The origins of Ched Nasad
Disclaimer: I don't own Ched Nasad, Lloth, Vhaeraun, or any other trade marks of Forgotten Realms. I did, however, makeup Kharrissa and the Shadow Elves.
(A: This is my first fanfic so please review. )
PROLOGUE
A MILLION YEARS AFTER THE FALL OF THE DROW:
The archeologist strolled casually through the dark tunnels of the Underdark. The torch he held in his hand seemed barely a prick of light in the dour gloom of the great caverns. He splashed through a stagmant pool of water, which did nothing to improve his dark mood. Of all the assignments! He was a surface elf for goodness sake! He shouldn't be expected to make the dangerous trip to the Underdark to study the lost city of Ched Nasad! Of course, the dark elven city had been empty for years, but there where still magical traps lying in wait for the unwary. The archeologist turned a corner in the twisting tunnel and there it was - the West Gate. The archeologist stepped through and into the crumbling ruins of the city.
There was the great temple, built in Lloth's honor. Something made him pause outside the temple's entrance to stare up in awe at the great building. Of all the structures in Ched Nasad this was the only one still completely intact. Rumors told of the great magical charms still active in the temple. Countless archeologist partys had dissapeared into the temple, never to be heard from again. The temple had become the stuff of legends, to good to be true. Or to evil to be true. The archeologist had seen Lloth's temple's before. They had always seemed beautiful but wrong. The temple before him was tainted with a long active evil. Even from the spot where he stood he could feel the great destructive power. As if in a trance he climbed the smooth marble front steps. Surely a quick look couldn't hurt him.
He entered through the temple's great doorway, into the main sacraficial chamber. In the center of the great room was a gigantic stone spider hanging from the ceiling on a gossamer thread. It was impossible for such a heavy stone structure to be supported by that thin thread - it had to be magic. Before the stone structure was a black marble altar. Ceremonial daggers hung from its polished sides. There seemed to be bloodstains on its black surface, although the altar hadn't been used for millions of years. A sort of black evil bled from the altar and statue, filling the archeologist with terror. Beyond reason, he backed away from the hideous symbols, frantic to get away. His eyes darted across the room and landed on a stairwell, leading down into darkness. Behind him an eerie red glow filled the room, radiating from the altar and statue.
The archeologist ran until his terror abated, then stopped. Terror turned to horror as he realized that he had not kept track of the turns he had taken. He knew the temple was huge, streching in all directions for miles. He must be in one of the underground tunnels. He suddenly noticed that all the torches along the tunnel he was in where lit. Either someone had been here recently or another spell was at work. He turned around to check the torches in the tunnel he had just come through - and found himself facing a blank wall. Filled with dread he slowly turned around to face the way he had been traveling, and found that the tunnel walls that had been far apart where now silently moving toward him. The archeologist turned around frantically. His only chance seemed to be a door hidden in the wall. It had been camaflauged to look like stone, but the enchantment had worn away in time. Odviously, whatever was behind the door was valuable or it would not be so heavily guarded. The archeologist hurried in and slammed the door just in time. He heard the grinding of stone outside as the walls finished their buisness. Then, a soft whirl made him pear outside again. The walls where reversing themselves! Slowly but surely they crept backward. As soon as they where back in place, the archeologist could leave. Until then he could only wait.
He turned around to study the room he had entered. It was small and dark. The uneven stone showed him he had entered a small duengeon. He wondered what a heavily guarded duengeon was doing in Lloth's temple until he realized it must have been used to hold the more dangerous of the sacrafices. Sure enough, chains and shackles were bolted to the walls. They were all sealed though. Only the chains in the center of the room looked as if they had been used at all. He looked closer and grimaced. A dark stain had discolored the stone around and beneath the open shackles. The stain was blood. Obviously some poor creature had been held and killed here. He wondered why the prisoner had not been made a sacrifice to Lloth, even as he backed away from the grisly sight.He hit into the wall and sat down hard. That was when he realized that he was sitting on something. He slowly looked down beneath him to see - a book. Releif filled him. He had been expecting a horror even greater than the bloodstained chains. He picked up the book, curious as to what it would be doing in a duengeon. To his surprise, the book was written not in the drow tounge but in the surface elf language! He frowned and squinted in the poor light to read the title page. The Diary of Kharrissa Gwensya...
Disclaimer: I don't own Ched Nasad, Lloth, Vhaeraun, or any other trade marks of Forgotten Realms. I did, however, makeup Kharrissa and the Shadow Elves.
(A: This is my first fanfic so please review. )
PROLOGUE
A MILLION YEARS AFTER THE FALL OF THE DROW:
The archeologist strolled casually through the dark tunnels of the Underdark. The torch he held in his hand seemed barely a prick of light in the dour gloom of the great caverns. He splashed through a stagmant pool of water, which did nothing to improve his dark mood. Of all the assignments! He was a surface elf for goodness sake! He shouldn't be expected to make the dangerous trip to the Underdark to study the lost city of Ched Nasad! Of course, the dark elven city had been empty for years, but there where still magical traps lying in wait for the unwary. The archeologist turned a corner in the twisting tunnel and there it was - the West Gate. The archeologist stepped through and into the crumbling ruins of the city.
There was the great temple, built in Lloth's honor. Something made him pause outside the temple's entrance to stare up in awe at the great building. Of all the structures in Ched Nasad this was the only one still completely intact. Rumors told of the great magical charms still active in the temple. Countless archeologist partys had dissapeared into the temple, never to be heard from again. The temple had become the stuff of legends, to good to be true. Or to evil to be true. The archeologist had seen Lloth's temple's before. They had always seemed beautiful but wrong. The temple before him was tainted with a long active evil. Even from the spot where he stood he could feel the great destructive power. As if in a trance he climbed the smooth marble front steps. Surely a quick look couldn't hurt him.
He entered through the temple's great doorway, into the main sacraficial chamber. In the center of the great room was a gigantic stone spider hanging from the ceiling on a gossamer thread. It was impossible for such a heavy stone structure to be supported by that thin thread - it had to be magic. Before the stone structure was a black marble altar. Ceremonial daggers hung from its polished sides. There seemed to be bloodstains on its black surface, although the altar hadn't been used for millions of years. A sort of black evil bled from the altar and statue, filling the archeologist with terror. Beyond reason, he backed away from the hideous symbols, frantic to get away. His eyes darted across the room and landed on a stairwell, leading down into darkness. Behind him an eerie red glow filled the room, radiating from the altar and statue.
The archeologist ran until his terror abated, then stopped. Terror turned to horror as he realized that he had not kept track of the turns he had taken. He knew the temple was huge, streching in all directions for miles. He must be in one of the underground tunnels. He suddenly noticed that all the torches along the tunnel he was in where lit. Either someone had been here recently or another spell was at work. He turned around to check the torches in the tunnel he had just come through - and found himself facing a blank wall. Filled with dread he slowly turned around to face the way he had been traveling, and found that the tunnel walls that had been far apart where now silently moving toward him. The archeologist turned around frantically. His only chance seemed to be a door hidden in the wall. It had been camaflauged to look like stone, but the enchantment had worn away in time. Odviously, whatever was behind the door was valuable or it would not be so heavily guarded. The archeologist hurried in and slammed the door just in time. He heard the grinding of stone outside as the walls finished their buisness. Then, a soft whirl made him pear outside again. The walls where reversing themselves! Slowly but surely they crept backward. As soon as they where back in place, the archeologist could leave. Until then he could only wait.
He turned around to study the room he had entered. It was small and dark. The uneven stone showed him he had entered a small duengeon. He wondered what a heavily guarded duengeon was doing in Lloth's temple until he realized it must have been used to hold the more dangerous of the sacrafices. Sure enough, chains and shackles were bolted to the walls. They were all sealed though. Only the chains in the center of the room looked as if they had been used at all. He looked closer and grimaced. A dark stain had discolored the stone around and beneath the open shackles. The stain was blood. Obviously some poor creature had been held and killed here. He wondered why the prisoner had not been made a sacrifice to Lloth, even as he backed away from the grisly sight.He hit into the wall and sat down hard. That was when he realized that he was sitting on something. He slowly looked down beneath him to see - a book. Releif filled him. He had been expecting a horror even greater than the bloodstained chains. He picked up the book, curious as to what it would be doing in a duengeon. To his surprise, the book was written not in the drow tounge but in the surface elf language! He frowned and squinted in the poor light to read the title page. The Diary of Kharrissa Gwensya...