Darksong- Warning, mature content.

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Aylstra Illianniis
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

"What are you DOING?!" he cried, clinging to the dragon's back with all his might as Sivestrik rose higher into the air. In seconds, they were high above the trees, and the drow could see the entire valley below. He clutched tightly at the spine in front of him with his good hand, while he slipped his sword back into its sheath with the other, his legs wrapped around the silver's neck.

"Consider this your first flying lesson, elf!" the wyrm replied with a rumbling laugh. already the ground was far below; the dragon and dark elf circled the entire valley, rising higher still. The sun's brilliance stabbed at the drow's eyes, but he kept them open all the same, wanting to see as much as he could in spite of the pain. He knew that he might never have another chance, and he did not want to miss any new experience, not matter how frightening it might be. He realized that few people had ever flown upon a dragon at all, and fewer still of his own kind ever would.

Soon he discovered that they were reaching up even to the clouds. The air was colder, and he began to feel slightly dizzy. He felt something warm trickle down from his nose, and wiped at it. His sleeve came away red. Blood? The cold, thin air made breathing difficult, and he tried to shout to the wyrm to fly lower, but the wind took his voice.

In annoyance, he kicked the silver's shoulders, and pointed down when sivestrik glanced back. The dragon made a slow turn, and began to spiral downward. Lothir glanced down, and nearly fainted at the sight of the earth so far below. He squeezed his eyes shut, and held on tightly.

"What's wrong?" Sivestrik asked when they had descended to just above the top of the treeline of the low mountains surrounding the valley.

"Too high. Dizzy." The young drow replied, shaking his head to clear it. He squinted in the bright light, reflected off the dragon's hide. "Can we just land? I don't think i like flying." He knew he sounded frightened, but so much was new and strange, and he was afraid he might fall from the great beast's back. After all that had already happened, he had no wish to plummet to his death. It would have been undignified, to say the least.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
Legend
Posts: 1933
Joined: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:51 am
Location: Texas
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

Thankfully, they swiftly landed; the drowling breathed a sigh of relief, and scrambled down from the silver’s back as quickly as he could with his injured arm. When he was finally back on solid ground again, he gave the dragon a look of awe, and smiled tentatively.

“That was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. I never knew the surface was so big!” he said, his gaze filled with excited curiosity. “The sky went on forever! I don’t understand why my People hate it up here so much. Everything is so beautiful. Is it always like this?”

Sivestrik laughed again, the sound rolling through the clearing like thunder as he dipped his huge head, nodding. “Except in winter when it snows. Everything is white then, and the birds all fly elsewhere to stay warm. But you’d like snow- it’s cold, but it can be fun!” He gave the drow a toothy smile.

“Snow? What’s that?” Lothir asked. He had read books that mentioned snow, but did not understand what it was.

“Frozen water, that falls from the sky in tiny flakes. Like the ice crystals from my breath.” Sivestrik shrugged, knowing no better way to explain. It occurred to him that he had always taken such things for granted. It had never crossed his mind that there were those to whom snow or sunlight- or even birds, for that matter- were foreign things. It made him suddenly appreciate his surface world in a way he never had.

The drow seemed to ponder that for a moment. “Oh,” he said finally. “Why is it fun?” Somehow the idea of something frozen being fun did not make sense. Or perhaps dragons had a different idea of fun?

“You can shape it into balls to throw at people. They don’t really hurt- it’s a game. You can lie on the ground and make impressions in it. Or make figures and shapes out of it, of people or miniature castles.” Sivestrik was enjoying the dicussion now. He felt oddly at ease now that they were back upon the surface, and he could teach the drowling about his world. Best of all, he could sense the peace and serenity of the place, and knew that it was safe. He felt something else, too, like a lingering touch of power.

“That- sounds nice. Do you think I could see snow?” Lothir asked wistfully. He was beginning to like the world Above. There was so much to see and learn, and everything was alive and full of sound and color. So different from the dark, drab caverns he called home.

He wandered over to a tall plant with many branches and large red blooms with many petals. The blossoms smelled sweet and inviting, and he inhaled their fragrance deeply. He reached out to pluck one and was mildly surprised when he felt something prick his hand. Looking closer, he discovered that the stems were covered in small thorns. So, he thought, even here there are dangers. It almost made him smile, for the thought was somehow comforting.

“If you stay long enough. It’s summer now, so you’ll have to wait a few months. Or we could go flying again, to the top of one of those mountains. I saw some snow on them.” The dragon watched the young dark elf examining the wild roses, and almost chuckled at his inexperience. But he caught himself, and strode over to stand near him while he began studying the many plants all around. He could not help but think that the boy was trying to memorize each one, though for what purpose he could not determine.

Lothir sighed, and shook his head. He had managed to pluck one of the flowers from the bush with his dagger, and held it carefully, sniffing it. “No. I have to go back soon. And then I’m off to the city in a few weeks to attend the Academy. I won’t be back for a long time. I wish I could stay to see more, though.” He found a stone in the shade nearby, and sat down on it.

“You don’t really have to go back, do you? You could stay here…” Sivestrik said, glancing over at his new friend.

“Yes. If I don’t, how will I ever help Ravyn?” She was in his toughts again, and the dark elf lad wished more than anything that he could show her all that he had seen.

“You could bring her here,” replied the dragon, cocking his head thoughtfully.

Lothir frowned, shaking his head sadly. “No. House servants can’t even go outside. They have collars that send an alarm if they set foot outside the walls. They would know we were escaping even before we were gone.”

The wyrm scowled, and let out a small puff of frosty air in frustration. “So you have to go back with something to show that you won the fight, or you will be turned into a monster. Why would your own mother do that?” He truly was curious, for never had he heard of any mother so ill-treating her own offspring. His own draca had been kind and caring for his nestmates and himself. The possibility of a mother wishing harm on her children was alien to his noble sensibilities.

“It’s just how things are with us. Every drow must prove that he is useful, that he can bring glory and strength to his House, or he is cast out- or worse. And a drow with no House is nothing. He has no protection or support. He is worthless.” He said the words, just as Shiallin had taught them to him, but they somehow rang hollow in his throat. Once again he wondered why it was so. Who had decreed that it should be that way? The Venom Queen? The Matrons? In truth, he did not know.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
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Posts: 1933
Joined: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:51 am
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

Lothir sat down, opened his pack, and pulled out the fish he had wrapped by the river. He held the bundle out to the dragon- who simply stared at it- then opened up his pouch, pulling out a fistful of the crystals he had stored there. They glittered in the sunlight, making dozens of tiny rainbows. He saw the wyrm's blank look, and set the bundle down on a small flat stone, and laid the rough gems down on it.

"These are for you. It's the least I can do after trying to kill you," he told the silver. He pulled out two more handfuls and set them in with the rest.

"And I suppose you just HAPPENED to have all this?" Sivestrik stared down at the gift with a cynical look. "What is the catch?" His gaze turned expectantly to the young drow.

"Well...." Lothir hedged, not certain if it would be wise to tell the dragon the truth. Though the drow trusted him now, there was still the possibility that Sivestrik might eat him- especially if he became angered. At last he gave the wyrm an apologetic look and muttered in a quiet tone, "I WAS going to use the fish to try to poison you. And the gems were supposed to be a distraction. But I changed my mind."

"Poison? And now you expect me to eat it? Why should I trust you?" Sivestrik scowled down at he young elf, wondering if he had taken leave of his senses. Poisoning food DID sound like something that his vile race might do. So why had he told him of the scheme? He pondered that for a long moment, as the youth stared down at the ground in front of him, and idly plucked blades of grass and tiny flowers to examine them.

"It's all right," he replied after a brief pause. "I didn't do it. I'll even share it with you, just to prove it. I was going to lace it with centipede venom. But I never used it. I just- thought you should know." He shrugged, and tossed the many bits of grass and petals into the air, to watch as they danced briefly on the breeze before fluttering to earth.

"Honesty from a dark elf? Now I have seen it all," the young silver murmured in amazement. He sat back on his haunches, regarding his new friend for a while. At last, he lay down beside the stone, and used the talons of one forefoot to open the bundle and pick up several large pieces of the raw fish. He sniffed the offering, and flicked out his long tongue to taste it before deciding that it was indeed safe, and snapped them up. It was hardly a bite for one his size, but good none-the-less.

"What is this flower?" Sivestrik turned, halfway through his third bunch of fillets, to glance at the drow. He held up the bloom he had cut from the bush, looking hopeful. So it was to be a botany lesson? Interesting, he thought. He could see the curiosity burning in the lad's eyes, and suddenly understood why the boy was so different from those who had captured him. Unlike them, he yearned to know about the world around him, to understand it, rather than to simply conquor and dominate it. The dragon smiled, realizing that he had found a kindred spirit; for he, too, had always wanted to learn all that he could of the world. So he began to answer the question, and was not surprised when the answer led to more questions.


It was several hours later when he finally gave up on teaching the drow the names of all the plants and creatures of te small valley. He was familiar with most of them, fortunately, though there were of course some that he did not know. The boy seemed to drink it all in eagerly, asking dozens of questions, and listening intently to his replies. And when the drow told him of the dancing goddess, he understood the source of the power he had felt. Truly, the young dark elf had brought him to a sacred place.

That was fine with Sivestrik, for it meant that evil beasts would shy from he place. He had no doubt that he could deal with most dangerous beasts, but he was not foolish enough to tempt his luck with anything truly large and dangerous. When at last the boy had run out of questions- a temporary lapse, he was certain- it was nearly sunset. The dragon yawned, and began searching for a place to sleep.

Lothir noticed the light beginning to wane, and looked off toward the setting sun. It had become a circle of molten gold low in the sky; a few scattered clouds drifted above, painted pink and red. He saw the first stars faintly visible in the deepening purple sky, and the small black moon Crinos was rising. Soon it would be all but invisible in the darkness of night, and only the two larger moons would show against the ebon night.

He watched the slowly sinking sun, and wondered what it would be like to live free beneath it. All his life, he had heard that the world Above was evil, that the light would burn and blind him, or that those who lived in that harsh light would seek his death out of malice and jealousy. Yet it seemed that everything he had been told was a lie. Sivestrik was nothing like that, he was sure, and though the heat was uncomfortable and the light did indeed hurt his eyes, it was not so terrible as his mother and tutors had led him to believe.

Then again, he thought, if it was so terrible, why did so many of his House willingly go out into it to plunder ships on the sea, or to slaughter whole villages on Anterris’s coast? Even his own father spent much of his time on such raids, never mind that he was not a “true” drow, and had been born on the surface as one of the hated darthiiri. The thought made him wonder why his Patron had been cursed and driven from his home, and how he had risen to power among a race well-known for their hatred of outsiders. Or did any of them even know that he was one of the Cursed?

He knew that his mother did, at the very least, and quite likely some of the crewmen of his ships. Shiallin knew, as Nalvir and Jezdin both had. How many others, though? Lothir’s thoughts slid back to the gem he had found in the vault, and he decided that perhaps knowing about his heritage might be worth the risk of being mind-blasted or worse. What could it show him?

He followed the dragon as he explored the small valley, looking for a sheltered place to sleep. At last they found a small cave that ended not more than fifty feet into the side of one of the mountains, just a little way up the slope. The silver had long since finished the fish, and had scooped up the crystals into the cloth and carried them while he searched about for a resting place. He was looking for a lair, the drow realized, and in truth, he was glad to see that the wyrm had taken a liking to the valley. After all, it would probably be his home for the rest of his life, since there was little chance that he might ever return to his old one again. He considered telling him about the other wyrms living on the large island, but decided it could wait. For now, he too was growing tired, and wanted to rest after his battle and long journey.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
Legend
Posts: 1933
Joined: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:51 am
Location: Texas
Contact:

Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

The fiery orb had set and the moons had risen above the trees by the time he settled in for the night. It was with great relief that the young drow watched the last rays of the sun fade below the narrow gap between two low mountains. He spread out his small bedroll and watched the bright-scaled wyrm as he stretched out his wings and long, sinewy neck before padding into the cave. Sivestrik curled up and lay down like a contented cat against the shallow cave’s back wall, yawning as he settled down to sleep.

The drow was slightly worried about sleeping in such close proximity to a thirty-foot, winged lizard with breath that could freeze him solid if it chose, yet he had long since decided to trust the dragon, and in truth, he felt safer in this place than he ever had at home. He did wonder what would happen if one of the larger wyrms of the island should decide to invade the small valley, however. Sivestrik surly was no match for a large blue or red, even if he had easily defeated Lothir himself. So he slept with his remaining blade unsheathed beside him, just in case.


The next morning, he half-woke curled in a cramped space between what felt like several large, smooth stones, with a sound like a bellows pumping very close by. He felt disoriented, not quite knowing where he was, for he did not remember there being any boulders nearby. For that matter, he wondered why he felt one of them move.

He opened his bleary eyes, only to discover that he was nestled into a small gap between the dragon’s hind leg and body, with its tail curled around him. Then he looked up, and saw one wide wing partially unfolded above him, forming a sort of canopy above his head. He froze, jaw dropping.

“Good morning, little one,” a voice said in auld elvish, and he glance over to see Sivestrik’s huge head blinking back at him from under the wing. “I wondered how long you were going to sleep. How is the arm? Any better?”

“I- I…” He stuttered, unable to answer. This was not how he had imagined waking. Certainly, finding himself in the dragon’s clutches as soon as he woke was enough to unhinge even a grown warrior, much less a half-grown boy. He swallowed, and nodded slowly. “What are you doing here?” he finally asked, as the head drew back and Sivestrik folded his wing. The drow rose carefully, wondering why the wyrm had been coiled around him.

“Be at ease, my friend. You were curled up shivering in your sleep, so I thought to keep you warm. Don’t worry- I wouldn’t eat you. There’s not enough of you for more than a bite or two, anyway.”

“Oh, that’s very reassuring,” he replied grumpily. The dragon made it sound as if he wasn’t even worth eating! He was not sure whether he should be relieved or insulted.

“Hpmh. There’s gratitude for you,” chided the silver, rising. He stretched himself out, and flexed his huge talons, before slipping out into the early morning sunlight. The drow belatedly realized that his companion’s wing had shaded his sensitive eyes from the dawn, for the sun shone full into the cave at this time of day. Without it, he would have been awakened much earlier, and in a far less comfortable fashion. He put away his bedroll, and stepped out onto the small ledge outside the cave, moving beside the dragon to watch the sunrise with squinted eyes and a hand up to shade them.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “Thank you. I’m not used to anyone else caring about how I feel. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“Apology accepted. You didn’t answer my question, though.” Sivestrik glance at him expectantly.

“Oh, it still hurts, but not quite as much. I’m getting used to it. I have to go back soon though, if only to have it healed. I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get back home with this, though.”

“Perhaps I will return with you, at least part of the way. Just to make sure you make it back safely, mind.” The dragon gave him a toothy smile, and he realized it was his way of asking to keep him company. He returned it, and cocked his head thoughtfully.

“That reminds me- if I’m going back at all, I still need the ‘proof’ that I uh, you know,” he said, suddenly feeling foolish. Would this ploy the dragon had suggested even work? How could he hope to fool anyone into believing that he had actually killed the sliver?

“Ah, yes. Would a tooth be sufficient? I suppose I could spare one, and they do eventually grow back.” The wyrm shrugged his massive shoulders, and his long tail twitched at the thought of forcibly removing one.

“Maybe a few scales, too? Just to be sure- that way they will have to believe it.” Lothir said, his mind suddenly spinning with all the necessary details that would be required to pull off such a blatant lie.

“While you’re busy relieving me of my various parts, do you want some blood, too? Or an eye?” The silver snorted, sounding mildly annoyed.

“Hey, this was your idea, remember? Or do you really want someone else coming after you after I’m gone?” The young drow protested, getting defensive. He didn’t want to do any more than was necessary, but it had to be convincing. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you scratch me, just so it looks like I really was in a battle. Maybe you could even splatter me with blood a little, just for effect. Or,” he paused, truly getting into the ruse now, “how well can you control that breath? I mean, can you aim it?”

The dragon sat back, musing. “Ah, I see where you are going. I don’t actually know- I’ve never really tried.” He turned back to the drow with a grin. “Yes, I think we can make this look convincing! But you will have to trust me, little elf. Can you stand still while I swipe at you?”

Lothir considered for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “If that’s what it takes, I’ll do it. I can always get healed later,” he said, shrugging.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
Legend
Posts: 1933
Joined: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:51 am
Location: Texas
Contact:

Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

Sivestrik nodded, seeing that the dark elf lad was determined to go through with the charade. “So be it,” he replied, and moved closer, until he was within easy reach of the drow. “This will hurt you more than it will me,” he said.

Lothir gulped, afraid that the dragon might mistakenly cut too deeply, or even betray his trust and do so intentionally. Yet it was a chance he had to take, if he wished to keep them both safe. So he drew his saber while the dragon flexed his huge talons; then he stepped back as if to defend, holding it up before him, and closed his eyes.

Sivestrik gauged the distance between them, to ensure that he did not strike too hard. After all, he wanted to leave only a few scratches, not gut the lad. When he saw the drow’s eyes closed tight, he slashed out swiftly, and felt cloth and chain tearing apart beneath his claws. He also felt flesh, and heard a stifled whimper of pain. He was pleased to see that he had judged correctly, for where his talons had rent, four long, shallow furrows marred the young drow’s chest and arm. He was mildly surprised to notice that the youth had borne the attack so bravely, barely flinching from the blow. Neither had he screamed, a fact which Sivestrik found impressive for one so young.

Now it was Lothir’s turn to add to the ruse. “All right, which one should I pull?” he asked, ignoring his own pain and the fresh trickles of blood on his chest and arm. It stung, to be sure, but he was willing to bear it if it would keep him from being turned into a half-spider abomination. He approached the dragon slowly, wondering just how he was going to extract a tooth that was larger than his hand.

“I cannot believe I am letting you do this,” Sivestrik replied, then let out a small huff of icy breath at him, which left a rime of frost on the boy’s clothes and hair. The drow lad shivered briefly from the cold, but it seemed to have the effect of stopping the blood from his new wounds, so he supposed he should not complain.

“Oh, don’t fuss, it’s better than the alternative,” he told the dragon, who huffed again, a bit more forcefully this time. He scowled, knowing the wyrm had only done so to annoy him, and gestured for Sivestrik to lower his head. When the dragon’s huge jaws were open, he stepped close to examine the many teeth, wondering which one would be easiest to remove. He finally settled on a very small one near the back, which was as long and as thick as two fingers.

Swallowing back his fear- for he secretly wondered if the wyrm would change his mind and eat him- he stepped up to the side of the dragon’s head and slid the tip of his sword down between the tooth and the gum, until he felt bone beneath. Then he began to pull down, hoping to uproot it and simply pop it out. Unfortunately, the tooth proved stubborn, so he was forced to wiggle the blade back and forth to loosen it. After several minutes of struggling with the thing, he finally felt something give beneath his blade, and it slipped out of its socket.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
Legend
Posts: 1933
Joined: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:51 am
Location: Texas
Contact:

Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

“There,” he said, holding it up. “Now all I need is a few scales, so I can convince them that you’re dead.”

“Ow, that hurts,” said the silver, rubbing his jaw. “I hope you’re happy- It’s going to take weeks for that to grow back. I have one question, though- what are you going to tell them if they wish to see my corpse?” It had occurred to him that the boy’s kin might desire parts of him to use for magic, since many parts of a dragon’s anatomy were known to aid in spells and alchemy.

Lothir thought about that for a few minutes before he answered. “Well, I had thought about tricking you into falling into that big chasm in the cavern where I found you. I’ve heard that sometimes oozes eat whatever falls down there, so I could just say that there’s nothing left because they got to it first. At least it would be a good reason to keep anyone from looking. I could even say they ate my sword, too!”

Sivestrik considered that, and finally shrugged, letting out another cold puff of air. “Hmm, I suppose that makes sense. If there are oozes slithering around in those caves, it would make a good excuse for not having a body.”

“Would you stop that?” protested the drow, shivering as he brushed more ice off of his clothes. “At least point that somewhere else- what are you trying to do, give me frostbite?”

“Fine, now what did you have in mind for the scales?” Sivestrik replied, lying down wih his forelegs crossed like a large dog at its master’s feet. His long tail curled around him, the tip thumping lightly against the hard stone of the cave floor.

The drow thought for a moment, then began to look the dragon over carefully. “Just a few small ones, maybe from a part that would be hard to reach easily. Just tear a few off, and that should be enough.” He wondered where he should take them from, finally decided the tail or neck would be best. He said as much to the wyrm, who agreed, and told him to pull them from his tail.

Several minutes later, the young drow had managed to tear off a half-dozen of the shiny silver scales- the dragon complaining all the while about the indignity of being stripped of his hide- and placed them in his bag along with the tooth. For good measure, Sivestrik even cut one of his talons on the boy’s sword, and splattered the blood all over him, even in his white hair, just so it would be obvious that the drow had drawn blood. By the time they were ready to leave, both were fairly certain that anyone who saw him would believe the dark elf had been in a fierce battle- which, in fact, he had. The very fact that he was still alive would be enough to convince almost anyone that he had slain his foe.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
Legend
Posts: 1933
Joined: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:51 am
Location: Texas
Contact:

Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

At last the pair made their way back to the hole down into the dark caverns below; Sivestrik changed back into his elven form to fit through the opening, and they continued on their way. It was some time before they stopped to eat some of the rations from the drow’s store of food. Fortunately, he had plenty to spare, in part because of the fish he had caught, and the mushrooms he had found as well. After their small meal, he led the young wyrm down through the winding passages to the cavern where they had first fought. There the drow asked if he would like to continue on, for he was reluctant to leave the company of his new friend so soon.

Sivestrik considered that, and agreed to accompany him a little farther, if only to learn more of the often dangerous paths through the Underdark. Lothir had intended to take the main tunnel back to his home, but then he remembered the blockage in his private entrance, and asked if the dragon knew how to clear it. The young silver thought for a moment, and finally decided to help him do so, for it would mean that they could continue to meet in secret, without the drow having to make the long detour through the known passages.

It was several hours before they came to the tunnel that led past the worm burrow he had crawled through. The way was obstructed by several large boulders, dirt, and smaller rocks, which had tumbled loose in an earth tremor. Beyond the obstacle was the rest of the tunnel, with the burrow Lothir had hidden in, and the way to his sanctuary and Shelatchka’s lair. When they reached the cave-in, he stood looking at it for a long time, wondering how they could remove it without causing a new one.

“Well, any ideas?” he asked his companion, turning to the elf-shaped dragon. “How do we get through it?”

“Why do I get the feeling that be we, you mean me?” Sivestrik asked sarcastically. He shrugged and rolled his eyes at the face the young drow made. He looked at the boulders, and tossed one off of the pile, letting it roll down the passage behind him, its clatter echoing through the tunnel.

“Well, you’re the one who can turn into other things; I thought you might be able to change into something- you know, useful!” The drow pointed at the pile, and heaved a sigh.

“Like what- a dwarf?” asked the silver-haired elf in an annoyed tone. “Or maybe a dire badger? What were you expecting?”

“Honestly, can’t you think of something more creative than that? What we need is something big,” Lothir replied, ignoring the jibes. He mentally went through his studies of Underdark creatures again, wondering what might be able to bore through the cave-in. A bulette? No, that would probably just make the collapse worse, he decided. Or a stone snake, perhaps? It might be large enough, but would take a long time to eat enough of the rocks to clear the path. Suddenly, it struck him, and the answer seemed so obvious he wondered that he had not thought of it before. Why not a purple worm like the one whose burrow he had used?

He suggested the idea to Sivestrik, and after some thought, the dragon agreed to try his solution. He transformed swiftly, elongating into a huge worm that nearly filled the passage, with a purple, segmented body, small spines along its length, and a gaping maw full of several rows of large, sharp teeth. It reminded the youth of a gigantic leech, except that its body was harder, and it smelled of damp earth.

The thing set to work quickly devouring entire chunks of stone, its teeth so powerful that they could crush stone as easily as the cave-dwelling creatures that were its usual prey. the huge worms were known to be some of the fastest tunnelers in the Underdark- and rightly so, since they could chew right through solid rock. Which was why he had suggested it in the first place, of course. In almost no time at all, Sivestrik had cleared the path, crushing huge boulders and swallowing others whole. They would eventually be passed through his body, but by then, they would have been reduced to almost nothing by the powerful acids of a worm's stomach. That acid was much prized as an ingredient in certain spells and alchemic concoctions.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
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Aylstra Illianniis
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

When the way was clear, the gigantic creature turned its sightless head back on his dark-elven companion, its thick, stinger-tipped tail flipping back and forth as if expecting thanks. All Sivestrik got was a wide grin. “Well, that one way to open a tunnel!” Lothir laughed, and danced out of the way as the purple beast made a playful swing at him with its gaping maw.

It let out a loud shriek that rolled along the passage, echoing and re-echoing down the tunnel, as he smacked its massive head aside. After a brief bout of tussling back and forth, in which the drow was knocked down and promptly smothered by his weighty friend until he was beating at its chitinous side and laughing hysterically while begging Sivestrik to get off of him, the silver changed back to his elf form, grinning. He tackled the drow, and their tumble ended in a tickling match.

“Stop! Get off me, you overgrown lap-lizard!” he laughed, while the transformed dragon continued his assault. After several more seconds spent vainly trying to escape the young wyrm’s “attacks”, he finally yielded, unable to stop laughing. “Please, no more!” he cried. “I c- can’t breathe!”

Sivestrik paused, and sat up, with a smug smirk on his face. “Face it, spider-bait, you’re no match for me in any shape!” he exclaimed, chuckling. A moment later, he was staring down the length of a saber, its tip pointed at his nose. His smile faded, and he jerked back.

“Oh, really? Then maybe you’d like to face me on equal ground? Hand to hand?” said the drow, giving him a cocky grin. “You can’t beat me with a blade, wind-bag,” he continued, waving it under the silver’s nose with a small flourish.

“That’s not fair, you know I can’t use one, knife-ear” replied the wyrm-turned-elf. “Or are you scared to fight me bare-handed?” He tossed the last remark casually, knowing it would goad the youth into a more equal match.

Lothir stared at him with narrowed eyes for a moment, then grinned. “I might do that, if I really wanted to fight you again. Maybe we can test that sometime- but not now. One, I’m already injured, so it wouldn’t really be fair, and two, I still have to get home before the time is up. Come on, boot-leather, let’s go.”

“Fine, soot-face, but I’m holding you to that.” They stared at each other again, and broke out into more peals of laughter at the silly insults.

When they had finally regained their composure, the dark elf slid his saber back into its sheath, and they continued their trek. They walked for another mile or so, until they reached the small tunnel he had crawled through to retrieve the flute and crystals. He turned to Sivestrik, and sighed.

“I guess I’d better go, now,” he said glumly. “There might be a patrol out in the main tunnel, and if they see you, it’s all over. But there’s a cavern further down with more gems like the ones I gave you- you’re welcome to take as many as you want. It’s a geode cave about another hour straight down this passage, on your left. The hole is small; I have to squeeze through to get inside. It might make a nice lair, though, if you want it. No one will ever know you’re there. Just don’t go much further than that, or you’ll run into the aranea. She’s not so bad, but she’s always hungry- not to mention she might want you to be her mate. She’s strange.”
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
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Aylstra Illianniis
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

“She’s not the only one. Will you visit me?” The query sounded almost like a plea, and the young drow almost felt guilty for leaving his new friend behind.

“Of course!” He said, grinning. “How else can I teach you how to use that sword? I’ll come back as soon as I can. Farewell!” he said, and promptly turned around and slithered into the long burrow.

He continued the journey on his own, crawling carefully through the low burrow with one arm held close, dragging his pack behind him. It took far longer than his previous trips, and he resolved never to use that route again. He even considered blocking it so that no one else would ever use it. At last he came to the large, open main trade passage; when he stood up, he realized that he was only a little less than a day’s walk from home, and though he was anxious for the Blooding to be over, a part of him was sorry to have to return. He had wanted to remain with his friend, to hold onto his newfound freedom for as long as he could. Yet he knew that was impossible, for was not Ravyn waiting for him? He could not let her down. He could not leave her to face her fate without him.

He decided to rest, to eat again and wait until the pain in his throbbing arm eased, so he made camp there, and ate most of his mushrooms and rothe jerky. He knew he would not be needing it, anyway, once he finished his journey. Afterwards, he spread out his blanket and slept, though he kept his remaining saber close. He wondered briefly if his family would accept the ruse that the dragon was dead, or if they would seek to discern the truth with spells or an expedition to recover its body. He hoped not, for if they did…. Lothir did not want to contemplate that possibility. It was too horrific.


He woke after several hours had passed, more or less refreshed. The pain in his broken limb had receded to a dull ache, so he ate a few more mushrooms and broke his little camp. He trotted most of the way back, stopping frequently to rest when he felt winded, wishing he could put off his return longer, and at the same time wanting to see Ravyn again. He wanted to see her face when she saw his triumphant return, and to tell her of all that he had seen and learned.

By the time he saw the great gates of his home cavern, the young drow had long since stopped jogging, and walked up to the open portal with trepidation and anticipation warring in his heart. He gulped as he stepped across the threshold, to be greeted by no less than six drow soldiers armed to the teeth, watching him from the high towers above the gates. He was not afraid of the sentries- they knew who he was, and would not dare to question him- yet he felt small and insignificant under those cold stares.

At last he took a deep breath, and steeled himself, lifting his chin and striding as boldly as he felt capable of through the outpost fort. Naturally, the news of his return arrived in the towers of the main House long before he did. A pair of guards met him at the front entrance, along with a bugbear messenger who told him to report at once to the audience chamber before it took off on some other errand.

He followed the two guards, waiting outside the huge doors of his father’s throne room to be announced, and then finally the doors opened and he swallowed once again as he entered. Once again, his parents were both seated in state, and he idly mused that they appeared not to have left at all. Both wore the same cool, emotionless expressions as before, and he vaguely imagined that they were not his parents, but merely two statues which resembled them. He almost smiled at the image that brought, of him speaking to a pair of animate chunks of stone, before he remembered where he was, and approached the elaborate seats with their formally dressed occupants slowly. He knelt on one knee when he reached the base of the dias, holding his arm to himself again, for it was still aching.

“Have you completed the hunt?” Aldan asked, his voice echoing ominously in the huge, empty room. That was all; no greeting, no inquiry to his well-being, simply a question of success or failure.

Lothir looked up, and saw the icy blue gaze of his sire on him, and for a brief instant, he felt panic rising, as if his father somehow knew he had failed. Then he pushed it back- for what else could he do? “Yes, Lord Patron. I’ve slain the wyrm.” He hoped his father had missed the slight waver in his voice, and the trembling of his shoulders.

“And where is your trophy? Have you brought back proof of the kill?” And there it was. Once again, his ever-practical and unyielding sire went straight to the heart of the matter. He never said more than was necessary, and never brooked excuses or complaints of any kind. It was simply not his way to show emotion, or to make long-winded speeches. Neither did he have the patience to listen to the speeches of others.

“Yes, my lord. I took these.” He fished in his pouch for a moment, and finally pulled out the tooth and a handful of scales, gleaming silver. The blood on the tooth had long since dried and turned flaky, and there were bits of bloody hide stuck to the scales, but he saw his parents’ eyes widen in surprise for a moment, as they recognized the objects. A long moment of silence followed- then it was broken by his father’s harsh laugh, a sound he had never heard before, and now was suddenly glad he had not. It was a chilling sound, devoid of true mirth or feeling.

“Ha! Well done, boy. I knew you would prove up to the task. Tell me, where is the beast? I would very much like to harvest its hide and other parts to take to Terrillis to sell.” Lothir stiffened at the question. This was the moment he had dreaded. Thus far, they had accepted his reply without question, but would his luck continue? Or would they become suspicious?

“It’s gone. It fell down into the big rift, and when I went down after it, this was all I could get before a couple of grey oozes got to it. One of them even ate the sword I had dropped over the side during the fight. There’s nothing left by now.” He looked up at his parents, at his mother glaring silently down at him, at the Patron’s cool gaze boring into him, and wondered if they had seen through his lie. Finally, after an interminable silence, Aldan spoke.

“A pity. It would have brought a fine price at the bazaar. Well then. I congratulate you on a great victory. It is no easy feat to kill so powerful a foe. How did you manage it?” The older male asked, and Lothir felt sweat on his brow as he tried to bear his sire’s scrutiny.

“I- I had to trick it into leaping at me, so that it fell into the rift. It couldn’t open its wings to break its fall. I did get in a few good hits with my blades, though,” He hoped the tale sounded plausible, for if they did not believe it, his life would very soon be over. He saw his mother clasping something white in her hand, and as he looked closely, he realized that it was the lock of hair she had taken a few short weeks earlier. He almost panicked then, for he knew what it was for- she had meant to keep her promise to turn him into a drider if he failed. She still might, if they discovered the truth. He waited for what seemed an eternity before his father finally answered.

“I see. Not the most glorious of victories, but a kill is a kill, however achieved. I applaud your strategy, boy. You turned your foe’s greatest asset against it. Clever of you. Now, enough of this- go see a healer to have those taken care of, and then we will feast to your victory.” With a wave of the Patron’s hand, he was dismissed, just like that. The youth almost fell to his knees with relief, but instead he nodded, and rose, turning to leave before he could lose his composure. The moment he heard the door close behind him, he turned to look back, and breathed a heavy sigh or relief and thanks. Then he sprinted down to the temple to see the House healer as fast as he could run.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

Two hours later, after he had been healed of his battle injuries and bathed, he heard a knock at the door of his simple bedchamber as he dressed for the banquet. He had pulled out a fresh tunic of soft grey spider-silk laced down the front at the neck, and a jerkin of fine, black rothe-skin with silver web-patterns embroidered on it and tiny silver spiders for buttons. He had just donned a pair of black velvet cannons with grey panels down each leg and was about to slip the shirt over his head when the knock came. He lowered the tunic without putting it on, and called out to enter. His eyes lit up when he saw that it was Ravyn who opened the door. She held clean linens and a bucket for the bathing room, which was on the level below, so he knew that her coming to see him was out of the way. He was pleased, for it meant that she had been anxious to see him again.

“Vendui, young Lord,” she said politely, and curtsied to him. “I am glad to see that you survived. I came to congratulate you on completing the Blooding.”

The drow frowned, and waved her in; he tossed aside the forgotten tunic onto the jerkin lying on the table, and sat on the bed. He could see that something bothered her, for she seemed more proper and deferential than usual. Her tone was almost formal, which was quite strange for her. He wondered what had caused it.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, as she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I can’t wait to tell you everything that happened, but I have to go down for the feast in a few minutes. Will you meet me in the library later?”

Ravyn nodded, still staring at him with an almost mournful gaze. “Of course, young master. I am certain it is a most exciting tale. Was it difficult to slay the beast? I heard that you were badly injured.” She sounded almost disapproving, and he realized that she was upset by the news of the dragon’s death.

“Well, I did get clawed a bit, and broke my arm, but I didn’t exactly slay it- him, I mean.” He gave her a conspiratorial, mischievous look, and leaned foreward on the bed, almost whispering. “I tricked everyone! I made a deal with him for a tooth, and took him up to that valley on the surface, through my secret tunnels!” He grinned up at her, his light blue eyes gleaming with mixed pride and amusement at his deception.

“You did? Then you let him live?! I’m so glad you did not have to kill such a noble creature!” Ravyn set down the bucket and towels, holding her arms out to him. She had been afraid that the lad’s Blooding might awaken a thirst for killing in him; she did not wish to see his kind and gentle heart hardened into that of a killer. That he ahd found a way to fool everyone into believing the dragon was dead showed a very drow-like skill at guile- a fact which she found a little worrisome- yet he had used it in a way that harmed none.

“I remember what you said- that I would do what I must. I couldn't do it. It would have been wrong. You taught me that.” He rose, and stepped into her arms, smiling as he returned her warm embrace. “I love you,” he whispered, his head pillowed against her ample bosom. The young drow breathed in the faintly musky scent of her skin, as he felt her tenderly stroking his har, one arm curled lovingly around his bare shoulders. He closed his eyes, clutching tightly to her waist- and something began to stir.

It was barely discernable at first- little more than a half-conscious yearning- yet the effect was undeniable. Her loving touch had aroused a buried longing, which had lain sleeping, long unknown even to himself. Lothir felt the sweet, urgent thrill that rose up in his belly, bringing with it a rush of warmth to his skin, and his eyes flew open in surprise. Never had he expected to feel the heat of desire for Ravyn- she who was more like a mother to him than his own had ever been- and now it seemed that his own body had betrayed him, seeking to slake a hunger that in his innocent mind seemed wrong somehow.

He drew back, suddenly overcome by a tangle of emotions; guilt, confusion, fear, and desire all battled for dominance within, leaving the drow youth trembling as he realized that he had become aroused by her gentle caress. He knew the dark emotion of lust- after all, Shiallin had taught him its electric pleasures well- yet now it was wrapped up in his love for Ravyn, suddenly a part of that affection. He backed away, feeling suddenly ashamed, not so much because he thought of her as a mother, though that was part of it, but because he understood that she could not be his. Never mind that she was only a slave; he knew instantly that what he had felt was impossible. He knew that such a union would never be permitted, for his father was not the sort to share his possessions with another.

She saw the look on his face- part confusion, part consternation, she thought- and felt him stiffen in her arms and pull away, as if suddenly afraid of her. Ravyn frowned, wondering what had changed. “What is it, my darling prince?” she asked, worried. He seemed so much older now, and she could not help but think that the journey had changed something in him.

“I- I have to get ready,” he answered quickly, abruptly turning away before she could notice the suspicious bulge in his form-hugging breeches. “Mother will be furious if I’m late for my own banquet, and you know how she screeches when she’s angry.” He hastily donned the rest of his clothes, keeping his back to her so that she could not see what her embrace had wrought in him. He did not want her to see the evidence of his shame.

“Yes, of course, my little warrior. I must be getting back to my duties, anyway. I will come to see you in the library tonight, after everyone goes to bed.” Ravyn chuckled at the image his remark had brought to mind of Lady Ardra shrieking like a banshee, and came up to briefly hug the boy once more from behind, kissing his cheek and ruffling his hair before she picked up the discarded bucket and linens, and left.

Only when the door had closed behind her did he let out a ragged breath, and turn to fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, every nerve on fire. “Sweet Goddess, what is happening to me?” he asked to no one at all. “Why do I feel this way?” Of course there was no answer.






By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

The next morning he had awakened late, for there were no more lessons to attend. His first thought on waking had been of Ravyn; his dreams had been more of the sort that had prompted his first experience with Shiallin- with, predictably, the same physical response. He briefly considered seeking out Shiallin- as he had shortly after the feast with a nervously whispered request which brought a chuckle and a purred reply for him to accompany her to her chambers- or one of the other priestesses of the House, even though he was related to most of them by blood through his mother, including Shiallin. Such relationships mattered little in drow society, however, so long as it was not between siblings or a parent and offspring.

Instead, he had ended up dealing with the issue on his own- she had taught him how- though he felt mildly disgusted by the very idea of it. Self-gratification seemed a cheap and slightly perverse way of satisfying a natural urge, but what else could he do? He was far too embarrassed by the cause to tell anyone how he felt, least of all Ravyn.

It had taken all of his restraint to keep from staring at her womanly curves or leaning close to breathe the scent of her hair as he had told her of all that had happened during his five days in the wilds of the Underdark. He had wanted to touch her, to feel with her what he had felt with Shiallin earlier that evening. Yet he knew that it would be death to do so, if anyone discovered them, for she belonged to king Aldan alone.

In the end, it had taken a long swim in the cove- diving deep to search the sea-bed for small treasures- to wear out his mind and body with exertion. He eventually came back up with several small clams, which he later gave to Quilin, and a large, perfect scallop shell, of a rosy pink hue, smooth and gleaming inside. He spent some time carefully cutting thin strips from it with his dagger, until he had carved it into a lovely comb. The shell comb would be his gift to Ravyn, his way of repaying her for the kindness she had always shown.

After he had seen to Quilin, and tossed out the totting fish remains he had left for the bird, he wandered up to the library to read for a few hours before the gong for the mid-day meal sounded. Boredom soon sank in, however, and he was almost relieved when he heard its bass clang reverberating through the towers of the House. He was growing restless, anxious to be back out in the freedom of his own secret domain. He wanted to go back up to the valley, to visit with Sivestrik, and to learn more of the surface world. The books he had read had only served to increase his appetite for knowledge, even as every passing minute seemed to increase his desire for things he could not have.

He was surprised when his father commanded him to follow him to the audience chamber just after noon-meal, for his Patron only rarely ever took notice of him at all, and it boded ill that he did now. He followed along behind the imposing Lord of the House dutifully, wondering all the while if he had somehow learned of the deception regarding the dragon’s death. Aldan was dressed in his usual attire of black leathers and the crimson sash and intimidating pair of cutlass and whip that he habitually carried, his face stern and cold.

Lothir waited at the foot of the dais while his sire strode up and settled into the elaborate throne, with its many images of venomous creatures and hideous demonic beasts, and gazed down at him in utter silence for what seemed an eternity. He snapped his fingers to summon a goblin servant who had been standing near the door, who quickly moved toward the dais with a small bundle in his arms, nearly stumbling in his haste. Then the drow lord spoke.

“It is time you ascended to your proper place, boy. Now that you have proven yourself worthy, you are permitted to wear the traditional accoutrements of a Noble. Therefore, I present to you a Noble’s piwafwi, and the boots and sword-belt that go with it. Use them well, and bring glory to this House.” He snapped again, and he goblin rushed forward to hold the items up for Lothir to take them. The young drow hesitated for a moment, not quite believing his fortune, for he had long wanted one of the magical cloaks for himself, just as Morganna and every other adult member of the family wore.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

Lothir glanced up at his father, who gave a slight nod- the first such sign of approval he could remember, save for the brief, chilling laugh the day before. He returned the nod with a quick, low bow, and unfolded the shimmering black piwafwi. He handed the boots and sword-belt to the nervous goblin while he donned the cloak, noting its spider-shaped clasp with mild distaste. Much as he hated the creatures, he recognized the symbol as a sign of his new status; only the highest-ranked members of a noble House were permitted to wear the Venom Queen’s most holy symbol. All others were allowed only the other symbols of the goddess- coiled serpents for House Mages, junior clerics, and Weapon-Masters, unless they were members of the family itself, and scorpions for all others. Commoners, of course, were not afforded even that privilege.

He hid a grin at that thought; as an illegitimate offspring of the Patron, Morganna had only been allowed to use the symbol of the serpent. Seeing that he now wore the sacred spider would surely annoy her to no end. He slipped on the belt, with its silver buckle of an enameled red dagger across a spider-web, and replaced his worn boots wit the fine black lizard-hide ones, enchanted to make no sound. Then he stood waiting for Aldan to speak. The Patron stared down at him with his usual inscrutable expression, and finally held up a hand to wave off the servant. The gobbling turned and obediently headed for the doors.

“You will be leaving for Terrillis in two weeks. Until then, you will be free to do as you wish. Do not disappoint me, boy. I expect nothing but excellence during your tenure in the Academy. You are dismissed.”

The boy nodded and turned to leave, the new cloak rustling as it swirled behind him. The goblin followed as he departed, still carrying his old boots. When the doors had closed behind him, he let out a deep sigh of relief and told the slave to take the old pair down to the slaves’ tower for one of the captive humans. The goblin nodded excitedly, and trotted off to do as ordered. He watched it go, then ran down to the kitchen, knowing that Ravyn would be there, already helping to cook the evening meal. He was anxious to show her his new accouterments, especially his piwafwi, for he was quite proud to have “earned” it.

When he reached the kitchen, he found her busily shelling clams for a stew. He slipped silently into the noisy room, pulling up his hood to glide invisibly among the slaves on kitchen duty. He waited while she emptied a bowl of the soft shellfish into a large pot of boiling cream and wine, and as soon as she had shelled the next one, he plucked it from the bowl with a quiet giggle and ate it. The elven woman suddenly noticed that the bowl was empty, and looked around, puzzled by the disappearance. In the commotion of the busy kitchen, she had not heard his soft laugh.

Ravyn continued her task, only to have two more clams appear to float off and vanish in mid-air. Suddenly suspicious, she shelled another- and grabbed it as soon as it lifted out of the bowl. Her hand clasped smooth, warm flesh, and she heard a laugh that sounded all-too familiar.

“Well, well. I’ve never seen a flying clam before. I shall have to be quick about getting them into the pot before any more decide to wander off, don’t you agree, young master?” She said, without letting go of his hand.

“Oh, gol-iblith! How did you know it was me?” replied the culprit, pulling off his hood at last. He was grinning, in spite of the disappointed tone of his voice.

“Watch your tongue, milord! What would your mother say to hear you speak so?” Ravyn chided gently, clucking as she released him. He ate the clam, still grinning, and gave her a look of mock condescention. She continued with the shelling, shaking her head in amusement.

“She would have spiderlings, “ he replied with ah snicker. “Anyway, I don’t suppose you noticed anything different?” He asked, clearly fishing. She hid a smile, for she had in fact noticed the new gear.

Ravyn stepped back with a thoughtful frown on her lovely face, as if to study him. At length, she ruffled his hair, and shrugged. “Now that you mention it, your hair could use a trim. It’s a trifle uneven,” she answered with an impish smile, teasing him.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
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Posts: 1933
Joined: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:51 am
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

“Ah, don’t play with me, don’t you see it?” He asked, looking at her hopefully.” He watched a half-elf girl- another of his father’s harem slaves, though he did not know her name- pour sauce over a a side of roast lizard.

“Of course, young master,” Ravyn replied, dropping the last few clams into the pot. She reached for a basket of mushrooms and began to slice them, while he plucked one from the basket and ate it as he watched her. “So you have finally acquired a Noble’s raimants. Congratulations, milord. They suit you well.”

He frowned and nodded briefly. “I suppose so. I don’t like the spider, though. It reminds me too much of Her.” He did not need to speak the name; Ravyn knew without a doubt whom he had meant. He watched her for a few minutes more, before quietly excusing himself to let her finish the stew. Then he gathered a few fish to feed the albatross, and left. He wandered down into the lower levels of the main tower, down to the vaults, and soon slipped through the hidden entrance into the vast treasury.

Lothir paused here and there to examine an object- a gem-encrusted chailice here, a magical dagger there, or a bolt of rare and expensive cloth- before he finally found himself standing beside the golden box with the Elterrinos name on the lid. He gazed down at it for several minutes, and even ran his hand over it; at length he made up his mind, and swiftly pricked his thumb on the needle and twisted it. As before, the lid slid open to reveal the bright red gem, glowing softly. He held It up to study it, feeling the mystical power thrumming in its crimson depths. The star carved into the top winked and pulsed with energy, and he briefly considered simply putting it back in the box.

Yet he could not. He had to know the truth- even if it killed him. He remembered Ravyn’s warning about the ‘kirra, how it could strike dead anyone who did not carry the blood of the family it was created for. He knew that he was of the Elterrinos bloodline- at least half of him was- but was it enough?

At last he took a deep breath, placed it against his head, and closed his eyes. The ‘kirra felt cool against his forehead at first; then a torrent of images, thoughts, and voices flooded his mind at once, in a horrendous cacophony of accumulated knowledge and memories. Wisps of spells of unimaginable power drifted across his consciousness, as faces of long-dead and forgotten elves spoke in a tongue ancient beyond memory. The barrage of images and chatter from millennia of Elterrinos heirs assaulted his brain, knocking him back onto the floor as it tried to bond to him. He lay helpless against the onslaught of thoughts and memories, dazed and overwhelmed by the chaos of countless centuries of elven history. He was unaware that he screamed for it all to stop, screamed for the voices to cease their incessant whispering and shouting. Yet they continued unabated. Sylvaeren ancestors- a score or more- shouted or muttered darkly at him. He understood instantly that they were angry with him for daring to use the ‘kirra- that he was unworthy.

And why not? After all, he was dhaeraow, a traitor- his blood tainted by the shame of kin-slaying, avarice, and greed. The faces glared at him from within the gem; there was no escape from their cold, disapproving stares and bitter curses.

“Outcast! You are not of us!” One voice, furious and harsh, rang out above all the rest, silencing them instantly. Then he “saw” the owner, a tall, silver-haired older elf of stern yet noble countenance, his eyes a mirror to Lothir’s own. A name sprang unbidden to his mind- Melaeryn, once Lord Speaker and High Mage of the Elterrinos clan, and father to the clan’s former heir, Aldan.

The young drow stared up at the ceiling of the vault, though he saw nothing of his surroundings. His consciousness was locked within the visions of the ‘kirra, the glowing red gem forming a prison of sorts for his mind. Instead, he saw only the grim and angry figures of all those who had ever worn the ‘kirra.

Then another figure emerged from the chaotic jumble of memories. An elf whose imposing stature and sharp, almost aquiline features seemed somehow familiar stepped out of the shifting mists of pure thought; he turned his ice-blue gaze on Lothir, and the boy’s eyes flew wide as he recognized his own father. Though his flesh was the pale tan of almonds, and his hair a shade of gray like burnished steel, the face was unmistakable. The eyes were the same ones which had scrutinized him only a short time earlier.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

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Aylstra Illianniis
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

“Who are you?” he asked, clearly not recognizing Lothir. “How did you come to possess this ‘kirra?”

“I- it was yours. It was in a box in our house treasury. Don’t you know me, father?” the youth asked shakily.

“I have only two sons, and you are not one of them,” answered the ghostly image. “You are N’Tel’Quess. A traitor-born.”

As if to make his point, a scene flashed through the drow’s mind, of two elven youths, perhaps a decade or two older than himself, laughing as they sparred together with wooden long swords. They were twins, each a mirror image of the other. They wore their long blue-black hair in tails at the neck; their eyes were cool gray with flecks of blue and green, the color of a tempest at sea. He knew their names, though he could not say how- Tarathiel and Orrendel. An older elven woman sat nearby on an elegant marble bench, with the same raven-black tresses, in dozens of ringlets around her face, and eyes of pale gray that shone like silver in the sun. Sarashae, he thought. That was her name, and she was their mother. He saw them all as if through another’s eyes, watched the boys grow from infants to adolescents.

“It- it’s true. I was born after you were….” he began, but the others all broke in, shouting in outrage.

“Silence!” bellowed the one called Melaeryn after a few seconds. “Be it true or not, you have no right to use this gem!”

“Please,” he replied, “I just wanted to know who I am. I wanted to know where I came from. Is that so much to ask?” The faces all glared at him, though a few had turned their cold gazes on the figure of his father, as well.

“This is his doing,” accused one, a small female of great age whose name was Ahrendue, his great-grandmother, he suddenly knew. She pointed at Aldan, her wizened face a mask of fury. “He dishonored and betrayed his own kin- and this is the result!”

“You were all fools, blindly following ways that would have led us all to destruction at the hands of humans. I was looking to our future, taking the power needed to ensure that our People would not become a mere memory in some bauble!” Lothir’s eyes bulged as he heard his sire roar back at the woman, glaring at her with a rage that matched her own.

“And so you chose instead to become like the humans. No, worse, to slay your own kin and betray the very ideals which have made our People great. You became a dhaeraow, and turned your back on all that is good. Is it any wonder you were Cursed?” Melaeryn spoke again at last; unlike the female, his expression was one of disappointment and sadness.

He heard his father’s laugh, then- a chilling sound that betrayed the cruelty of his heart. “And so those weak-minded fools on the Council banished me for being bold enough to try to take what they would not, for having the vision to lead our race back to glory!” He sneered at all the others. Lothir gasped in shock. As if in response, the images that flowed into his consciousness changed, becoming darker and more sinister. He saw an ancient shrine, long in ruin, and a blood-pact made to a dark and malicious god. Mordos. The very name brought a shiver to his spine. He was the wicked god of shadows, secrets, and murder, the vain and wicked son of the Venom Queen herself.

He saw, too, the elven woman slain, and others as well. They were all his kin, he knew, two brothers and a sister to his father, all dead by Aldan’s own hand. The first had been Aldan’s youngest brother Tethin, a talented mage-warrior who had joined a prestigious order known as the Twilight Blades, whose task was to defend the elven Queen herself, and the kingdom as well. Aldan had been jealous of the promotion, and sought to remove the threat to his inheritance by any means necessary. An “accidental” fall from a riding griffon, caused by a torn saddle-strap, had taken care of that.

Next had been his other brother, Ildebryn, killed during a hunting expedition by a pack of displacer beasts who had wandered too far into the Silver Forest. All had believed the beasts had simply grown hungry and fled the orc-infested foothills of the Blackstone Mountains. None had ever discovered that Aldan had paid trappers to capture and starve them, before releasing the vicious felines into his brother’s path. His father had died of a wasting illness not long after, which was secretly brought on by poison in his favorite imported wine, from a human hired and paid anonymously for the task. The family had mourned the loss of its High Mage and Speaker, and had said how fortunate it was that the heir still remained.

Then came the arranged marriage of his sister Nyritha to a wealthy Noble with blood-ties to the Sylvaeren royal family. He knew that she already had a suitor among the Twilight Blades, a worthy match of itself, and had no affection toward the Lord, yet she had obeyed his command in the end. Even so, when she had given birth to a son whose features bore little resemblance to her mate, he had seen more opportunity for gain. A few words whispered in the right ears had led to rumors of the child’s possible parentage, which of course had led the incensed lord to challenge Nyritha’s former paramour to a duel of honor. It had taken little arrangement to poison both duelists’ blades so that a single scratch would cause a slow, lingering death from infection. The deaths- and his own subtle insinuation that she was to blame- had caused his sister to commit suicide not long after. The child, of course, had become his ward, to be raised with his own sons. And of course, Aldan had become the regent of the boy’s estates.

The final betrayal had been the murder of his own wife after she had discovered his secret rites to Mordos, and had found evidence of his involvement in Ildebryn’s death. Sarashae had gone to the High Council to report her suspicions of treason, and had quickly been recruited to spy on his doings to prove whether the Elterrinos Lord was guilty. Unfortunately, none had known that he had his own informants within the guardsmen of the Council, and before long, he had discovered her mission. He had confronted her in their own bedroom- with his spy present- and had taken the warrior’s sword and run her through, and then promptly slew the guardsman as well, to be rid of any witnesses.

The Council, concerned for their spy’s safety, had also set a magical watch over her. No sooner had he wiped the blood from the slain guard’s sword, then a full contingent of Twilight Blades had come to take him before a Council Tribunal. Forced to stand within a circle of truth, there had been no choice but to obey the magical compulsion to confess. The verdict had been swift.

Lothir saw all of this as if through his father’s own eyes, and those of Melaeryn. Tears of shame and anger fell at the discovery of such heinous treachery; he turned accusing eyes on the cold-blooded Lord Patron, and spat out his fury at the image of his sire within the gem. “How could you?!” he cried. “They were your own flesh and blood! Murderer!!” He wanted to claw out his sire’s eyes, to run the former Sylaeren through with his own blade. His body jerked and twitched in response to the desire for revenge. “Why am I punished for your sins?!”

“The boy speaks truth. The ‘kirra allows us to see his heart’s secrets even as he sees ours. He is innocent,” Another voice spoke out, this one from a young and studious-looking male, whose eyes were, like most of those whose faces he saw, the blue of a polar sky. The young drow looked up at him, surprised that any would speak kindly, when these ancestors had all seemed to hate his very existence. Rythiel was a distant ancestor, many millennia past, yet wise far beyond his years.

“It matters not, Elder. We cannot allow our family’s past to fall into the hands of the Cursed. Our High Magic alone is too valuable to let him use the ‘kirra. He cannot be allowed to keep it.” The old female spoke again, and the others all nodded agreement, save for Aldan himself, who only glared in silence at his kin.

“So be it, Ahrendue. You are correct, of course. Besides, the ‘kirra was never his to wield. It belongs to the true Heir of the Elterrinos clan.” Melaeryn said, and the others muttered assent, though it was obvious that Rythiel disagreed, at least in part. The drow was puzzled for a moment, until he realized that the former Lord had meant the two boys from the earlier vision. Tarathiel was the true Heir. The ‘kirra rightly belonged to him.

“Wait! Is there no way to remove this curse?” Lothir asked, realizing that they meant to shut him out.

“In all of memory since the Sundering Times, it has never been done. The ancient tales of our People tell that the First Banishing required every priest of the Seldarine gods to perform the ritual. Only the gods themselves may remove it, and only for one who has proven worthy of redemption.” Ahrendue replied, her face a mask of disapproval and distain. “I doubt that you will prove worthy- no dhaeraow ever has, to my knowledge.”

His heart fell. “Then I will do whatever it takes to become worthy,” he said. “I will redeem the honor and pride of our House, I swear it. And I will find a way to return the gem to its proper owner,” he continued.

“Are you daft, boy?! It is death to any drow who sets foot in Sylvaeren lands!” Aldan spoke again at last, sneering down at him.

“I don’t care. At least then my life would be worth something, if only to remove the stain of dishonor you brought to our family.” He spat back, his eyes burning with bitter anger.

“Ha! I like this lad- he‘s got guts to talk to an elder that way,” chuckled Rythiel. “I am sorry, but this ‘kirra is henceforth dead to you. It will awaken only for its true owner. But before we leave you, allow me to bestow a parting gift, lost child of Elterrinos. This will hurt, but I think you have earned this much.”

And with that, he touched Lothir’s forehead, where the gem was, and the drow felt a sudden stab of unimaginable pain. It ripped through his head like fire, blinding in its intensity. He screamed in agony, back arched, limbs jerking from the overload of knowledge and magic that washed over him like a tsunami. He clutched frantically at anything in reach; one hand found only bare stone, while the other landed in a pile of loose coins, gems, and other baubles that had spilled from a half-rotted sack. In the end, the confused jumble of memories and magic overwhelmed his senses, and his eyes rolled back, as the world went black.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
Aylstra Illianniis
Legend
Posts: 1933
Joined: Tue Jun 16, 2009 12:51 am
Location: Texas
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Post by Aylstra Illianniis »

He woke a short time later, lying on the cold stone floor. His hand went up at once to his forehead, to find it bare. Then he saw the ‘kirra lying on the floor beside him where it had fallen off. He sat up slowly, his head aching from the strain of millennia of history and memories which had flooded his senses. The gem was dull now, the star no longer glowing.

So, he thought glumly, it is dead now. Somehow, that thought made him feel more saddened than it should have. To have so much of his own heritage within his grasp, only to be yanked away before he could even ask all of the questions that had plagued him for as long as he could remember…. He sighed, and rose to put the dormant stone back into its box. Someday, he thought, I will take it back. It should never have left its proper place to begin with.

He picked up the small bag of fish he had taken from the kitchen, and went back out to the cove where he had left the albatross. It had grown stronger in the days he had been away, and now was almost ready to fly again- at least he hoped it was. The problem of how to get it back out to the open sea still remained, however, so he sat and thought for a while as he fed the bird. He took off the new boots and cloak, and the rest of his clothes, digging his toes into the pebbly sand of the small beach, and then waded down into the light surf. He swam out until he was several yards from shore, and dove down, holding his breath as long as he could to search for anything of interest. The only thing he found was a small school of fish that had wandered into the cavern from the sea.

After several more minutes spent contentedly splashing about, he came out and sat on the pebbly beach, wondering what to do about the bird, and how he should spend the time he had left until his departure. Two weeks might seem like a long time, but he knew it would be gone all too soon. At last, he decided to make another trip out into the secret tunnels, to spend his remaining time in the valley visiting his new friend.

He heard a soft squawk, and looked over at the small make-shift pen with Quilin in it. “What am I going to do with you?” He asked rhetorically. He did not expect the bird to answer, of course, but it seemed to respond to his voice, at least, bobbing its head at him and waggling its short tail as it padded about on its huge, webbed feet.

He sighed, and finally brushed the loose sand off himself and dressed, before treading silently back to the towers of home. He spent the rest of the day planning his next foray, anxious to be back out away from the confines of his tiny world. The blue sky had seemed so vast, as if anything might exist beneath it, and he wondered what else he might find out in the world above. If he flew away on Sivestrik’s back, would anyone ever care? Would anyone look for him? It was a tempting notion- until he remembered his promise to Ravyn. He had to find a way to take her with him when he left. Nothing else was acceptable.

It was then that he hit upon the perfect solution. Why not take Quilin with him when he went to visit the dragon? It was a long and somewhat arduous trek, to be sure, but at least the bird would be out in the open air again, and it would be able to find its way back to the sea on its own.
By the Dark Maiden''s grace do we meet. May she guide and protect us.

"Where Science ends, Magic begins." -Spiral, Uncanny X-Men #491

A link to my tales, including my Marvel hero!:
http://mickeys-tavern.com/index.php?showforum=188
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