A Drow's Tale: Chapter Four
SteelAndFire: Thanks for the review:D
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the drow characters, but all the OCs are entirely my fault. I promise to round them up and dispose of them afterwards.
Kaer'lic Suun Wett hunched, pained and miserable, atop the pack lizard as the group plodded onwards. Somehow she had escaped the burning wreckage of her family abode and fought her way free of those who sought to prevent her escape, fleeing into the corridors of the Underdark. Exhausted, barely able to move once the adrenalin had faded and with copious amounts of blood draining from her body, she had collapsed alone in the darkness.
The drow priestess was unsure whether or not to be grateful for her timely 'rescue'. The band were clearly slavers, and she would fetch a high price should they wish to sell her. Still, for the moment the drow male who had first found her seemed to have spoken for her, and it looked as if she was safe for the time being.
Closing her eyes Kaer'lic sought that special place inside her, that place where she could hear the call, feel the presence of Lolth singing through her very being. The call came muted, and she felt the Spider Queen's dissatisfaction, causing her to moan aloud, bereft. Still, in ill favour as she was, there was still some power there, enough to cast a few small healing spells upon herself, and thusly comforted she was able to fall asleep.
oOo
Ad'non walked along beside the pack lizard, intently studying the sleeping priestess. He wished he had another vial of healing potion that he might give her, but he had used the last on Donnia. He regretted that now. She was a pretty one, but not of much other interest to him. But this one…
He knew that any cleric so battered and left all alone in the tunnels was surely in flight from something, and therefore not likely in the favour of Lolth. He knew that Ang'ayne Tor'duis, his failed assassination attempt, was a priestess in Lolth's highest favour, and thus likely able to obliterate this one was easily as he might swat an insect, but he was really, truly, deeply afraid that Ang'ayne might come after him, even if it meant following him from the city. This priestess, battered as she was, might be the best protector he was likely to get.
He had had a nightmare before the slaver band had left the city, once Donnia had ceased her poking and prodding and let him go back to sleep. He had dreamt that he was bound tight to an altar, so tightly that he could not move at all. While he sweated and whimpered and wept unseen clerics had started to chant and then in an explosion of pain his body had begun to change. From the fiery agony in his belly ripped three sets of long, hard spider legs, his own drow limbs melting and cracking and popping until they were the same. He felt his body bloating, his bones melting and reforming, flesh and tendons twisting. He screamed and screamed and sobbed and begged but nobody was listening- nobody came to save him as the clerics enacted the worst punishment Lolth could bestow- as they turned him into a drider.
He had woken when Donnia slapped him across the back of the head, hard, complaining of his thrashing. He had lain there for long moments, shuddering and crying, unable to calm himself, struggling frantically to regain his composure. The female at his back surely felt every shake and quiver, every suppressed sob, but had the unexpected good grace not to mention it, for which he was very grateful.
He could do without that embarrassment.
Shaking his head slightly, deliberately pushing away such awful thoughts, Ad'non concentrated instead on how he might convince this new female that he was worth having around…
oOo
The human woman, Silky, trudged along towards the rear of the group. Her good hand clutched compulsively at the magic brooch at her throat, one which allowed her to see, however faintly, in the depths of the Underdark. She kept her eyes locked on the handsome drow male walking a little way ahead of her, watching the end of his snow-white pony-tail swish back and forth as he moved.
She wasn't sure how he had persuaded Pennyfeather to take himself and his female companion into the group- the pretentious orc had never employed drow before- the intrigues they played were too complex for them to be trusted- and she suspected that a lot of money might have changed hands.
Silky wanted money- would do almost anything for it; sell her body, murder a close friend. She had fallen in with Pennyfeather and his wretched group in her eternal quest for wealth, had betrayed goodly friends to the slaving band in exchange for coin. She had not always been so obsessed with gold, had been a ranger, in fact, above such material needs.
Until she had hurt her hand.
There were clerics who might heal her, might make the twisted limb what it had once been. But the cost would be phenomenal. Her friends had offered to do what they could to aid her, would help her petition the various rulers and lordlings she had aided throughout the years, but little gold was forthcoming from those who had so taken advantage of her spirit of generosity in the past.
A canker had begun to grow deep in her heart, a sense of hurt and injustice which tortured both her waking and sleeping hours. Her friends had told her she was growing cold, turning from them, and begged her not to give in to despair. But the truth was that she had already done so.
It haunted her, though, what she had done. She had long run with a fair-sized band of rangers: humans, dwarves, half-elves and elves. She had betrayed them all, long-valued companions and one a lover. He had been cut apart on an altar of Lolth, she had later learned, and whatever was left of her heart had died on that day.
Even the rich purse Pennyfeather had given her in exchange for her friends had not been sufficient to persuade a priest to fix her hand. So she had taken up with the slaver band, hoarding her meager share of their profits.
But she had watched this intriguing drow, and noticed certain things about him. His attire and gear appeared modest, but all of it was of very good quality, and likely all of great expense. Especially the interesting knife he wore at his belt. The plump purse he wore concealed beneath his cloak had not escaped her notice either- she had seen him tuck it carefully there when he was dressing this morning.
If that purse contained gold or jewels it might very well add enough to her savings to finally have her hand healed.
oOo
Ad'non could charm when he wanted to- could do so remarkably well, in fact- but he was making no headway with the surly priestess. Sulking, he sat himself some distance from her to pick at his evening (though none of them really knew what time it was, they had walked until they were all tired and becoming cranky, at which point the orcs demanded a break) meal. He found he had very little appetite.
He heard the soft step of someone approaching, and looked up, expecting to see Donnia, likely come to harass him about something, bitch that she was being. But it was the human woman, who smiled and seated herself at his side.
"You should eat," she scolded him gently. "Else you'll regret when we move off again. Pennyfeather can be a stingy one when it comes to supplies."
Ad'non just stared. She was speaking drow! He had never met a non-drow who could speak his language.
"Put those eyes back in," she laughed, teasingly, reaching out to run the fingers of her good hand down his arm. "On the surface, men often seem to think that if a girl is pretty it means she's stupid. But I assure you that it just isn't true."
She leaned forward, bringing their faces just inches apart. Ad'non blinked. He'd never encountered such wantonness in a female before. He found himself quite affected.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" the woman positively purred, practically pulling herself into his lap. She chuckled in a rumbling sort of way as the drow blinked rapidly at her.
"What are you doing?" he finally found the wit to ask her when she began unlacing his fine shirt one-handed. She looked him right in the eye, her voice dropping huskily.
"What would you like me to do?"
oOo
Donnia listened to the little sounds of lust drifting out of the darkness- it sounded like her annoying companion and the human were having fun. She found herself irritated, though she wasn't sure why, or at whom. With a great "Humph!" she crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms across her chest, chewing on her bottom lip.
The male's soft cry of completion echoed in her ears.
oOo
Donnia was more than a little surprised when Ad'non came and snuggled against her back. "What are you doing?" she asked him in the complex drow finger-speech.
"You promised me a reward," he murmured softly in her ear. "And I'd like to claim it now…"
"If you think that I'm going to sleep with you when you stink of that human-" she started but the insolent male shushed her.
"No," he said softly, arranging his head comfortably on her shoulder. "I want you to guard me from 'that human'. Please? She's up to something."
Donnia sighed, but still, this was not so bad. She had expected the male to demand Lolth-knew-what acts from her, and she still didn't think she was well enough to fend him off if he was really determined.
"Alright then," she told him, clasping his hand where it rested over her belly. "Sleep. I'll keep watch."
"Thank you," he breathed sleepily against her ear. "Wake me when you want to sleep." He nuzzled the back of her neck and settled himself comfortably, slipping into reverie. Donnia kept herself awake- she was feeling sore and restless anyway- and found her eyes locked with the priestess across the way, who was looking at her with evident disdain. She shrugged slightly in the other drow female's direction- it wasn't uncomfortable to lie back against the male's chest like this, sharing the warmth of his body.
The priestess looked away, curling herself up against the flank of the pack lizard, wearily settling down to sleep.
Donnia smirked at her- as annoying as he might be she'd much rather be cuddling up with Ad'non than with a lizard.
The drowess didn't miss Silky watching them, either.