Author's Notes
Before you read the prologue below, I'd like to make a few comments about my story to prevent any misunderstandings:
Though the story and the characters are my own, I've set it in the Forgotten Realms world, so the setting's not mine. I thought it'd be best to post this story here on because of this.
Sab'vrae is NOT a Drizzt rip-off. At least, I don't think so. Still, there are some unintentional similarities between them, so I wanted to make it clear Sab'vrae is a character I played in Neverwinter Nights long BEFORE I read Salvatore's books and not a copy of his drow ranger.
If you don't know a lot about drow, two important facts are: most drow are evil and chaotic; and, most drow societies are matriarchal -- meaning the females are dominant over the males, daughters inherit from their mothers, etc.
I've done a fair amount of research on the drow and Ched Nasad, but only found limited information on the city. Resources have told me that it is very similar, as far as culture and social structure goes, to Menzoberranzan, the city from which the famous drow ranger Drizzt Do'Urden was born. Aside from similarities to the larger city and what other information I could find, I have depicted Ched Nasad as I have envisioned it. If you happen to know more about Ched Nasad than I do and something is inaccurate in some way in Kallo'Yel, I ask you to throw me a bone and leave the matter be. P
I wrote this story for National Novel Writing Month ( wwwnanowrimoorg -- change the "" to "." since won't allow normal URLs in stories) this year. I reached the 50,000 words in a month goal (even went a bit over), but I'm not releasing it all at once because I need to go back and fix up some problems.
If you see any typos or minor errors, please let me know! And if you review, please tell me what I'm doing right or wrong, so I know what to improve on and what I'm already good at. That way I can improve better as a writer.
If you've actually read this far, I thank you, and I hope you enjoy the first "book" in my Kallo'Yel series: Black Druid. Have fun!
Prologue
Pain shot though her center, between her thighs. The woman howled in agony, scrunching up her face muscles in a grimace. The younger woman next to her urged her on.
"Matron, it's almost here! Just a few more pushes!" the makeshift midwife insisted, seeing a crown of white hair. Her matron, using all the muscles in her lower body, pushed once more. Bawling loudly, the baby completely emerged, pulled swiftly out by the midwife. Panting, its mother collapsed while the other cut the umbilical cord and cleaned the baby. Holding the naked baby in her arm, the priestess turned to the leader.
"It is over, then." The dark elf matron gasped. "What is it?" she inquired, referring to its gender.
"Congratulations, Matron Bhin'ree, you have a son." Her priestess answered. With surprising newfound energy, Bhin'ree shot up, her glowing eyes flashing in outrage.
"What! A son! I need a daughter! Summon Nath'olin in here... NOW." She snarled. In the matriarchal drow city of Ched Nasad, males were virtually useless, aside from military might and breeding. Daughters were the heirs to their mother's legacy (and usually took over when their power was at its peak and some horrible "accident" befell their mother). A medium-ranked and ambitious matron, Bhin'ree was young but heirless.
She had counted on birthing a female to ensure she had at least one heir should she fall to not-too-uncommon assassination attempts and the other typical dangers of a chaotic and evil drow society. A son meant a possible future weapon master, or, even better, a wizard, but a male was a male: overall, useless.
Bhin'ree's priestess bowed, "Yes, my mistress," and waved her free arm, chanting in an arcane tongue. She wriggled her fingers, dark purple light emitting from them and forming a cackling rune on the floor. A flash of low light, and an armored male drow appeared in place of the rune.
He was tall for a drow, and stockier than most elves. He stood a good head taller than the priestesses and the guard by the door. His long, pearly white hair came down just past mid-back, and his dark armor gave off an enchanted purple light. In his hands he held two long swords, one glowing a crimson red. Behind his purple facial tattoo, his blue eyes scanned the chamber. He quickly sheathed his weapons and bowed on one knee upon seeing his matron.
"You summoned me, my mistress?" he quipped, keeping his eyes locked on the stone floor. He dared not look at his mistress' face unless ordered to. Such blatant disrespect would earn him a most painful punishment, most likely at the hands of the matron mother herself. It didn't matter if he was the weapon master and current patron of house Aleanani, he was still a male, and from a lesser noble family at that.
"Take a good look at that child, my patron. See the first noble born since I became Matron Mother." Bhin'ree ordered, motioning to the still crying babe in the priestess' arms. Nath'olin turned his gaze to the child. Even in infrared vision, he noticed the child gender, pleased to see his offspring was healthy and not deformed. Any disability in a drow newborn usually resulted in death. Deformity was an intolerant trait in a society obsessed with perfection.
"I see him, Matron. A healthy son. Lloth be praised!" Nath'olin declared sincerely, thanking the drow goddess for the blessing.
"You fool!" Bhin'ree barked, standing up, oblivious to the fact nothing covered her slender black body.
"What?" Nath'olin blinked, bemused at the matron's outburst. Her temper was infamous for its short fuse, but what was so horrible about a healthy drow baby?
"I need a worthy daughter, not some worthless male! I have no heir yet, thanks to you!" Bhin'ree growled, her amber eyes narrowing dangerously.
Her patron tried to reason with her, "My mistress, he is only your first child, there'll be plenty more chances to--" Bhin'ree cut him off with another outburst.
"Silence! There will be no more chances for you, my patron. I deem your loins unworthy of siring anymore nobles!" She declared with a forceful wave of her hand.
Completely ignoring drow protocol by now, Nath'olin met the woman's gaze, pleading, "Mistress, please!"
"No more words, Nath'olin!" The drow matron ordered, her eyes glowing white as she waved her arm, blue magic sweeping from it and slamming into Nath'olin's neck. The weapon master instinctively drew his blades at the attack, but dropped them with a clatter as he felt his esophagus constrict painfully, cutting off his airflow. He clutched his throat, gurgling in his weak attempts to breathe. His neck burning, the magic closed it completely, and the lack of oxygen reached his brain with a pounding rush. Nath'olin gagged a few more moments, his dark lips turning blue, before stumbling to the ground, his armor clanging against the stone ground. His body twitched a few moments before falling motionless, his life force utterly drained from his body.
"Guard!" Bhin'ree barked. The male jumped to attention, his gaze pulling away from the dead weapon master. "Fetch Dilaere! Tell him he is the new weapon master and patron of this house."
"Y-yes, Mistress." The guard sputtered, fearful of her vengeance after the display of the patron's demise. He scurried from the room. Bhin'ree turned to her priestess and child, who had yet to quell his bawls.
"I suppose my... son... will have to do for now." She grudgingly accepted the fact of her first child's gender.
"What…" her priestess hesitated, "what shall you name him, my mistress?" Bhin'ree pondered the question for a brief moment.
"'Sab'vrae' will suffice." She decided.
"But mistress, isn't '-vrae' a feminine suffix?" her priestess asked. The matron merely glared at her servant, who quickly retracted the query. It seemed Bhin'ree would make her wish for a female child obvious in her son's name.
Bhin'ree scowled at little Sab'vrae's cries, "Get this squabbling brat out of my sight! I have more important things to attend to!" She barked to her priestess. The younger woman bowed and quickly complied. Bhin'ree rubbed her temple, agitated.
"Dilaere would be wise in siring a daughter soon…" she muttered.