"Buffy, what's wrong?" Joyce was a little concerned about her daughter. She had been walking aimlessly for hours around the house.
"You know that feeling when you've forgotten something but you can't remember what you've forgotten?"
"Oh don't worry, dear. Go to bed and if it's important I'm sure you'll remember it in the morning."
Deep with in the Initiative, a lonely occupant of a cell in a dark forgotten corner sat moping. Silently, without anyone to notice, McGristle shed a tear.
It was a week before Drizzt was allowed into the city. There was paperwork to finish, something he had no concept of. The people he dealt with seemed envious of the fact. In the time since the others had left, he had spent much of the time with Guenhwyvar exploring the building and reading.
Dove had given him a copy of the reading spell she developed and he had put it to good use. It did not allow for anything but reading words, but that was all he needed. He had recalled his love of reading from his time in Sorcery all those years ago. For nearly a year he has studied the Art, learning to cast a small array of spells. He had almost forgotten those few cantrips: a light spell for reading and a spell to create water. In there Underdark there is no light and vision was based on the infrared spectrum. Since the difference between the heat given off of paper compared to the ink on paper was so tiny, only those with the best eyes could read with infravision. All others needed to cast a spell to read their spellbook.
He went through the library over the long week. The previous owner of the building (who had an unfortunate end when Drusilla had shown up looking for a place to stay) had a deep interest in war and history, and Drizzt devoured the knowledge like a starving man. Just as Dove had done beforehand, he searched the entire room and every book. He was most fascinated by the Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. The book was written almost three hundred years before and described events thousands of years before that, but Drizzt could imagine the streets and the temples and every battle described. He then went on to learning about science in all its forms. In a second smaller room, there was a complete collection of National Geographic from issue one on. Over one hundred years of the magazine. Drizzt had some trouble with the concepts in many articles primarily because his education had little to do with science, even the basics. There was little perceived need for it, but as Drizzt's understanding grew, he could constantly name more places where it would have helped.
He thought back on his conversations with Kellindil. The surface elf had such a different outlook on life, but they were more alike than they were different. Both were rangers, skilled in swords and lived for a time in wilderness. Kellindil was very interested in the Underdark and Drizzt was very interested in the Surface, so they spent hours telling stories of their own experiences. In time, Drizzt thought he had made a friend, but his Drow upbringing was still nagging at him from the back of his mind. Would Kellindil betray him when his back was turned? The greater part of his mind said that Kellindil would not betray him. In fact, Drizzt suspected Kellindil would defend him when few others would not. It felt good. A friend, an elven friend with the same kind of bond he shared with his friends before the Mind Flayers took them over. Drizzt smile despite himself. It would be good to see his old friend again.
He could not understand his companions. But everyone tried. He had a hard time being understood in Menzoberranzan, but the language barrier was so much worse. There was so much he wanted to know, so many questions he wanted to ask. He tried asking one, but that one question had taken nearly an hour to make any sense of it. Even then, Drizzt was not sure he understood what they meant.
When he spent his first day outside the mansion, he was shocked at how different it was from Menzoberranzan and Blingdenstone. Both cities had been designed with defense in mind and aesthetics second. Sunnydale was designed to be easy to get around. Open streets, green lawns, small gardens. There were no places that he could see that had severe focus on defense. There were no walls and no private compounds, save for a small few. People didn't keep fences up, but others still stayed off of property. It was just common understanding.
The concept of ownership was another alien concept for the dark elf. He had been allowed to keep his weapons and some magical items, but ultimately everything he considered "his" was really the property of House Do'Urden, more accurately property of Matron Malice. In Sunnydale personal property was among the most important rights these people held dear. It was so strange a concept.
Here he had his own room and his own journal to write things down in. Buffy's mother had taken him into her home, clothed him and fed him. It was strange, very strange. There were only a very few times in Drow history when an adoption such as this took place, and every time it was in an attempt at dagger diplomacy and shadow intrigue. He felt, no he knew, this was not the case with House Summers. He had become a part of it. He was awake before any of the others were and up later than all others save for Buffy, who still climbed in the upstairs window late every night. He still wondered why.
The morning after he first stayed at House Summers, Buffy Summers had taken him along to another strange building. It was larger than almost any other building that he had seen on the surface. Only two stories high, but was wider and longer than many Menzoberranzan buildings. Muttering the translation spell, he read the sign out front as Sunnydale High School: Enter all who seek knowledge.
Buffy spoke to a short little man briefly who said a few things back in a nasty tone of voice. Buffy smiled and stuck out her tongue before scampering off, dragging Drizzt in her wake. They walked up a flight of stairs to another room filled with a number of students. Glancing at the board, Drizzt read: English as a Second Language, Beginners Course. Oh, so this is where they taught their tongue.
And this is how Drizzt's first big day at school began.
In a dark hold in the ground, Mayor Richard Wilkins the third, formerly, Richard Wilkins the second and before that, Richard Wilkins the first, was hard at work in his private study. Muttering an incantation, he cut the orc baby's neck, spraying blood on the altar.
"Richard," said the echoing voice of the demon Marv, "It is a pleasure to see you again so soon."
"Well, I just couldn't stay away," he said as he squeezed every last drop of blood out of the orc baby. "Well, it seems like the Sunnydale hellmouth is a bust."
"Hmm, that complicates things somewhat," mused Marv.
"But I have a dark elf living here and I hear stories of his home, this Menzoberranzan," the mayor said with a grin. "It seems they deal with demons a little too frequently there. Their deity, Lloth, is a demon-god herself. From everything I heard, the chaos, the rampant murder and demons, I think there might be a hellmouth somewhere nearby."
"I have heard of this place," Marv said. When the mayor shot him a questioning eyebrow, the greater demon Marv simply shrugged,"Demons talk."
"There are other places near by as well," The mayor said with a grin. "There's an abandoned city near by called Hellgate Keep by locals. From what I understand there are a multitude of demons trapped inside by magical wards. I heard something about demon elves in the woodlands as well."
"You seem to have plenty of options then, good," Marv said. "Contingency plans for both would be our best move."
"Oh, good, so this is what I want you to spread…" The two talked for some time planning so the end result would be in their favor.
The demon chuckled deeply at the end of their conversation, a deep, disturbing sound. "You are far too clever to be a mortal. Join us soon, Richard," Marv said before vanishing in a swirl of mist.
As the days went by, construction crews and helicopters were steadily bringing in new logs from the destroyed area around Sunnydale. The refugees were organized into groups by the leaders they chose and coordinated with the locals through translators. Once everything had been explained it was much easier for them to help. People had been finding places for the refugees. Some families had consolidated so that multiple generations now lived under one roof. It was hard, but for the most part people understood the situation and tried hard to work together. A few had become gangs and were not willing to assist in any logical fashion. The police were getting more active working against criminal mischief and other similar crimes; it seemed to be working. There were more tensions in the town than before and people still had a hard time dealing with the idea that magic was real. Flying horses drawing carts made of fire helped cure some disbelief, but there were some people out there who simply refused to believe. Worse, however, were those who thought all forms of magic were evil creations of the devil.
Reverend Samuel Housecraft was a Southern Baptist to the core. He ruled over one of the forty-three churches in the town and had, at about 250 people, one of the largest congregations of the Christian sects. He had decided Alustriel was the whore of Babylon, Lilith (ignoring of course, the fact that Lilith was not written in the Christian bible), and the spawn of the devil all combined. Somehow he had managed to convince the flock that he was right and they were protesting outside the mansion every time Alustriel arrived. She never appeared to be angry, but when someone had thrown a rock at her, every sign had burst into purple flames the color of Drizzt's eyes. People had been wise enough not to try stoning her again, but the act simply added fuel to the fire. No pun intended. Soon Housecraft's mob of protesters grew and they began stepping on the toes of people just trying to do their job.
Soon, however, as the help began to arrive from Silverymoon and Sundabar an anti-Housecraft faction began who then began protesting on the opposite side of the street. They were from the church across the street who were mostly Calvinists and they had decided that Alustriel was an angel sent from heaven to help them in their time of need. Alustriel laughed aloud at this, saying that yes she did work for a god, just not their's. This comment had started a third faction that refused to join Housecraft's faction, but still hated Alustriel for being a Pagan. This had started a fourth faction of the very large pagan community who protested there was nothing wrong with worshiping other deities. This had all happened in the length of a week.
Alustriel had, as her sister had foreseen, deeply wanted a source of stability in Turnstone pass. Sunnydale, situated between two powerful orc factions, fit the bill perfectly. She was determined to make it as powerful as she could without endangering her own people. She had made her case in Silverymoon and several other city states and all (with the exception of racist Nesme) had agreed quickly.
Her first order of business was five Amulets of Tongues, magical items which would translate any language into one the wearer knew. Alustriel was dissatisfied with the normal enchantment because it became a crutch, but unfortunately, it was all she had at the time. An idea for a new type of translation enchantment was forming in her mind, an enchantment that would more securely anchor Sunnydale in the Realms. The idea worked under the principle that by having it translated for them, they would remember the meaning of the words, and would, gradually with exposure to the language, be able to understand the languages around them. Would not tell the Sunnydalers of this yet; perhaps never if things worked as she planned.
She had arrived today with a chariot full of dwarves from Citadel Adbar. The dwarves loved the idea of a locomotive and wanted the plans for themselves. When she had told them, Sunnydale had a working example they had practically tumbled over one another to get the chance to fly with her. Alustriel had made sure to have the dwarves who flew with her land on the "airport." It was an odd idea, but still good in its way, a strip of land, specifically dedicated to air travel, complete with buildings to house the flying creatures. She would have to consider one for Silverymoon, if Sunnydalers were to ever visit. As an entourage, the dwarven ambassadors brought a flight of giant eagles with dwarven riders to perch on the mountain rim around Sunnydale, much to the surprise of the soldier patrolling the area. The dwarves had dismounted formed up and saluted the soldiers. The salute, to any outsider, appeared to simply be quaffing a large mug of beer in one gulp and holding the stein to their foreheads. They then poured more ale and managed to get stinking drunk in a matter of hours. The giant eagles crowed softly in embarrassment.
The Adbar ambassador had not ridden the eagles, but had instead ridden with Alustriel and had landed outside the mansion. A section of grass had been dubbed the landing strip as it had been permanently scorched by the chariot. The Scooby Gang was waiting for them as had been the usual. The new plan was for afternoon meetings because of school. Giles and Joyce had been quite strict on that. Interestingly enough, they had been dragging Drizzt along as well.
"Ah, you must be Delwid Axegrinder," Giles said, extending his hand. The dwarf shook it. "These are my associates: Buffy Summers, Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris and Drizzt Do'Urden." As was usually the case, the dwarves shrank back at the sight of the dark elf. Ignoring their hesitation, Giles escorted the dwarven gentlemen inside, but one would not budge.
"I'm not for moving when there be a stinking Drow here," the dwarf said. Drizzt sighed inside.
"Look buddy, you might be a big fuzzy pants up where you live, but right now you're in Sunnydale," Xander said from beside Drizzt. "We have rules against talking like that. There are these things called Civil Rights and everybody has them: me, you, Drizzt and even orcs. So lay off." The dwarf glared at Xander for a long moment before storming into the building.
"Big Fuzzy pants?"
"It was the first thing that popped into my head," Xander explained with a shrug.
"Well, you two big fuzzy pants should get inside so we can do our diplomacy thing," Willow said with a glare. The two males quickly went inside so as to not be confronted with the dreaded resolve face.
Inside the dwarves were sitting on one side and looked perturbed. Giles said down in his usual spot, with Buffy and Drizzt on his left, and Willow and Xander on his right.
"Ambassador Axegrinder, before we begin, allow me to make myself perfectly clear," Giles said testily. "You and your entourage have diplomatic immunity. This prevents you from persecution from most criminal proceedings with a few exceptions: Murder, terrorism, espionage, and slavery. For these crimes you will be arrested and put on trial. You and your people may not kill anyone in this city or the outlying areas except in self defense. If you do claim self defense, you can expect a thorough investigation into the incident and we have expert inspectors who know more about crime than anyone else in this city. If you lie about self defense you will be found out."
"Is that a threat?" Axegrinder through gritted teeth.
"No I was simply advising you of your rights and highlighting the crime your staff seems most interested in committing," Giles said just as roughly.
"I do not intend any harm to you or yours Ambassador," Drizzt said, his hands far away from anywhere he could store weapons larger than a dagger.
"Well I'd never be trustin' word of a Drow any day," Axegrinder said.
"Now that we know where your bigotry stands, let us begin the discussion shall we?" Giles asked and commanded. Two of the dwarves gripped the table with white knuckles at the insult. "You want to build your own railway system. We have the plans and even a working model. We want it built."
"An' you be askin' like that?"
"To be perfectly blunt, yes," Giles said.
"We want a stable way of connecting the cities and moving goods from place to place all year long," Willow said. "You have had several bad winters these past years. With the railway we could deliver food and supplies when all other passes are along since closed."
"You could even build a railway in the underdark, connecting cities that way as well," Giles said. "The fact of the matter is you have the supplies and the workers to build the railway. We have technology. This can build a better, faster and even stronger connection between the cities of the north."
"You be givin' me three days and I'll be tellin' you me answer," the Ambassador answered after a long pause.
"Very well. Accommodations are in the building; you may choose any sleeping arrangements you wish. Perhaps we could outline your plans for a permanent Embassy when we next meet," Giles said politely. He then turned and left the room. The Scooby Gang followed suit and only heard him mutter under his breath something about "miserable, bigoted, alcoholic fools."
When Kellindil had told them of Drizzt's real age, comparing it to that of humans, they had been shocked at his prowess. He was very young for an elf. Elves, in the outward physical sense, mature almost as fast as humans. This is not true of internal biology or personality. Elves, although sexual expression was common in quite elves as young as thirty years old, they were not reproductively mature until well into their fifties, but could still produce children up until they died of old age. Socially, elves took much longer to develop, being not emotionally mature until passed their first century. Kellindil had guessed the younger elf's age within five years after having only spoken to Drizzt for a half hour.
Drizzt had been a loner for some time on and off in his life. There had been the crude facsimiles of friendship in Menzoberranzan but those had inevitably ended in tragedy. Then he had lived for five long years with only Guenhwyvar and the hunter for company. Eventually he had become friends with Belwar Dissengulp, the deep gnome he had helped take the hands from. The fact that his hands had been replaced by metal tools of finest quality had never taken away the guilt. Drizzt doubted it ever would. He had tried to find friendship with the Thistledowns and that had ended in tragedy as well with the barghests framing him for their murder. Now, with these humans who had taken him in, he was starting to fit right in, that is to say, as well as a lone Drow could fit into an inter-dimensional city populated by humans, vampires and demons. His hair and ears made him noticeable, but people were careful not to mention the color of his skin. To them he was just one of the many refugees who had been placed in the town. With all the many other students in the schools from Taiwan and Japan he had blended in somewhat.
Being about to converse with the people you live with certainly helps with that. The amulet allowed him to speak and be understood. Without it he felt more alone than his time in the Underdark: surrounded by people but unable to speak with any of them; it was like being a thirsty sailor on the ocean. The life he had longed for was still so far away. Finally Drizzt got the translation amulet. He was a person, a part of the society. But he still was not perfectly aligned even if he could be understood.
He was having a difficult time dealing with the concept of equal genders. He had been brought up in a strong matriarchal culture and early enculturation is a very hard thing to break. When something was happening, he naturally looked to Buffy or Willow, and then did whatever Xander asked when they said it was okay. It had generally worked out okay.
He told his new friends about life in Menzoberranzan and they had been predictably horrified. The constant sacrifices, the back biting and murder were parts of his history he never wanted to relive and he was glad to note his friends agreed. But people kept asking him about them. He had learned that what horrified people the most also seemed to fascinate them. His hometown was compared to the acts of the Nazis and some place called the USSR during the rule of Stalin.
In school his strong point had predictably been physical education. He was faster and stronger than many of the humans, despite their greater size. He had never seen a fat person before (as the fat were perceived as weak, which was the worst thing that could happen to a Drow) and had made the mistake of assuming a larger person was stronger than him. His weak spots were, understandably, human history, French (which was still a required course even when the fluent Sunnydale French speakers could be counted on two hands) and social interaction.
"You look like a girl with your hair in a ponytail," the fat boy had said. He had friends behind him who were also trying to look menacing. They all wore what Buffy referred to a jock jackets with the Sunnydale High colors.
"I am sorry for your confusion. I would have thought my lack of breasts would have made that clear," Drizzt said innocently. Xander, standing next to the dark elf, burst out laughing. "If you like I can show you to the biology lab where they have pictures to help you learn." Buffy had said that jocks were stupid, so Drizzt thought he should be helpful. Judging by Xander's increased laughter (and that of the wider group listening in), he had perhaps not understood the large person's statement.
"Your face is turning red. Is color change common in your species?"
More laughter and more anger from the jocks. The large man actually growled.
"I honestly do not understand why you are so upset. If you do not understand something I am perfectly willing to help you learn."
"There's nothing a pussy like you could teach me," the bully said.
Drizzt turned to Xander, not understanding the slang. "He is calling me a cat. I do not understand why that is a bad thing."
"It means he thinks you are weak because you have a broken leg and you're shorter than they are," Xander explained, trying to keep the laughter under control. Drizzt turned back to the jock and looked up into his face. With a shrug, he tripped the bully with his crutch, causing the jock to fall backwards, creating a domino effect which made the other fat tall people fall over. This caused even more laughter. The jock got up and punched the locker beside Drizzt's head.
"Johnson! I saw that! It's detention for you," Snyder called out from down the hall. The short little troll of a man strode up and pointed at the jock with his stubby little finger. "Attacking a guy in crutches. This is why you never won a game! The rest of you, back to class!"
Since there were no other schools to compete against, the so called "jock pass" had vanished. Where Snyder had once not-so-subtlety hinted at giving jocks a slide when they were failing, he was now doubling his efforts to keep them under control. No more would jock sports have full control over the school. Snyder was so busy with them, he hardly ever bothered the Scooby Gang anymore.
The four had a free period next which they, predictably, spent in the library.
"I am a little confused, you mean that everything I said to him was an insult?"
Xander smiles and nodded to the dark elf.
"Good."
"What is good?" Giles asked. The two looked up to see the others (minus Oz, who as a senior did not have a free period) already sitting around the table. Giles was looking at them expectantly.
"Oh, Drizzt here, just insulted Barry Jonson without trying. It was very classy actually," Xander explained, almost about to start laughing again. "Very high brow."
"High brow?" Giles and Drizzt asked for two different reasons.
"When Barry said Drizzt looked like a girl, Drizzt simply said he didn't have breasts so it should have been clear. Then he volunteered to take them to the bio lab to see the pictures of the differences between men and women," Xander was grinning widely. "Then Drizzt tripped the lot with one push of a crutch."
"Then Principle Snyder saw Barry punch my locker and gave him detention," Drizzt said finishing the story. "So what are we doing today?"
"We have a meeting with the Brachen Clan and then we need to head to the mansion because Lady Alustriel is bringing the Adbar ambassador. She has to leave immediately afterwards so I doubt we will be seeing her today," Giles explained. "After the Adbar meeting I would like to see what the archaeology department has found from the new topographic maps and photographs."
The topographic maps in questions were newly created using an aerial photography camera mounted on a plane. When there were threats from city hall that the airport and everything on it would be placed in control of the military, local business owners quickly decided it was best to help than lose every thing. The military had the maps for weeks now and the university had used them and the original photographs to determine where archaeological sites could be and what size they were.
"Afterwards I think we shall have an early dinner and assist Buffy on her patrol," Giles finished. Drizzt was still not used to Giles giving the orders when Buffy fought. It was all rather backwards to him.
"Any big bad on the horizon?" Buffy had been itching for some action for some time.
"Not that I can tell. The demon population has quieted down considerably since the hellmouth no longer exists here," Giles said as he shelved some books. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Xander and Cordelia make some rather poor quality excuses and vanish into the stacks. He pretended he hadn't noticed. "Though this quiet rather has me worried. Why, the vampire are hardly even making neophytes anymore which suggests to me that many have moved on."
"So a long trip for the slaying summer season?"
"Well, perhaps," Giles said with a slight smile on his face.
Menzoberranzan is a dark and terrible place, even for the people who ruled there. For a race of people who should be easily living seven hundred years old, the average age was barely 200. The Drow made up only a fraction of the population, but enslaved the rest which consisted of thousands of humanoids of various races and backgrounds. Members of these slave races were lucky if it reached fifteen years.
At the same time Menzoberranzan was a city of extreme beauty and extravagance. The ruling Drow praised Lloth in all her forms and every inch of the House compounds illustrated this. Spider motifs were displayed on everything from floor tiles to the handles of spoons. The unfortunate part was that an average surface resident would constantly be lost in the darkness. Most of this beauty could not be properly enjoyed unless one could see in the infrared spectrum.
Unlike most cavern and subterranean species of Earth, many Faerunian species had evolved the capability to see further down the spectrum, allowing them to keep their sight. This brought forward the disadvantage of blindness in bright light that only time could cure. This was both a blessing and a curse to the Drow.
It had been twelve years since Drizzt had left the city. It had been four since the destruction of House Do'Urden. They had lost the favor of their capricious goddess and the First House of Baenre had chosen to destroy them. It was now a taboo word in the city that lived in the present, ignoring those who could not keep up. Only two Drow nobles were known to have survived the attack: Drizzt's sister Vierna and Dinin, Drizzt's elder brother. Vierna had been adopted by the first house and was steadily being manipulated. Dinin had joined up with the notorious mercenary band known as Bregan D'aerthe.
Vierna had secluded herself for her prayers and reverie. It was the only time she was alone and the only time her memories and doubts treaded on her mind. In here, she wondered about her brothers, her only blood kin left, and what they might be doing. She had seen Dinin several times when he escorted Jarlaxle to House Baenre, but had never been allowed to speak to him. In the eyes of the Drow law, they were not longer siblings and there was no reason for them to speak.
Here, in her seclusion, she longed to be with her brothers, for the security she had felt as a child. In her unconscious mind she wondered if she could have made the same decision as her little brother, escaping to the Underdark and the lands beyond. She wondered if she could have made a similar choice to Dinin and become a landless, houseless mercenary. Could she have made a different choice?
She could not answer.
Trouble was brewing, as it always did, and she knew she could die as soon as anyone else in the city. Sooner than many.
Here, she knew Matron Baenre was manipulating her, but it was something she buried so deeply that it was never a conscious though. Especially with a mind reader like the pet Mind Flayer hovering so close to the old hag's ebony chair. Her mind was not her own when that thing was around. Here, enclosed in stone, she was protected and allowed her thoughts.
Her eyes fluttered open, her reverie finished for the day. It was time for her prayers. She knelt before a black altar, covered in spider webs and blood. She began her prayers, as she always did, with a hymn praising the Spider Queen. She then after several other hymns telling of the past of the drow and their growing power over the centuries. She then felt the power of Lloth's divinity rushing through her. Then, in her solace she heard a voice speak. "Vierna." Opening her eyes, she saw a Handmaiden sitting on her altar. It was not a beautiful sight. With tentacles and mouths in the wrong places and a body resembling a deformed boneless lump, the Handmaiden was a terror to behold.
"Greetings oh great servant of Lloth," intoned Vierna with reverence, bowing completely so her forehead touched the cold stone floor.
"Greetings, priestess," the creature said in that deeply disturbing voice all Handmaidens had. "I have come here to tell you a message. The Rogue Drizzt Do'Urden still lives and thrives." Vierna's eyes grew wide. The search for her brother had been cut off when the rite of Zin-Carla had failed and nothing had been heard since, save for an unsubstantiated rumor of something to do with a Mind Flayer city far to the east. "The rogue-urg!" The voice was cut off for a second with a sound of pain before starting again. "Your brother lives now in the city of Sunnydale far to the east. Close your eyes and think about him. You can feel his presence closely, you know he still lives. You will find him. Take your other brother on the search and House Do'Urden will be once more."
"Yes oh magnificent one!" Vierna did not look up, but bowed in prayer and reverence to the servant of her goddess.
"Go and tell Baenre what I have relayed. They will give you support," When at last she finished her prayer, the creature was gone from her altar. She quickly ran to the Baenre throne room to plead for assistance.
Buffy and company is owned by Joss W. and Mutant Enemy.
The Forgotten Realms and such are created and owned by Ed Greenwood and Wizards of the Coast and the various authors of the fiction.
Ranma 1/2 is owned by Rumiko Takahashi.
Thanks go to Janessa Ravenwood for editing this massive literary beast.