Creative Writing Work
As soon as the warrior stepped on the small, black spider, he knew his life had come to an end. The marching column he was in halted as the priestess in the lead brought it to a stop and wheeled around to face the male.
Even though it had been impossible for the priestess to know about the spider's death by mundane means, she was a cleric of the Spider-Queen, Lolth, and therefore able to sense when one of the holy creatures has been killed.
"Blasphemy!" She bellowed at the smaller drow male, her eyes alight with religious indignation as her hand flew towards the multiple-snake headed whip that writhed about her belt, animated by the dark magic of the drow.
The drow, distant kin to the fey elves of the surface who danced under the stars and moon of the open sky. The drow, with stark white hair and dark ebon skin to match the colour of their hearts, creatures of shadow that lived beneath the surface of Toril in a colossal network of underground caverns, chambers and passageways that constituted the Underdark. The world beneath the world, a place where creatures of nightmare lurked and vied for a place in the darkness. The Underdark; a place of death.
"N-no dread mistress!" The male stuttered, knowing his life was in the priestess's callous hands, as was the way in the matriarchal society of the drow.
"You dare speak against me male!" The priestess screeched, the multiple headed whip flying from her belt and lashing out at the quivering male.
The drow elf screamed in pain as the multiple heads of the whip bit deeply into his flesh, tearing through both flesh and the fine links of armour he wore. Again the whip flayed bit, the snake's teeth gaining purchase in his body and pumping their insidious poison into his veins.
The prickling sensation of the burning poison spread throughout every inch of his body, causing the unfortunate drow to feel as though he had fallen into one of the vast lakes of corrosive acid that frequented the Underdark.
He was given a slight reprieve from the sensation as the priestess drew her whip away. The reprieve wasn't to last though, as the female launched into a vicious beating with that evil whip. The male did nothing except curl up on the cold floor and accept the clerics punishment, for that was the only punishment given for sacrilege in drow society.
As darkness began to dance at the edges of his vision, the male remembered the words spoken to him upon his coming of age, 'the strong survive while the weak perish, such is the way of the Drow'.
Without another thought, the male died even as the priestess continued her brutal beating. When she had finished, she glanced disdainfully at the corpse of the pathetic creature that had dared called itself a drow, then back up at the remaining members of the column. "Let us continue."