Hey everybody, this is my first time writing an actual Fanfiction. I've
written some things that are on Fictionpress, but this is the first actual
Fanfiction. First, a few notes. I profess to not having much knowledge
about what happens after the Icewind dale trilogy, so and inaccuracies are
because of that. However, I know that Wulfgar is supposed to be dead, but
this is Fanfiction, so shut it. Also, I do not own any characters mentioned
except for those not mention in the books.
Return of the Old and New
Prologue
Drizzt walked tensely into the main cavern of Menzoberranzan, Twinkle, sensing danger, glowing softly blue in one hand; Icingdeath exerting its icy pull on the other, sensing fire-based creatures somewhere in the cavern. Drizzt had hoped that he might never return here, having left it so many years ago. Maybe now they would have forgot him, he was hoping that they had forgotten about him, for if they had not, he would have no chance to complete his mission. He sheathed his scimitars anyway, just in case.
As he walked down the streets of the city, he saw groups of dark elves passing by, saw Dueregar scrambling to get out of the way of a runaway cart, and other things typical of a city. "I guess some things are the same down here as they are on the surface world, sometimes," he muttered to himself. He continued making his way towards the compound of his family, Daermon Na'shez'baernon.
But a lot can happen in fifty years, especially in cities like Menzoberranzan. Houses rise and fall yearly, and there is almost always some sort of battle going on somewhere in the city. Such was the case with his ancestral home.
The gate was hanging off its hinges, and the huge stalagmites that had formed the pillars for the once-proud gate were crumbled and worn. The walls that had surrounded the house were smashed, and their remnants were strewn all over the courtyard. The house itself seemed to be in good condition, until you looked inside. Paintings and statues were gone, ripped from the walls, furniture was destroyed, and the only things that hadn't been touched were the statues of Lloth, the Spider Queen. The attackers, then the thieves, had known better than to destroy those. It would have meant something worse than death if they had. The armories were ransacked, and even the main chapel was in pretty bad shape.
Drizzt had known what to expect, but it was still a shock. He saw the room where he had trained as the house's second boy under his sister Vierna, remembering the years of learning how to use his inherent abilities as a dark elf of the noble cast. Its stone statues and gargoyles, the ones that he had spent so many hours cleaning, were destroyed, their wings, limbs, and heads in pieces on the floor, or melted into shapes unrecognizable, even by creatures of chaos. The training room, where he had spent years with Zaknafien, was in horrible condition, with scratches, like claws, all over the walls and floor, which even the best of the Drow blades were not able to mark.
The armory, were he picked for himself his first two scimitars, weapons that would shape the rest of his life, was in shambles, the holders ripped from the walls, the weapons long gone; the room where he slept, its basic bed chopped to pieces; the room where potions were mixed and stored, a room that he had never been in, was still mostly intact: if any of the jars were broken, the entire house may have exploded; which might have caused the city to collapse, but all of the potions were now gone.
He entered the throne room, and stopped. 'Such destruction I never hoped to see,' he thought to himself. He entered, and went towards the throne itself. The throne was almost gone. So many things were carved into it, from carvings of faces to carvings of creatures being dismembered. He went to it, and studied it, searching for a hidden compartment. Finding it, he opened it, but found nothing. 'Damn! House Tre'far did take it!' He was irritated, but decided to rest until the "morning", and set up camp in his own old room. He ate some non-perishable trail rations, and meditated. His thoughts drifted back to fifteen days before, when he had entered that cave.
I know this is something of a cliffhanger, but I'm posting chapters one and two as well. So go on and read them too.
Return of the Old and New
Prologue
Drizzt walked tensely into the main cavern of Menzoberranzan, Twinkle, sensing danger, glowing softly blue in one hand; Icingdeath exerting its icy pull on the other, sensing fire-based creatures somewhere in the cavern. Drizzt had hoped that he might never return here, having left it so many years ago. Maybe now they would have forgot him, he was hoping that they had forgotten about him, for if they had not, he would have no chance to complete his mission. He sheathed his scimitars anyway, just in case.
As he walked down the streets of the city, he saw groups of dark elves passing by, saw Dueregar scrambling to get out of the way of a runaway cart, and other things typical of a city. "I guess some things are the same down here as they are on the surface world, sometimes," he muttered to himself. He continued making his way towards the compound of his family, Daermon Na'shez'baernon.
But a lot can happen in fifty years, especially in cities like Menzoberranzan. Houses rise and fall yearly, and there is almost always some sort of battle going on somewhere in the city. Such was the case with his ancestral home.
The gate was hanging off its hinges, and the huge stalagmites that had formed the pillars for the once-proud gate were crumbled and worn. The walls that had surrounded the house were smashed, and their remnants were strewn all over the courtyard. The house itself seemed to be in good condition, until you looked inside. Paintings and statues were gone, ripped from the walls, furniture was destroyed, and the only things that hadn't been touched were the statues of Lloth, the Spider Queen. The attackers, then the thieves, had known better than to destroy those. It would have meant something worse than death if they had. The armories were ransacked, and even the main chapel was in pretty bad shape.
Drizzt had known what to expect, but it was still a shock. He saw the room where he had trained as the house's second boy under his sister Vierna, remembering the years of learning how to use his inherent abilities as a dark elf of the noble cast. Its stone statues and gargoyles, the ones that he had spent so many hours cleaning, were destroyed, their wings, limbs, and heads in pieces on the floor, or melted into shapes unrecognizable, even by creatures of chaos. The training room, where he had spent years with Zaknafien, was in horrible condition, with scratches, like claws, all over the walls and floor, which even the best of the Drow blades were not able to mark.
The armory, were he picked for himself his first two scimitars, weapons that would shape the rest of his life, was in shambles, the holders ripped from the walls, the weapons long gone; the room where he slept, its basic bed chopped to pieces; the room where potions were mixed and stored, a room that he had never been in, was still mostly intact: if any of the jars were broken, the entire house may have exploded; which might have caused the city to collapse, but all of the potions were now gone.
He entered the throne room, and stopped. 'Such destruction I never hoped to see,' he thought to himself. He entered, and went towards the throne itself. The throne was almost gone. So many things were carved into it, from carvings of faces to carvings of creatures being dismembered. He went to it, and studied it, searching for a hidden compartment. Finding it, he opened it, but found nothing. 'Damn! House Tre'far did take it!' He was irritated, but decided to rest until the "morning", and set up camp in his own old room. He ate some non-perishable trail rations, and meditated. His thoughts drifted back to fifteen days before, when he had entered that cave.
I know this is something of a cliffhanger, but I'm posting chapters one and two as well. So go on and read them too.