Some more translations before we start:
Lloth kyorl dos! - Lloth guard you!
Lloth tlu malla, jal ultrinnan zhah xundus! - Lloth be praised, all victory is hers!
A `dos quarth, Ilharess! - At your command, Matron!
drider - half spider/ half drow
Ch 2: Path of Lloth
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Koranon nervously glanced towards the door. A silent curse escaped his lips.
`Just what in Nine Hells was going on?´ - he wondered. `Where is everybody?´
They should have been there half an hour ago. He was playing with the thought of leaving in a sign of a protest, but he knew better. His mother would personaly turn him into a drider for such act. And she would enjoy every second of it!
Doors opened wide and Matron Quarya entered the hall. He immediately knelt and bowed his head low.
`Stand up!´ - she ordered, not wishing to waste more time then absolutely necessary. To her this was no more than unavoidable formality.
To Koranon - a matter of life and death.
`I apologize Matron Mother, but still I haven`t been told anything. And I have been waiting here for some time now. Perhaps my opponent will not be coming?´ - he asked, the colour of his voice revealing his inner hopes.
`Don`t hold you breath!´ - she scowled. `He arrived already. Your sister will escort the guests in any time now. Have you...´
`But, will nobody tell me his name? Which House does he belong to?´
Abruptly he stopped after seeing his mother`s face, suddenly steaming with anger. He dared to interrupt her.
In any other ocassion she would have beaten him senseless. But situation was different that day.
`I will not punish you now for your conduct.´ - she snarled.
`But if you ever do it again...´
She deliberately left the sentence unfinished, leaving the end to his imagination. It didn`t take him much to start creating horid images in his mind. Koranon just nodded, not being sure if he was permitted to speak again.
His oldest sister walked into the room, followed by another female. A Matron, judging by her appearance and behaviour. But whether of the lesser House or higher one, he could not tell. Finally, a young drow stepped in. A long sabre hung from his belt, and Koranon wondered just how skillful this drow was. He was sure though they never met before.
`This is Tee`nea Shearen, Matron of the House Shaeren, the seventh House of Menzoberranzan. And this is Dyr Shaeren, Elderboy of the House Shaeren.´
`Seventh House?!!´ - Koranon thought as he bowed to greet them both. Suddenly, his all hopes sunk. `I won`t stand a chance against him.´
`It`s time.´
Matron Quarya turned to face her son.
`Winning is your only option.´ - she stated below voice, sensing his reluctance now when he found out whom is he dealing with.
`Lloth kyorl dos!´
Then, rising her voice again, she addressed Matron Tee`nea.
`I trust you are ready?´
She loured eyeing the long sabre around Dyr`s waist.
`We are ready and waiting.´ - Tee`nea answered with a grin.
`In that case, may the fight begin!´
They moved aside, watching their sons drow out the weapons. Only one of them will live to put it back into it`s sheets.
Both of the Matrons knew what damage one obstinate male can cause to his House. Ocassionally even irredeemable.
The whole city still remembered the event which occured almost two hundred years ago, when a single drow, Drizzt Do`Urden induced the fall of the House Do`Urden, at that time eight House of Menzoberranzan.
By the drow rules, mentioning the name of the fallen House was forbidden. It never existed. But after that event, the ruling Matrons have come to an understanding: Every year a contest will be held, and every House with a male old enough to become a warrior was obliged to participate. That wasn`t an opened contest. Houses were picked out randomly, two by two. In utmost secrecy. Even the Matrons have been told only a day in advance.
Unlike choosing Houses, fighting rules were simple. Actually, there was only one rule: Win or die.
This guarantied a survival only of a true drow warrior. The one who wouldn`t hesitate to take away life. Everyone who was different was annihilated. And thereby every potential threat was cut down in the beginning.
Literally.
~~
From the first moment Dyr started aggressively, trying to provoke Koranon into doing the same, hoping to wear him out. Attacks followed one by one, but Koranon parryed his every blow, not giving in to that tempo.
He saw what Dyr was trying to do, but he had a plan of his own. `Go easy and look for his weak sides´ - was the first part of it. And it worked perfectly.
Dyr was too hasty, his constant attacks were taking quite of his energy, while Koranon danced around dodging and parrying the blows.
`How come I never saw you practising in Melee-Magthere?´ - Koranon asked while trying to avoid one extremely swift attempt to his life.
`Because I never practised there. Our weaponmaster is twice as skillful as all of the Academy teachers are.´
With closing of the sentence Dyr came at him again, this time even faster than before. But Koranon unexpectedly swerwed and took a strong swipe at him.
`But did he teach you that sometimes is better to wait and observe?´ - he sneered, now having the situation under his control.
It was becoming obvious that Dyr underestimated his opponent. His plan rebounded upon his head; Koranon was showing no signs of weariness.
Unlike him, Dyr was out of breath. He tried to regain control with a series of quick, short attacks, but could hardly keep up the pace.
Koranon forestalled his attempts and began with the counterattack.
His sword flashed in front of Dyr`s eyes, cutting through his clothes and leaving a long blood line across his ebony chest.
One glance at his stained sword made his own blood swirl inside. The piece of cold metal in his hand was raving mad, as if it somehow came to live. Repeating thrusts forced Dyr to retreat - he tripped and lost balance. Falling on his back, his grip loosened and the sabre clinked against the floor. He lay there, helplessly watching Koranon approaching.
Koranon pressed the tip of his sword against Dyr`s neck.
He won. It was over.
As from a great distance his mother`s commanding voice came to his ears:
`Kill him Koranon! Do it!´
He turned head aside, looking for her face.
She was burning with anticipation, her eyes demanding one thing only - to see blood dripping from that blade, to watch him struggle for his last breath.
`Kill him, you fool!´ - she screamed again this time even louder.
But he hesitated. A second longer than he should have. Dyr saw his last chance to turn the situation around. His hand slid down to his boot, reaching for the only thing that could save his life at that moment - a hidden dagger.
In the next second he thrusted it`s blade up to the hilt into Koranon`s stomach.
`Haven`t they taught you never to take eyes of your enemy?´ - he grined maliciously as he watched light disappear from Koranon`s eyes.
`Idiot!!´ - Matron Quarya hissed watching the blood dripping on the floor, her son`s body following shortly after.
Dyr stood there, with Koranon`s body lying in front of him, proudly smiling when both of the Matrons approached him.
`I won.´ - he uttered, looking straight into Quarya`s eyes.
`He was a better fighter than you are.´ - Quarya tarted.
`But he wasn`t a killer.´ - Tee`nea spoke up. `The justice has been carried out. Lloth is gratified.´
`Xas.´ - Quarya agreed with resignation.
`Lloth tlu malla, jal ultrinnan zhah xundus!´
~~
`Let us go, Dyr.´ - said Tee`nea when their short prayer had finished.
`You have to prepare yourself for your first asignment as a warrior. Don`t think it would be easy! ´ - she warned him.
`A`dos quarth, Ilharess!´ - he bowed.
`I`m looking forward to it!´
An insatiable, blood-thirsty flame was lit inside his eyes.
A warrior was born.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Disregard any possible grammar/spelling mistakes. I wrote this sometime around 3 am. Thanks to the gallons of black coffee!
Lloth kyorl dos! - Lloth guard you!
Lloth tlu malla, jal ultrinnan zhah xundus! - Lloth be praised, all victory is hers!
A `dos quarth, Ilharess! - At your command, Matron!
drider - half spider/ half drow
Ch 2: Path of Lloth
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Koranon nervously glanced towards the door. A silent curse escaped his lips.
`Just what in Nine Hells was going on?´ - he wondered. `Where is everybody?´
They should have been there half an hour ago. He was playing with the thought of leaving in a sign of a protest, but he knew better. His mother would personaly turn him into a drider for such act. And she would enjoy every second of it!
Doors opened wide and Matron Quarya entered the hall. He immediately knelt and bowed his head low.
`Stand up!´ - she ordered, not wishing to waste more time then absolutely necessary. To her this was no more than unavoidable formality.
To Koranon - a matter of life and death.
`I apologize Matron Mother, but still I haven`t been told anything. And I have been waiting here for some time now. Perhaps my opponent will not be coming?´ - he asked, the colour of his voice revealing his inner hopes.
`Don`t hold you breath!´ - she scowled. `He arrived already. Your sister will escort the guests in any time now. Have you...´
`But, will nobody tell me his name? Which House does he belong to?´
Abruptly he stopped after seeing his mother`s face, suddenly steaming with anger. He dared to interrupt her.
In any other ocassion she would have beaten him senseless. But situation was different that day.
`I will not punish you now for your conduct.´ - she snarled.
`But if you ever do it again...´
She deliberately left the sentence unfinished, leaving the end to his imagination. It didn`t take him much to start creating horid images in his mind. Koranon just nodded, not being sure if he was permitted to speak again.
His oldest sister walked into the room, followed by another female. A Matron, judging by her appearance and behaviour. But whether of the lesser House or higher one, he could not tell. Finally, a young drow stepped in. A long sabre hung from his belt, and Koranon wondered just how skillful this drow was. He was sure though they never met before.
`This is Tee`nea Shearen, Matron of the House Shaeren, the seventh House of Menzoberranzan. And this is Dyr Shaeren, Elderboy of the House Shaeren.´
`Seventh House?!!´ - Koranon thought as he bowed to greet them both. Suddenly, his all hopes sunk. `I won`t stand a chance against him.´
`It`s time.´
Matron Quarya turned to face her son.
`Winning is your only option.´ - she stated below voice, sensing his reluctance now when he found out whom is he dealing with.
`Lloth kyorl dos!´
Then, rising her voice again, she addressed Matron Tee`nea.
`I trust you are ready?´
She loured eyeing the long sabre around Dyr`s waist.
`We are ready and waiting.´ - Tee`nea answered with a grin.
`In that case, may the fight begin!´
They moved aside, watching their sons drow out the weapons. Only one of them will live to put it back into it`s sheets.
Both of the Matrons knew what damage one obstinate male can cause to his House. Ocassionally even irredeemable.
The whole city still remembered the event which occured almost two hundred years ago, when a single drow, Drizzt Do`Urden induced the fall of the House Do`Urden, at that time eight House of Menzoberranzan.
By the drow rules, mentioning the name of the fallen House was forbidden. It never existed. But after that event, the ruling Matrons have come to an understanding: Every year a contest will be held, and every House with a male old enough to become a warrior was obliged to participate. That wasn`t an opened contest. Houses were picked out randomly, two by two. In utmost secrecy. Even the Matrons have been told only a day in advance.
Unlike choosing Houses, fighting rules were simple. Actually, there was only one rule: Win or die.
This guarantied a survival only of a true drow warrior. The one who wouldn`t hesitate to take away life. Everyone who was different was annihilated. And thereby every potential threat was cut down in the beginning.
Literally.
~~
From the first moment Dyr started aggressively, trying to provoke Koranon into doing the same, hoping to wear him out. Attacks followed one by one, but Koranon parryed his every blow, not giving in to that tempo.
He saw what Dyr was trying to do, but he had a plan of his own. `Go easy and look for his weak sides´ - was the first part of it. And it worked perfectly.
Dyr was too hasty, his constant attacks were taking quite of his energy, while Koranon danced around dodging and parrying the blows.
`How come I never saw you practising in Melee-Magthere?´ - Koranon asked while trying to avoid one extremely swift attempt to his life.
`Because I never practised there. Our weaponmaster is twice as skillful as all of the Academy teachers are.´
With closing of the sentence Dyr came at him again, this time even faster than before. But Koranon unexpectedly swerwed and took a strong swipe at him.
`But did he teach you that sometimes is better to wait and observe?´ - he sneered, now having the situation under his control.
It was becoming obvious that Dyr underestimated his opponent. His plan rebounded upon his head; Koranon was showing no signs of weariness.
Unlike him, Dyr was out of breath. He tried to regain control with a series of quick, short attacks, but could hardly keep up the pace.
Koranon forestalled his attempts and began with the counterattack.
His sword flashed in front of Dyr`s eyes, cutting through his clothes and leaving a long blood line across his ebony chest.
One glance at his stained sword made his own blood swirl inside. The piece of cold metal in his hand was raving mad, as if it somehow came to live. Repeating thrusts forced Dyr to retreat - he tripped and lost balance. Falling on his back, his grip loosened and the sabre clinked against the floor. He lay there, helplessly watching Koranon approaching.
Koranon pressed the tip of his sword against Dyr`s neck.
He won. It was over.
As from a great distance his mother`s commanding voice came to his ears:
`Kill him Koranon! Do it!´
He turned head aside, looking for her face.
She was burning with anticipation, her eyes demanding one thing only - to see blood dripping from that blade, to watch him struggle for his last breath.
`Kill him, you fool!´ - she screamed again this time even louder.
But he hesitated. A second longer than he should have. Dyr saw his last chance to turn the situation around. His hand slid down to his boot, reaching for the only thing that could save his life at that moment - a hidden dagger.
In the next second he thrusted it`s blade up to the hilt into Koranon`s stomach.
`Haven`t they taught you never to take eyes of your enemy?´ - he grined maliciously as he watched light disappear from Koranon`s eyes.
`Idiot!!´ - Matron Quarya hissed watching the blood dripping on the floor, her son`s body following shortly after.
Dyr stood there, with Koranon`s body lying in front of him, proudly smiling when both of the Matrons approached him.
`I won.´ - he uttered, looking straight into Quarya`s eyes.
`He was a better fighter than you are.´ - Quarya tarted.
`But he wasn`t a killer.´ - Tee`nea spoke up. `The justice has been carried out. Lloth is gratified.´
`Xas.´ - Quarya agreed with resignation.
`Lloth tlu malla, jal ultrinnan zhah xundus!´
~~
`Let us go, Dyr.´ - said Tee`nea when their short prayer had finished.
`You have to prepare yourself for your first asignment as a warrior. Don`t think it would be easy! ´ - she warned him.
`A`dos quarth, Ilharess!´ - he bowed.
`I`m looking forward to it!´
An insatiable, blood-thirsty flame was lit inside his eyes.
A warrior was born.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Disregard any possible grammar/spelling mistakes. I wrote this sometime around 3 am. Thanks to the gallons of black coffee!