to make them appear to be dead. The point is to make it look like my family tried to poison them. What we do has to be discreet so that we won't be noticed. For this reason, we cannot attack anyone directly in our escape. Drow long for blood. It's too easy to make them kill each other off." She chuckled. "My guess is that the either Zrada will not form an alliance with my mother, or, she will aid Drae Vypovězení in her attack against this house." She shrugged. "We will escape in the ensuing chaos. It's more effective then it may seem."
Verazda turned to Orryn. "And what say you?"
11-27-2012, 07:39 PM
Yasparr was impressed. "So, we're creating conflict. Hitting the hornets' nest into the lions' den." He smiled at Verazda. "I'm in. Whatever you need, I'll do it."
He turned to look at Zair and Orryn. "I suppose we are not kitchen staff until we hear differently. The good news is that we will be able to strengthen ourselves while we wait for the moment to strike. I assume that there are knives and such in the kitchen as well, so we'll be that much better off."
He put a hand out to take Verazda's and wrapped his fingers around her slim fingers. "Thank you for helping us. I know you risk much. Everything. You risk everything. I am in your debt."
11-27-2012, 07:47 PM
As the girl came into view, Zar smiled at her "That song you were singing... Where did you learn it?" He asked her quietly. He wanted to know if Fille knew there was magic within that song or not. "It sounded beautiful... And in a forsaken place such as this... That is very rare..." He continued. Suddenly He stopped what he was saying and motioned for the girl to go back to work. He had heard the near silent sound of drow, and if they caught the young lass slacking... It'd be horrible for her.
With nothing else to do but wait Koin just laid down on his cot occasionally peering out of the cell to watch Fille or Kyran go about their work. Rarely did he hear the soft footsteps of a drow watching over the two or just passing by the cells along the opposite wall but nothing really happened.
Until the next “day”, he awoke to sounds of the two slaves moving about their work, Fille was humming though then singing softly the words were simple but he felt them awaken something inside him. Instead of thinking too about it he just listened and enjoyed the simple yet pleasant melody. She stopped when his neighbor he know knew as Zar called out for her it was then that he picked up on the faint sounds of foot falls, probably drow coming to oversee the sorry excuse for fighter health care. He sat up facing the cell doors hoping that this time he wouldn’t be put to sleep, realizing it was the first time he felt hope in a long time.
12-01-2012, 11:38 PM
Verazda nodded and smiled. "Yes. You'll have many weapons at your access. And you'll be eating much better as well." She paused. "Just do as I said. Don't worry, the poison won't hurt you if you touch it. It's only potent when ingested." The drow woman looked up into Yasparr's eyes for a moment, remembering when they were children and how much she had wished to be his friend. That same longing came back, and was finally satisfied. She felt that they had finally established true trust.
She felt his fingers slide around hers, and something sparked inside of her. Something that she hadn't felt in a long time.
"Thank you for helping us. I know you risk much. Everything. You risk everything. I am in your debt." Those words were the words he spoke to her. Her smile grew a little, and then faded.
"Does is count if I have nothing to lose?" She shook her head sadly, closing her eyes for a moment. She slid her fingers deeper into his palm, squeezing his hand for a moment. She took a deep breath, and let it out. Her crimson eyes flickered open. "You.. You should go. If you wait too long you might be noticed." Verazda took her hand out of his, and gestured back towards the wall. "When you get through, there is a wash room. All the slaves have to be clean to prepare the Drow food. You can get ready there, and discuss your plan."
Fille smiled, and was about to respond to Zar. Then she heard the footsteps, and fear filled her heart. Her throat clammed up.
She shrunk into a corner, her eyes falling to the floor. Sullenly she swept the floor, trying to look like she had been completing the menial task all day.
Three drow came. They always came in groups of three, it seemed. All of them were male, and walked side by side. Their boot heels clicked, announcing every movement that brought them closer. It was like a clock, ticking away the seconds until... "Slave, move." One said, sharply addressing Kyran as he moved past. The other two stayed back. They were there to help if things got hard with the Fighters. When he reached Fille, her heart went cold. He was the same drow who had brought her down here. Now that she got a good look at him, she realized that he was also the same drow who had beaten her some time ago. Her body ached at the thought.
She couldn't breathe as he approached her. She was terrified.
"It sure seems like you like it down here. After all, you're only scum. You belong here." Fille looked at the wall, trying to ignore him.
The drow reached into a pouch. He removed a small dart, and a long hollow tube that was just the right size for the dart to fit in. He also retrieved a short vial of greenish-gray liquid. "So... Who wants to go first?" He turned to the Fighters, and singled out the two who gave the least reaction. Zar, and Koin. "How about one of you two? Dragon born? Half-orc? Do tell me, will you be requiring sedation today?" He grinned wickedly.
12-02-2012, 12:47 AM
Orryn started at the sudden appearance of the drow woman...emerging unannounced from the bare surface of a solid wall. Of course, such things were not beyond the drow. In fact most of them possessed some magical ability or another. It just startled him, is all. A little sheepishly, Orryn re-sheated his dagger.
"You," he said shortly, then pausing to hear her explanation of how things would go from here. The exchange between the drow and the elf Yasparr was interesting. Seemed there was more than either of them was saying. A little illicit love affair? Some history there? Good...might come in handy. "Still on our side, I see. Glad to know." He grunted, hoping it expressed his surprise and his skepticism all in one inarticulate sound.
Better be careful, here, dwarf. She's just about the only chance you have at finding the little one and getting out of here alive. A little more courtesy might be warranted.
Clearing his throat, and looking away in mild shame at his attitude, Orryn asked, "So how can we help? What is our best course at this time? Our lives are pretty much in your hands, Verazda. You can lead us all to the guards and death, or to freedom and be welcome with us for as long as you have a mind to stay. I can't say it'll be easy to convince...well, anyone, that you..." he struggled for words. "That you're to be trusted. But trust is a fickle maiden; hard won and easily put to flight."
Orryn glanced back once at his partner in crime, the elven paladin. He looked fatigued, but quickly regaining his strength and potency. Nodding, he turned back to the drow woman. "We're ready. Now you were saying something about the other slaves? What is it we need to be doing? And where would they have taken Fille? The little human girl. She wasn't at the stream cave. They took her."
Zair eyed the fellow Elf and Half-drow closely as they interlocked hands. He did not know how to react to seeing such a sight. Disgust, anger, perhaps even a little fear? Zair was not sure. He griped the hilt of his new found blade tightly as he looked away, taking a few steps away from the group as if to get some air. After a moment Zair would turn back, facing them all after Orryn spoke, "Where would they put her? Knowing the Drow that took Fille, perhaps that will lead us to her location. We should move and not sit around here holding hands." He shot a look at the two for a moment, "So would you know anything of Fille, Verazda?"
12-02-2012, 02:16 PM
Yasparr allowed his hand to slip from Verazda's and turned to look at his fellow slaves. "In all the years that you've been down here have you still not learned the simple act of obedience? She has instructed us to stay in the kitchen and keep busy until such time as we can poison the food of the family Dvakrát’Kříž. She will go find Fille and bring her to safety."
He shook his head slightly. "Now is the time to trust each other, not to let our prejudices and fears blind us to our duties to each other. We have been brought together by a force bigger than any of us, and we must trust our devine patron to guide us."
12-02-2012, 10:16 PM
Kyran also heard the approach of the drow. However, it affected him less than Fille. The drow were all he'd ever known. Any fear he had of them had long ago been replaced with indifference and respect. He was as numb when the drow were there as he was when they were not there. The only discernible difference was that Kyran would hunch even more, a subconscious and primal fear impelling him to make himself as small as possible. Another difference this time was the loss of the stirrings caused by Fille's song. He did not know that they had been caused by her song. However, he did not like this sudden feeling of loss. He wondered what had caused it and how he could avoid it in the future. Being numb meant being safe. Kyran immediately moved out of the way of the drow, keeping his head down. He was already moving even before the drow ordered him. Really, he actually hadn't been in the drow's way at all!
He continued his steady sweeping as the drow addressed the Fighters. A mere slave would not be involved in the medical care of the valuable Fighters. It was rare that a slave would be called to aid in this practice, unless the drow needed something to distract an attacking Fighter. His sweeping brought him closer to Fille, who seemed to be frozen in fear. He glanced at her and then at his broom, communicating with his eyes that she should keep sweeping.
12-03-2012, 01:38 AM
Verazda looked at each of the people in front of her. She gave an appreciative look to Yasparr, then turned to Orryn and Zair again. "Do not worry about Fille. I will do what I can to find her." She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. The half-drow elf looked thoughtful for a moment, and then stepped back to the wall behind her. She touched it, her fingers gently alighting upon the stone.
The wall became opaque and a hallway could be seen beyond it. "Please. Go. The Dvakrát’Kříž family will arrive in about five hours. Your have that much time to prepare. Be careful... If you need to, you can come back through this wall. Only someone carrying a possession enchanted with Drow magic will be able to open the gateway. Yasparr, the knife I gave you will do just fine. As long as you have that you can get out." She moved aside, giving the trio enough room to go past her. "If anything goes wrong, I expect you all to protect each other." She said quietly. "Please, work together, and don't do anything rash."
Fille was comforted slightly as Kyran came her way. She caught on to his subtle communication, and her broom picked up it's slow, steady movement over the ground. Fille's eyes rested on the stone at her feet. She remembered what Kyran told her when she had first arrived in the dungeons. She was supposed to not act fearful. She could do that, couldn't she? Then she remembered Orryn. He had taught her how to be brave. Be brave. She told herself. Just be brave.
The drow was impatient. "Alright, you first." He said, looking at Zar. The drow unstopped the vial in his hand, and began to prepare the dart.
Filla shut her eyes and swept one single patch of the ground. She delved deep within her mind, finding a little patch of sunshine where she was at peace. It was a memory really. A dream she had had a few times in her past... Light. She was laying on some kind of soft surface, staring up at a wonderful light, which was hanging from an endless above. The light was casting warmth on her skin, and filling her with strength... The air was filled with the song Orryn sang once, which had filled her heart with hope.
At this point, the drow had just finished preparing his dart, and was unlocking Zar's door.
A smile came to her face as Fille stood in the dungeon. She was unaware as her arms stopped sweeping side to side, and the broom ceased movement. Lost in thought, she began to hum to the melody that was in her mind. She didn't hum quietly. Fille hummed as if no one was listening, because as far as she was aware; no one was.
"Quiet!" The drow looked at her, snapping as he stepped forward. Fury was apparent on his face, and he had left the door to Zar's cell unlocked. His two companions moved closer, sensing trouble. Fille had completely blocked out the outside world. Somehow she had locked herself inside of her mind and was unaware of everything around her in the real world. When she failed to respond to her master, the drow grabbed a fistful of her matted brown hair, and wrenched her to the right. Fille was jerked out of the perfect world she'd wrapped herself in, and was brought back to a much more painful reality.
"What is the matter with you?" The drow barked in his cruel and bitter language. Fille was completely unable to react. The man didn't hesitate to slam his fist into her frail frame. She collided with the wall, and temporarily lost consciousness as the wounds on her back were slammed against the rough stone.
There was only open air left between the dragon-born, and the drow who was just within his reach. The one who had long been a part of the Fighter's torment, and pain... Who had long mocked him and sent him into fights were he was forced to hurt people who had once been just like him. Kyran was just as close. Now that same evil being was hurting the young innocent girl who they knew as Fille. The naive, hopeful girl who had somehow appeared in their lives. She might have been annoying, and foolish... But were they about to let another person die at the hands of a monster... right in front of them?
Koin was experiencing all the same emotions and realizations. Sadly, he was trapped within his cell. However, there was always the possibility of breaking through the bars if he applied enough raw force.
12-05-2012, 04:06 AM
Frustration, emptiness, and utter despair all warred for dominance within Orryn. This was not how it was supposed to have happened! He was supposed to get the medicine, return to the stream cave, take Fille and Sindri, and escape to the surface! But it seemed the gods of this deep dwelling--like a cavernous tomb filled with those who had long since died but refused to accept it--seemed to have had other plans. Fille had disappeared, as had Sindri her erstwhile protector. Orryn had failed. She might have been killed, she might be suffering abuse at the hands of some cruel taskmaster, she might be huddled against some dank, cold stone wall, suffering and crying, the blood from her wounds binding to her clothing once again, only to be ripped open anew the next time she moved. A single tear coursed down the dwarven bard's cheek, disappearing quickly into his beard. More threatened to follow, but he managed to force them back. Now, to add to matters, he was being asked to abandon the search, abandon Fille, and trust that the woman drow-elf would not betray them. With a heavy breath, he realized he had no choice. He could die fruitlessly, or step forward in faith.
Moving to Yasparr, Orryn's eyes were downcast. "I'm afraid I am guilty of self-pity. I could not hear Verazda's instructions over the echoes of my own failure in my ears. Despite all of my efforts, she slipped from my grasp. Please, I am yours to command. Tell me what I must do."
12-05-2012, 04:22 AM
Yasparr was dumbfounded by the Dwarven man's reaction. He hadn't expected him to calm himself so quickly. "Well, friend, I believe the first thing we should do is consider ourselves equals to each other. No matter what our lives were before, we are now bound to a common goal. Trust Verazda. I cannot explain completely at this time without endangering her needlessly, but she is one of us in all the ways that matter"
He turned to Zaire and then motioned to the wall. "We blend in with the kitchen workers and wait until the right time to set the poison. We also eat and build up our strength. I have a feeling we'll look back on today and envy the relative calm and peace we are experiencing." Yasparr looked at Orryn. "If Fille is still alive Verazda will find her."
12-05-2012, 01:17 PM
Kyran simply kept his head down and kept working. She wasn't the first slave he'd seen beaten in front of him. He had witnessed so many atrocities in his life as a slave that none touched him any more. He didn't bother getting close to anyone because they could die suddenly. If Fille had been working with him longer, he may feel a sense of loss if she were killed. However, he'd only known her a couple of days. Besides, Fille had brought it upon herself. She has surely been here long enough to know better than to draw any kind of attention to herself. The only thing that did bother him was that the Fighter's cell door was unlocked and the Fighter was not yet tranquilized. Thus, Kyran slightly increased his sweeping rhythm, moving himself away from the possible impending danger. Warning the drow was out of the question. Slaves were NEVER to in ANY way indicate that a drow had made any kind mistake! The nearest victims would be the drow and Fille. One of the drow would hopefully tranquilize the Fighter before it could do much damage.
Hope awakened his mind; he felt the old and familiar intellect that used to make him such a good rogue in the past, he felt some of it slowly come back to him. Then the drow came, they threatened to put them to sleep like always but only this time one stopped and struck out at Fille. The wretched creature left the cell door to the dragon-born open. Seeing it as an opportunity for the dragonkin, one he hoped he followed through with.
Two other two drow stepped closer to the ‘leader’, one of the two stopped in front of Koin’s cell. That’s when Koin noticed one of the hinges had a crack in the metal, probably from some of the previous after battles in the arena. He looked about his cell for something he could use to dislodge or break it. The only thing in his cell was a waste bucket and his bed that was surely too heavy to lift being it was made of stone either way he had to try. Gripping either side of the bed he tried to lift it, muscles straining and hurting, it was too heavy but still he tried. Thoughts went to a place of primal origin to a place of pure chaos. It scared him even though he’s been there before all he could do is embrace it and hope he could control it long enough to bring the bed around and slam it onto the door.
Koin’s mind fled from his body no longer caring for the pain in his arms, the bed lifted up from the ground as he wheeled around and used it to ram the door. Even if the door didn’t break down it would still cause an enormous sound possibly terrifying the drow and making enough of a distraction for the others to react an fight back against their captors.
The collision with the cell door yanked his mind back the pain was too great to hold on to his rage, the door gave way and clipped the drow in front of it. Koin was hurt and fatigued from the ordeal but he hoped the others got the idea.
12-06-2012, 08:06 PM
The instant Fille hit the ground, Zars eyes turned to slits. A deep growl rumbled out of him as he launched out his cell towards the drow. The girl had reawakened Zar from his long slumber, and he would repay her with his life if need be. Grabbing the drow by the neck, Zar ripped him back from Fillie, knowing that if he didn't act fast the girl would be killed. "Now you die you wretch... Go and meet your foul goddess in the abyss!" He bellowed as he jerked the drows head back, clamping his mighty jaws around his throat. It wasn't a clean way to fight, but effective. In one swift movement, Zar ripped up, tearing the drows throat out and sending a spray of blood over the other drow. Dropping the body of the dead tormentor, Zar had just enough time to move out of the way as Koin's cell door came slamming down, sending another guard spinning. With blood dripping from his face, Zar locked eyes with the final drow, and slowly smiled.
12-18-2012, 02:12 AM
Yasparr used Verazda's enchanted dagger to open the portal in the wall and let the three of them, Zaire, Orryn, and himself, into the large kitchen. The other slaves seemed completely oblivious to the newcomers.
The Elven ranger saw stacks of aprons on one shelf and took one for himself, handing two over to his new companions. "I suppose we make ourselves busy until the time comes. Perhaps we can get hold of a few paring knives or such..." he looked at the Dwarf, "or maybe a nice metal meat tenderizer to use as an impromptu mace." He kept his voice low. "Good luck."
He hoped that Verazda was having luck in her search for the little human female. Yasparr felt badly for anyone born into this captivity. They never had the feel of the sun on their skin, or knew what it meant to be free. He supposed that he never knew what freedom was either until it was taken away.
He was determined to earn it back, or die trying.
12-22-2012, 08:36 PM
Fille was startled immensely by the sudden crash, and splatters of blood. She shielded her face with her hands, afraid that she was still about to die. Yet, the pain had stopped, and not returned other than a dull ache in her abdomen. When a relative quiet washed over the room, Fille slowly removed her hands from in front of her face, and shakily opened her eyes. The room was still dark, but a couple crushed, dimming mushrooms allowed light to reveal the features of a few freed faces.
The last drow, who was not yet touched, was left frozen. The sound of liquid hitting the ground at his feet faintly echoed through the small chamber. His hands shook, and he scrambled away, tripping over himself and frantically crawling away. Fear vibrated through every one of his movements and once he was around the corner, his footsteps, echoing with terror, were heard. He wouldn't be hard to catch if someone so desired to do so.
In the kitchens, everything was bustling. The slaves were intent on their tasks, and gave absolutely no notice to those who had just entered. There were several heated places where large iron skillets were being used to expertly cook the food. In a corner were plates, all arranged and organized by style and size. No doubt certain ones would be assigned to certain people. Or some for guests and others for the E'Bezcitny family. Or perhaps the different sets were simply for special occasions.
Then and again.... Did everyone really need to be poisoned? Perhaps Matron Mother Zrada would do. Verazda hadn't thought of that, had she? Poisoning one plate of food might do the job.
Zair silently nudges the other Elf and winks to his Dwarf friend, hoping to put some hope in his allies. Then he makes his way through the kitchen doing a little bit of this and that. He was no expert cook, and the things that they were making here were far beyond what he would eat on the surface. Zair silently watches the other cooks and tries to copy them. At least with the simple things like cutting and mixing things in a bowl. He kept his head down just in case someone might recognize him. For he was one of the Matrons personal slaves. Staying out of the way and trying not to draw attention to himself. Though it would seem the other cooking slaves where doing the same thing in the end.
01-01-2013, 11:12 PM
Letting out a low growl, Zar rushed off after the fleeing drow, but as he neared the door, he stopped himself. He could easily chase the drow down, but he had no armor, no weapon, and he couldn't even use his breath... Uttering a short curse, Zar walked back over to were Fille still laid. "Are you okay little one?" he whispered as he slowly reached down to help her up. He was no cleric, but he did know some basic first aid that could possibly help ease her pain if need be. Looking up at the group of other slaves, a idea sprung into the fighters mind. "Elf, check the corpse of the drow and see if the cell keys are on him." He said in Kyrans general direction. Oh the ideas of a Dragon Born Pit fighter.
Stone fell down atop the slightly injured drow as Koin shoved his bed to the side so he could see out his cell. The weight and impact was too much for the drow, if it didn't kill him he'd at least be close to death, however Koin just ignored him. There were three slavers, only one left that could still move. Zar was tending to Fille, even though it would have made more sense for the human to, he also told the human to search bodies for weapons.
"Don't bother messing with the one under here," Koin kicked the stone bed, "Anything you'd find would probably be a bloody mess. Then again we shouldn't be picky."
The third drow was trying to flee while apparently suffering from a panic attack. A few years ago he would have understood why, but the drow have just beat the fear out of him. Well at least the fear from death. Fear of rage still remained.
"I guess I'll go fetch that one, look for medical supplies first. Fille will need them." with that the half-orc took a leisurely jog after the drow. When he caught it he would drag it back kicking and screaming until he found some chain or rope.
01-04-2013, 02:42 AM
Despite his willingness to accept defeat, despite the derision of a literal horde of demonic voices within his soul taunting him and scolding him for ever having dared to hope, Orryn moved forward. His feet felt as if they once again had heavy chains shackled about them, and his legs as if he could no more summon the strength to lift them than to move the very mountain above him. And yet, his tormentors reminded him, that was the very thing he'd promised the little girl: that he'd let nothing hurt her - that he'd move mountains to ensure her safety and freedom.
Shallow promise...from a slave...
At a nudge from someone near him, Orryn's eyes once again returned to his surroundings. Glancing upward he caught the face of his elven companion, Zair. His eyes still seemed to dance in that way they always did. Whether the paladin was fighting for his life or being paraded about like some circus freak, his eyes never dimmed. Zair grinned at him, and then went about finding a way to involve himself with the goings on in the kitchen. The dwarf knew that if he wanted to blend in as well, he'd better do the same. Others were cooking, bustling about, slicing food, stoking fires and a dozen other tasks. Rather than do more of the same Orryn chose the lesser path: he began to clean. He swept, he scrubbed pots, he wiped surfaces, he hauled refuse, he fetched water...everything that wasn't being done, Orryn did.
It was during a particularly arduous time in the scullery when a phrase returned to the dwarf as if out of the nothingness of the air around him; something about finding some paring knives or maybe even a nice meat tenderizer. Realizing that he had a dagger already, not to mention another couple of the ornamental spikes still woven into his beard, Orryn kept his eyes open for something with a little more heft to it...something a little more...dwarven.
He grinned at the thought.
01-18-2013, 02:11 AM
Fille slowly, shakily stood up. What just happened? She thought. It took a moment for her to take in the situation. The two dead drow, the footsteps of the fleeing one, followed by Koin's own heavy footsteps. She could see the entire ordeal had riled the other Fighters up. Was this it? Were they escaping? Relief crossed her face, and she couldn't help but give her rescuers a little smile. Because that was exactly who she believed they were... Her rescuers. She smiled widely at Kyran, as if proud that this had happened, and that she had indirectly caused it. The bruises she had gained were a small price to pay in return for the freedom that could come. Now.. Now she needed to explain everything to them, and hope that they could make a detour to the surface to find her friends. What if they thought she was dead and left her?
"Thank you..." She said quietly, looking up at Zar. This wasn't the first time someone saved her life. It seemed like people all around her were protecting her. How odd it felt. "We, we can escape now." She said shakily, grimacing as she realized that the crushed drow was still spazzing. It's arms flailed jerkily, spreading it's own blood in a smear on the floor. She frowned deeply. These friends she had were very destructive... She was glad they were on her side.
In the mean time, the drow Koin was after could hardly keep his balance. He would be an easy catch, seeing as how he tripped over his own feet in fear.
It was then that a voice drifted to Zar. It came to Zar and only him. The voice was silky, and soft. It came from the cell containing Ona, the spirit-like fighter who even the Drow feared. Her cell was dark, as always. Her voice was familiar, but this time the words were distinguished and clear. "Zar... Aren't you going to let me out too?" She asked. "Please? You know the dead drow has my key. Leave the other Fighters. They aren't worth it. They may as well be dead. The Drow fear me..." Her voice was like syrup, meddling with his mind. "I would be a valuable ally. Why do you think they never take me out? Please, please let me out..."
It was true. She was weaving some kind of enchantment on Zar. Luckily for him, his mind was strong. But would he trust her and let her entrancing voice lead him? Or did he ignore her and leave her? After all, she had never spoken before. She couldn't be trusted. Right?
The kitchen was filled with life. People bustled to and fro, giving the newcomers no attention at all. All but one, actually. There was a woman there. A sylvan elf. She was short, under five feet tall, a slim, dainty little thing. But her eyes were sharp, and it was clear that she had them on every single person at every moment. For her, the kitchen wasn't a work place. It was her life. She put passion into her works. In all honesty, she really did want to please the drow. And seeing three slaves, practically idle? That got her going, that did. Yes, they were clearly trying to do their jobs. But they couldn't have been here long. They had no idea what they were doing!
She marched over to Yasparr first. Her fiery red hair blazed with her grey eyes. "C'mere." She demanded, grabbing his arm. "You lay out the dishes." This could be an opportunity being practically handed to him. "Blue plates." She held one up to his face, putting her other hand on her hip. "These are for guests." Then she set the plate down, and snatched a red plate with delicate ornamenting on the edged. "Red plates." She shoved this in his face similarly. "These are for masters. Seven masters. Five guests. Put them there." She pointed to a long counter which had little round indentations the exact size of the bottom rim of a plate. "Put guests on that side, and masters on that side. Then sweep floors." She was quick, and to the point. In just a moment, she was gone.
She similarly grabbed hold of Orryn. Though he was doing a pretty good job already. He kept his hands busy, so she only corrected him on a few things. She was like an overseer. A head cook. But, despite her briskness, provided a general direction to work. She made sure no one ever didn't know what to do next. "Good!"
Then she confronted Zair. "What are you doing here?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. "Aren't you usually being shown around by the Matron Mother? Gee, you're wearing more clothes than usual!" She commented.
01-18-2013, 05:42 AM
Yasparr didn't recognize the Sylvan elf, but he recognized her authority over him at the moment. "Yes Ma'am," he said once he had heard her instructions. He set out the red plates and the blue ones on the table, waiting to see if the food would be added to the plates in the kitchen or on the tables. He wanted to make sure to poison the right ones, though in truth he'd be happy to poison them all.
All but Verazda, that was.
As the kitchen mistress went to give others their instructions Yasparr decided to go ahead and poison the guests' plates. There was enough to do that now and add some to their food or glasses if he got a chance later. Once he slid the poison on the plates he saw with a grim satisfaction that the liquid dried to invisibility.
Once that was done he fetched a broom and began to sweep, all the while keeping his eyes open for another opportunity to wreck future havoc on the Drow.
The short dainty sylvan elf knew who he was. This was not good. He did not want to draw attention to himself. She made a remark on having more clothing on. Zair just shook his head helplessly at her and smiled warmly despite trying to look away. She reminded him of someone that he knew on the surface he was close to. A childhood friend from a different clan that wished them to marry. Though he has not seen her in over ten years the memory flashed back to him. He pulled his eyes away from her and tried to look busy, tried to look like he belonged there. Trying to force the memories back. He needed to focus.
01-18-2013, 07:36 PM
The woman, who they would come to know as 'Lere (Leh-ree)', looked Zair up and down. Personally, she thought he looked better when he wasn't all glittery and sparkle. "Hmm." Slightly confused by the fact that he hadn't answered her, she put a hand on her hip. "Good work, keep at it."
Right then, there was a crash as a young slave girl with messy brown hair stumbled and dropped a large metal pot next to Orryn. This startled several of the nearby slaves. Some of them dropped the utensils they were using and bit of food splattered on the walls. Immediately, Lere's face grew red with rage. "Fille!" She snapped, calling the girl by name. It was clear that the slave girl was weak, and frail, much like their own Fille. She wasn't strong enough to cart around iron pots. But despite the similarity in name and appearance, this girl's eyes were hollow. There was nothing there to save. "Clean it up." She snapped, pointing at the pot and then turning her finger in a swift circle to gesture at the spills as well. Fille nodded, and got to it. Lere shook her head, and walked off to find someone else who needed to be corrected.
01-20-2013, 05:01 PM
Zar stood completely still as the voice flowed through his mind. Looking towards the cell he knew it came from, even if this was the first time he'd actually heard the voice. Ona. Zars hands clenched at his side as he thought. Her voice... It was so comforting... So inviting... But so was the voice of the drow. Zar looked around the room, trying to find a source of light he could use. "I need to see your face before I do anything."Zar said aloud, continuing his search. If he was even going to consider freeing this unknown, he'd want to see her before he risked the chance of her killing them all. Zar turned to Fille at the mention of escape, and smiled. "Do you have a plan for that little one?" He asked, turning back around to face her, putting his original goal on hold.
02-07-2013, 10:16 PM
"But of course." Ona moved forward. At first, the air seemed to be filled with smoke. But the dark color condensed, swirling until a face was visible. She had no color to speak of. Instead, the smoke filled an invisible outline of her form. As she blinked, wisps rolled off of her eyelashes. She had high cheekbones, and silky-looking hair. That was, if her hair was substantial it would have looked that way. Her eyes expressed honestly but there was a spark of darkness behind them.
Things got busy in the kitchens. It was very obvious when the Dvakrát’Kříž family entered the house. Because when word got into the kitchen, everything changed. Things seemed hectic before, but that was nothing compared to now. A team of slaves were sent into the dining room. The burnt onyx table was polished like it never was before, until one could see their reflection in it with stunning clarity. There was no a speck of dust to be found in the vicinity, and every seat was set out immaculately. The plates were placed centered with the chairs, the silverware exactly a inch and a half away from the rim of each one. Every mat was placed so that the corners were an equal distance from each other, so that every square angle was matched with those adjacent to them. The cups were placed exactly two inches from the plates but an inch from the edge of the mats. Napkins were folded to precise corners, placed with painstaking consistency. Everything. Was. To. Be. Perfect.
Not a fork out of place. Nothing out of place. The evening was to be flawless. Executed down to each syllable. If the slaves thought they had seen the E'Bezcitný house at their best... They were far mistaken. As they arrived at the table, standing, prepared to greet the coming guests- they were dressed at their finest. No extravagance had been spared. Every finger was adorned, every inch of room below the neck had some sort of lace. Shimmering designs had been painted up the priestesses' arms. Tiny jewels encrusted their features in beautiful patterns that swirled around their cheek bones. Overkill? There was no such thing. However... They seemed to be making up for the lack of a specific princeling. For Kreten was still missing. Verazda was also missing from the present com
The slaves were able to watch the entire event through well disguised peepholes in the walls. These were designed so that they could emerge should the family signal to them. Their cups were never to run dry. They were never to be disturbed. It was the slaves' jobs to go unnoticed, and make sure everything went smoothly. They were no allowed to so much brush up against the royals, of any of their dining ware. They would not lift the goblets to pour more wine, they were not to remove plates until everyone had exited the room. And Lere made sure every single slave had these words engraved in their minds.
As Matron Mother Nenávidět guided Zrada into the dining room, four young priestesses trailing in an orderly line behind her. There was no ground of soldiers to protect them. It appeared that Zrada's daughters were her protectors. And they were wordless. They seldom spoke, unless addressed by Matron Mother Zrada. They did not give any acknowledgement as she introduced them as Jaiden, Dově, Tři, and Cetyři. All of them dressed in the same fashion. their hair was pulling back in braids that looked painfully tight. they were attired in form-fitting scaly leather, and they wore little to no jewelry. But Zrada was adorned with brightly colored feathers, which shimmered in infravision.
They sat, and began light conversation. A small gesture of Nenávidět's hand, several slaves (Luckily none of them were our elven or dwarven friends) came in a steady line with the plates of prepared food. The red plates were set for the family, even on the seats that were empty. And the blue were set for the guests. They spoke rapidly in Drow. From there, no one in the kitchens would be able to tell what they were saying. But slowly the plates were emptied. The slaves knew how to get around. Like shadows, they worked, coming in and out with almost no noise at all- not even stirring a breeze. They were far different from those who cleaned hallways and bedrooms. This was a show, not a job.
As forks were set down, Nenávidět began to enter the subject she wished to speak of with Zrada. But she was unable to begin before her second daughter, Dově, began to choke. The priestess's cold emotionless expression was gone, replaced by panic as she fell out of her chair. Her sisters rose to assist her, but then they too were overcome in fits of coughing. Zrada stood, alarm filled Nenávidět, and her present family members.
"What is this!?" Zrada stood, suddenly feeling the tightness in her throat. She shouted something foreign, and her daughters were released from the poisonous effects. "You tried to poison us!?" Nenávidět tried speak, her dark face paling. But Zrada would not stand for it. Her mind was made up. With a flick of her wrist, Nenávidět was thrown against the back wall. "I will return. You will regret this day." Composing themselves, she had her daughters showed themselves out.
Nenávidět knew it now. She and her family were cursed by Lolth to die. They had hours to live.
Verazda arrived in the kitchen. Everyone was in a panic, and Lere was giving everyone pure hell. When she came in, everyone stopped. Wordlessly, she gathered Yasparr, Zair and Orryn. "We must go now. You've done wonderfully. Take these." She pressed a small blue stone into each of their hands.
The stones had a strong magnetic pull, giving just enough resistance that they could feel a direction. "Follow them, I'll meet you there." She said quickly.
Lere finally just gave up. Her life was ruined. Somehow- she had failed her masters. Now they would all die. Her responsibilities... What had they meant to her? A girl who had lost everything and dedicated herself to the only thing she knew anymore. The slaves in the kitchen quickly fled in any direction they could and chaos ensued. She sunk into a corner and started to weep. If her masters didn't get to her first, she would surely die from the pain of her failure.
Verazda quickly nudged her fellow escapees on, urging them not to look back. She hadn't been able to find Fille in time. But she could tell that the girl was resourceful and had kept herself alive.
That was when the house began to shake with concussive booms that rang down, even to the dungeons. They were being attacked. Soon they would discover that in a matter of minutes, the Dvakrát’Kříž family had bound together with the Vypovězenís, and war was waged upon the E'Bezcitný house.
Far below in the dungeons, Fille exclaimed as there was a quake that shook the very ground that they were in. "What was that?" She asked, fear striking her eyes.
02-07-2013, 11:52 PM
Zar looked Ona in the eyes, holding them so she would grasp the full message behind what he said next. "Why should I let you out? We've never spoke before now, and this is the first time I, or anyone I know has seen you? So answer me that, and my second question. What are you?" He finished, a slight grin spreading across his face. But that was quickly destroyed as the entire dungeon shook. "What in the 9 hells what that?" Zar cursed.
02-10-2013, 12:47 AM
In the kitchen Yasparr felt relief when he saw Verazda again. It was not that he was saved, it was that she was still alive. She was alright. He wrapped his hand around the small blue stone and nodded to her. He trusted her completely.
As they were being ushered to leave he turned to grab a long, curved knife that was used by one of the butchers. It was similar to a knife he vaguely remembered; something he had used in his past life. He saw the Elven kitchen mistress sinking into the corner, weeping. Her shoulders shook in silent terror, and her eyes were wide with shock and fear.
He couldn’t leave her. She was one of his people. More importantly, she had been a slave, perhaps all her life. No one should live and breathe as the property of another for their entire existence, especially not a long-lived creature like the Elves. He saw the others filing out of the door in the panic that had gripped the staff, and in the ensuing chaos he found his way quickly to the woman in the corner and took her by the wrist.
“Come with me if you want to live.” He pulled her to her feet. She was so light! He wouldn’t miss his chance to escape with Verazda to save this slave if she resisted. “There is an option other than death, woman. Come with me, or die today at the hands of those who called themselves your masters.”
Zair was ready to jump into action and leave right then and there, but then Verazda showed up just in time. As she handed him the small blue stone he felt it's pull. He closed a fist around it and nodded. Finally the time had come to leave this foul place behind. He would make sure the Drow would pay for all they had done. At least as much as he could possibly do in his lifetime.
He then noticed the female Elf that reminded him of a long lost love. She was crying in the corner, helpless. Just as he was about to go to her his Elf friend beat him to it. Zair held his tongue in check and just nodded to them and turned to go. But not before gathering the blade he took from the dead Drow he left in the secret entrance that lead them there. After he scooped it up he looked over all his companions and gave them a cocky smile, eyes burning with eagerness. He had to keep there moral up, "By the nine hells lets leave this foul crypt." He drew the blade out and turned to follow the pull the blue rock gave in his other hand.
The drow struggled but Koin had a firm grip he wouldn't let him at least not while he still needed the scared creature. Feet kicked hands or sides every few strides while the drow wriggled for weapons, anything to defend against the half-orc beast (in his eyes) but Koin was relentless. After dragging the dark elf a good distance towards the group he stopped to strip it of its weapons and binding the drows hands and feet with small lengths of rope perhaps meant for slaves and not him. The slaver's belt and short sword were relieved from his waste and found a new home around Koin's, with a bit of ingenuity on his part in the form of torn cloth from the creature's shirt.
With the drow suitably bound Koin drug him the rest of the way, looking to Fille and frowning as no one had saw to her wounds. Leaning over Zar's kill he dug through pockets and pouches to find anything to help her. Only a small amount of wrappings and weak medical herbs, it wasn't too surprising as the drow only wanted the fighters strong enough to be alive and win fights, but not strong enough to excape. Lucky Koin then.
Eyes shifted from the thrashing drow to Fille, only giving the thing a simple "Stop" in common as a warning. Looking over Fille's wounds the only thing Koin could ascertain is that she was badly hurt by no means was he a cleric, he wasn't even certain the herbs were meant to help heal. Though he was sure he seen similar herbs before. Before he could apply the herbs and wrappings a large and sudden quake shook the earth and rock of the underground dungeon. This wasn't something he has ever experienced before he was surprised and a little afraid, not that he showed this, but nevertheless he tried his best to give Fille clerical care.
"Hope it is for us." he chuckled in response to Zar's cursing. Keeping up his look of badassery, he wanted to seem intimidating not because he wasn't but to further put fear into his captive. He wan't him nice and wet for the interrogation.
03-06-2013, 01:19 AM
Ona quickly shrunk back into the shadows. The earth's quaking shocked her. Even she was afraid of the possibility that the ceiling could collapse; though she had no physical form to be crushed. "Fine." She hissed. "But I doubt you can find your way out of the caverns without me." The surrounding tunnels shook more violently, and distantly they could hear something crumble. "Ah... The tunnel has just collapsed." She said, chuckling as she rested a smokey hand on the bars of her cell. "It's too bad I'm not free... I know how you can get out. There's an old, deep tunnel that even the drow have forgotten about. It's a pity you'll never find it."
Her voice could still only be heard by Zar, and the other's were unaware that she had even taken a visible form.
Fille leaned against the wall as her blood loss began to be too much to bear. She felt light headed, and doubted that she could remain standing much longer. Being frail was hard enough, but the recent and repeated physical abuse was taking it's toll. When Koin began to help her, she offered him a weak smile. For the moment, the earth had stopped shaking. But a distant rumble hung in the air, and it seemed that the stone was seeping away what little warmth the walls held.
"Thank you." Fille said with a small smile.
For the moment, it seemed that her human friend was gone. She wondered if he had left to get something. She was sure that he would be back.
The remaining Fighter's seemed to be in shock; each of them in a different kind. The dwarves had started violently attacking the walls, and the brittle old human was curled in the fetal position, rocking back in forth. Every once and a while he let a whimper escape his haunted expression.
"What do we do?" Fille asked in a quiet voice. She was too weak to walk far, and her thin hands clung to Koin's clothing. She wasn't very stable on her feet at the moment. It pained her to think that she might have to ask someone to carry her. "I don't think it's safe to go back... But there must be way to get out." She said, hope lighting her eyes.
Lere looked at the elven face, urging her to leave with him. "No, no!" She said, tears pouring faster. "I can't leave my masters. Oh my poor masters..." She sobbed. For a moment, some distant part of her seemed to want to escape. But it was covered up by the scarred exterior personality that she had long protected herself with. It was crafted by fear to protect her, but it would be her doom if someone didn't talk some sense into her.
Verazda quickly vanished to clear the path for her fellow escapees.
Orryn grabbed Yasparr's arm. "Come on, lad!" He urged. "She's not coming, leave her!" His fist was clenched around the blue stone. He could feel it frantically pressing against his palm, trying to physically pull him to a specific location. Lere looked at the only three people who seemed to have any composure in the whole kitchen. Her eyes begged them to convince her to come with them. But terror was ingrained in her, and it didn't allow her to speak out in her own defense. She couldn't call out for help.
The dining room gave in to an enormous collapse. Flames licked the rich tapestries and the onyx table shattered as lightning struck it. Poisonous fumes began to seep into the hall, and any slaves who were near them suddenly dropped to the floor. Some tried to run, only to be shot down by bolts of light. Screams filled the air and feeble attempts to fight back where quickly extinguished. The E'Bezcitný House was doomed. And it was all anyone could do to escape the chaos.
Zair turns his head, looking over his shoulder to see if the others were following. His eyes went a bit wide then into a determined look as he laid his bright eyes on Lere standing there, conflicted. He turned fully and ran back up to her and took her hand looking into her eyes, his other hand grabbing her chin so that she had to look back into his, "Listen to me closely. This will be your only chance to leave this crypt. The Drow do not care for you. But if you come with us you will see the sun again and your people. People that care and will love you. Please, come with us." His voice was strong with clear confidence. Like what he said was just how it was and that they were going to escape. He let her chin go and still looked into her eyes, "Choose." He whispered, his voice sorrowful, for he did not want to lose another of his kin to this place.
03-06-2013, 07:33 PM
Orryn's strong grip on Yasparr's arm spurred him on. The elven woman didn't seem to want to come, and there was no time left for Yasparr to try to convince her. He raced out the door behind the dwarf as Zair rushed past him in the opposite direction.
Crazy zealot, thought Yasparr. He ran as quickly as he could through the crumbling hallways, batting aside stunned drow and the dead bodies of... people. Slaves, drow, dwarf or elf - they all looked the same in the pose of quiet death. The fires broke out spontaneously, illuminating the underground paths for those without infravision. The flames threatened to suck all the oxygen out of the air, though. They had to move fast.
As Yasparr ran with Orryn they gathered a few other slaves with them. After what seemed like hours of running and scraping to survive, they neared the area where Verazda had told them to meet.
Hopefully she'd still be alive to meet them.
03-06-2013, 08:44 PM
Zar Looked at the others, unsure what to do. He watched Fille closely as he shakily got up. He knew she wouldn't be able to move for hours searching for a way out... The way she wobbled as she rose was a clear sign of that. Letting out a deep grumble, Zar decided that he would not seal Onas fate himself. "I know a way out... Well more of some one who knows a way out... But I'll not bring someone with us without at least hearing your opinions." Zar rumbled, "Behind this cell door is a possible guide..." He continued, gesturing to the cell Ona was in. "What say you all? Free her? Or leave are fate to the gods?" He asked, leaving the choice to the others.
03-07-2013, 04:36 PM
Lere's heart ached. But Zair's words were what she needed. Finally, she broke out of the forced love of her masters. Looking into his vibrant blue eyes, the part of herself that had been locked away for so long was freed. A whisper of the past was brought back to her. Did she know this person from before her days with the Drow? Memories were still foggy. "I will come with you." She whispered. Something changed in her eyes, and sanity returned. It was as if she had been captured the day before, and her mind was sharp and alert. Her fingers tightened around his, and she stood up. "Which way?" Lere was ready to do whatever it took to get out.
As the group ran, following the direction the magical stones took them, they were lead to a tapestry that seemed no different than any other, despite the fire that was singeing its corners. A few slaves had gathered with them, but they were so frightened that they simply followed anyone who had a direction in which to run.
Orryn stepped towards the wall hanging. His Dwarven eyes were trained from birth to recognize patterns in the stone. After a moment of observation, he could clearly see that the tapestry was hiding something. He strongly swept it to the side, revealing a dark -unlit- tunnel. Quickly herding the group inside, there was nothing more to do than continue. The tunnel went down at a slight angle. A small trickle of water ran across the floor. The nearly silent flow was the only noise other than steady footsteps.
Slowly, the tunnel narrowed and they were forced to move in single file. Luckily, though the walls constricted to claustrophobic levels, they were able to travel with ease. They felt as if travelling in circles. It was dizzying at times. Orryn told them periodically how far into the earth they had traveled. It didn't make much of a difference, considering that the surface was miles away. But each ten feet deeper, and the air seemed to get a little colder.
Whenever they reached a split in the tunnels, the stones faithfully guided them in what they could only hope was the right direction.
Lere had somehow maintained a grip on Zair's hand the whole way. At the moment, a part of her mind was fighting with itself. Clinging to his fingers gave her a lifeline to sanity.
When they emerged from the darkness, the tunnel had lead to something they had not seen in a long time. The outskirts of the city were bland and cold compared to the familiar walls they had known for so long. Open, natural stone spread for nearly a hundred feet before the wilds of the Underdark took over. Sometimes a plot of this land was bought and constructed into a house. But very few could afford this, and the rich choked down any who tried. But without the restrictions of being taken over by the drow, forests grew.
They were not the forests of the surface world. Not even close. Tall, thin fungi grew like stalagmites. They filled the air, so crowded together as they were. Some released colorful puffs of spores. Others seemed peaceful enough.
In that moment, each of them felt a small crack in their palms. The stones had broken apart. Their jobs were done. In Yasparr's hand, the stone had broken to reveal a piece of paper. It read:
'Stay on the path. Do not make any noises- they will hear you.'
Any person who had experience in the Underdark knew what creatures Verazda's message was speaking of. The Shriekers. A well known mushroom that looked no different from the others. But if one was awakened from it's peaceful sleep, it would emit an earsplitting sound that rocked the very earth. It's cry would reach others, and they too would begin to scream. This could go on for hours sometimes. The screams were like those of a banshee, and few lived to tell the tale.
There was a small, narrow path through the forest. Distantly, they could hear the soft roar of water. And farther off- the screams of the falling house. The grove extended for a mile or so, and was choked with fungi. When they emerged on the other side, they were stunned by the sight.
The light lit the water, giving it the same glow. And, kneeling by the natural spring was a familiar Drow face. But only Yasparr had seen her this way before. Her irises had faded from the bright red that they usually held, to a soft hazel. They were sylvan eyes. Her white hair was streaked with golden strands, and her dark skin was considerably lighter over the angles of her face. She was a half breed; a mutt. Half sylvan elf and half drow elf... Her heritage was clear now. "Well, welcome to freedom." She said with a small smile.
Ona's lips curled in a satisfied smile.
Fille looked at her dragon born companion. "In there?" She asked with a shaky voice, pointing at the cell. All she could see was darkness. "I don't want to be trapped down here..." She admitted. But could they trust whoever was beyond the iron bars? The other fighters were beyond help. And this one was... Different. She was the one who didn't need to be fed, who was never injured after a fight... And who never lost a fight for that matter. "What do you think?" She asked Koin.
The screams of the dwarves were beginning to make her head hurt, and she closed her eyes. Even the dimly lit fungus seemed to make her head spin faster.
Ona finally made herself visible. Fille could only stare at her. She didn't think they could trust her. On the other hand, she was sure that if the wispy woman decided to turn on them, that Zar and Koin would be able to protect her. Right?
03-15-2013, 08:44 PM
Yasparr felt the note's whisper like a breath against his skin.
'Stay on the path. Do not make any noises- they will hear you.'
He turned to the others and laid a finger across his lips, then proceeded to lead them through the fungi jungle and away from their imprisonment. The waterfall and the surrounding caves would have been lovely, if lingering here didn't also suggest a deadly trap to his soul. When they found Verazda he was surprised and also a little relieved to see her in her real form.
"Geala," he breathed quietly, calling her by the name he knew her by on the surface. He turned to the others, nodding towards the half-breed before them. "She is Verazda." He kept his voice quiet so as not to waken any of the Shriekers, but knowing that the others had to understand that Geala was trust-worthy.
Zair nodded silently as he saw Yasparr lay a finger on his lips and gave Lere a firm yet gentle squeeze to her's hand that he held. He had not let go the whole way they went. Zair looks over at her and does the same motion as Yasparr just in case she did not see him make the worldly sign of silence.
As they made there way silently he spotted Verazda, but she seemed different. As they got closer Zair could see the difference clearly. She was a half breed. Now all the pieces fit. She did not belong with her cruel kin, and must of been shunned on the surface. She had no where to go...but now... "Seems you have chosen wisely in the end. To be with the Drow only leads to an abrupt death with no meaning, Geala." He spoke after Yasparr spoke and in the same volume as his kin. Looking over at Lere a moment to make sure she was doing okay.
The others left the burden of leadership upon his shoulders. This being could very well be the death of them, or worse, but standing around until the drow remembered they had fighting slaves down here didn't seem like a good plan. If they were really trapped air would eventually become scarce then water or food. Koin really had no other choice but to accept. He had the others to think of even if he didn't care if he made it. The thought of out living his captors sounded tempting as well, with whatever is going on it sure meant at least some were dead or nearing death.
"All right, Let her out." he reached down to help stable Fille better, it was apparent that she couldn't run if needed. Zar will probably need to carry her if they had to rush anywhere, and with a hostage it would be rough. If this person was reliable then they should be fine but he couldn't recall seeing or hearing her speak understandable words before.
03-18-2013, 07:35 PM
With there agreements to release Ona, Zar slowly drew near to her cell. "I'll warn you only once... If you try to harm any of us, by the abyss I will make sure you go with us." Rumbled the white dragonborn. Zar looked around the dungeon, looking for the key to the cell of the mysterious women. After a short search, Zar found the goal, and returned to the cell door. "Tell me specter... Do I have your word you'll not turn on us?" He asked, sliding the key into the lock, but refusing to turn the key just yet.
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