Night Without Hope

by TheBladedancer

The effects of my boredom and an aggravating muse. In short, it's a collection of poems about a few of Salvatore's characters. UPDATE: Malice has been added!

4. Malice

Night Without Hope – Malice Do'Urden

I feel the power of the weapon in my hand,

Calling to me with its bloodthirsty hunger.

I try to deny it and forget its call,

But I know that this is a hunger that

Cannot be satisfied by anything less than

The life of my fellow drow.

It is my choice to wield such a weapon,

To feel its power strengthen me like fire in the cold.

I chose to accept it,

A present, they call it—a gift from the Dark Lady,

The goddess who listens to me in my

Thoughts and in my prayers.

And I feel myself cringe in a new fear

As I wonder of the Lady's power.

Has she truly heard my unspoken words,

Those words that question her power and might?

Will she unleash her wrath upon me as she might do to an enemy?

Will my blasphemous thoughts mask me as a traitor,

And bring her most terrible tortures down upon me?

Will my thoughts betray me to my goddess

And leave my dying in the unforgiving streets

Of my city of evil?

The weapon senses my fears and instead of turning against me,

It comforts me, assuring me that Lloth will make everything as it should.

I have grown to accept this voice at my side,

And who am I to say that its words are false?

I am nothing besides a vessel,

A tool for my goddess to use.

I do not have the right or the will to

Question the decisions of the Queen that can so

Destroy me at her very whim.

And, with my weapon at my side,

Its long whips seething and screaming for the flesh of my kin,

I submit myself to the will of the

Queen of Spiders.

I turn my shoulder to the pleas of those to whom I deny mercy.

Who am I to give them compassion when the Dark Lady shows me none?

I let the power of the weapon overwhelm me,

And I lash out again and again,

Gaining assurance with each strike,

Beating and scourging the helpless before me

Until there is no life left.

And I falter back, disbelief consuming nearly every part

Of my mind.

I have killed? I have struck against

My fellow drow?

But against the weapon assures me of my goddess's dark and demonic

Pleasure in the kill.

I am satisfied.

In this unholy delight, I let the hunger of the weapon

Become my own hunger.

And I sink—fall—down into the night of

My city,

Her city,

The city of Spiders.

I fall into the Night where there is no Hope.

~Malice Do'Urden