Searching for the Light
Part I: Surviving Tartarus
Disclaimer: I do not own Solaufein, Phaere, Matron Ardulace, or anything else that anyone may recognize; everything is owned by TSR, Bioware, Interplay, etc, etc. This fanfiction is done for entertainment purposes only and not for profit; all I "own" is some minor, original characters, and the story is sprung from my imagination and speculation.
Also, most of the drow language featured in this fanfic is done with the use of a drow-common/common-drow translator from "The Drow Fortress." The URL is Very nifty…go take a look!
Author's Notes:
Before I start, I would like to point out a few things; some about this fanfic in general, some about information and misinformation. This whole mess was inspired when I was playing through the Underdark portion of BGII (duh…obviously, right?), and ran into Solaufein.
Suffice to say, he annoyed the hell out of me.
As I progressed through the game, however, I found that he was actually (gasp, gasp) more interesting than my first impression of him allowed; he was most definitely not like other drow, including drow heroes such as Drizzt D'Urdden. Then there was that interesting history between him and Phaere…By the time Solaufein swapped dragon eggs with my player character, he had completely won me over. I had the sneaking suspicion that he wasn't always so, well, as Phaere put it, sullen; and it is evident that he does not truly hate the drow and think them evil beyond redemption (even Drizzt thinks his kin are EVIL). In his own words, he believes that his people have "lost their true path." So how, in a harsh, matriarchal drow society, where there is no word for love, where only the strongest, the brightest, survive, did Solaufein manage to pull it off with his own views? True, he takes crap from Phaere and the other females like all males do, but he isn't afraid to be a sarcastic ass to them either. More importantly, what's so special about him that another house is willing to allow him to ally with them, despite House Despana's obvious wish to eliminate him? After all, he's just a male. So there must be something special about him, right? And you'll notice that I've upped his fighting prowess in the fic; he was disappointingly easy to dispose of in the game…actually, all the drow were disappointingly easy to dispose of in the game. Reading all those Underdark novels, I expected it to be harder…
As I am writing this fic, I have to be honest and say that I was only able to piece the story together from what was available in the game and what I knew about drow; Solaufein's story is not told in the game (as it's the Bhaalspawn saga, not the drow saga), and I had to make things up to the best of my ability to fill in the holes. The problem with that is, all I know about the drow is mostly from R.A. Salvatore's Drizzt novels; not only that, I don't own any of the novels so I can't just check back, and although I did do some web searching, I'm way too pressed for time to do a thorough job of it. Therefore, even if I have tried to make this as plausible as I can, there may be flaws and misinformation that I was unable to catch. If you spot one, please let me know; I would greatly appreciate it.
On another note, I have made Ust'Natha much bigger as a city than in the game; if you notice that please be informed that it was intentional. I personally think that Ust'Natha is much too small as a drow city, and although I know it shouldn't be as big as Menzoberranzan, it's missing some detail…like other rival houses, for instance. And the multitude of smaller houses that makes for interesting inner politics. I've made up my expansions; I was unable to find any information on Ust'Natha; if anyone actually has information on Ust Natha, do pass it on to me, ne? Also, if anyone knows if there is anywhere I can get a script for BGII, I'd appreciate that information too.
And yes, I am finished babbling.
Onward!
Chapter I: L'orn D'Lloth
The Will of Lloth
"This is just an excuse for the Matron
Mothers to satisfy their lust for blood…"
-- Solaufein
It was pure chaos. Everywhere, armed drow warriors of the warring houses fought, bleed, and died; the screams and cries of battle were accompanied by the harsh clang of steel on steel, and always, always, drifting over the mêlée, the droning chant of the priestesses of Lloth ebbed and flowed with the tides of combat.
To give Matron Mother Despana credit, the coup was going quite well.
House Jae'llat was taking on heavy casualties, the result of being in the frontlines of battle; House Despana's forces lined the outside in the back lines, fighting with magic, globes of darkness, and the deadly drow crossbows, coated in that infamous drow sleep poison. Bolts flew over the battle lines, crossbows clicking quickly in unison, effectively complimenting the deadly attacks of Jae'llat's soldiers. From their seats on the hovering disks, a safe distance from danger, Matron Mother Despana, flanked by her daughter Ardulace and Matron Mother Jae'llat, watched the battle turn to their favour, identical sneers of bloodlust and satisfaction on all three faces as their troops delivered quick death in their invasion of enemy territory.
Yes, Lloth was indeed smiling upon the two houses of Despana and Jae'llat this day.
The battle was over almost as quickly as it has begun; the fourth house of Da'anri could not hope to match the might of the second and third house of Ust'Natha combined. The stricken Matron Mother watched her fighters get pushed back, watched the enemy destroy her wards and enter the house, a sense of sick dread and fear warring with a sense of dark, bloody hatred as she watched from the family chapel to Lloth.
It was over.
They had lost, the centuries of careful, meticulous planning, of subtle, delicate manoeuvres, gone in the blink of an eye. She had gambled, and she had failed; Despana had allied with Jae'llat, and now, her house would be utterly destroyed. She turned away from the window, to join her daughters at the altar. She had no delusions about sudden turns; but she would not go quietly. Never. She would deliver the most poisonous last bite she could manage, a slow, seeping ache that would be felt for centuries to come. Her first daughter knelt in front of the spider-shaped altar, surrounded by her five sisters, all fellow priestesses of Lloth. Matron Mother Da'anri spared her a look that was almost fondness, but only briefly. They would send Da'anri's first daughter to Lloth, their final plea to the capricious Spider Queen for favour, for strength, for power.
Da'anri approached the front of the altar, leading the chanting prayer, her daughters joining in one by one, until the power of their voices drowned out the sounds of violence drawing nearer, just a floor away, rising as one in a thundering crescendo. Rulaai, the first daughter of Da'anri, was last to join in, her voice bordering on hysterical ecstasy as she raised her face to the altar, to the image of the Spider Queen carved into the very pedestal, and Da'anri drew her dagger. Still chanting, the Matron Mother stepped forward, standing over the kneeling form before her. The blade slipped into her back easily, piercing Rulaai's thin robes, and puncturing her lungs as Da'anri drove the dagger home. Rulaai's chant climaxed into a wet gurgle, and as her body pitched forward, her mother grasped her shoulders, heaving the still-warm body onto the altar, back against the stone, crimson blood flowing freely from the wound and dribbling onto the Matron Mother's clothes. The voices of her remaining daughters rose with Da'anri's dagger; the High Priestess brought it over Rulaai's still heart, intending to cut it out as an offering to Lloth, as proof of her unerring devotion. The adamantite blade sank deeply into Rulaai's flesh, and Da'anri began to cut–
-- and heard the double doors open to the soft clicks of drow crossbows over the ceremonious chanting of her daughters. Just as her mind registered the noise, she felt a poisoned bolt bite into the back of her neck; she whirled around, one hand ripping out the bolt, the other going to free her snake-headed whip from her belt. Only three drow warriors had made it into the chapel so quickly, and Da'anri could hear the rest of them still fighting with her house guards one floor below. Obviously the three had slipped past the heavy fighting to find the Matron Mother herself. Shrugging off the effects of the poison, she narrowed her eyes at the foolish males seeking glory and favour from their respective houses; did they really believe they could fight six priestesses of Lloth in their own chapel? Da'anri spared a glance at her children, noting her youngest sprawled unconscious on the floor, a bolt protruding grotesquely from her neck…it had bitten deep, severing an artery and gushing blood. Da'anri dismissed her from her mind, turning her attention back to her four other daughters, one that looked as though she was successfully fighting off the poison, three already in battle formation with deadly whips drawn. Da'anri flashed a signal with her hands, and all four of them, whips in hand began to move. One daughter moved into the offensive; her snake headed whip darted forward, each head at a different male. The three warriors understood the value of simultaneous battle; in concert they moved out of range, circling the knot of priestesses, swords drawn and senses tense. They knew to make sure the priestesses could not catch them all in one spell. The remaining two daughters of Da'anri began their spell casting, one summoning a defensive barrier, the other a stun spell. Da'anri herself retreated back to the altar; furious at the interruption and fully prepared to grovel at the feet of Lloth. She cracked Rulaai's chest open with strength born of desperation and rage, and dead flesh fell away from the quick, artful strokes of her dagger as she cut the heart free. Warm blood spilled, gushed over the altar and onto the Matron Mother, and without even sparing a glance back to her other daughters, she continued the ritual alone.
The lone male slinked past the fighting, ignoring the cries of fallen soldiers, enemies and comrades alike, and slipped up the stairs. Just ahead of him, he spotted three other males, all from House Jae'llat, stealthily head towards the large double doors that proclaimed the private chapel of the fourth house. He had seen them slip away, and realising what they were up to, was compelled to follow. Theirs was an ambitious scheme, albeit a clever one; a decisive strike against the nobles of the house would bring them favour. The male wondered if the three knew what they were up against, and with a bemused shrug, decided that they didn't. They looked too young, and too eager; he was certain they had felt the bite of a priestess' whip before, as all male drow do, but he doubted they had ever fought against a deadly serious priestess in fear for her life.
He, on the other hand, had personally gutted one on the orders of a certain Matron Mother. It had not been easy, nor pleasant, but he had to admit that there had been a deep sense of satisfaction in ending the life of the pompous bitch. There was a whisper of sound behind him, and he whirled, swords drawn, then relaxed a fraction when he saw whom it was, though he did not put away both his weapons. With an expression of mild annoyance, his fingers flashed in code at the fellow Despana,
"I'd advise you not to sneak up on me in the future, Despana or not. I was prepared to kill you." The younger drow, looking battered and worse for wear than the elder on the stair, signed back,
"I wasn't sneaking. And I know what you're up to. Even with those idiot Jae'llat as fodder, you'll end up dead."
"Oh?"
"There are no nobles in the house. They are all in the chapel. There will be six, and the Matron Mother." The older smirked, to the extreme chagrin of the younger. Enjoying his higher status, he quipped in hand signs, red eyes mocking,
"You propose an alliance, Solaufein?" He watched with amusement as the younger drow's lips tightened into a severe line as he struggled internally, knowing he knew better than to anger him. He was, after all, Omareth, the weapon-master of House Despana. And as far as Omareth was concerned, brainless drow quickly became dead drow, all the better to prune the strains of idiocy from the House. The smug smirk stayed firmly planted on his lips as Solaufein signed back agreement, and Omareth deliberately turned his back on him, stalking up the stairs after the doomed Jae'llat fighters. He would have to make certain that the ambitious younger drow's sword did not "accidentally" find its way into the weapon-master's back during the oncoming battle; he quickened his steps, lips curling in anticipation.
He did so love challenges.
Da'anri's chanting, Omareth decided, was all too distracting. Her pleas to Lloth were making his teeth grit in irritation, and as he rolled away from the vicious priestess' whip, he resolved to do something about it very, very soon.
To give the Jae'llat soldiers credit, they hadn't done so badly. One was actually still alive, although the weapon master doubted that would last.
When he has first slipped into the chapel, with the young drow Solaufein at his back, Omareth had been pleased to note one priestess dead as a sacrifice on the altar, and another dead on the floor. Unfortunately, Da'anri was still alive and kicking, and so were three of her daughters. Only two of the original three soldiers remained, and by the looks of it, they were doing their best just staying alive. Just as the weapon master slinked in behind a priestess, one unlucky Jae'llat soldier fell without a sound, burned beyond recognition. Without giving the dead drow so much as a passing glance, Omareth dropped from the shadows onto the smug, smirking priestess responsible.
An instant later, he batted away the hissing snake heads with one blade, the other working furiously to keep her from preparing a spell.
"Impudent male!" Her shriek of fury had an edge of hysteria, and with a grim answering smile, he pressed his attack. One hissing head arched towards his face, the other towards his right arm in one rapid movement; Omareth realised he could not block both and hastily skipped backwards. He found himself back to back with the remaining Jae'llat; he too was furiously keeping an attacking priestess at bay, and out of the corner of his eye, Omareth saw Solaufein flitting around the remaining daughter, just out of range of her deadly whip. The priestess smirked in triumph, and Omareth felt the static tingling in the air as she prepared to loose a deadly spell. Having no desire to see exactly which spell would summon that kind of smile on her lips, he summoned a globe of darkness, not over the priestess, but over himself and the soon-to-be dead Jae'llat. As soon as the globe dropped, he ducked low, sweeping the Jae'llat's legs out from under him. With a startled cry, the betrayed soldier stumbled backwards. Omareth rolled right into that vacated spot, and did not even pause as the Jae'llat cried out as the spell struck him right in his mid-air tumble. Fishing out his hand-held crossbow, he released a round to the spot where the spell had come from; he was rewarded with a sharp cry and a dull thud as she hit the ground. Omareth wasn't stupid enough to think she was dead, only detained for the time being. Now for the other one…levitating out from the globe, he was not surprised to see the priestess release a spell in his direction. Prepared for that, he released his spell, dropping just in time to miss being electrocuted in a most unpleasant way. He felt the heat on his face and the distinctive stench of burning hair; he realised the heat had burned him. Ignoring the pain, he loaded the last of his bolts and shot as he dropped; she batted them out of the air with her hissing whip as though they were simple annoyances, which they were. Then she stared at the red-stained adamantite blade suddenly protruding from her chest, and fell as Solaufein did not cease the momentum of his thrust. He simply rolled on top of her, keeping his weapon hooked into her body, and using that leverage, he hauled the dying priestess on top of him, using her as a shield as her sister's whip came flashing towards his head. The priestess' eyes widened in horror as she missed the male and struck her dying sister; not so much that she was worried for her fellow priestess' welfare, but more so as she saw the weapon master come into view as Solaufein ducked.
The young male held very, very still as he felt the rush of air that was the weapon master in movement; he heard the whistle of a keen blade cutting through the air just above his head, and a dark shadow fall across his line of vision as Omareth closed the distance. The priestess managed to let out a wet gurgle as one blade punctured her stomach and ripped upward and out, the other blade cutting away the snake-heads of her whip near the handle.
The severed, still heads landed with a plop by Solaufein's head.
Even as the priestess dropped, Omareth turned on his heels towards Da'anri with a quick signal to Solaufein: take care of that one. The younger drow glanced over at the last remaining daughter, unconscious on the floor with a bolt sticking obscenely from her stomach. Easy enough. Shoving the dead priestess off his body, Solaufein yanked his sword out with the grating sound of metal on bone; he quickly crossed the distance and neatly slit her throat.
Da'anri knew that her daughters were dead. She had a perfectly good pair of ears, and she had heard her daughters die, one by one. She also knew that two other drow males had made it into her chapel, and that those two were still alive. In fact, she heard one running towards her; no doubt he knew stealth would be wasted here. Calmly, Da'anri completed her appeal to Lloth, a feeling of almost peaceful satisfaction growing inside her. Her only regret was that she would not be alive to see the look on treacherous Despana and Jae'llat's faces when her little surprise went into effect. Yes, Da'anri knew that she would die this day. But that did not mean she would do so quietly. Drawing her whip, she turned to face the stupid male come to challenge her. Omareth, weapon master of House Despana, did not flinch from the sneer on Da'anri's face; he met her eyes squarely, and smirked his challenge. Under normal circumstances, any male that even dared look upon Da'anri with such audacity would have been flayed alive in the midst of her fury. As it were, she only smiled, so coldly that it seemed she were a statue carved from ebony. The snake heads –four of them – hissed and hovered with menace, snapping and dripping venom. Omareth drew his twin long swords, red eyes glinting at the challenge. Behind him, he felt, rather than hear, Solaufein approach, but knew that the young drow would not backstab him at the moment. Such an act would leave him to fight Da'anri; Omareth knew that whereas Solaufein was ridiculously young and inexperienced to have come on a house raid, he was far from stupid.
Now all he had to be careful of was to make sure Solaufein did not kill him right after he weakened the bitch.
That and somehow manage to kill Da'anri while keeping himself alive.
Da'anri's eyes darted briefly from the weapon master to the young drow behind him. With that one look, she knew the younger drow would not be a problem. In fact, by the look of the cheap armour and the equally cheap single sword strapped to his back, she guessed that he was simply some expendable male Despana had acquired from some defeated house, intended to be used as fodder for this raid and only loosely trained. It was a wonder he had managed to survive, but she intended to remedy that as soon as this – arrogant – weapon master lay as dead as her daughters in his own blood. She turned her attention to Omareth, the two circling each other slowly. Solaufein kept an open ear for the first floor; although the battle had seemed long for him, he knew that it had in reality, not lasted all that long. In line with Omareth's thinking, Solaufein had no intention of killing the weapon master. He had no delusions of being promoted should Omareth be killed; most likely he would either be punished, or, if he got away with it, some other drow in line would get the much-sought for title.
Solaufein was neither noble nor of House Despana blood, and if anything, he was not stupid.
Omareth was ready for Da'anri's attack as she made it; he saw the small twitch in her shoulder, and before Da'anri had even began striking, he was already moving. He kept one eye on Da'anri, and one on the deadly snake heads of the whip, and lucky for him that he did. One head flashed towards the his head, and there was one head striking out at each of his wrists, while the last hovered to protect the wielder. Instead of dancing back as most drow would have done, Omareth tucked his chin against his chest, and thrust his swords towards the whips, following with his body. Both swords flashed in opposite unison, each striking away the heads rapidly, the glint of adamantite the only way to track his quick movements, and he ducked low and forward, carrying himself just under the snapping snake headed towards his head. The snapping maw just missed him, and Omareth heard the dripping venom flick onto his mail armour as the head swished past his face. The blades that had struck away the snake heads returned just as fast as they had struck, and in one coordinated movement, one slapped distractingly at the guarding head while the other flashed up over his head; Da'anri, who had been expecting him to dodge backwards instead of forwards was caught off guard, and Omareth managed to cut off the snake head that had just missed his face. The now inanimate head dropped, and Da'anri recovered before it hit the ground. She flicked her wrist, and in a movement too simultaneous for Omareth to counter properly, two remaining heads lunged and clamped onto his blades, while the remaining one hissed and darted at his exposed neck, and Omareth just managed to twist awkwardly to the side. Instead of a killing blow, the whip only inflected a painful and dangerous one, the head clamping onto his shoulder and pumping the stunning poison. Omareth felt his entire left side go numb, and to his horror, he heard his left blade clatter onto the floor – he had not even felt his fingers release the hilt. Grimly, Omareth yanked his remaining weapon back from the whip's grip, the numbing in his shoulder and side now a burning cold. Gasping at the sensation of pain that he mused he should now be accustomed to, Omareth stumbled back and held his remaining weapon up to guard. Da'anri suddenly realised that Omareth did not look as worried as he should have looked, and she whirled around, her whip just intercepting Solaufein's backstab and delivering a painful blow onto the armoured drow. Even cheap armour was better than none; Solaufein caught the blow on the chain mailed torso, but even so, he stumbled from the sheer force of the blow. Still, the pain was not as bad as it could have been, and Solaufein managed to ignore most of it as Da'anri moved her back to the wall, keeping one eye on the errant young male and one on the deadly but injured weapon master. Keeping her whip busy, she allowed herself to reach into her mind for a spell held in reserve; a fireball that would effectively decimate them all. The static tingling reached the ever-sensitive weapon master's sense; with a sense of growing horror he felt the build of heat energy emanating from the high priestess of Lloth.
"Solaufein!" Omareth yelled, loudly for a drow, and lunged forward, hoping the youngster would understand. With only one long sword, he charged forward, managing to slap aside one snake head; he swung his leg up and attempted to kick her in the stomach, even as yet another snake head hissed and struck his thigh. Omareth stumbled, falling to one knee as his thigh went numb from the venom. Solaufein saw the desperation in the attack and understood, pressing his advantage and forcing Da'anri to deal with both of them. Even from his position, on his knees in front of the priestess, Omareth kept his sword arm busy, the adamantite blade darting in to harass and distract, aiming mostly to keep the snake heads busy in hopes that the more mobile Solaufein could land a killing blow.
Da'anri sneered, recognising the obvious tactic. Allowing her whip the attention of the fallen weapon master, Da'anri raised her free hand, and with a single word of activation, her pre-memorised spell spurted forward. It was not anything fancy nor awe-inspiring, just a simple drow variant of a flame spell such as Agannazer's Scorcher. It was enough however, to keep Solaufein temporarily at bay. The flame spell shot from the tips of her fingers, making a beeline for Solaufein; he had a heavy hunch that this particular spell would track it's victim, but even so he darted back. Silently cursing as the tongue of flame followed him, he glanced around for something—anything – that would keep him from burning to a crisp. His eyes settled on the dead body of Rulaai, within easy reach at the altar. Briefly wondering if he would offend Lloth should he yank the sacrifice, Solaufein decided that the capricious goddess would be more amused than offended at the irony such a situation offered and came to a decision.
At least, he hoped so; either that or he hoped that Lloth was busy elsewhere and not paying attention to the audacious antics of a useless, nameless drow male. He felt the heat of the approaching flame at his back, and made a jump for the altar, rolling on top of the dead priestess and gripping the corpse's shoulders, he kept rolling until it was on top of him. The magical flame engulfed them both with a mighty roar, and Solaufein heard the crackling of burning fat and flesh, heard the skin burning and peeling off from the intense heat. The bad thing about armour, he mused, was that metal tended to conduct heat. Despite the fact that the flame had not actually touched him, the heat forced him to suck in a gasping breath as his chain mail conducted the energy, and Solaufein felt his skin beneath his clothes blister from the intensity.
It hurt like hell.
The roaring flame died down, and Solaufein dropped the stinking burned body, forcing himself to move onto some sort of offensive before Da'anri could throw anymore spells. A quick glance told him Omareth was in trouble. The weapon master was bleeding and torn in several places, his injured leg at an awkward angle, left arm limp and dripping blood. Despite that, his right arm was still moving, parrying the vicious and hungry snake heads with an ingrained efficiency that Solaufein envied. Running lightly forward despite the pain from his numerous burns, Solaufein swung his sword up, at the same time summoning a globe of darkness over the priestess. Useless, most likely; but anything that bought the two Despanas precious seconds were better than nothing. Da'anri's foot suddenly shot out of the globe of darkness, brutally smashing Omareth on the cheek. His head snapped back, and thrown off balance, the weapon master fell backwards, landing hard on his injured side. A split second later, Da'anri herself stepped calmly from the globe, her whip raised over the struggling form of the weapon master to deliver the final blow. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Solaufein's charge; she managed to control her strike to the side, lashing out with her whip towards the young drow. Solaufein threw himself to the ground, narrowly avoiding a fatal encounter with the furious snake heads. As soon as he felt the snake heads whiz past him over his head, he lunged upwards, sword leading and intending to gut this troublesome priestess. Unfortunately for him, she was expecting it, and nimbly danced to the side, his blade narrowly missing her torso. Before he had even finished retracting the blade, Solaufein jerked his body to the side in a primitive but effective tackle; the priestess and warrior both went sprawling, Da'anri falling rather ungracefully onto her rump. Before she could bring her whip up to face him, or even stand, Solaufein's single long sword snaked up to kiss her throat.
And that's when the double doors of the chapel slammed open to the reveal the forms of Matron Mother Despana and Matron Mother Jae'llat, both flanked by guards from their respective houses.
It did not look good for Omareth, who was just sitting up with an almost dazed expression; as the doors opened and he had enough presence of mind to bow, face stoic against pain. Despana's amused gaze swept through the room, noting the dead, Da'anri and Jae'llat alike. There was a small angry gasp as Jae'llat recognised one charred body as her former weapon master. Before the angry Matron Mother could stomp forward, Despana glided forward, Ardulace and Phaere in tow, and stopped in front of the fallen Matron Mother Da'anri. They eyed each other with cool eyes, each sneering in derision. Solaufein's blade was pressed against Da'anri's neck hard enough to draw blood, but as it were, Solaufein was busy averting his eyes and being humble to the Matron Mother of his house.
She gave him no more than a passing glance, dismissing the mere male as she faced her slippery adversary of many centuries. Ardulace however, was incredulously eyeing the carnage, finding it difficult to believe that a male, especially an insignificant house male with no rank nor title, had managed to come so far and still be breathing, even with the weapon master Omareth about. With critical eyes, she gave the wounded weapon master a disapproving glance at showing such weakness; she allowed her eyes to settle on the young drow with his blade against Da'anri's neck, a young drow wearing the symbols of House Despana, but mostly, a young drow that she did not even recognise nor recall seeing.
Fodder, and he was still alive.
Amazing.
Ridiculous.
She snorted in contempt. The young Phaere glanced at her mother in almost surprise, before returning her attention to her grandmother.
Suddenly, Matron Mother Despana closed the remaining distance, ignoring Solaufein who was forced to move aside or be shoved away. He wisely kept his eyes down and moved, bowing away.
"I win," Despana was smiling. To her surprise, Da'anri simply smirked, smugly, and for an instant Despana had a moment of unnerved discomfort. But only for an instant. She reached over, grasping Da'anri's tattered robes, and with a pointed glance at the bloody altar, proclaimed,
"Praise be to Lloth. Her will has been done. We must give thanks." Da'anri simply continued to hold her smug smile; she had known she would die, but…Despana had no idea what was awaiting her in a few days time, did she? Da'anri's arrogance irritated her, and Despana signalled her daughter and grandchild; in unison they hauled the limp priestess to the altar. Fishing out a ceremonial dagger from the depths of her robes, the Matron Mother invited her ally, Jae'llat, to the final honor. With twin conspiratorial smiles, they approached the doomed priestess.
Omareth had a sudden sinking feeling at the fact that the priestesses of Lloth were allowing them – the males – to be present as witness to a sacrifice to Lloth. Such things were not done, and the very fact that they were being pointedly ignored indicated the treacherous females were planning something. He spared a glance at the younger male, and could not tell whether he guessed something was wrong by the bland expression on his face.
Despana and Jae'llat leaned forward towards Da'anri, and Omareth was very, very glad that he could not see their expressions from his angle.
"You are a fool."
Da'anri had spoken her first words; instead of lashing out at the doomed drow woman, Despana simply smiled. Leaning over with exaggerated secrecy and a sweet, lovely smile, the Matron Mother Despana whispered into Da'anri's ear.
"No, dear Da'anri." She continued to smile as Da'anri's smug expression changed into one of superiority and contempt. "If you are referring to your pathetic plea to Lloth…" Da'anri's eyes widened in alarm. "…It has been refused, fallen one." Despana watched the realisation of betrayal sink into Da'anri's eyes, and then she and Jae'llat placed one hand on each shoulder, and in unison,
"In the name of Lloth, let it be."
Da'anri's body jerked as raw energy spouted from both Matron Mother's hands, her eyes wide with betrayal and hate, and the Matron Mothers laughed as life fled her body.
The convulsions did not cease after her death.
Letting the rigid, twitching body fall onto the altar, Matron Mother Despana turned with utter solemnity to face all those present.
"The will of Lloth be done. The traitors have been destroyed, and She smiles upon our houses." Jae'llat nodded, equally solemn as she pointedly eyed those present.
"Yes," she agreed. "Those who do not believe in Lloth shall suffer the consequences." The snake headed whip that had been in Da'anri's hand gave one final twitch. Ardulace kicked the whip towards Omareth, and Despana said slowly and deliberately,
"It was the will of Lloth. House Da'anri betrayed the Lady's trust, and Her vengeance has been served."
The weapon master of the second house of Ust'Natha bowed low, understanding glimmering in his eyes.
"May the will of Lloth be served," he intoned smoothly, and satisfied, Despana and Jae'llat turned to leave. Smirking, Ardulace paused by the door, sweeping the room once more with her eyes. The young male was suddenly caught with his head up gazing after the priestesses…with a look that was none to friendly.
Ardulace did not mind. She looked at the wounded weapon master. Her gaze swept over the dead bodies of enemy and ally alike. She gave the young male a knowing smirk, and turned to leave.
Solaufein had a sudden, inexplicable sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Yes, I know most weapon-masters would have gutted loudmouth Solaufein for that sort of tactless comment. Just bear with me, 'kay? Omareth is…special. And that's all I can say.
Arg, long chapter…and most of it was filler too… . But I promise the other chapters won't be so long and rambling…
And yes, I know that blatant fighting between houses is punishable by death…BUT remember that this is a set up; House Despana and Jae'llat WANTED to make an example out of Da'anri, and they easily claimed that they were carrying out the will of Lloth. Meaning, the first house can only touch them (Jae'llat and Despana) through subterfuge…so yeah, Despana and Jae'llat technically should be able to get away with a big public battle. Although now, the first house is gonna get a bit nervous with those two strong houses allied with each other…hahahahaha… For those of you who were wondering, no Da'anri wasn't out of favour to begin with; but only afterwards when she lost, Lloth being the capricious goddess that she is, decided to abandon her.
Oh and uh, more Solaufein characterization stuff in chapter two…I got carried away with the whole battle scene in this one…sigh yeah I know I can't write battle scenes…but that's what fanfiction is for! Practice, practice, practice. As always, comments and criticism is gratefully accepted.