For a duergar, Durna Thuldark was the very soul of beauty. Her blocky gray features were softer than most and she actually had dark hair instead of a bald head, though it was very closely cropped. The corners of her black eyes crinkled a little when she was amused or pleasantly surprised and her thin, stern lips even turned up into a smile. She wasn't particularly evil, preferring a sort of hard-hearted neutrality and gold like so many of her kind did. But a lifetime of being a merchant had taught her how to be charming when needed. This was certainly one of those times.
"The pleasure is all mine," Durna said, pouring a glass of wine for each of her guests. She smiled at the surface dweller who was looking around curiously to try and take in every part of her surroundings, flattered at the display. She was wealthy for a duergar, but she had heard that the other races of dwarves were even more ostentatious. Her home was built in straight lines and sharp angles with elaborate carvings in the door frames. The furniture and fabrics in the room were drow in style and material. She had been introduced to spider silk as a young trader and vowed to never again settle for undyed cotton and rough wool from the surface realms.
The masked drowess was much harder to read for even such an experienced merchant. Durna was well acquainted with Valyne Duskryn's reputation, intimidating as it was, but she had a feeling that what people discussed only scratched the surface. A sorceress without equal when it came to the darker arts, she even supposedly had the blood of demons running through her veins. If that was the case, it wasn't obvious, but no one would put consorting with fiends beyond drow.
"Your home is very impressive," Cessair said honestly. It was an alien, harsh beauty to her surface sensibilities, but she could still appreciate it. Expensive but tasteful and understated. Taste like that was rare among the upper echelons in any city, let alone a duergar one. They reminded the half elf a little bit of dragons in the way most of them obsessed over wealth.
"Nothing compared to what your friend is used to," Durna said, all pleasantness as though this were a meeting between friends and not the negotiation it actually was. "I was in Menzoberranzan a few weeks ago to discuss trade agreements. Every time I set foot into the City of Spiders, I marvel."
Cessair was curious. Valyne had said remarkably little about the city they were going to or its inhabitants, allowing her to form her own impression based solely on the stories of surface elves. It seemed less that their guide wanted her to be misinformed and more that the masked woman didn't want to share her feelings about Menzoberranzan. But the rogue hadn't missed the faintly wistful look that came into burnished steel eyes when the subject was broached.
"Incidentally, Valyne, your family is still doing quite well," Durna continued mildly. "Though if I didn't know better, I would say your mother is extremely upset with your absence."
That immediately grabbed the attention of both of her guests. The surface dweller seemed surprised, as though her companion had never mentioned her family. Odd, as normally drow nobles took every chance to remind the world of their position. But then again, Durna could see where Valyne was coming from after all the unpleasantness.
Val seemed to stiffen slightly, clearly on her guard. "How...kind of you to take an interest," she said carefully. "You'll understand if I prefer not to discuss the matter in the present company, I hope. We did not part on the best of terms. Thangardt Firehand mentioned that we might be able to assist you somehow."
"Of course. I'm willing to compensate you, though I understand money is not necessarily a currency you prefer," Durna said, allowing the conversation to be redirected. This matter was the more important one anyway, as fascinating as it was to see the interaction between the drowess and her traveling companion. "My uncle is the ruling laird of our clan and a very influential man in the city. We have had a disagreement of sorts. He wants it to be settled by combat, but has insisted it be between champions. He's quite aged, you see, but he has powerful friends. His chosen warrior is a powerful half giant named Antares. If I win, I assume his position as laird. If he wins, I lose my position and the ability to remain in Gracklstugh. Not a battle I can afford to lose, obviously."
"You want one of us to serve as your champion," Cessair said thoughtfully. She'd already made a mental note to question Val about her apparent family later.
"Valyne would be ideal," the female duergar said before sampling her own wine. "She looks much weaker than she actually is. It would throw him off guard. It would also make my rivals think twice before challenging me if they think I have friends in Menzoberranzan. The lairds are loathe to do anything that might bring them into open conflict with the drow after their defeat in the War of the Spider Queen."
"But it keeps you the support of the average duergar because it looks like you have control over the drow," Val said thoughtfully. She leaned back a little and considered the arrangement as she discretely checked her glass of wine for poison. There wasn't a single trace of toxin, which meant Durna was being at least mostly straightforward about the deal. "Very clever. You understand that you'd owe me a substantial favor, since this would vault you quite a ways higher in Gracklstugh's political hierarchy."
"That goes without saying," Durna acknowledged. She wasn't exactly eager to have that sword hanging over her head, but it was a necessary evil. If she thought anyone else would be able to achieve this kind of victory, she would have chosen them. "Do we have a deal, then?"
Val inclined her head slightly. "I suppose we do. I'll need some time to prepare. When is the fight set for?"
"Tomorrow," the female duergar said with a pleasant smile. "Why don't you fetch your companions and bring them here? It would be an honor to say I hosted the daughter of Siniira Duskryn. My hospitality is at your disposal."
"Such generosity," Val said, a hint of amusement in her gray eyes. "You must really want me to kill Antares."
"Very much so, yes."
Cessair and Val didn't start back for the inn until more than an hour later, after everyone had finished their wine and they'd had a long chat with Durna about more pleasant matters. The half elf seemed to enjoy every story they could coax out of their host, the little snippets of conversation offering the rogue a window into what had seemed like a grim and colorless world. The Underdark was beginning to reveal itself as no less vibrant than the surface world in terms of the variety of life, even if much of still was malicious. But now that they were away from the gray dwarf, she felt like she could voice the questions that had been raised.
"Val?" When the drowess made a noise that indicated she was listening, Cessair continued. "Who is Siniira Duskryn? Durna seemed to think she was your mother."
Of course she wouldn't forget that. Now how in the Demonweb do I explain this away? "She's a very powerful woman in Menzoberranzan," Val said with a vague motion of one hand. "I'd rather not discuss the subject."
"What happened?" Cessair said firmly. She wasn't inclined to drop this, not when there was obviously something very important that Valyne wasn't telling them. "Look, whatever you say, it's between us. Galen and Storunn don't have to know."
"Alley, now," Val said sharply, grabbing Cessair's upper arm with a bruising force that startled the half elf. She hadn't expected a mage to be nearly that strong. It reminded her of the few times Storunn had seized her and hauled her along. "There are a lot of things about me that you're better off not knowing, do you understand?"
"No, I don't. Why would a drow let a half elf masquerade as her daughter?" the rogue said fiercely, keeping her voice low even though they were alone in the alley for the moment. The last thing she wanted was anyone overhearing this, though the odds that they would be understood were low since they'd switched fluidly into the elvish tongue.
Val fought down a growl. She wanted to shake the girl until she dropped the subject, but that wouldn't actually solve anything. "It's complicated, damn it!" she snarled.
Cessair felt her blood chill when the gray eyes she was looking into suddenly changed. The pupils narrowed like a cat's until they were barely more than slits. The grip on her arms had only tightened until she was positive that there would be marked bruising of her flesh. "Val, please calm down," she said gingerly. "You're hurting me."
The reaction was instantaneous. Val immediately released her and recoiled back, her eyes suddenly normal again. "Sorry," she murmured. It really had been far too long since she last indulged her demonic side if she was slipping into it accidentally. She hadn't even noticed the way the colors brightened and the world became more vivid, too caught up in her own anger. "That happens when something gets under my skin. I try to avoid it." Her apology was genuine, even if they'd only been traveling together for two weeks. As she saw it, feeling shame over losing control was one of the few things that still marked the existence of a soul in her.
"It's okay. If you don't want to talk to me about your family, you can always tell me whatever the hell that was," Cessair offered, a hint of levity in her tone so that Val wouldn't take her too seriously. She wasn't really upset now that she knew it was unintentional.
"What I say has to stay between us. This isn't something Galen or Storunn would approve of. Understood?" Val said firmly.
"Look, I know I drive you crazy sometimes, but I don't let my friends down when I can help it. I won't breathe a word," the half elf promised.
"The Abyss is in my blood. I was born that way," Val said. "It's part of the reason I can't stand to be near your brother. What he is and what I am aren't meant to mix. My spellcraft, at least the majority of it that people down here know me for, uses that connection. It's a very old, very rare, very potent form of magic. But it has side effects. One of which you just saw."
"Okay," Cessair said, nodding a little to show she understood. She could definitely understand why Val didn't want this paraded out for Galen to see. It also explained wearing a mask that hid her magical nature from being detected. "What other side effects are there?"
"Well, once you start using it, you can't stop," the drowess said wryly. "It's...like finding out you've spent your whole life walking around like a husk of a person, unfeeling and weak. At first the power is intoxicating, addictive. But then it fades and you're weaker than you were before. The world seems faded out, distant. The only thing that makes it better is binding. And the more you bind, the more you need it to feel anything. The magic gives a great deal, but it takes away even more."
The half elf shuddered slightly. She couldn't imagine what that would be like, but it sounded horrible. "Why would you even start?"
"Obviously I didn't know at the beginning what I know now about its effects. But more than that, I was young and foolish. When failure means death, you're willing to try anything to survive and even more to make the people who cared for you proud," Val said softly. "I think you're familiar with the feeling, considering you're a half elf in the Underdark chasing after a lost relic on behalf of your dead father. Anything to feel like you matter, right?"
"I can see where you're coming from," Cessair admitted. "We should definitely never mention this to Galen or Storunn. They would pitch a fit. Also? We probably shouldn't tell them that we agreed to murder some random fighter for fun and profit on behalf of a duergar."
"Technically, you didn't agree to anything," the drowess said, amused by the way her companion had put things. She lead the way back out into the street now that their little chat was over.
"Still an accessory to the crime if not an accomplice. Besides, if Durna had asked for two fighters, I would have gladly jumped in the ring with you. It could have been our girl bonding time. Did you know Galen seriously thinks that's a thing?" the rogue said glibly, returning to her normal self with surprising ease. She definitely hadn't forgotten about what Durna mentioned regarding Val's supposed family, but she knew it was an off-limits topic and could respect that. After all, Val had finally opened up and shared something else incredibly personal.
"You may still have your chance if Antares decides he doesn't want to play fair."
The match was at the very beginning of the next day and Cessair had engineered a suitable distraction, sending Galen and Storunn off hunting for rumors about happenings in Menzoberranzan and maps of the tunnels between Gracklstugh and the City of Spiders 'in case they needed a back up route' while assuring them that she and Val would be similarly occupied. Instead, of course, they'd made their way to a small arena packed with spectators of various races-most were duergar, but not all.
"Hold this," Val said, taking off her mask and handing it to Cessair. It was incredibly liberating to be herself in public again. The rogue had no magical detection, so she wouldn't realize that the drow appearance wasn't a disguise or that the corruption of the Abyss ran down to her core.
"Got it. Are you going to use the magic you told me about the other day?" Cessair asked, running her fingers over the mask. It felt smooth and feather-light, more like it was made out of solid smoke than leather or porcelain or fabric. Even without any knack for magic she could feel the power in it.
"Against this kind of opponent? Absolutely. I wouldn't have the physical strength to go toe to toe with him otherwise," the drowess said.
Antares was a towering hulk of muscle topped by a shaggy and malformed head joined to his broad shoulders by an almost nonexistent, beefy neck. Based on his incredibly intimidating and less than handsome appearance, the parent that wasn't a giant was, in fact, an ogre of some sort. The war club he hefted was made out of a knotted bar of adamantite carved with the symbol of Surtr, the giant god of destruction and fire. It looked about as big around as Cessair and almost as tall. Val could hear the crunching of her ribs on impact echoing through her head already. She looked like a malnourished child compared to the behemoth she was fighting.
"Hey, at least you're prettier," the rogue said as if she could sense the anxious thoughts going through Valyne's head. She flashed the mage a quick grin. "You know, I'm almost sick with nerves and I'm not the one going into that ring. Good luck, Val. I'll be over here rooting for you and sharpening my knives just in case someone else goes for your back while you're dancing with Ugly over there."
"If I die, you can have my things. Just don't let Galen get his holier-than-thou hands on any of it or he might burn it. That would be a terrible waste," Val said as she heard her name called out. She took a deep breath and centered herself, then strode confidently out of the little sheltered area into the open dirt expanse of the arena floor itself.
Above in the stands, Durna Thuldark smiled a little at the slender figure of her chosen champion. Her uncle's chuckle rumbled in his throat. "That's your fighter, Durna?" the laird said. "She hasn't even got a weapon or armor. Antares will crush her and your future in one blow."
"We'll see."
Back down below, Val squared off with the massive brute. She ignored his sadistic smile and the jeers of the crowd, tapping into the gift in her blood. She felt the barrier between herself and the Abyss melt away as though it had never been there. Something immensely dark and powerful filled the void. Her body jerked and doubled over as the fires of a demon's unholy presence surged through her veins. A ripple went through the crowd as they saw the slender drowess suddenly begin to transform. Her fingers stretched and twisted into lethal black claws even as her head snapped back and she felt her jaw crack while fangs forced their way out. The muscles in her back contorted in unnatural ways, allowing black bat-like wings to sprout from her shoulder blades.
She could hear the half giant's heart beating out its fluttering, fragile pulse against his frail ribs. The fear of the audience rolled across her tongue with all the sweetness of honey. She was more than drow: she was perfection incarnate, power at its most pure and destructive. Every breath of air left her feeling more invigorated. How fortunate for her that her opponent wasn't smart enough to immediately start backpedaling. She licked her lips, considering all the different ways she wanted to slowly peel him apart. Her body was wreathed in shadow and flames, emanating a profane presence. This was going to be very enjoyable, at least for her.
Val snapped her fingers, conjuring up a whip of flame. It was the favored weapon of a balor, the particular variety of demon she was currently hosting in her body. Not even she really could tell where it ended and she began. "Shall we dance, giant-kin?" she purred, watching him heft his war club as though it would actually offer him any protection.
Halfway across the city, Galen stopped cold in his tracks. "Did you feel that?" he asked Storunn quietly, ignoring the duergar who had been forced to stop also and were now scowling at him.
"Feel what?" the dwarf grunted.
"It's like someone just walked over my grave," the paladin said. He couldn't think of another way to explain the sudden, nauseating chill that had just run down his spine. "We should find Cessair and Val. It worries me."
"The lasses can look out for themselves, lad," Storunn said, adjusting the battle axe swung across his back. "Ye ought to worry about the blighter who tries to hurt them."