Chosen of Eilistraee

by Anja Kidd

Far beneath the doomed city of Waterdeep, Eilistraee's unlucky Chosen (and his minions) find themselves set on a collision course with destiny. Rated M for language, sexual content, drow humor, and violence. This story is cross-posted on AO3 and WP. COMPLETE.

11. The City

I bow in the four cardinal directions and invoke the name of Trisa_Slyne, for being my beta.

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SOLAUFEIN

For Solaufein, the act of cutting one's own hair, of grooming, was a therapeutic exercise. He had been expected to keep it long most of his many years of life, and due to the unusually intense nature of his v'dri which occasionally sent him into the past, seeing his reflection with that shorn stripe of hair helped ground him to the moment and reminded him of who he presently was, and everything that he had been through to get to where he currently was.

As he aligned the razor against his scalp, a pair of sable, slender arms enclosed him gently around the middle. He froze. His mind reached back to Phaere, the moment her betrayed eyes had reached up to meet his after his sword had ripped through her, in that terrible altar room already stained with her mother's blood. Her arms had closed around her chest after he'd torn his weapon free, hugging herself. Then she'd fallen first to her knees, then over onto the ground, and stilled in a pool of her own blood frozen in an expression of numb disbelief.

The sudden recollection was vivid, but it did not feel like a dream - his hand had clenched around the razor against his scalp and inadvertently caused the blade to draw a small bead of blood, which stung like any wound. The unfamiliar arms that had snaked around him remained, yet it was a familiar voice that he heard laughing gently behind him. A feminine form pressed into his back, unusual in its small stature. He placed the blade down on the table in front of him and turned around, holding the strangely familiar dark elven woman before him at arm's length.

It took his mind a few moments to gather just where exactly in his memory this woman was familiar from. He had, after all, only seen her in a vision. Malla Ourana had once called her Sinvyl, but the woman had chosen a new name for herself. "You are the one calling herself Valsharess," he recalled in Ilythiiri, and then dropped his hands from where they lay around her arms in distaste.

She smirked. She did not seem as intimidating or as striking as she had appeared in the previous vision, wearing her adamantine crown and enchanted decorative armor. She had not appeared before him as self-styled queen this time, but as a woman, in a gauzy spider silk robe of rosy mauve that clung to her hourglass figure. Solaufein could not deny that she was a matron that, at one point in his life, he would have been pleased to serve. It was simply unfortunate that she was a reputed maniac bent on world-domination, and they were at cross-purposes.

"Vendui, Solaufein," she greeted in a too-familiar tone. "I have heard many terrible things about you. I hope they are all true. I am pleased we could finally meet on . . . equal terms."

"How difficult for you this must be," Solaufein drawled, "to lower yourself to this for the sake of a male."

Something in her scarlet eyes hardened. "I see you are as impertinent as I first assumed you to be," she noted.

"I should warn you, my opinion of you has not changed," Solaufein was careful to remind her.

"But my opinion of you has," she claimed. "At first, I thought you an obstacle for me to overcome. You have shown me otherwise. You are more than a merely resourceful male - you are a worthy adversary. I would not have us remain so opposed to each other."

"Speak plainly," he demanded. "You have invaded my mind for a reason, I hope."

She reached for him with arms outstretched, but he caught her by the wrists. "Imagine what we could accomplish together," she whispered to him huskily. "You would be more than a servant, more than a savior - you would be an Emperor. You would rule at my side, as an equal. A partner. Who else can offer you the entire world, at your feet? Let us not be strangers, Solaufein. Join me."

He considered the offer fairly. It was ludicrous of course, but it held its merits. He had to give her credit, for how far she'd had to lower her principles in order to achieve this convincing of an offer. He had no doubt that if he accepted, she would keep her word - perhaps up until the point where she had him assassinated. He could sense that she did, however, fear him. He let go of her wrists, re-thinking things. Tentatively, she looked into his eyes for some indication or assurance but could find nothing. He reached behind him toward the table and wrapped his fingers around the razor, keeping it tight in hand as her hands reached up to his bare chest curiously, and wrapped around his neck as she drew herself close to him. He could even smell her, such was the quality of the tangible vision - heady incense and jasmine - as her lips hovered close to his and she gently said, "tell me this is not what you want."

Solaufein smiled and grasped the back of her hair with his free hand, pulling her head back and widening her throat so he could bring the razor across it in a swift motion, drawing a crimson slice into the perfect and unmarred flesh of her midnight-hued neck.

He had cut fast, but deep, preventing her from even drawing a scream in her alarm. Blood spilled out of the wound between her fingers as she clutched at it and down her gauzy dress in thick rivulets that soaked through the silk. "Let this be a taste of your short future," he told the woman formerly known as Sinvyl, who looked upon him with equal measures hatred and fright, and then the vision ended.

The Valsharess vanished from the spot along with all her blood, leaving no trace behind, and suddenly he was in his bed staring at the ceiling in confusion. Had he been in the v'dri, or had she cast some spell on him? He looked around for something to ground him to that point in reality but found nothing but the ex-priestess' room around him, devoid of anyone or anything save his arms and armor, and the faintly warm emptiness at his side that Binne had left behind. He rolled to the side for a moment and could smell her on the sheets, breathing in the peculiar and distinct combination of herbal soap, sweat, and armor oil. It felt more real than the Valsharess' arms had felt around him and helped him drive away the vision of the dark elven queen.

Though the cambion slept more than anyone he'd ever met, and certainly seemed to need to, she had been waking progressively earlier due to a restlessness, the nature of which she seemed determined to conceal from Solaufein. This had not prevented him from noticing. He would be certain that she could be found either smoking and drinking with Tomi or floating around Valen somewhere far away from the deva actually floating around whose presence made the fiendlings' skin tingle and itch.

When he got up, he caught his own gaze in the room's vanity, and frowned at the short white fuzz growing on the sides of his head. It took him a while to ransack through his pack to find it, but after several minutes he victoriously produced the sole and deadly sharp razor he owned, courtesy of the generous Durnan, after he'd lost the one Drogan had once gifted to him in the rubble of Undrentide. His mind lingered on the vision of the vulnerable Valsharess as he patiently shaved the sides of his scalp and trimmed the length of the stripe. It was a painstaking process that he had done dozens of times, and though he had perfected his technique, there was no urgency to his task.

After Solaufein was satisfied with his reflection, he slowly donned his armor, feeling faintly lonely at Binne's absence when he caught himself unconsciously expecting her to suddenly move to assist him. He felt startled that he had grown so quickly attached to another person, that part of him chafed in their absence. He wondered what her plans were for life after the battle should they survive, though knowing she was so like himself, it was very likely that she fully expected to die in battle alongside him. Neither of them really held hope for the future - they embraced each moment as it came, as they must, and expected to die at any minute (and as she was keen to remind him, sometimes, they did). He lamentably recalled the mirror-madness that had him convinced he was the new Hand of Bane, and of pulling the silent Enserric from her body after he'd slain her. She had no recollection of the event and he was in no hurry to tell her, but he still dwelt on it from time to time.

'Wielder,' Enserric greeted him as his hands touched the hilt of the sword, distracting him from his own thoughts. 'Please tell me you're going to polish me at some point today,' the sword telepathically complained. 'After all the dragonbone-related abuse I've suffered recently, I feel like I've earned a good polishing.'

"Are you coming onto me?" Solaufein's eyebrows raised.

'You're a man of strange tastes, Solaufein,' the sword commented. 'In all seriousness, I'm being quite literal. At least tell me there will be killing or upgrading done today - you know I can't stand to sit idly for too long. I'll get antsy!'

"You will do no such thing," the dark elf instructed. "Or I will find a way to exorcise you."

'Hah! You wouldn't! . . . Would you?'

"Do not tempt me," Solaufein suggested, guarding his thoughts with the implication that he absolutely would silence the loquacious sword. Enserric remained contemplatively quiet as Solaufein strapped the sword around his waist and headed out the door and down the hall. He stopped by the door to Deekin's room and listened for a moment as he overheard the bard apparently composing an additional verse to the Doom song, shook his head, and kept walking. He stopped before the door of the Seer's chambers and rapped on it twice with his knuckles.

Elendrin, her bodyguard, opened the door for him. He bowed deeply and made way for Solaufein in a gesture that indicated respect but confused Solaufein due to its unprecedented deference. It seemed alien for an odd moment, much like the Valsharess' attention had been in the dream she'd sent. Solaufein was suddenly unsure he'd done anything deserving of this male's respect. As he entered, Elendrin took silent guard at the door.

The brightness of Lavoera's cleaned wings, no longer stained with soot, blood, and dirt stood out to Solaufein's eye sharply with their nearly ethereal glow. The deva, in spare spider silks that had been tailored for a male and hastily modified to fit around her wings, out-shined anyone standing next to her by no fault of her own and was positively gleaming now that she had recovered from her wounds. It hurt Solaufein's eyes briefly to look upon her until they adjusted - she was in the middle of a conversation with the Seer that Solaufein had interrupted.

"Malla Ourana," he bowed formally, knowing it always flustered the Seer a little and he enjoyed getting this reaction from the priestess.

"Vendui," she nodded back and betrayed herself slightly with a twitching smile. "We were discussing Lavoera's mission."

"I wish I remembered more about what they told me," Lavoera said, sheepishly toeing the ground with her new rothe leather boot. "I feel sort of silly now that I've come all this way, and . . ." The deva's expression darkened, growing troubled behind her halo of blond hair. "It's just that everything from before I was captured is a little fuzzy and hard to recall. They, they must have done something to me! To make me forget. Can you fix it?" Her eyes sought out the Seer's desperately.

Ourana's deep blue gaze was full of compassion and understanding. "I would be able to know if Vix'thra's cult had altered your mind in some way," she assured Lavoera. "And I don't think any dark spell could hold one such as you for long," she added with a smile.

Lavoera stared up at the ceiling plaintively and clutched her mace tightly in her hands. "Well, now that I'm here, what should I do? I owe you guys for saving my life." She addressed this to Solaufein.

"You repaid us by fighting Vix'thra," he reminded her.

"Oh no, that was all my pleasure," Lavoera grinned, "it was all personal. I meant what do I owe you for real."

"He means to say that you do not owe us anything, Lavoera," the Seer said. "You are free to leave if you wish."

Lavoera seemed torn about this. "But, but you're about to be in a big battle. Won't you need my help?"

Solaufein opened his mouth to tell her that yes, they would, and she should help them, when the Seer cut in diplomatically with, "I won't deny we could certainly use your help in the coming fight, but I will not hold you here if you should desire to return to Celestia."

"Then I'll stay," Lavoera decided firmly. "I've already come all this way, and this is a worthy cause. Anyone on Celestia would understand."

He had to commend the Seer's manipulation tactics. She had implanted an idea in Lavoera while making it seem like it was the deva's own idea. "What about your mission?" Solaufein wondered.

The deva shrugged. "Maybe I already completed it, or maybe I'll run into the right person eventually. I can't remember enough to help me, so I have to do what I can now that I'm where I'm at."

He could respect this attitude, even if he did not entirely understand it, because it benefited him. "Have you seen Rizolvir about armor?" He asked, knowing the skilled smith was likely the only one within hundreds of miles who could produce custom-fitted armor in such a brief time.

"He said it would be ready for me tomorrow," Lavoera repeated. "And then asked me to stop asking and let him work."

"Have you tried morimatra yet?" Solaufein wondered with a sly smile.

Lavoera seemed confused and fidgeted a bit with her mace. "Is that a euphemism? I'm not good at picking up on those, so I've been told."

"Solaufein," the Seer carried a slight but friendly warning in her tone, "be nice to our guest. She has agreed to help us, after all. Perhaps you might show her the city? I am sure she would feel better with an escort."

Solaufein nodded. "Alulove. Come, Lavoera, and see Lith My'athar."

"This is so exciting!" Lavoera chattered as she followed him out the door, still clutching her mace like a lifeline in a gesture somewhat reminiscent for Solaufein of Valen, "I've never seen an underground city before. And you Eilistraeens are so nice! It's almost hard to believe you're all drow. Er, no offense."

"My people have a well-earned reputation," Solaufein could concede as he led them down the angular halls toward the main atrium. Lavoera paused in her steps as they entered it, her eyes becoming fixed on the statue of Lloth that resided in the main nave, the central focus of the room. The dhaerow goddess' body was the epitome of naked beauty, superimposed upon a delicately carved spider with legs that extended out and back.

"Is that her?" The deva wondered, approaching the statue cautiously.

"That is the Spider Queen," Solaufein said distantly. "Fear it not, she has grown silent of late and no longer defends her territory, nor answers her prayers."

"Oh, I meant Eilistraee," Lavoera corrected. "What does she look like?"

"I have always pictured her appearing much like the Seer herself, only taller, and with less clothing," Solaufein admitted. "And with a sword, not a staff. But it is said that she appears in many forms, in many faiths, by names other than the one we elves have given her."

"You've never met her?" The deva seemed disappointed. "I would've thought, as Chosen, she would've appeared to you at some point in a vision or something."

"I am not Chosen," Solaufein felt the need to correct. "I would think I would know if I were."

"Not really," Lavoera shrugged, "but whatever, I guess it doesn't matter if you believe it or not."

"What does being Chosen by a god mean to you?" Solaufein couldn't help but ask.

Lavoera thought about this. "It just means your goddess is looking out for you in particular - she's put her faith in you, rather than the other way around. It means she trusted you with a part of her power, a piece of herself, when you were born. I talked to the Seer and Nathyrra about it last night, and we all seemed to agree that this seems like the most likely explanation for you being in the right place at the right time, guided by visions that you shared with the Seer. How else would you be here, and have accomplished so much?"

He was disturbed by this idea but did not let it show. It made him feel for a moment that there was no agency in any of his choices - that he had been guided all along a certain tended and tailored path by a higher hand, rather than suffered and bled and fought alongside his friends to get to where he was. This idea of being Chosen stole the meaning out of the sacrifices of him and his abbin. So instead, he merely grunted and turned on his heel toward the door. "Come," he called to the deva, "we have a city to explore."

Solaufein took her to the docks and showed her the river first, and Cavallas; he was entertained by her startled reaction to the boatman. They passed back by the temple on their way back and the training yards, and spied Valen with Imloth deep in discussion. The General immediately stiffened upon their approach, glanced behind them at the deva, and stalked away to the end of the training yard after cutting his discussion with Imloth short. Solaufein was amused by the fiendlings' reactions to Lavoera, but Lavoera herself seemed a little hurt by it.

"Did I offend him in some way?" She wondered to Solaufein with a frown.

The dark elf shook his head. "Nau. It is your celestial aura. Even my own aura makes him slightly uncomfortable, so he has said. It will take him some time to grow used to your presence. He is also a suspicious man, and protective of these people, the Seer in particular. You are still new to him. Do not mistake that for ingratitude."

"Oh. Well, that's good. I'm used to tieflings being a little less protective and more . . . Rampage-y."

"He is only dangerous to his enemies," Solaufein assured her.

They passed through the markets which were still up and running, despite the news of the Valsharess' imminent arrival. Even House Mae'vir's chief wizard, who had somehow survived Zessyr's rise to power, was still selling his exotic goods at inflated prices. Lavoera herself expressed more interest in the battlements, flying up with her wings to get a look at them from above and waving at the distracted dark elven guards that lined the walls. Solaufein noted that Valen had increased the staffing of the walls, and the gates had closed shut but for a crack that allowed a few duergar merchants to travel through single-file. Once they were inside, the main outer gates slammed shut, and the duergar made their way to the market after a quick inspection from the guards. Lavoera soared overhead toward the cavernous ceiling for a few minutes while Solaufein took the opportunity to key his relic to the outer gates, which he felt he might need in the event of the coming battle. She fluttered back down next to Solaufein and gave him a wide grin.

"It looks good!" She gushed. "I don't know who exactly is in charge in this city, the Seer I guess, but these fortifications are defensible! I noticed a few of what looked like golems made of flesh and metal. Are they yours?"

"They belong to themselves," he informed her. "They are sentient, from an island across the Dark River. They voted to help us." He elected not to mention that they were experimentally, perhaps even accidentally, crafted by a mad demilich.

"Weird," she commented, but didn't seem to judge. "One of them, a big gold one, even waved at me. That's a first."

"Ferron," Solaufein guessed, because the golem had learned the 'greeting and parting gesture' from Binne and Deekin and repeated it whenever he saw people leaving from the gate now. "He thinks that is how we all greet each other and say farewell."

"Who is organizing Lith My'athar's defenses?" Lavoera asked politely as she caught up to Solaufein's stride. He was leading her toward the Mae'vir public house and down the web-like corridors of the city's main residential area.

"General Shadowbreath," he informed her. "Valen."

"The tiefling? I guess that's not so surprising. He's certainly effective on the battlefield," the deva commented.

"He will assign your place when the time comes."

"Where will you and your friends be?" She asked.

"We will perhaps bolster the defense of the gates, but we must protect the Seer at all costs," he said. "On this, the General and I agree. She must survive, and we trust no one else with the ultimate duty of her safety."

The streets were crowded with Lith My'athar's citizens, many in armor but most unarmored and clad in scant clothing. They were carousing as they had likely been all night, some drunk and stumbling, though everyone gave the deva and him a wide berth and many crossed to the other side of the street just to avoid the two. Solaufein did not mind, preferring to be avoided than singled out for attention. Lavoera admired the tall spires carved into the cavern, noting aloud how it reminded her of her mountainous home where they had similarly carved homes out of the surrounding rock. She seemed to miss Celestia as she spoke and reminisced, which Solaufein could not relate to as there was nowhere specifically that he felt so attached to. Ust'Natha had been his place of birth and home once, but it was a place of fear and darkness that he had no care to ever return to. He supposed he had considered Hilltop a peaceful sort of home for a short time, but he had left it behind even before Undrentide. Without Drogan, Hilltop was no place he could call home. Home, instead, was more of a people that he had surrounded himself with - presently that included Deekin, Binne, and now his fellow Eilistraeens. With them, there was a solidarity that was worth defending, an unconditional love that was worth protecting.

He led Lavoera to the ale gardens with the full intent of disregarding the Seer's friendly warning and try and get the somewhat-gullible deva drunk on morimatra, which is where they happened to also find Tomi, Sharwyn, and Binne. Sharwyn was playing a lovely tune on the lute and singing to a crowd of combined Eilistraeens and Lith My'athar citizens who seemed to be at least united, if not in lifestyles or faith, then in their fascination with the beautiful and talented rivvil bard. Tomi and Binne seemed to be engaged in a type of drinking contest, both of them in the process of downing goblets of potable fluid. At their approach, Binne abruptly turned and scrunched her nose into the air, glancing around in confusion. Her eyes lit up in recognition when she spied the deva and her expression immediately soured, but she did not move, and instead quietly grumbled into her cup.

Tomi turned around and greeted them, tossing his head of brown curls back and grinning. "Solaufein! A fine morning to ya! If indeed it still is morning, I confess I'm a bit lost as to how one keeps track of any sort of time down here in this unending dark nightmare you all call a home." His eyes then fixed on Lavoera and traveled slowly up her length, from her toes to her head. "Oi, legs . . . Have you always been that tall?"

"Ignore him, Featherbutt," Binne suggested over her shoulder blithely. "He's a tiny little horndog when he's drunk, and he'll hit on anything that moves. Careful to hold still Solaufein, or he'll come onto you next."

"I wouldn't! Probably," Tomi admitted. "Alright, well, he is quite pretty, I agree with you about that. I'm not that drunk, alright?"

"I told you," Binne said. "Anything on two legs in the vicinity should run and hide. It isn't safe. Tomi's on the prowl!"

"You shut the damn Hells up, woman," Tomi snapped without any menace.

"I am unsure of what is happening," said Solaufein, "but I feel flattered."

"And I feel like hitting the halfling with my mace," said Lavoera. She paused, then asked, "Is that normal?"

"Completely," Binne agreed, finally turning in her seat at the bar to look at the deva. Her face was still stiff with discomfort, but she seemed to be bearing it for now, or was too drunk already to care.

"Wait, did you just call me Featherbutt?" Lavoera cocked her head to the side.

". . . I may have," Binne carefully confessed with a shrug.

"Well, I've been called worse," the deva quickly reasoned. She tentatively approached, and for a moment Solaufein had to wonder if the cambion's presence was equally uncomfortable for the deva. His a'temra did not seem as bothered by Lavoera's presence as Valen did, at least, and it made Solaufein wonder if the tiefling's reaction was more experiential than physiological. He knew the only way for them to immunize themselves to the feeling of being near the deva was to expose them to her, and he couldn't afford any distractions from any of them in the thick of the coming battle.

"May I order you a drink?" He asked of the deva. She seemed surprised by the question and nodded, almost instinctively. He leaned in close to Binne and flagged down the attendant to request a glass of morimatra in Ilythiiri, and the cambion was the only one who picked up on it. She turned and grinned at him.

"Are you testing her? Or is this more drow humor?" Binne queried.

Solaufein smirked and said nothing, awaiting the glass. Once delivered, he passed it over to Lavoera, who sniffed it suspiciously. "What is it?" The deva wondered, nose scrunched up. "It smells strange."

"Morimatra," Solaufein answered officiously. "It is tradition to imbibe, on the eve of battle, to celebrate the sacrifices of our warriors."

"It is?" Tomi sounded dubious.

"Oh, definitely," Binne agreed, nodding vigorously. "It's an ancient drow tradition, and the drink of champions. Give it a go, Featherbutt."

"Can I call you Featherbutt too?" Tomi asked uncertainly.

"No you may not," Lavoera quickly snapped. She sipped at the wine nervously, and then more enthusiastically. "It's spicy!" She declared. "But there's this odd aftertaste . . . What is it?"

"Mushroom-wine," Tomi told her. "You're in for it now, love. Best finish the glass and enjoy the ride as best you can. Last time I tried it, I about lost my damn mind. I woke up without any knickers on the roof of an inn I wasn't even staying at, in a city I'd never been in, with the landlord screeching at me from the window about how I'd pissed on his favorite rug."

"I'm starting to understand why you and Bishop were friends," Binne laughed.

"Friends is a generous term for our, er, entirely professional relationship," objected Tomi. "I like to think of him in the strictest past tense. We're old, former business associates, at best. I just did some of his dirty work for him in exchange for help with a small thing. I was too generous for what he was paying, in hindsight, but he needed someone light on their feet who was good with locks and getting in and out fast."

"Spoken like someone who isn't drunk enough yet," Binne said. "Besides, we're not paying you to be here like he was."

"The mighty Masked Lords of Waterdeep and the Blackstaff will, once we save their sorry arses!" Tomi cheered.

Lavoera considered his advice and seemed to think it worth following, because she downed the rest of the glass in one go to Solaufein's approving applause and Binne's guffawing. "Is there more?" The deva wondered.

"That's enough for you, best stick to water for now," Binne advised. "Unless you want to be vomiting up your entire digestive tract later."

"I can handle it!" The deva nodded firmly. "I have a strong stomach!"

Binne shared a long look with Solaufein. "She wants another," Solaufein finally said, deciding for both of them, and calling the bartender over again.

He found himself repeating that same phrase to the Seer as an explanation a few hours later, as he escorted the stumbling deva with one of her arms slung over his shoulder, her wings dragging behind them, through the corridors of the temple while Lavoera rambled on about how shiny and hypnotic everything around her looked. They stumbled into Malla Ourana as she was on her way to the kitchen, and she took pity on the deva and helped lead Lavoera to her room where she could rest on the priestess' couch. She collapsed in a heap and fell unconscious with a small spell from the Seer, while the Seer fixed Solaufein with a stern gaze.

"Out!" the Seer directed immediately.

He bowed and acquiesced with a small smile. "Alulove."

Hilariously (at least to Solaufein), Lavoera had ended up vomiting her entire stomach's scant contents behind the ale gardens a mere hour after she'd drank the second glass, as the full effects of morimatra kicked in. Sharwyn had held back the blonde deva's hair. At first Lavoera had been unable to see straight and everything spun dizzily in her vision, until things finally calmed down and she was able to walk on her own. He and Binne had left Tomi and Sharwyn in the ale gardens to lead the deva to the small mushroom cultivation site near the city's limits, where Lith My'athar's mushroom farmers grew phosphorescent stalks of many breeds for many purposes. Lavoera had gawked at the mushroom forest for a while, before complaining again of everything spinning and being 'so shiny,' that he began to regret pushing her. It was still amusing, but it was no longer making him laugh like it had when she had initially vomited.

Binne had insisted he bring the poor celestial back to the temple and the Seer, where she would be safe to sleep off the effects. When he returned to where he had left Binne, however, she was gone. Knowing there were only two places she could possibly be and having already been to one of them, he walked to the Eilistraeen training yards, and sure enough found Binne's horned visage next to Valen's as they observed a duel between two soldiers.

As he approached, Solaufein overheard Binne ask Valen, "What do you think the battle will be like, General?"

Valen replied lowly, "I've seen drow battles before. They're like two great shadows silently meeting, a fleet of assassins and dark magic seeking the throat of the opponent. Not only that, but it's an army of psychic tentacled aberrations, drow assassins, summoned demons, and monsters. It will be utter chaos. The struggle will be to maintain communication between the ranks. My hope is that the golems Ferron and Aghaaz assigned will be up to the task."

"They're, uh, being used for their communication skills?" Binne asked a little derisively. "I would've thought it'd be more useful to assign them to the front where they can best smash things."

"Some of them have volunteered for the front lines," Valen revealed. "I am told there was a vote."

"Of course there fucking was," Binne scoffed. "Can't escape abbanelith, no matter what you are."

"You pronounced it correctly," Solaufein spoke up, getting both of their attentions. "I am impressed."

Binne grinned brightly. "Solaufein! Were you standing there long?"

"Only since you asked me what I thought the battle will be like," Valen told her, turning to face her. "The golems assigned as messengers have the ability of flight. The demon-flesh golems make me the most uneasy, but they have proven reliable and useful in drills, I am told."

She shuddered. "The ones with tails give me the creeps."

"Why?" Solaufein wondered.

"Tails aren't something that should be cut off a corpse and attached to magically re-animated flesh," she insisted vehemently. Her tail curled up in agreement. "I feel very strongly about this! Tails are the dignity of all demon-kind!"

"She's not wrong," Valen agreed, "but that's hardly the worst thing about them."

"You're still talking about the excessive voting?" She guessed.

The General twitched a crimson eyebrow. "Yes."

"It's not all bad," she disagreed. "Better they vote democratically than submit to the monarchical way Aghaaz was leading them. At least this way they all get to feel like they're a part of something that isn't just a religion, and that their choices matter. Speaking of, am I the only one who worries about the maniacal demilich we left down there, for the duergar to contend with?"

Valen shook his head. "It wasn't worth the fight. It would have exhausted our resources at the time and fighting him wasn't necessary to gain the golems' alliance. I also think harming their Maker may not have endeared them to us."

"Aye, a fair point," Binne conceded.

"You have reached a final decision with Malla Ourana on troop placement, then?" Solaufein assumed.

"I have," Valen nodded. "They'll be ready when the Valsharess gets here."

"Where will we be?" Binne wondered, looking between the two of them.

"Mostly in the city," Solaufein informed her.

"Isn't the point to keep the battle out of the city, away from civilians?"

"Civilians will all be armed, and those who cannot fight will be in the temple with the Seer, which is what we will be guarding," Solaufein said. "We will keep the battle as contained as we can for as long as we can."

"The walls will be breached, it's only a matter of time," Valen agreed. "We will hold the temple as our last line of defense should the worst happen, and we become overwhelmed. The point is not to protect the walls but funnel the enemy inward at a certain small ingress and destroy them, when they are bottlenecked. We have inferior numbers, but several key advantages, so we need to be defensive and careful with our strategy. This is the best we can accomplish with what we have, and it's not inconsiderable."

"Do you like our odds?" Binne asked of him.

Valen thought carefully about his answer. "I think we stand a better chance now than we did a few months ago. Especially with our additional allies, and with how we crippled the Valsharess' hold in the region. She will not have many allies locally to call upon, and as a result, her forces will be exhausted from the long march through the tunnels. Still, our chances are slim. We must proceed carefully. I think the mind flayers will represent the biggest threat. The mirror is what saved us in Zorvak'Mur . . . We will not have that opportunity this time."

"Don't worry," Binne reassured him with a pat on the shoulder from her red hand that Valen tolerated, "I'm in no hurry to be a brain in a vat again. It was disgusting enough once."

"Haszak will arrive by portal outside of the city, in the initial wave. Malla Ourana has been keeping watch on the astral plane. We will have advance warning," Solaufein reminded them.

Binne shrugged, hands clenched around her scythe. "We're as ready as we're ever going to be, I suppose. I'm no good at this waiting around to die business. I wish they'd attack already . . . I take it Valen you're no longer mad at me?" She asked, changing the subject, and looking up at the tiefling askance.

Valen was distracted by this question. "Wh-what?"

"From before?" She raised an eyebrow. "After Vix'thra, it was like I'd done something wrong, or smelled rank. Are you over it, whatever it was?"

"I wasn't angry with you," the General defended, "I—You summoning that baatezu was . . . A wake up call. All Eryines answer to the Dark Eight, to Baator. The fact that you have both of them bound to you, to personally answer your summons . . . It alarmed me," he finally admitted. "I had accepted that you were a warlock but had not witnessed the power of your pact."

Binne laughed outright and rambled, "I'm a warlock! What do you expect from me? It's what we bloody well do. For the record, Hugo is a lovely devilish rogue whom I met while I was busily expiring in a Zhent prison, not some dank Hell plane. He helped me escape - well, we helped each other. The world is even less kind to rogue baatezu than it is rogue cambions. In fact all of the demons I've met, Mata included, I've met wandering around the surface. I've never been to the Hells, or outer planes. Mata was sent by an enemy cleric years back and thought working for me occasionally had to be better than being summoned at random for peons. I promised her big battles and the occasional alcoholic binge, she's fond of mead you see, and I like to think I've delivered. All my summons' agreed to let me bind them in exchange for the occasional menial service. Er, except for the vrock, Birdbrain. He was my first summons, after Hembercane, in school. Useless little buggers, both of them. Anyway, I've never spent any time on the planes so I'm not sure how it must look to someone like you who has, but I assure you I'm quite a responsible summoner! I try not to bind the unwilling. That bebilith was, er, an exceptional exception! No self-respecting warlock could pass-up the opportunity to bind a demonic spider of that size. I am what I am and make no apologies for that."

Valen's horns shadowed his cheeks in the flickering firelight from the braziers around the training yards. He seemed pacified by her answer, judging from his expression, but Solaufein had discovered him to be a challenge at times to read. The General was an intriguing man. "I . . . See that now. Really? Birdbrain? You named it Birdbrain?" Valen repeated dubiously.

"I absolutely did," she said quite seriously, "and I would do it again. Warlock, remember. Make no apologies."

Solaufein couldn't help but chuckle. "Of course you would name your vrock like a demented pet. You wanted to name Vaendrith 'Madam Bitey' before we found out who he was."

Binne's tone was defensive. "Madam Bitey is a great name for a giant spider! Almost as good as naming a bebilith Barbara! You know because they have those poisonous barbs on their forelegs? . . . Really? Am I the only one who thought that was clever? I thought Deekin would have at least gotten it. Just me? Fine. It's fine."

Valen rewarded her with a smile. "You are certainly the least conventional warlock I've ever met," he told her.

"How many warlocks have you actually met?" She demanded to know sternly.

"Met? One. Killed? Several," he answered easily.

Her pause was long and significant. " . . . Way to end the conversation, Valen. Thanks for that image. As if you weren't already terrifying enough. And knowing your talent for understatement, you probably slaughtered a whole fucking horde of warlocks, just you by yourself with that horrifyingly effective flail."

"I'm just being honest," he defended gently. "If it helps me win back your favor, milady, you are also the best warlock I've ever met."

"Best and only," Binne scoffed. "We're a diverse group, you know! There's lots of shades of warlock out there, I'm just the only one you happened to have met that isn't a bloody smear on the ground in the Abyss. But I forgive you, for trying to joke and failing, milord."

"I think what he is trying to say," Solaufein explained, "is that you are an exceptional exception to his usual reaction to warlocks."

"Insofar as he hasn't killed her yet, you mean?" Enserric's voice - and sarcasm - were muffled in the silence of Binne's eye-roll, but detectable from the sheath against Solaufein's leg.

"Precisely."

Binne rolled her eyes even harder toward the ceiling. "You're all bloody hilarious! And I'm going back to bed now, wake me up when Vulsherdoom gets here," she drawled. She leaned her scythe on her neck and marched off toward the temple with a smile on her face, waving and winking to Solaufein who followed her sashaying form with his eyes instinctively.

He turned to Valen after a moment and caught the redheaded General's eye doing the same, smiled and moved to stand beside him. "Will you be joining the revel later, Valen?" Solaufein asked. Solaufein, for his part, had known there would be a revel the moment that he heard of the Valsharess' impending arrival. It was dhaerow tradition, and the Eilistraeens were no exceptions. Everyone needed the distraction, with the news hitting the city.

"The party? I hadn't planned on it," Valen answered, brows knitting together. "I don't particularly agree with that drow tradition. It leaves troops weakened the following day."

"She will not arrive for some time, according to Cazna," Solaufein reminded him, and placed a hand on the General's shoulder to make his point. "We must cherish life for all it is, in the moments we still have. This may be your last chance to drink."

"I'll somehow survive without it," the General said doubtfully. "I want my head as clear as possible for the coming battle."

"And I would like to see you intoxicated at some point, before I die again," Solaufein shot back, "so promise you will at least consider coming to the Mae'vir public house with me later. Malla Zessyr owes us."

"Nathyrra doesn't drink either," Valen pointed out, "and I haven't heard you trying to convince her to join."

"That is because I hold no hope of persuading the mind of a determined female," Solaufein reasoned quite reasonably. "She is more interested in books and knives than in wine. Join us later, Valen. Consider it. You cannot stand vigil until the Valsharess arrives."

"I'll consider it," the tiefling promised. "Are you here to train?"

"Not this time," Solaufein answered, and made to leave toward the temple, following Binne's example. "I have other, better plans."

Solaufein waved casually at the Commander, who was engaged in a heated discussion with Sergeant Ossyr, as he stalked away from the training grounds back to the temple. It still amused Solaufein internally to profane Lloth's temple in her absence with his presence and actions. The irony that he had called this city and temple his home for even a short amount of time was not lost on him, for he had promised himself once after killing the last yochlol that had tracked him down that he would never return to the Underdark. He considered the geas for the first time in weeks - and he marveled that the thought of it hadn't crossed his mind, such had been his focus on the task before him. He had a purpose again, a cause to fight for, and now a people to call his own. Only this time, his mind and heart were one.

He stared at the darkly beautiful obsidian statue of the Spider Queen that had caught Lavoera's eye earlier and remembered a statue much like it in his first House as a boy that he'd spent many hours contemplating and fruitlessly praying to. Lloth did not answer the prayers of a lowly male, after all. He'd always been fascinated by the communication between the divine and the mortal, but the more he had learned about Lloth's doctrine, the less he wanted to know. Everything he had learned under the Handmaidens' whips did not contradict what he saw in his small world but reinforced it. Their cruelty had carved him, had shaped him, helped give him purpose. In a way, he owed the Spider Queen a debt he could never repay. He could not deny that he was who he was because of her faith, and in the spite of it, he had found his way to a greater truth. He acknowledged, however, that nothing would bring him more satisfaction than to see that statue of Lloth topple over and crumble into dust.

He put thoughts of gods and statues aside, knowing Binne would not appreciate them, and made his way back to his room. Binne was in the process of stripping off her adamantine scales when he entered. She paused for a moment to regard him with her warm gaze, then pulled off the chain shirt she wore beneath her scales and dumped it carelessly onto the floor. She wore only a thin black silken shirt beneath with fitted leggings and deposited herself on the bed to gain the leverage to remove them once untied. Once free and wearing only that sable tunic that left little to the imagination, she moved slowly to assist Solaufein with the removal his armor, taking her time even though he felt a little rushed. There was a sudden urgency to his actions born of impatience, belying his many centuries; something about Binne had a way of awakening in him the demands of youth. Perhaps it was not Binne herself but the knowledge that nearly-certain-death was only a day or so away, and they only had a limited time left to spend together.

Regardless, once he was free of his armor and divested of his clothes, Solaufein wasted no time in approaching Binne, grasping her hips to pull her taut against him, and letting his hands crawl up underneath the shirt to caress her form. Once his hands reached her breasts, he pulled up on the shirt over her head and stepped back for a moment to admire her nudity. "I still prefer this," he noted with a smile.

"Well, it is nostalgic of how we first met," she grinned.

Solaufein reached up to his a'temra and brought her russet lips down to meet his. He wound his fingers through her black hair as her arms snaked down his shoulders and back, eliciting a small but ardent gasp from him as her recently re-grown claws scratched the skin of his back when he deepened the kiss. He felt himself harden almost painfully in response to the unexpected rush of pleasure. When he leaned back momentarily, he saw that Binne's heavy-lidded amber gaze was glowing a fierce and bright gold, the hue of the sun on the surface as it first began to set over the horizon. The light from them caught on the gold of the piercings in the corners of her eyes, reflecting back; he called her abbil and had even grown fond of her, but in that moment he was briefly struck breathless by her, such was her beauty. It hit him invisibly in the chest and ached in a way it never had before. He couldn't help but wonder if this was the last they'd see of each other, such as they were.

"Solaufein? What's wrong?" Binne wondered, drawing the wrong conclusion from his expression. Her arms came up to rest around his neck, and she frowned.

"Nau, ussta'che, it is nothing," he soothed her. He did not have the capacity to translate the feeling into accurate words, so he closed his mouth around hers again to try and better express it. He poured the feeling into his kiss, a dizzying mixture of desire, desperation, and sheer defenseless passion. She responded with her characteristic enthusiasm, wrapping her arms around his body in an embrace that he hungrily returned.

Solaufein turned her around - she obeyed quickly - and trailed kisses down her shoulders as he pushed her face-down on the bed. He took a moment to admire the contrast of her carmine skin against the midnight black of the sheets she had tangled in her hands in anticipation and trailed his fingers down her spine and the length of her black tail. It curled in the air to follow his hand and wrapped gently around him instinctively.

He knelt down to the floor, putting his face at level with her depths. Tentatively and gently at first, then lavishly, he licked at her core, rewarded by gasps and spasms from Binne. Her tail, always expressive of her inner feelings, coiled around his arm and chest and drew him closer to her body. He breathed in the heady scent that was so uniquely hers through his nose and did not cease his oral ministration until she was screaming and writhing into the bed.

Then, Solaufein drew back to align his pelvis with Binne's and let her black tail wrap around them both, and slowly thrust his length into her sex. She hissed out a nearly unintelligible affirmation as he filled her and she wantonly groaned into the silken sheets, slightly muffled by the linens. Her inner walls clenched around him as he struck deeper, her tail pulling against him and pushing him further to the edge.

He backed off for a moment, wanting to draw it out longer, and pulled on one of her legs to flip her over onto her back. Binne let out a surprised but delighted sound as he re-entered her from that angle and laved attention to one of her breasts, then the other, with his tongue. He bit down on one nipple, drawing a startled squeal from the cambion, and she reached up to him to pull him back down when he pulled away to admire her again for a moment.

Though she had been content to submit to his attention, something shifted in his a'temra that gave a harder glint to her mischievous eyes than he was used to seeing, and he soon found himself pushed back onto the bed with Binne straddling his legs. He found his first release that way, in her mouth as she eagerly stroked and licked him to completion. It did not take him long to rise again to the occasion, though they had no way to mark the passage of time in that room. It could have been minutes, or hours later that Binne drove herself to climax on top of him, throatily moaning toward the ceiling. It could have been days later that he found release with her again, as her claws raked down his back sending a spiky mix of pleasure and pain that drove him so far over the edge he started seeing spots in his vision. They might have laid in that bed until the battle was already over, for all Solaufein cared - he was content and spent, resting his head on Binne's breast after they took a momentary break from their exertions to lay entangled with one another.

Binne tsked suddenly, clicking her tongue against her teeth as her fingers caressed his back. "I drew blood," she noted a little sadly, gently touching a stinging scratch. He didn't mind it; the pain had been minimal, and the orgasm phenomenal. "I . . . Sort of like the idea of you marching off into battle marked by me with this," she admitted a little shyly. "It's like some instinctive, visceral satisfaction. Is that odd?"

"Nau, I enjoy it. You may mark me any time you wish," he told her.

"That's sweet, but it was accidental, I promise," she said. "It really doesn't look too bad. Should heal fine. I lost control in the heat of the moment, I'm sorry."

"That is a shame. I enjoy your heat. And your moments."

She grinned. "You'll make me blush." Then she started laughing, sending his head rumbling as it rested on her chest.

"What is it?" Solaufein wondered.

Binne snickered. "Oh, I was just remembering what Deekin said about itches and scratches down in that vampire temple." They both laughed at that for a while. "What do you think Valen meant by that marilith comment?" Binne asked aloud after their laughter had died down. "There's a spicy story there, I'll bet."

"You should ask him later," Solaufein said as he absently played with her nipple. "He will be less guarded at the celebration. I have no doubt he will be there, if only to guard me as the Seer originally commanded."

Binne blinked, looking faintly surprised. "Is that what all that noise is out there? I thought everyone was panicking."

"Most of them are intoxicated in anticipation of the fight," corrected the dark elf.

"Is this another drow thing I just don't culturally get?" Binne wondered as her hand wandered up to play with tufts of Solaufein's hair. "I thought you were just joking to Featherbutt about that. Sometimes it's hard to tell with you."

He closed his eyes, feeling at peace. "I understand it is altogether a human one as well, to drink on the eve of battle."

"Some troops frown on that sort of thing. Depends on where you're at and who you're fighting for - and most importantly on who's minting your gold. I'm glad to see dark elves still like to have fun. It's like spitting in the death-god's eye on your way down to the afterlife," she joked. "Well, shall we go for another round, or get up and see how the others are doing?"

Solaufein lifted his head toward hers, her smile reflecting his own. His right hand reached up to gently tug her by the horn to the bed while his left hand snaked between her legs, sliding his fingers into her slick sex, and eliciting a breath-hitching gasp. Her hips bucked up instinctively. "I am by no means finished," he whispered into her ear.

Sometime later, when they were finally exhausted from playing with and pleasuring each other, Solaufein found himself drifting in and out of v'dri as his half-conscious mind wandered down paths he had tended earlier that day, of statues, gods, and fate. He curled himself around Binne's sleeping body but could find no restful thoughts despite his earlier peace and contentment.

It was said, and he had heard it said (by at least three different fiendlings) that those touched by the divine lived on borrowed time. They lived fleetingly in this world before their divine benefactor inevitably claimed them; the Chosen of Mystra, perhaps the only exceptions. Bhaal's Children were the best, most brutal example of this principle. It was a kind way of saying they lived short and died hard. To have your life touched by the gods was a terrible burden. One did not ask for it to be done, it was simply part of one's nature. Aphra could no more separate the woman from the essence of Bhaal inside than he could separate his own identity from his actions. One may as well be ash without the other.

It was clear to him now, more than ever, that something was guiding his steps toward some great end, though whether or not it was divine will was suddenly factored into the question. The dream that had driven him to Undermountain lingered in his mind during idle moments. Eilistraee had guided him out of Ust'Natha toward Aphra's path, of that he had no doubt. When he was lost again, his goddess had led him to Drogan . . . But had she led him further? Had she led him to the relic, or was it chance? Was it his choice, his folly? Was it destiny? Had she led him to Undrentide, or was it misfortune? Was it his own will, or was there a difference at all? Was it all the same? The Seer and Lavoera had implied that he was part of Eilistraee's living will on the Prime - a warrior she had so picked because his innate being aligned more closely with the goddess' own than anyone else. He had dismissed this idea, knowing the blood of his victims could fill an ocean. He found a kind of peace unique to him in Eilistraee's light and message, but his life had always been and always would be a story of blood, which wasn't the sort of tale that belonged in his goddess' compassionate doctrine.

And yet, Solaufein could not deny that Lady Silverhair, elven Goddess of Swordplay, had seen fit to grant him abilities beyond the average warrior, in addition to a strange fortune. He had spoken and prayed to her, and had felt her . . . He thought he saw her in the moon, even within the Seer. Never, until Ourana's words, had it occurred to him to look inward, to find her in himself - but according to her that was precisely where Eilistraee had ever resided, nestled cautiously inside of his dark heart, and guarded closely by his blade. Many notions aligned once he thought of it this way. After all, Solaufein had chosen to pursue Halaster in Undermountain. He'd chosen to save Deekin, and Binne. He'd chosen to pick up the relic in his curiosity. He'd chosen to look for the tower statuette, to pursue Heurodis. He'd chosen to follow Aphra when she offered him the chance. If his choice was Eilistraee's will, was that what it truly meant to be chosen by the gods? And what of the choices of others - of Aphra's, or Drogan's? Was it will, or a more obscure fate? And why, he had to wonder, would his very heart set him against the Valsharess in a war as likely to cause as much death as it prevented? What more was possibly at stake? Why would a goddess require him, a mortal, to do such work that the Seer was no doubt well-equipped to do on her own? The rebels were hardy, and he had no doubt that their defenders would have largely survived without his presence. What need would she have for another killer like him?

He knew the answer to his question soon after he asked it - the arch-devil. The fiend behind the queen of drow was the true threat, and his presence in affairs had been kept secret only by those in the Seer's confidence. If the Great Houses of Lith My'athar knew that the Valsharess had collared an archfiend they'd switch sides so fast they'd barely leave a trail of heat behind. Solaufein realized then that the more important question was why he had been set to collide with this fiend. Was it to defeat him? Or to free him? Either way, the Valsharess would assuredly be stopped. Her fall would be as abrupt as her rise. Would it matter - was a better question. In stopping her, might he pave the way to a greater evil? Without the one holding the collar, where would the high fiend go?

Solaufein grunted and pulled away from Binne's sleeping warmth, sitting up in his bed, and decided to meander on down to the kitchens to find something other than incessant doom to occupy his thoughts. He stopped himself before entering the kitchen when he heard Deekin inside, against their instructions, and singing the Doom song, of all the terrible songs to sing on the eve of a battle. Emphatically he turned on his heel and knocked on the Seer's door.

Her voice trilled a faint greeting, and as always it pleased his ear to hear his native language spoken so freely by a kind voice. He stepped in to greet her with according respect. "Malla Ourana. May I speak with you again?" He queried in Ilythiiri with a slight bow.

The Seer's bright blue eyes roved over his form from her desk. Lavoera had apparently recovered, or was resting elsewhere, as she was nowhere to be seen in Ourana's comfortable, dark chambers. The Seer's expression was one of concern, but she was pleased to see him nonetheless. She stood and stepped to the door and motioned him inward, moving to close it behind him. "Of course, Solaufein," she replied in kind with a tight smile. There was a shade under her eyes that he hadn't seen before. "Tea?" She gestured to her black and silver couches.

He sat down on one but declined politely, "No, thank you. I trust it was not I who has troubled you so? Lavoera took it upon herself to over-indulge, but there was no malice in my encouragement. It was a passing amusement."

The Seer shook her head and sighed, moving to sit across from him. "No. She is well and resting. Truthfully, I had forgotten about earlier. I have been occupied in intense meditation and prayer, as well as battle preparations."

Solaufein smiled at her, reaching out to grasp the Seer's hand. "You should join your people in celebration, Ourana," he encouraged.

She smiled back more genuinely, but still shook her head again. "I cannot. Too many are looking to me for guidance in this moment. I must be here for them. Besides, Solaufein, I think it is you who have come to me with troubles, and it would put my mind at peace to focus on other matters. How can I ease your mind? Tell me what is wrong."

He considered this. He was not one to pry into personal matters, particularly those of women, and quietly wondered at the cause of her distress. He doubted all of it was Valsharess-related, and the excuse of 'prayer and meditation' did not explain the shadows in her eyes. "I thought you should know, that the Valsharess appeared to me last night in a vision," he explained.

The Seer perked up. "She spoke to you? What did she say?"

Solaufein shrugged. "Many things. She attempted to seduce me. She did not succeed. She revealed nothing of her plans to me."

"That is unfortunate, but not unwelcome news," the Seer mulled this over, staring down at the ground with a puzzled expression on her face. "She has acknowledged you as her enemy, at least. That is a sign of both fear and respect. I am beginning to have a good feeling about the upcoming battle."

"Did you not before?" He asked.

"I know we will suffer many losses," she said solemnly, "and facing even the potential death of people I have come to look upon as family . . . It weighs heavily upon me. It is difficult for me to be carefree in the face of it. I respect the tradition but will not indulge myself tonight. I have long been dreading this battle. This odd news . . . It is strange, but it brings me hope. Thank you, Solaufein."

Solaufein noted that there was a marked difference in character, between him and Ourana. In the face of nearly certain death, both of their minds turned toward their loved ones. However, the Seer was morbidly preoccupied with thoughts of death - Solaufein had accepted it as inevitable; he wanted to do anything but think about it. What was the use in dwelling on something outside of his control? If he or his abbin died soon, he would do so as he had lived - it was hardly his first war, or even first experience with facing certain death. It surprised him consistently that he was still alive, after all he had been through. Solaufein had been facing uncertain death since he first left the Underdark. In a way, it relieved him to at least know when it was coming for him. He could plan his last moments accordingly.

"I will celebrate on your behalf then," Solaufein said as he stood up and made to leave. "Farewell, Malla yatharil." The Seer nodded and opened the door for him as he left her to her contemplations.

When he opened the door to his given room, he was surprised to see Binne awake, standing still with her arms outstretched with her back to the door as a strange dark elven woman with long hair worn in many braids wrapped white silk in drapes of cloth around Binne's form, strategically covering her nudity. The female was similarly dressed and wore multicolored glittering paint along her arms and legs in festive, energetic swirls. "This is an unexpected sight," he greeted, and crossed over to the bed to sit and watch.

"There you are!" Binne turned her head toward him with a smile. "This is Ghilanna. I woke up to her knocking a few minutes ago, asking if I needed any help getting dressed for the big party later. I figured, why not? It's not every day you get to see a drow party up close and personal, and this one I can actually not be nervous about attending since it's mostly with the Eilistraeens. She said there'll be a big fire, music, dancing, it sounds like a fucking great time. She's going to paint me up, I think, unless I misunderstood. Are you coming?"

"Xa, although I will not be dancing," he told her.

"Aw," she pouted. "Please?"

"Nau," he insisted firmly.

"That's alright, I'll just dance with Imloth and Ghilanna here," she tried to cheer herself up. Ghilanna looked up critically at her work and started adjusting the falls of silk on Binne's shoulder. Once satisfied, pulled out a jar of glittering golden paint and instructed the cambion to hold very still in slightly broken Common. Binne turned her head to Solaufein after Ghilanna had painted a swirling, hypnotic pattern on her left cheek, chin, and neck with a small brush. "Is Nathyrra coming?" She asked once Ghilanna was finished with her face.

"She likely will, if only to watch over the rest of us," Solaufein reasoned. "I attempted to convince Valen to join us."

"It'd be nice to see the General cut loose for a change and relax his composure," Binne chirped. "I think we're starting to grow on him. He's not as suspicious of us as he used to be, at any rate. I wonder if he likes dancing . . . We should see what Deekin and the others are up to before we head out. Tomi will want to come, I'm sure of it - if he isn't still pissed from earlier. Maybe the deva too if she's not still too woozy."

When Ghilanna had finished her art on Binne's arms and legs, Binne put on a pair of sandals and Ghilanna looked over Solaufein critically. "You look like Lord Death coming for us all," Ghilanna assessed with the utmost sarcasm conveyable in Ilythiiri.

Solaufein let out a startled bark of laughter. His only clean clothes were sable silk, gifted to him by Imloth who was not as tall but was similarly built - comfortable, but hardly colorful. "I am comfortable as I am," he assured her. "I need no assistance."

"You don't want the glittery paint?" Binne assessed from the context despite not understanding all their words and frowned at him. "But it's so shiny! And pretty. Oh, let her paint you - it'll be fun even if you're not dancing."

He sighed. "Very well. For you, I will consent to this."

Ghilanna invited Binne to help, so the dark elven woman and cambion convinced him to do away with his tunic and painted most of his body in shimmering, silvery, symmetrical patterns that were more jagged and angular than their own more asymmetrical swirls, but he felt it altogether suited him. Ghilanna left, taking her extra fabric and paints, and promised to meet them at the celebration later. Solaufein and Binne left their weapons behind and went arm-in-arm to go check on Deekin, only to find him still not in his room, nor was he in the kitchen. The last place they checked was the library, where they found Deekin chatting with Nathyrra over a stack of scrolls they had scavenged from Vix'thra's lair.

"I see you are both ready for the alure," Nathyrra noted upon greeting them.

"Ready and rearing! I'm so excited," Binne blurted with a wide smile. "Will you be coming?"

"I am occupied by other matters, unfortunately," Nathyrra digressed. "Deekin and I still have a great deal of spells and gear that we have yet to identify, and I must prepare my spells for the battle."

"Sharwyn is well-traveled, she might be of assistance in that matter," Binne suggested. "If she's not hammered to the ninth Hell by now like half of the rest of the town—"

There was a firm, officious knock on the door behind Binne and Solaufein. Binne turned and opened it, startled to see Valen without armor. Solaufein almost didn't recognize him, were it not for that blatantly obvious hair which never changed color or style, still pulled back into a low ponytail. He wished Valen would at some point let him braid it, so it quit falling loose and into his face during battles. "General?" Binne seemed torn between delight and confusion.

Valen seemed to feel the same way about the two of them, and glanced between their half-naked, glittering forms. "I see the Eilistraeens got a hold of you two," he deduced, and entered the library. Valen noted that while he did not wear his armor and was clad only in plain clothes, Devil's Bane was still on his belt, and one of his hands still casually rested on it.

"You should let them paint you up too," Binne suggested. "Some blue and green would contrast nicely on your skin. I think Ghilanna did fine work with Solaufein and myself. Deekin? What are you doing - are, are you transcribing our conversations again?"

"No, Deekin just be taking notes on some things," the bard inconspicuously reported.

"For posterity?" She added dubiously.

"Deekin not wantings to be getting details wrong is all," the little bard defended, looking up from his charcoal etchings. "This be a big epic drow partys before a big epic drow battles near the ends of our big epic drow adventure. A bard's work is never done!"

"Now that we are here, I have news," Solaufein spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. Once he had it, he said, "our enemy revealed herself to me last night."

"How?" Was Nathyrra's first pointed query.

"It was in a dream that she somehow controlled," Solaufein explained.

"A projection," Nathyrra corrected absently as she tapped her chin in thought.

"Revealed herself, eh?" Binne's eyebrows waggled as she grinned, bending the golden spirals that traveled down her cheek and neck and emphasizing the laugh lines at the corners of her mouth. "Was she scantily clad?"

Solaufein smirked. "Xa."

"Ha!" Binne laughed loudly. "She must be desperate! Can't fault her taste, though. I'd try to seduce you too." In fact she had and succeeded.

Solaufein shrugged. "She offered her empire itself to me. Then she tried offering herself. I have never seen a female so full of fear . . . In a way, it was empowering." He thought back - only briefly - to that other lifetime not so long ago that he had spent as little more than a pawn for the Handmaidens and his matron, serving females much like the Valsharess herself without question. It was never far away from his thoughts, since he had come back to the Underdark, but he was able to put it from his mind momentarily.

Nathyrra smiled in a rare, quiet upturn of her lips. "It is quite a compliment to us, that she sees you as an equal. Did she speak of her plans?"

"Nothing," said Solaufein. "We know she will attack by tomorrow. She does not know of our allies or defenses - she would have taken a moment to taunt me about it if she did, I am sure."

Valen seemed surprised to hear himself saying, "Maybe we finally have the advantage."

Binne turned to the General, startled. "Valen, is that a shade of optimism I hear in your voice?"

"There's still the arch-devil to worry about," the General added dryly.

"Of course it wasn't, how silly of me," she shot back flatly.

Deekin grinned toothily. "Maybe we not be so doomed!"

Solaufein cautioned him, "Be careful what you say - Halaster could be still listening."

Binne scoffed. "Listening and probably jerking off his twin knowing him - I hope he is listening so he can hear me telling him to fuck right off!"

Solaufein sighed. "You are going to get me killed one day," he predicted.

His a'temra sounded shocked. "I wouldn't! Probably!"

Binne and Solaufein left Nathyrra and Deekin to their work, with Valen following behind the two of them. The tiefling parted ways with them in the temple's halls, professing duties elsewhere but did promise to find them later. They shrugged off his absence and continued arm-and-arm out the doors and ambled slowly toward the sounds of festivities in the city. It was near the ale gardens they discovered the area transformed by the white-clad, mostly naked Eilistraeens while a few teal-and-red Mae'vir onlookers either gossiped or sneered from a distance. Others still, despite their misgivings, were mingling with the Eilistraeens and similarly dressed, doing away with their differences in the name of shared celebration. Lavoera had recovered well from earlier and was flapping her large white wings overhead, sending small gusts of wind down to onlookers as she tied up hanging lanterns on strings over their heads with assistance from a levitating dark elf. She too had been dressed in white and painted in blue and gold. Tomi was still at the bar nursing some beverage. Sharwyn had apparently been accosted by Ghilanna and the Eilistraeens as well as she was dressed similarly to Binne with green glittering swirls painted up and down her limbs and face, matching her eyes and contrasting with her loose red hair; she stood chatting with an interested Ghilanna while she tuned her lute, apparently part of the night's entertainment. Festivities had yet to begin in full, but Solaufein had no doubt that they would begin soon.

Binne, still arm-and-arm with him, directed them both toward the bar where Tomi sat. He looked up at them blearily, significantly more drunk than when they last saw him. "Have you moved from this spot since we left you?" Binne asked of the halfling, a note of amusement in her voice.

"Fuck off, you mad bint," he said in a friendly way, after some internal debate that crossed his drunken gaze from side-to-side. "You're nearly three times my size - I have to drink slow or I'll end up like Lavi was earlier, puking in the rubbish!"

"It's 'Lavi' now? You move fast!" Binne complimented.

"She liked it better than Featherbutt," Tomi shrugged. "You both are all trussed up like the rest of them lot. Where's my glitter?"

"It's only for us fancy types," Binne said dismissively, waving her hand at him. "I'm sure they'd dress you too if you asked nicely."

"Ah, that would require me to move from this spot, which ain't happening," Tomi said decisively. "I've got a tab open. My goal, in its entirety, is to drink until the world starts to spin, and then keep drinking until it stops and goes black."

"You're sounding more like Bishop every day," Binne laughed.

Tomi glared at her darkly. "Now that's a low blow and you know it."

She stuck her tongue out at him childishly. Solaufein stepped up toward the bar, pressed down a few gold, and ordered two glasses of morimatra for them both, deciding to get a head start on celebrating. He could hear the other musicians experimentally tapping on drums already, and Lavoera seemed to have secured the last hanging lamp's string as she had now landed and was shyly mingling. She'd even felt comfortable enough to leave her mace behind somewhere. There was a low murmur in the crowd everywhere around them, and random pockets of raucous laughter.

When the drinks were delivered, Solaufein deliberated on a toast for a moment. "To Lord Death," he settled on, presenting the goblet to Binne, and clinking his own against hers in the human custom, "may he spare us an early welcome, and greet our enemies shortly."

"To the man once named Kelemvor Lyonsbane!" Binne agreed enthusiastically. She took a much more moderate sip than his own gulp.

"Hear, hear!" Even Tomi agreed, raising his glass, and downing a bit more of its contents.

"To Tymora!" Binne spontaneously toasted, raising her goblet in the air. "May Lady Luck smile upon us and may Beshaba spit on our enemies!" Solaufein nodded with her and they all three took another drink.

"To Eilistraee!" Tomi toasted next, raising his drink.

"To Lady Silverhair! Goddess of song, dance, swords, and irony!" Binne cheered, taking a more generous sip. Solaufein smiled and followed suit, feeling a warmth from the morimatra blooming in his chest. Binne coughed after drinking hers, causing Tomi to laugh at her expense and her to subsequently curse at him.

A few nearby dark elves had overheard Tomi and raised their glasses to follow suit, earning Solaufein a moment of solidarity with his people. Most of them were fellow Eilistraeens, all clad in thin white garments and some painted, but a few wore Mae'vir's colors and the colors of other lesser houses. He wondered if it was the first time they were free to celebrate something out from underneath the whips of Lloth. It would hardly be his first pre-battle revel, though he felt it was the first he could sincerely enjoy since his abbin were there attending. True, with Aphra, there had been nights of drunken revelry, but he had typically been unable to indulge without swimming in memories most unpleasant. And before, in Ust'Natha, everything - any small enjoyments he might have had - had been stained by Phaere.

He did not want to dwell on her, however, and found it easy to focus on Binne instead when her colorful presence was near him. He watched her get swept up into the music as it started to play, naturally gravitating toward Ghilanna and Sharwyn, the former of whom had begun to dance for the latter as she played in synchronicity with a few male and female Eilistraeens behind her on hand-drums. Binne caught Imloth's eye in the crowd and stole him away from his conversation with two younger males, swinging the Commander into a twirling dance with her to the beat of the drums that he gleefully reciprocated. Someone in the crowd crowned the two with multicolored faefire. He could tell from the glazed look in Imloth's eyes that he'd already had at least two glasses of morimatra; Solaufein sipped patiently at his, knowing the party was still young, and that Zessyr Mae'vir still owed him a drink at least for his trouble of killing her mother (or so he had decided without consulting Zessyr).

Once his glass was empty, he decided to walk to the public house, leaving Binne in good company with Ghilanna and Imloth. It took him only a few minutes to walk there, such as it was down the road, but he enjoyed the moment to himself and the brisk, energized air on his bare skin. The city was alive and he felt connected to it for the first time, like it was a place he could belong. He knew the feeling would likely disappear when the battle was over, should he survive, but it made him wistful for Ust'Natha in unexpected ways. He missed the simple contentment of familiar faces like his own all around him - though he loved the Eilistraeens in a way, they were still strangers to him; he supposed this was why he had latched onto his abbin as quickly as he had, surrounding himself with familiarity to keep him grounded.

The Mae'vir public house, despite being more crowded the two other times he had been there, was sparsely populated, as most people had taken to the streets. Little had changed under Zessyr's management, save that the servants had been replaced and likely, he then realized, executed for being a part of Myrune's household. Zessyr was a clever enough female, and cautious - she would not risk an assassin looking for vengeance, hiding amongst Myrune's household. He steeled himself against that thought, knowing that it would evoke complicated emotions under morimatra's influence that he wasn't in any position to process.

He wasn't quite intoxicated yet, but Solaufein felt there was a slight slur to his words in Ilythiiri as he spoke to the white-haired, pale-skinned half-drow attendant who approached him meekly. He wished she would meet his eyes, but she did not, accepting his direction and order with a slight nod and retreated. He told her that Zessyr owed him at least two bottles of morimatra for his trouble in assassinating her mother for him - the slave girl hadn't even flinched at this mention, simply nodded like she'd expected him and fulfilled his request.

As he sat down at a table by himself, he wondered how much trouble it would be to assassinate Zessyr too and simply liberate her household for the Eilistraeens. He had to put that thought away too, however, knowing the Seer would not approve of more violence committed in her name. Still, Solaufein reflected - he was Chosen, was he not? Did that excuse or pardon all of his actions, even the (somewhat) unnecessary killing of Zessyr's mother Myrune? He felt as though he were on the cusp of understanding what it meant for him, but the truth was just out of his grasp.

The pale slave girl approached him with two bottles in her hands and bowed and backed away when he took them from her with a thank you. She still didn't raise her gaze, even as she left him at the table.

He had started to understand, through Binne, how someone could remain innocent of such matters when simply never exposed to them. His a'temra was a curiously contradicting combination of traits and experiences. He had grown up around slavery as casually as she had grown around farm animals, and only fairly recently in his life - within the last ten years or so, even though they were an eventful ten years - had he started to feel anything complex about it. He'd always simply . . . Accepted it as inevitable. One could grow quite used to living alongside the horrid and the gruesome if they accepted it as the simple truth that underlay the world. He'd seen plenty of parallels to his people's custom of keeping rothe upon the surface, enough to dissuade him from any notion about their being any such thing as 'freedom.' Lloth was right about one thing in her doctrine - the world was something you had to carve your way into, in order to survive it. You had to create your own place, your own power, your own purpose. To live in it, you had to be as sharp as a knife and just as deadly, or risk being crushed by others. As Aphra had once put it, 'there are haves, and have-nots. It's kill or be killed.'

Solaufein drowned his inner thoughts and concerns in the first bottle of morimatra; his tolerance had always been extraordinarily high, reinforced by years of experience, so he did not start seeing the effects until he was halfway through. The euphoria kicked in near the bottom of it, and Solaufein hit such a state of mutual peace and exhaustion that he felt he could die right then and be completely satisfied with his own ending. It was a fleeting, but intoxicating feeling that left him bitter toward the drink for presenting him with such a tangible lie. He scowled into his morimatra - like most of the city, he had been seeking distraction from the upcoming battle. He did not care for more thoughts of death.

"Solaufein? Are you all right?"

He was surprised to look up and see the unarmed General Shadowbreath. The tiefling pulled up a chair and sat down next to him at the table and fixed Solaufein with an expression of concern. The colors of the General were more vivid than Solaufein had ever seen them in the visible spectrum - partly an effect of the drink, but partly genuine admiration on Solaufein's part. Valen's hair was the red of fresh blood, his eyes the color of a clear winter sky, and without his characteristic mithral armor or his flail at his side he seemed less guarded than Solaufein had ever seen him. The outline of his muscled form was clearly visible beneath the cream-colored silken tunic Valen had donned, and the small bit of visible chest from the shirt's ties in the front revealed a hypnotic pattern of serrated scars that seemed to animate and travel to Solaufein's intoxicated eyes. He could perfectly understand Binne's fascination with the man - and though there were some attractive mysteries in the tiefling's past, and he was a fine male warrior in his prime, it was Valen's intelligence and strength of character that had most impressed Solaufein over the course of their short association. He would never forget that when he had fallen victim completely to the broken mirror's lie, his companions had been his saviors. He would not be there at all were it not for Valen's bravery. He wasn't sure what he'd done to earn the tiefling's concern but was certain it was unwarranted.

"Worry not, I am well," Solaufein assured the General with a white-toothed smile. "You may finish my morimatra for me," he offered his quarter-full bottle.

"Quit trying to get me drunk, Solaufein," Valen said tiredly and pushed the drink aside.

"Maybe Lavoera will want it," Solaufein reasoned, glancing around to see if the deva's glowing wings were anywhere nearby. Though, he supposed if she were, Valen and Binne would be somewhere far away. "Have you seen Binne?" He wondered, quirking up an eyebrow.

"Still dancing with Imloth and some of the other Eilistraeens," Valen gestured toward the open door with a faint smile. "I'm a little surprised not to see you at her side," he added, looking back to Solaufein. "You two are usually inseparable."

He could easily picture her arm-and-arm with the friendly Commander, crowned by illusory faefire, drunkenly laughing, and stumbling over each other as they danced. Sharwyn would be playing along and dancing with them, swept up in the energy of the revelry as the Eilistraeens drew the rest of the city into their influence for the night. He could still hear the drums beating from inside the Mae'vir public house. "The world need not be subjected to the sight of me dancing," Solaufein found himself repeating what he said to the Seer when the subject had come up. "Though I am pleased you decided to join us, even if you are not partaking."

"Someone needs to make sure you're in one piece for the battle, and Nathyrra's still neck-deep in scrolls with Deekin," the General said wryly. "Though you were right about one thing. I can't simply stand vigil and wait for the Valsharess to arrive. I'd drive myself mad with pacing, or just exhaust myself before the fight."

"I am glad you see it my way. Now all that is left is for you to drink what is left in this bottle," Solaufein insisted.

Valen sighed. "If I drink it, will you stop harassing me about it?"

"Possibly," Solaufein agreed.

"Then I will, if you tell me what's wrong," Valen offered.

"How do you mean?"

"You were looking at your bottle like it was trying to assassinate you when I walked in," Valen explained. "Obviously, there's something on your mind, and it'd be better for us all if you cleared your mind of any distractions before the fight."

Solaufein rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Must it always be about xonathull for you? I would rather discuss anything else. You wish to know the source of my woe? Her name is the Valsharess, she is an elg'caress, and she will be dying soon. And I wish to dwell no more on the subject. There, at least, is a problem I can most certainly solve with Enserric."

Valen responded by gulping down the entire rest of the bottle's contents in one quick swig. Upon noticing Solaufein staring at him with eyebrows raised, Valen shyly explained, "This is hardly my first time. It's been a few years; I tried it when I first joined the Seer. Imloth was persuasive."

Solaufein laughed. "Care for another?" He offered, pulling up the second bottle where he had left it by his leg on the floor.

The General eyed the bottle in trepidation. "If I drink more, I need you to promise me something," he began.

"Of course."

"If . . . I lose control, you'll have to stop me," Valen intoned seriously.

Solaufein was baffled by this. Though he enjoyed sparring with Valen in the yards and had made a point to do so whenever possible, the tiefling had so far fairly won every bout. Solaufein had yet to pull any dirty tricks, as Imoen had called them, but even suspected that if he had, Valen would still soundly beat him. It was a humbling experience, falling before the weapon master and his flail in spite of Solaufein's centuries of experience. There was nothing to it - Valen was simply superior. Solaufein still vividly recalled the feeling of being the Hand of Bane and getting clobbered by the tiefling with a golem's arm. (It had thrown him and made him laugh almost into hysterics when Nathyrra had shown him the scar and revealed she had been the golem in question. 'In no one else's life do these things happen,' he had told her once he'd calmed down.) "I will not," stated Solaufein plainly. "You would best me easily in any fight, abbil," he explained at Valen's consternated look.

"You, Nathyrra, and maybe Binne would figure something out. You'd stop me," Valen rationalized. He paused. "Or Deekin would. Maybe."

"Stop you from what?" Solaufein wondered.

"From losing control. When my eyes change, I change. I become—it's like the demon part of me wakes up and takes control. Alcohol can lower my normal inhibitions, makes everything . . . Easier to feel. The demon is closer to the surface. Everything becomes instinctive."

"If you are truly worried, drink no more," Solaufein suggested, taking a swig of morimatra from the bottle himself. "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. I will give Imloth your share," he jested.

"No, I'll—you had a point," Valen conceded. "I don't really know how to relax. But I find myself wanting to think about anything but the Valsharess' incoming forces. It's only a temporary distraction, and it has to be better than destroying training equipment in the yards all night."

Solaufein wordlessly passed him the bottle, which Valen used generously. He passed the bottle back and Solaufein took another swig. "I may die with one less regret," the dark elf justified.

Valen cleared his throat after taking a healthy sip from his drink. "You don't strike me as someone with many regrets in life," he commented.

If Solaufein died permanently tomorrow, he would never again see Aphra's eyes lit by the morning sun, nor any of the fellow mortals he'd been privileged to call abbin, nor would he again feel the wind through his hair as it wound its way through the river valleys of the Sword Coast, nor see his Lady's light hanging brightly in the sky, nor behold the diamond-like stars over Hilltop on a moonless night, nor would he read Deekin's next book, or hear Binne laugh with him as their minds traveled the same strange synchronous path, or the sound of running streams trickling through the mountains, nor would he be able to see Valen naked - which had become a new and recent regret for him . . . "I have several," Solaufein carefully summarized. "I like to think they give me more to live for. Come, let us find the others and join them." He stood from the table and swayed in place for a moment as the world spun. Valen was there to brace him from falling over.

"Don't tell me you drank too much." Valen sounded more amused than irritated.

Solaufein let out a small, raspy laugh. Part of him wondered if this was repayment from Eilistraee, for urging Lavoera earlier and getting her sick. The world was spinning and everything he tried to fix his gaze upon twisted and spun with traveling patterns. The silvery paint on his arms suddenly made sense to him as it stood out radiantly on his dark skin. He had to stop himself from staring at everything - everything was so beautiful. "Let us walk slowly, abbil," he amended, and handed the bottle to Valen for the tiefling to take care of since he didn't think he was responsible enough for it and he didn't want to trouble the slave girl with having to clean up any of his messes.

He had to keep an arm and hand on the General's shoulder as they made their way to the ale gardens, where the music was loudest. Some distance away from them, the smell of fire wafted over to him as the people of the city had gathered old mushroom stalks and whatever wood they had to spare for the special occasion. It had grown massive, and a small crowd of people stood admiring it or dancing around it. They were stark figures cut against the bright-flamed backdrop, cavorting, and leaving multicolored tracers of their images in the air after them. At Solaufein's direction, Valen deposited him on an empty bench someone had left near the fire, and everything finally stopped spinning and twisting in his vision as badly, although the tracers remained.

"Vaaaaalen!" Solaufein heard Binne cry, and from the suddenly parted crowd she practically spun right into the General. He caught her deftly and seemed momentarily confused and a little overwhelmed at her sudden enthusiasm as she wrapped her gold-painted arms around his neck and grinned at him. She left smears of golden glitter behind everywhere she touched. "Dance with me! Imloth's too drunk to stand, I think," she added and looked over toward the Commander who definitely was having difficulty standing upright. "That or I wore him out."

Valen slowly flushed, pink traveling up his neck toward his cheeks. "What? I don't, uh," he blurted, sounding flustered, but had no time to form a proper defense against Binne's sudden attack. She had, for once, caught him completely off-guard and grabbed his hands, drawing him toward the musicians and the still-dancing Ghilanna, who now had surrounded herself with a crowd of like-minded dark elves. Solaufein, for his part, didn't understand what Valen had been so worried about earlier when he spoke of losing control. He was surrounded by friends and could not be safer.

Though most of the two fiendlings disappeared into the gyrating crowd, they stood nearly a head above most of everyone else, so Solaufein did not lose sight of Binne's horns or Valen's hair. He watched them revolve around one another through the thundering of the feet all around them, occasionally swinging with other partners but always turning back to each other. There was no comparison to his previous time in the Underdark, his last and least favorite life, for yet he was surrounded by faces like his own in color and shape, there was no casual cruelty here or underlying tension. No need to guard himself from smiling, or accidentally meeting the eyes of a female, no need to keep his eyes trained on the floor, not that he had ever really been skilled at being subservient anyway. Before his regeneration after Undrentide, his back told a history of his defiance toward the dhaerow social order. There was anticipation in Lith My'athar that night, certainly, and excitement, but also open and genuine passion, acceptance, and grace. There was community in a way that there never had been in Ust'Natha because its people were united by something beyond mere fear.

Soon enough, the tiefling returned to his bench with the giggling and exhausted cambion, with one of her arms slung over his shoulder to keep her upright as she stumbled in her sandals in a meandering pattern on the ground. "Solafuh—" Binne began excitedly, only to trip and fall nearly on her face. Solaufein stood up quickly and caught her, bringing her down to the bench and out of Valen's grateful arms. She immediately curled into his lap, continuing to giggle and occasionally hiccup as she mumbled semi-sensically face-down into his leg. Whatever it was, she seemed eminently pleased with herself, judging from the tone of the noises she made.

Solaufein smiled and looked up at the disgruntled and flushed tiefling. "Care to finish that bottle?" Valen thought about it for a moment and then nodded, sitting down next to them, and taking a deep breath. Binne's black scaled tail seemed to find its way into the General's lap and around his leg, which he chose to tolerate even though it did make his eyebrow twitch. He'd left the bottle with Solaufein when Binne had dragged him into the dance, but Solaufein hadn't touched it since. Valen took a generous sip of what was left and passed it over to Solaufein, who returned the gesture when he was finished with it.

"Sollllahfin," Binne was mumbling, "where duh-did the fire go?"

"Turn your head," he suggested gently, repositioning her so she faced the flames.

She cooed happily and hummed. "Pretty. I like this d-drow tradishun."

"It's definitely not the worst one," Valen mostly agreed with her.

"Mush better than the one where they sac-hic-rifice boy babies," she rambled. "Fucking . . . Hic—Spider Bitch. Whas she want with all them babies? How's she gonna feed that many babies? H-How many tits she have anyway?"

"She has a diabolical reason, I'm sure," Valen humored her.

"If—if I had—had one o' them cute drow babies, I'd tuck it safe-like. Like a lil baby Solahfin! Can you even imagine? I'd keep it safe with, with my scythe. Love that thing. Whoosh!" One of her arms rose and mimicked slicing through the air, which traveled like a crimson-and-gold blur to Solaufein's eyes. "Kills everything. S'great."

"It is almost as nice as Enserric," Solaufein said, feeling the need to defend his sword because Enserric wasn't present to speak for himself.

"I—I fucking love Enserk. Now, I've never said those words. And I'll never ever say them again. But he—hic—he cracks me the hells up," Binne admitted, her head wobbling as she sat up. "Wouldn't want a talking scythe though."

"By the Lady, what a nightmare," Valen murmured. "If Devil's Bane had a talking personality, you can be certain I would've been driven insane by it a long time ago."

"Sollahfin's alllready a few nuts short of a squirrel," Binne reasoned, "soooo he can handle it."

"I am not sure what you just said, but I will pretend it was intended as a compliment," Solaufein offered.

They talked as the dancing and music eventually wound down later, or perhaps merely paused as the musicians took a necessary break - though for Binne's part it was less of a 'talk' and more of a helpless semi-sensible meander through a conversation. He didn't know if it was his own inexperience with Common, or Binne herself just generally being awful at speaking it, but very little of what she said to him that night was intelligible. She seemed happy enough, at least. Valen seemed to have warmed up to them, or at least didn't mind their presence as he sat with them getting steadily more inebriated. He seemed calmer than Solaufein had ever remembered him, despite the vibrant energy surrounding all of them.

Ghilanna and Sharwyn approached when the bard caught his eye during a break in the music. "Solaufein," Sharwyn greeted brightly. "Binne, V. Now, you look cozy," she commented with a grin.

"Cozy is such a good word," Binne agreed, slurring a little either from inebriation or the angle she was laying at, "even if it's one letter away from coozy."

"Lord Death," Ghilanna greeted him in Ilythiiri again, this time with a wide smile that lit up her round face. "I see you have found your way back to the dance. But you are not joining us?"

"No, I prefer to watch and drink until I cannot stand," he explained.

Sharwyn plopped herself down on the ground next to Valen, leaning up on the bench, her lute by her sandaled feet, and looked up at the tiefling with a smile. "I've decided to forgive you for abandoning me to Baneites, partially because it turned out so well for me," she offered generously. "Also because I know you were just trying to fix the mirror and I was just doing what I thought was my job. I hope I'm not the only one amongst us who agrees that those memories of the mirror-reality were . . . Terribly vivid, weren't they?"

Solaufein coughed lightly, feeling more than a little guilty. His devotion to Bane under the mirror's influence had been absolute. His last clear recollection of being under the mirror's influence was pulling his sword out of Binne's gut, even if she hadn't been exactly herself. He hadn't either. It reminded him uncomfortably of Phaere; he put it from his mind with a drink, unable to do much with the thought at that moment since he still could not, would not speak of it.

"Did I say I was sorry for that yet? I am," Valen said. "And yes, it is a bit odd how I'll wander into the kitchen and suddenly feel the urge to start making bread or remember the recipe for a certain pastry while I'm training in the yards."

Binne let out a peal of laughter. "Sorry for breaking it," she said once she had stopped. "But in my defense, Solllahfin told me to." She patted his leg. "So, really s'his fault." Solaufein threaded his fingers through her hair fondly, causing her eyes to roll up in her head in contentment.

"It saved our lives, so I can't really be angry about it," Sharwyn shrugged. "And it freed all the slaves. See?" She pointed some distance away where a pale-as-dawn, white-clad figure in blue paints was mingling amongst the night-skinned Eilistraeens. "Celia's flourished down here, and they all have started looking up to her as an example. The people that used to be in my police force, they still talk and listen to me, and they used to be gladiators. Ronan, Emmett, Bernard, Alexa - all of them owe you their lives for breaking that mirror and giving them a vision of something they could possibly achieve. And now they've chosen to be here, to fight alongside us, to help us defend our freedom too."

Binne blinked blearily at Sharwyn. "S'right. I saved everydamnbody. You—you're a pretty smart bard, like Deekin, yanno that?"

Sharwyn chuckled. "I am honored to be considered in his prestigious company."

The Commander joined them after a few moments, and conversation reached a lull for Solaufein that made a pleasant backdrop to his thoughts. The last thing he distinctly recalled was sitting on the ground, sandwiched between the two fiendlings, and he must have fallen into v'dri then when he was leaning on Valen's shoulder. The euphoria had passed to be replaced by near-perfect contentment, not quite so intense that he could have happily died, but he was warm enough surrounded by abbin that he did not mind the morbid thoughts when they came this time.

Deep in v'dri, his mind tended down initially similar pathways, evoking, and resurrecting long-neglected recollections of happiness and pleasure. For a time he wandered the halls of Drogan's Academy, dodging Dorna as Xanos chased her through the halls with Misha tutting and cleaning up after them. He sat in Drogan's little library with the sleeping pseudodragon on his lap and listened to the dwarf read to him different histories. Then, he sat before a fire in the halflings' caravan as Deekin attempted to play the lute for the first time, encouraged by the sly halfling brothers. Xanos mumbled in his sleep some distance away, and Solaufein smiled, knowing what a great bard Deekin would turn out to be. Then, he recalled a rare morning that had put Jaheira in an excellent mood when they had camped in the wilderness on the way north - it had just been the two of them awake making breakfast for the others, and she had been nearly quiet the entire time, stowing away her barbed and sharp tongue for a change. When Viconia had awoken, even she was too hungry and disoriented by Jaheira's good mood to maintain any sort of unpleasantness. Solaufein then remembered another night of celebration after they'd finished the slaying of a lich in Athkatla and being carried over Minsc's head by the mighty Rashemenite toward a barrel of ale as he was pressured into drinking from it while being held upside-down, until Solaufein could no longer see straight. The rest of the night was a blur, but he'd come to later in Aphra's lap, so it couldn't have been terrible. There had been few such nights during the war, and certainly no time for it during and after the siege of Saradush. Memories surfaced for a time and passed by like foam carried to the shore by one wave and washed away by the next; he could recall Jaheira and Viconia bickering over who got to cut his hair when he asked them to and Minsc getting fed up with it and doing it himself one evening; laughing with pink-haired Imoen under a tree as they rested and exchanged insults in their languages; twisting under Aphra's parry beneath the light of the full moon as they made that deadly mock-dance their new routine, worshiping her body later like it was his goddess under that same moonlight . . . Back and back into the past his mind went, mining him of every moment of joy until all that was left was Ust'Natha.

And then, the feeling did not exist. He had never known contentment, fullness, or safety in that other life. Life in the Underdark quickly disabuses you of such notions. He and Phaere had, once upon a fleeting moment, found respite in one another, for the span of a few short years. But time in the temple under the doctrine of the Spider Bitch had destroyed the parts of Phaere he had cherished. The Handmaidens had stripped the truth from her completely in their indoctrination, but no one bothered to whip the truth of his feelings for her out of his skin, because males would have profaned the temple with their presence and were not permitted to behold the secrets of Her church. Whatever pains Phaere had been subject to had washed away everything but the memory of them. He had not been so spared and had never stopped internally questioning Lloth's doctrine since.

It was a strange contrast, rousing from his v'dri to the pleasant scene around him. He remained in-between the fiendlings, his a'temra curled around him while he curled around the sleeping Valen, crimson hair in his face, while scattered amongst their limbs about the ground around them were Ghilanna, Sharwyn, Imloth, and three others he vaguely recognized as the drummers last night. All of them lay in one enormous tangle that, should any one of them attempt to escape, would assuredly wake up all the others. Valen startled into awareness first after Solaufein, upon feeling the dark elf move at his back, and the tiefling abruptly stiffened.

"What—" Valen blurted, and slowly sat up, looking all around him in confusion. Finally his eyes arrested on Solaufein and Binne, their limbs still in a tangle with him and each other, and he flushed quite attractively.

Solaufein made a noise of protest as the warmth was stolen from him. "Xsa," he murmured. "Time for xonathull?" He wondered aloud.

"I haven't heard the alarm raised yet," Valen supplied quietly, respectful of everyone else's sleeping forms.

"Buh I dun wanna go ta class," Binne muttered into Solaufein's neck and hair, drawing a shiver from him as her grip around him tightened.

"Lay down," Solaufein all but commanded Valen, somewhat petulantly. "I am cold."

"Uh-oh," he heard Deekin creak out, "what big troubles Boss get himself into this time?"

"Looks like a frisky dogpile to me," Tomi assessed with some amusement somewhere within earshot. "And to think I, of all chaps, passed out in my room and missed out on all this?"

"Shaddup Tomi," Sharwyn murmured reflexively in her sleep, as if the phrase was borne of deep-seated habit.

Solaufein groaned and sat up next to Valen and looked out on a sea of sleeping bodies. Eilistraeens, dhaerow of all colors and manner of Houses, former slaves, and gladiators alike all lay in various piles of disarray. A good portion of them had simply camped outside while the fire died down as Solaufein and his companions had.

"We should ready ourselves," Valen pointed out. "We have no way of knowing how much time has elapsed. You need to lead by example."

"Dosst treemma whol uns'aa zhah l'chuno," Solaufein grumbled at him, but nonetheless disentangled himself from the comfortable and warm limb-pretzel and stood up. He was positively smeared with various glittering paints and had no clear recollection of how he'd ended up in this pile. Him removing himself caused Binne and Sharwyn to stir, which stirred the rest of them when they began to rouse. Soon enough everyone sleepily awake, their clothing still on but in various states of disarray. Though the morimatra he and Valen had finished had blurred the night's events, what Solaufein could remember was surprisingly tame - most of them had been too exhausted and inebriated to do much other than curl up together and sleep, too tired to walk back to the temple. None of them had been perturbed at the idea of simply sharing each other's warmth - morimatra had a way of erasing those sorts of feelings and inhibitions, when done right. Even Valen's stiff spine had loosened enough to allow himself to join them, though judging by the hard look in his bright blue eyes, he was back to his old self now that the effects of the drink had worn off.

"You said that I was reckless in the heat of battle," Valen replied sternly. "Have you seen yourself in a battle, Solaufein? You leapt onto Vix'thra's spine and stabbed at his bones with Enserric until the bones started to crack. Don't even get me started on Binne and how she ended up grounding the thing. We're lucky Nathyrra was the only one who died. If I'm to fight at your side today, and protect the Seer's savior, I'll have my work cut out for me. The sooner you put on armor, the better."

Solaufein allowed himself a small sigh and helped Binne to her feet. Though a little bleary-eyed, she seemed cognizant and calm, judging from her expression. He touched her glittering cheek fondly and told her, "we must ready ourselves."

She nodded, closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy his caress. "I hear you. Thank Tymora my head's not pounding, the way I drank. I'm with you, Solaufein."

They all parted ways and went back to their quarters separately. Binne and Solaufein assisted each other in cleaning up in the bath and dressing in armor again, though they were both subdued and quiet throughout. There was a moment when the last strap was tightened, that her arms circled around him in a tight embrace and her breath hitched in her chest. He reflexively wrapped his arms around her back and neck and closed his eyes, remembering her nearness, and scent. They met each other's gazes after the embrace unflinchingly, in a moment of silent communion. He braided her hair before they left to find Deekin, and the three of them met the General again in the training yards which was seeing a steady stream of soldiers filing in to report for duty.

A few moments later they were joined by the rivvil bard and shadowdancer looking ready for war, followed by the newly-armored Nathyrra who had a few scrolls to distribute to Sharwyn and Binne. Solaufein declined the offer of scrolls from Nathyrra, which confused her - he quickly explained that he only had a few memorized spells remaining in his repertoire and preferred to focus on the melee aspect of battle. Then Valen spoke up, reminding Solaufein that Valen owed him a re-match from their battle in Zorvak'Mur, and that they still had a good while before the Valsharess' initial forces would be seen. It was as good a way as any to kill time, Solaufein thought.

As Solaufein and the General began to circle each other in an open area of the yards, they drew in an increasingly large audience composed of their companions and forces. 'If I'm to suffer this sort of abuse, can I at least expect a good polishing after this? Surely I have earned that much.' Enserric telepathically lamented as Solaufein closed his hand around the hilt of the sword and drew him from the scabbard. Solaufein silently promised to let Rizolvir have a final look at Enserric as he ran forward in his boots of speed, a black and red blur of action, toward Valen.

The point wasn't to hit the General. He knew Valen would circle for minutes, patiently waiting for Solaufein to attack. Valen wished to approach the fight defensively, to give himself a better chance of tiring Solaufein out quickly. If he had intended to kill Solaufein, he would've attacked first and without mercy. Valen simply dodged the swipe of Solaufein's sword strike, stepping to one side and then another as the dark elf struck again, backed up, and swung in the space where Valen's neck would have been. Though Solaufein was faster than Valen in his enchanted boots, he still could not avoid telegraphing his movements, making him predictable and easy for the tiefling to dodge.

Solaufein knew his typical tactics would not serve him here. He pressed the offensive as he plotted, with Valen simply circling back and dodging or blocking every blow with his vambraces. He hadn't yet drawn his flail. The most instinctive advantage for him to press was that of darkness; but he only had a few such spells left in him and wished to save them for the battle ahead. Still, he surely felt the use of one would not hurt him terribly, but he could not simply hope that the darkness alone would grant him the advantage against a man of Valen's skills. No, the tiefling would have to be caught off-guard. Off-balance.

He had learned something about the tiefling thanks to observations of Binne the previous evening during the celebration - Valen did, in fact, have a weakness. Solaufein knew he would only have a few moments to exploit it, and there was a significant chance it would not work and would lose him the fight, but he felt that it would be worth the use of an unorthodox tactic if only to see the look on Valen's face once the globe of darkness spell fell.

Finally the tide of the battle turned as Valen's patience started to reach its limit, and he started striking back with heavy blows from his flail. The first few Solaufein easily dodged, but one knocked him back and down for a moment. He was up on his feet more quickly than the tiefling anticipated and he brought up Enserric in a hooking maneuver that wrapped the flail's chains around the blade. Solaufein spun the weapon out of Valen's grasp, earning a startled gasp from the audience as the tiefling was disarmed for the first time. Solaufein knew that even with his weapon and Valen disarmed, however, that did not mean he had the advantage.

Valen seemed to enjoy it, in any case, and actually grinned when he lost Devil's Bane, as if the fight had just become interesting to him. Solaufein knew his opportunity had arrived when Valen full-on bodily tackled him to the ground and knocked Enserric from his startled fingers to the gasps of their audience.

A globe of impenetrable darkness crashed silently over their heads at Solaufein's will. Valen wasn't at all perturbed by the lack of visible light and continued to grapple with Solaufein, trying to maneuver him into a position where he'd be forced to yield. Solaufein let him, instead wrapping his own arms around the tiefling's neck, drew his head downward to meet his own, and fully kissed him on the mouth. He wasn't shy about the use of tongue either when Valen's lips unexpectedly and instinctively parted, since Solaufein knew this would likely be his only chance. The tiefling's grip suddenly went slack in surprise - it was only a split second that Solaufein needed of Valen's sudden distraction, and Solaufein used his own body weight to flip their positions and pinned Valen to the ground. He had drawn the adamantine dagger from his boot mid-flip and pressed it to Valen's neck in one fluid motion, just as the spell of darkness fell all around them.

Solaufein pulled back and smiled down at him, fully enjoying Valen's embarrassed reaction. Every now and then, the man would turn the most attractive shade of pink as the blood rushed to his face in a moment of unguarded vulnerability, and Solaufein had come to enjoy those moments when they came, however rare and unexpected they were. Until then, he wasn't certain he could evoke that sort of reaction from the man - Solaufein's smile was as genuine as his pleasure.

There was murmuring amongst their audience, and enthusiastic clapping from Binne, Tomi, and Deekin's corner. Valen stared up at Solaufein, and finally uttered huskily, "Call it a draw?" Solaufein nodded, stood, and offered a hand down to Valen to stand up. The tiefling took it, brushed himself off, and collected his flail. He turned back to Solaufein after the dark elf had collected Enserric and put the dagger away, and muttered, "That was a dirty trick."

"It worked, did it not?" Solaufein smirked.

Valen was still flushed and probably would be for some time. He was a professional and Solaufein doubted it would interfere with his performance in the coming battle, but the red coloring up his neck and cheeks would doubtless be amusing while it lasted.

After visiting Rizolvir for some promised maintenance on Enserric's edge, there were matters of troop placement to decide before the Valsharess' forces arrived. Though Solaufein had decided where his group would be - near the outer gates, ready to portal via dimension door or Reaper relic to the city center at a moment's notice - Valen had largely made all the final decisions before the celebration, with input from Nathyrra, Solaufein, Imloth, Ossyr, and the Seer. There was still the task of overseeing it and cementing the final placements. A great deal of golems had volunteered for the outer gates on the front lines, to Solaufein's immense gratitude, and Aghaaz was surprisingly amongst them supervising. The demon flesh golem's towering, immense frame stood guard right outside the outer gates as his glowering gaze scanned the dark, waiting tirelessly for an enemy to approach so he could crush them. The Power Source, it seemed, would be kept hidden by one of the other golems in the city and would be well-protected near the Seer's side. Ferron and Aghaaz had come a long way from fighting each other over religious differences and seemed to have thrown their lot entirely in with the citizens and survivors holed up in Lith My'athar.

Lavoera volunteered for the front lines as well when Valen finally got around to asking her where she wanted to be placed - for his part, the General still stiffened in discomfort whenever she was near, but no longer actively avoided her like he had a mere day before. Lavoera was instructed to stick to flying overhead, unless there was too significant a threat from enemy archers and focus on healing as needed. She would lead a retreat if the gate was lost. Valen still seemed to believe it was only a matter of time that this happened, and Solaufein was inclined to believe him. Additionally, having a flying healer who was as fast as Valen was in her shining new adamant armor was valuable - though it did make Solaufein wonder at what Lavoera's equivalent experience in war had been. The deva spent some time lingering around Binne, chatting surprisingly amicably with the cambion who for her part seemed to have completely gotten over her initial dislike of Lavoera, and even tried to awkwardly comfort the winged girl when Lavoera ended up rambling casually about her captive experiences in the vampire temple. Binne even shared a few scant and roughly-recalled tortuous details of her own experiences in Akordia's camp and amongst Zhents (which made Solaufein want to commit violence), going so far as to hug Lavoera in an attempt to comfort her. The deva soaked up the affection and flew off with a smile toward the outer gates, saluting Solaufein, Valen, and the others as she went by.

"I sure hope Featherbutt survives," Binne said uneasily, waving after the floating deva. Solaufein placed a hand on her shoulder instinctively at the sight of her distress, and her warm red hand just as instinctively rose up in response to clench around his fingers. "I'd hate to think we enlisted her help for all this only for her to get stupidly killed on the front lines. Plus, much as her angel-hood gives me the itchy-tinglies, she's an all right sort for a winged-type. Even if she is a few carts short of a full caravan."

"Lavoera is skilled enough," Valen reassured her. "Now that her spells have been replenished, I'm sure she will be an asset."

"That almost sounded like you were giving her a compliment," Binne teased.

Valen smiled unexpectedly, and gently. "Am I really so stern?" He seemed a little abashed.

"Stern and mostly stone-faced, apart from the odd, adorable blush we can wrest from you," she told him quite honestly. "But don't worry, we like you anyway."

"It is part of your charm," Solaufein informed Valen with a smile.

The tiefling's brows knitted together in confusion. "I've never been accused of having charm before."

"Part of your charm is how unwitting you are of it," said Binne. "Now don't go and spoil it by becoming aware, you're perfect exactly as you are."

The General's expression shifted to undisguised amusement. "I shall try to remain witless, then."

They made their way to the secondary gates, where Eilistraeens and Mae'vir men had been stationed alongside each other to man the walls. Spear-men and women would make first contact with the enemy, along with the golems who would be instrumental against their illithid enemies, whose psionic advantage would be nullified against the constructs inorganic minds. Spellcasters and archers would be on the battlements, ready to strike should Ossyr give the word. Once the outer gates had been breached, Solaufein and his crew would step forward and help defend the inner gates. Should their defense falter, they would teleport back to the city center and operate as the last line of defense. Lavoera flew overhead and gave one final salute before landing on the battlements, mace in hand and looking ready for action. Solaufein fingered the warm relic which he had finally consented to put in a pocket, simply for easy access, and as he ran his gloved thumb absently over the encrusted gems he wondered not for the first time just what it was really made of. Nothing kind or simple, he was sure of that much.

"Now, we play the waiting game," Sharwyn announced, fingering her lute as she started absently strumming a mindless tune. Her music took on more veracity as the moments went by, and she started to sing an old battle-ballad in Common, softly at first and then belting it out as she paced in a circle. It seemed to Solaufein's untrained ears to be a song of rebellion, a sort of barbarian call to arms that would not have been out of place in Minsc's Ice Berserker Lodge, but Sharwyn's unique voice held a different quality than a warrior's did and made the bloody song a thing of beauty. Though the historical context was lost on most of the people around her, the tune was uplifting and bolstered everyone's confidence, and her elegant voice carried well over the battlements, emboldening the hearts that heard it against the coming conflict.

Solaufein had attended one city's siege before, in Saradush, and those circumstances were entirely unique. It had only lasted a day or so, and there would be no dragon-riding Aphra swooping in to crush the enemy this time, and no divinely-empowered fire giants assailing their walls. There was also no Gromnir Il-Khan on the inside to contend with, thankfully. Solaufein had, however, been in a few shadowy sieges in his days as a servant of House Despana - Despana did not rise to premier House in Ust'Natha on its own merits, after all. There had been the initial acquisition of Solaufein's first House, where he had assisted in Despana's infiltration by dismantling his family from the inside. When he was still a young man of only seventy, Ardulace herself had battled his own former Matron and mother Ilphraena and slaughtered her on the steps of their household during its fall, proving Despana's superiority in Lloth's eyes. He had been rewarded greatly for his part in that affair by becoming head of the Male Fighter's Society in the matter of a decade, with Despana's sponsorship. Once he had been born to and worn the name Ousslyl with pride, the heirs to the blade, no longer. Now he was dobluth, and simply Solaufein. There had been other acquisitions over time, lesser Houses whose resources Despana coveted and therefore orchestrated the fall of. He had been instrumental in those affairs as their key and prized assassin. Valen was not wrong in his description of the way Solaufein's people fought - two great shadows meeting, clashing against each other, seeking the throat for the kill. It was one dance he knew well.

He had spent most of his life honing his technique against fellow dark elves and knew that overcoming the innate darkness-spell would be key to the battle. They had discovered a few items that would assist the rivvil members of their party in the coming darkness, should they be unable to dispel all of it - a ring of infravision for Tomi, who would doubtlessly need it, and darkvision belts and enchanted jewelry for Binne, Lavoera, and Sharwyn that Deekin and Tomi had traded for earlier with Gulhrys. Darkvision was inferior to his infravision, but it would doubtless prove useful in the coming fight. Lavoera had a defensive spell or two that would keep her mind shielded from the illithid, and Nathyrra still wore the circlet that would render her immune to their psionic blasts as she possessed spells and scrolls that would help should any of them fall victim to the mind-flayers. Though Solaufein was certain that they had slain the bulk of the eye-tyrants, there was a possibility that a few remained in the Valsharess' army and were looking for vengeance against the Seer and her rebels for the violence Solaufein and his crew had committed against their clan. To that effect, he had put aside the enchanted piwafwi he'd acquired in Undermountain and wore a cloak of spell-mirroring, which would keep him immune from most of the eye-stalks' effects. Nathyrra had spells to mimic this, as did Sharwyn and Deekin, the latter two of whom also had mass-control abilities that should nullify any confused or ensorcelled allies. In short, they were as ready as they could be.

The Seer's visage appeared in a floating ball of light, indicative of her using the Mirror of All-Seeing, and warned them of the impending astral arrival of the illithid. "Blyn haszak!" Sergeant Ossyr shouted from the battlements as Solaufein felt a trembling in the air at the nearness of astral magic. The illithid appeared outside the outer gates, seven of them in total with magical protections already in place, judging from the cursing going on up on the battlements from the already-firing archers. Within moments, the seven illithid had summoned allies - within the outer gates, face-to-face with Solaufein's party. They were an impressive number of baatezu, succubi, and at least one large pit fiend who rivaled Aghaaz in size.

Solaufein did not waste time giving commands to his allies. They knew what they were about; Binne growled out something in Abyssal and with a wave of her hand, the succubi and baatezu disappeared in a flash of light only to be replaced with none other than Hugo. The rogue baatezu snarled something unintelligible but doubtlessly rude judging by Binne's barking laughter, and he threw himself at the pit fiend.

Gulhrys, surprising everybody but probably none more so than himself, had placed himself on the battlements in the best position to show off his offensive array of spells at enemies. The fact that Zessyr hadn't done away with him despite his previous loyalty to Myrune spoke to his prowess, as did his vicious haggling over the prices of his rare goods. A cloud of wilting orange vapor streamed from the Mae'vir wizard merchant's slender black fingers and blossomed into a cloud that engulfed the enemy haszak who scattered in response.

According to Ossyr's shouts, some of the illithid retreated out of the range of Gulhrys' spell while others teleported away; four of them planar-shifted into the range of Solaufein's party inside the gates. Lavoera immediately called down a flaming strike on one illithid that had teleported within range of Enserric; Solaufein swung his sword at the mind-flayer's tentacled head and executed a dispel at sword-point, sending magical protections that had been in place crashing down. The on-fire illithid was quickly beheaded before it could psionically blast anyone. Binne and Valen launched themselves at another one, quickly dismantling it with scythe and flail, and Nathyrra pointed a spell-breach at the third illithid that left it vulnerable to enemy arrows and her glowing short sword; it was quickly turned into a pincushion.

The fourth one was differently colored and most likely an elder ulitharid - it might have been a threat, had Aghaaz not suddenly flown in from overhead and stomped on it with his mighty clawed foot. It erupted into a mushy pile of green blood and unmentionable goo. Solaufein noted the demon flesh golem was simply covered in the stuff - it appeared that none of the illithid had successfully gotten away, and Aghaaz and his golems had handled the rest. Aghaaz flapped his wings impassively and returned Solaufein's salute with a nod before taking off to the outside of the gates once more.

They couldn't have planned it better had it been an ambush. Ten more appeared out of the astral plane, the entire advance force of mind-flayers that was most likely intended to weaken the gates to penetration, but they did not succeed. Gulhrys, Nathyrra, and their bards managed to keep the illithid at bay with offensive and breaching spells while archers picked them off from a distance, out of range of their psionics. Their summoned allies were chiefly demons, and as Binne had said before, it's best not to bring a demon to a warlock-fight - the few that she wasn't able to immediately banish she drove mad with a flick of her wrists, causing several of the summoned enemies to simply wander off while others viciously turned on their summoners and complicated the battlefield. Valen dove in, right at home and in his element, and made short and bloody work of the rest with his flail.

Sharwyn never faltered in her song that continued to bolster the resolve of everyone who heard it - none of their enemies had even gotten close enough to her to warrant putting down the lute and drawing her weapon. One death slaadi got a little too close to her for comfort, but it was frozen by Deekin's crossbow bolts as the little kobold took it upon himself to defend his fellow bard, and then it was back-stabbed by Tomi. The halfling darted in and out of combat, never underfoot but somehow always just out of reach of his enemies, back-stabbing everything he could. He'd purchased a ring of invisibility from Gulhrys earlier with many charges and was making excellent use of it, darting in and out of sight faster than Solaufein could see (most likely the effect of the haste-enchantment Tomi had Rizolvir place on his kukris).

Solaufein allowed himself to feel heartened - they were doing well, even if it was only the beginning.

It was hours before the rest of the Valsharess' army was spotted at the end of the cavern. The hallmark of it was not the sight of movement but the tell-tale globe of darkness that concealed their movements. Suddenly half the cavern had been engulfed in complete hushed blackness, the better to hide their movements from Lith My'athar's eyes. The darkness crept closer to them until, within minutes, it encompassed the gate and cries all around him alerted Solaufein to the presence of enemies.

He shifted into the spectrum of heat instantly, along with most of his fellows. Enemies had teleported once more within the first gate - a dek'za of eleven with an elder eye tyrant, judging by its size and scars alone. He called Valen to him and they went for the beholder first while he ordered the others to target the priestess who represented the largest threat next to the eye tyrant. He knew that Nathyrra would be working to dispel the darkness as soon as possible, and in the meantime counted on Tomi - who had the next best eyesight thanks to his enchanted ring - to keep the priestess occupied.

The beholder was just as blind in the darkness as Valen was, but this wasn't such a problem for Valen while the beholder was having trouble aiming its eye-stalks. It fired wildly, hitting a few surfaces but no living targets, although one beam did manage to hit Sharwyn and slammed into a magical barrier to no effect, but it did seem to startle the bard into putting down her lute and drawing her weapon. She was a professional - she didn't even pause and continued singing her battle-ballad without accompaniment.

Solaufein antagonized the beholder and drew its ire, knowing he was largely immune to its eye-stalks thanks to his magical cloak of mirroring. Beams of light from the eye-stalks struck him to no effect, frustrating the b'ahlach who made the mistake of attempting to engage him with its rows of sharp teeth. It was met with Valen's flail and Enserric's edge, and quickly died under a torrent of blows just as Nathyrra dispelled the shroud of darkness around them.

The priestess died after getting back-stabbed and even front-stabbed several times by Tomi who was simply too fast for her mace and shield to keep at bay. The ten others from their dek'za engaged in melee with the others; Binne managed to keep everything away from her with the length of her scythe, and Sharwyn the same with her double-edged blade. Deekin fired crossbow bolts wildly but generally hitting his targets, slowing down their enemies as he aimed at joints with his ice-bolts. Gulhrys pointed his finger at a group of three that had surrounded Imloth, and two of them simply died on the spot from his magical command while the other stumbled back and seemed disoriented. This proved fatal as Imloth took the opportunity to slay his enemy.

Solaufein and Valen picked off a few dhaerow that dared engage them while archers took care of the rest with crossbow bolts. Not since parting ways with Aphra did he ever feel so synchronous with a fellow combatant and abbil. They defended and worked around each other effortlessly, even in a large melee against multiple opponents. Solaufein could hear the sounds of conflict outside the gates, and it was heated - the golems were truly proving their worth in defending the gates from the assault, which would likely be unending until the gates were breached.

They faced wave after wave of enemies - only a small number ever managed to successfully teleport within their range. They fought tirelessly, perhaps an effect of the bards' magic enhancing their stamina, and it went on for countless hours before the gate seemed in danger of being breached. Globe after globe of darkness descended on them, easily dispelled by their spell-casters or by Solaufein, but their supply of these spells was not endless. Eventually he and Nathyrra hit their limit, as did apparently Gulhrys since no answer came from the Mae'vir wizard when Solaufein shouted at him in Ilythiiri - but Lavoera was there to the rescue and raised glowing hands, sending a beam of sunlight that came down from the cavernous dark ceiling and collided into the ground, searing the eyes of those who were unprepared for it.

This, unfortunately, made Lavoera a target, and a poisoned crossbow bolt happened to find its way into the unprotected space between her helmet and gorget. She went down to the ground in a feathery thud, and Binne was nearest to her so the cambion ended up dragging the downed deva away from the combat and tended to her wounds. She was hastily shoving a potion down Lavoera's throat unsuccessfully when Solaufein managed to hack and slash his way to her. "Poison," Binne breathed out. "I don't have the antidote - Deekin does!"

Solaufein wasted no time and laid his hands on Lavoera's head and plead for her wounds to heal. Eilistraee answered him, and he yanked the crossbow bolt out as the wound sealed shut with a flash of light. The deva was unconscious, but no longer suffering from the poison.

A very large something shuddered against the gates. Solaufein eyed them askance. "We need to retreat to the city," he realized aloud.

"Valen!" Binne cried out in alarm, suddenly dropping the deva, and standing. She ran toward the combat before Solaufein could stop her, leaving Solaufein to guard the downed Lavoera by himself.

The tiefling had somehow gotten himself caught in the hands of a summoned tanar'ri and would have been immediately crushed to death were it not for Rizolvir's craft. It appeared there was a skilled wizard or warlock on the enemy's side. Or at least Solaufein assumed it was a tanar'ri, Binne had one day corrected him that there were no specific shared physical characteristics between different members of the beings everyone called 'tanar'ri,' and honestly the fiend looked like it was half balor and half hezrou with ghastly wings, an unspeakably hideous grin, and far too many teeth and eyes for his liking. Solaufein found it morbidly funny, in the dark elf way, that Valen was about to be bitten in half by one of his potential relatives (or ancestors). Binne didn't seem to share his humor and reacted with genuine alarm and attacked with her scythe seemingly on instinct - the creature dropped Valen in panic as it found itself suddenly disemboweled, spilling its innards in a bloody waterfall onto the ground.

Valen took only a moment to reorient himself and flashed a breath-taking smile at Binne. She ruined it immediately by saying, "Sorry about killing your uncle there, looked like he wanted to eat you!" Valen scowled and launched himself back into the fray. Binne ran back to Solaufein and he couldn't help but laugh a little.

Getting the word to everyone about the retreat was the only challenge. He left Binne to stand guard over Lavoera and cut his way to Nathyrra, who had divided up the dimension-door scrolls between herself, Deekin, and Sharwyn. Nathyrra in turn sped away to the bards to give them the word while he worked his way through to Valen, stepping over bodies and innards of friend and ally alike. He spied Sergeant Ossyr face-down in a pool of his own blood and knew he could not stop to help him.

At Solaufein's word, Valen gave a shout to Imloth across the battle that the dark elf unmistakably heard, judging from his responding salute, and there was a collective movement on behalf of the allied Eilistraeens and citizens of Lith My'athar toward the inner gates. The outer gates shuddered once more, before bowing to the pressure of a fiery siege engine. He saw the light of the teleportation spells across the way and knew that the others would have to escape on their own. Solaufein had just enough time to grab the relic from his pocket and make his way over to Binne and Lavoera and grabbed her hand as she gripped the deva in turn.

The Reaper's gray realm was dreadfully silent, compared to the colors and clamor of the battle. Solaufein brushed some bits of bloodstained hair out of his eyes before turning to address the Reaper with a nod.

"This is the most fun I've seen since I became an accursed vampiric sword, and you take me away from it?!" Enserric was outraged.

Solaufein ignored him. Binne did not. "You've a strange concept of fun, Enserric," she told him.

"I'm a sword! What did you think I would be all about? I'm only good for one thing." Solaufein inwardly conceded that at least his current sword was less rambunctious than Minsc's Lilarcor.

"You'd look lovely mounted on someone's wall," Binne said slyly.

Enserric was silent for a moment. "You take that back, you horrible woman! Never again will I sit idle! Not now that I've been to WAR! I've felt the sting of my enemy's blood as their life flows through me! I've tasted the—" Solaufein sheathed him, muffling him somewhat and making him easier to ignore even as the sword waxed on lyrically about the thrill of battle.

"What should we do about Featherbutt?" Binne wondered, easily ignoring the sword, and indicating the unconscious deva at their feet with her scythe's head.

"She will wake in time. We will return to the temple," he informed her, and then the Reaper. The Reaper nodded its hooded head at him once, and then with a flash of light, they were standing before the naked statue of Lloth in the temple. The Seer, Elendrin, and a few other of her guards he knew not the names of stood in the nave, all of whom looked battle-ready and were awaiting word from the gates. Vaendrith stood not far from her to the side, looking healthier than he had last seen him, but he still refused to meet Solaufein's gaze.

"Solaufein?" Malla Ourana greeted him, sounding unsure. Her armor's links clinked against each other as she strode to approach, tapping her staff on the ground for support.

"They have breached the outer gates," he reported. She did not flinch, but her expression grew pinched and serious. "It is as Valen planned," he reassured her.

She nodded, looking a little uneasy but determined. "Leave Lavoera," the Seer offered. "I will take care of her."

"She is healed, but unconscious," he reported, and helped Binne bring the deva to the Seer's feet to rest. The celestial did not even stir. "We will return victorious," he promised the Seer, and made to move.

A column of gentle silver light engulfed him for a moment, causing him to pause as he was suddenly bathed in Eilistraee's love. The goddess he had always felt in his heart awakened for a moment, as if rearing her head, and smiled at him. The Seer's head was bowed in prayer when he turned to look at her, and he noted the same light settling over Binne who looked about in wonder. "I feel ready to take on a whole clan of ogres!" the bloodstained cambion exclaimed cheerfully, clutching her scythe tighter.

"Go with Eilistraee's blessing," Malla Ourana intoned. "Make her enemies tremble before her might."

Solaufein nodded, respectively. "Alulove," he said in parting, and led Binne out the door at a near-run.

The streets were emptied of their prior chaos. The rest of the Seer's guard, and most of the Eilistraeens - those trained in combat or otherwise - were all armored and standing in columns before the temple. They parted ways for Solaufein and Binne, looking startled to see their 'Savior' and his a'temra coming at them from behind. They made their way down the spidery pathways toward the city center, near the market, where he spied Valen's crimson head standing above everyone else's around him. He knew the others would likely have gathered around the tiefling for leadership in his absence.

"Where's the deva?" Valen asked in lieu of greeting.

"In the temple recovering," Solaufein reported.

"Nice to see you again too," Binne greeted anyway. "Were you ever going to tell me the story about that marilith, by the way?"

Valen flushed attractively but ignored her. "We could have used her help," he gritted his teeth. "No matter. I have had a report that some enemies are flooding the docks - duergar, allied with the Valsharess, who have summoned allies."

"Time for Barbara?" Binne wondered.

It took a second for Solaufein to remember she was referring to her bound bebilith. "Nau, not yet," he told her firmly. "It will turn on us just as easily. Can your Eryines . . . Mata, heal?"

Binne thought about this for a moment. "She has a spell that does to her what Enserric does for you. I've never seen her use it to benefit anyone other than herself. She or Hembercane could read scrolls, however, and she could float potions to us. However I worry about what happened to Lavoera happening to her . . . But she might be immune, demonic blood and all. Hem certainly is."

He nodded, thinking, and turned to Valen. Valen seemed to be thinking on similar lines. He turned back to Binne. "Summon them both. And the vrock, into their midst."

"You mean Birdbrain?" She said cheerily.

"I refuse to call it that," Valen said firmly.

"Aw," she pouted.

"Yes, Birdbrain," Solaufein relented.

She grinned.

"I could divide the enemies by summoning a wall of fire, or stone," Nathyrra offered, stepping closer to them. She and the bards, along with Tomi, had gathered around Valen while the rest of their forces attempted to hold the last gate. They had arrayed like a funnel, positioning spear-wielding soldiers and golems in the front while archers maintained high ground from neighboring buildings and battlements, ready to fire. The enemies would breach the gate and file inward, straight toward Solaufein and his allies to be slaughtered. However, this plan would have to change if their forces were divided taking care of the docks.

"I wish not to divide us," Solaufein stated, ruminating. "We cannot afford to be weakened now."

"I have a few teleportation scrolls left," Nathyrra added. "I believe Binne and I, and perhaps Deekin would be enough to stop the forces that have invaded the docks. All three of us may summon additional allies to aid us, as you pointed out."

"Deekin likings this plan," the kobold spoke up, fingering his crossbow. "We be goings now?"

"And what if there are b'ahlach?" He wondered. He loosened the fastenings at his shoulders. "You shall take my cloak."

Nathyrra nodded respectfully and took the garment from his hands, quickly and deftly securing it about her shoulders. "See you in a few," Binne offered with a nervous-seeming grin, and followed Nathyrra away when the young dark elven woman beckoned to her with a hand. His a'temra leaned in and quickly kissed him, lasting only a moment before she leaned away and chased after the hurrying Deekin and Nathyrra. He touched his lips instinctively and fondly, noting how soft they now felt.

Sharwyn was strumming something absently on her lute. "I have songs that may slow down or demoralize our enemies," she offered as her eyes sought something fixed in the distance. "Spells of haste, illusion, invisibility, spells that may even instantly kill or weaken, a few spells of transportation . . . I still have quite a repertoire left."

"And I've got plenty of stabbing left in me too," Tomi threw in. "Just point me at 'em! Ooh, I could summon a shadow too, if that'll help."

Solaufein nodded. "Summon what allies you may. We will need everything we have to stem the tide of the battle here. We destroy them now, or this city falls, and we all shall perish."

"You're sure an inspirational sort of leader," Tomi griped. "But Hells below and Heavens above you're a far sight better than my last employer. Oi, could he whip a crowd into a frenzied mob faster than anyone I've ever seen!"

"This is why it is good to have a bard," Solaufein shrugged, and indicated to Sharwyn, who had summoned three dire wolves to their aid. The hulking beasts were the size of horses. They lay themselves at Sharwyn's feet as she struck up an Ilythiiri war-chant that Solaufein wasn't sure where exactly she had picked up, and she began to draw in interested nearby people with her who recognized the song. She'd even had the foresight to edit out the parts that mentioned Lloth, spiders, or the Demonweb. Tomi had to concede his point with a nod and eye roll as she worked the crowd around them seemingly effortlessly.

Solaufein had meant it when he'd told Valen that all he'd ever led had turned to ash. He held no desire to be anyone's savior or chosen one. He had seen what happened when the divine took a personal stake in your life; it separated you from everyone else, made you untouchable, unreachable. It marked you and isolated you. Reflecting on it now, he decided he must have always been chosen - from the day he was born until his last, he belonged to Eilistraee. There were certainly worse things to belong to, and he considered himself most fortunate amongst his kin to have found others who understood and alleviated his burden. Dying by their side would not be a terrible way to meet his end - it might even be the ideal.

"It has been an honor, and a pleasure, to live and fight at your side," he said to his allies around him. He hoped Nathyrra and the others were successful, and that would not be the last he saw of them.

"Eh, that's a little better," Tomi commented. "But, back atcha, Solaufein. You're an alright sort if a bit tall for an elfy."

Valen looked him intently in the eyes and said, "I misjudged you, at first. Badly. If I die here, with you . . . It will be a good death." Solaufein hadn't realized the tiefling's thoughts were so aligned with his own. He had misjudged Valen too, initially, but Solaufein did his best to be accepting of everyone's attitudes and differences. It was reflexive when he was in a culture that was not his own. They had all grown significantly over the relatively brief time they'd been there - Solaufein decided it would be a shame if it all had to end here.

Once the last of the inner gates was breached by the enemy's siege engine, the Valsharess' forces poured through in a torrential river that led straight to their group to a point. The dire wolves growled as the enemy ran straight at them; from the edges of the flood of foes, stragglers were picked off by spear-wielding allies and archers with crossbows. Enserric started to hum a song as soon as he was drawn and sang out in victory along with Sharwyn as he sailed through their first enemy's neck.

Solaufein dove into the style of orb alur, and swiftly lost track of how many enemies he had slain in his deadly momentum. Enserric was no doubt keeping track for him, regardless. He felt very much in his element, as if his entire life had led him up until that moment as the swarm of the Valsharess' army descended upon him. The bulk of the ground forces were fellow dark elves with innate spells of darkness and levitation aiding them, turning them into a half-flying horde through the gates, and he let himself slip into the spectrum of heat and made a red dance of his own as he cut his enemies down both around him and in the air. Bolts flied overhead, raining down on them at times, and for not the first time (and hopefully not the last) he regretted his indecision over helmets. He had never managed to find one that fit comfortably over his ears without impeding his vision; no doubt had he spoken of it to Rizolvir the talented smith could accommodate him as he had Binne with her horn-problem, but he had been far too focused on other matters that the sheer fact is that it slipped his mind.

He took a moment to regret it again after getting clocked in the head by the butt-end of an ally's spear in the melee, causing his hands to reflexively raise to protect his face - which disoriented Solaufein so thoroughly that Valen had to intercept a dhaerow of the Valsharess' colors from ending his life at once. He opened his eyes to see the tiefling wearing a concerned expression standing over the body of an enemy he hadn't realized was there. Valen had more spatial awareness than Solaufein anticipated - there was another behind him that Solaufein grew alarmed at when he spotted the curling heat signature ready to strike - but Valen simply stepped out of the way, leaving the enemy exposed mid-lunge which allowed Solaufein to swiftly intercept with Enserric and impale the reckless male on his sword.

They functioned like this for a while, amiably guarding each other's backs (and Solaufein did note that Valen never wore a helmet and never seemed to suffer for it) in the fray. Tomi darted in and out of combat, occasionally intercepting to end the life of an enemy one of them were engaged in; Sharwyn stood nearby, fending those off of her who dared too close and firing spells over the combat here and there at what she deemed the biggest threats - chiefly priestesses and wizards. A spell of feeble-mind struck a priestess dumb as she was attempting to channel divine energies, which left her exposed to Tomi's kukris as she stumbled forward unthinkingly onto her hands and knees. Her life abruptly ended. Several mirror images of Sharwyn stood in a circle, playing songs, fighting in the battle, and protecting her true form, which Solaufein spied when he re-entered the spectrum of heat. He had to throw his boot-dagger at the throat of one enterprising female that got too close to Sharwyn from behind, and she flashed him a grateful grin. Still her war-chant did not falter.

The rest of the golems were scattered amongst their forces, but he spied Aghaaz flying overhead and intercepting those low-levitating dark elves off the battlefield. Ferron's golden form was in the midst, where precisely Solaufein couldn't say but there were flashes of shining gold and silver in the visible spectrum here and there across the way toward the gates. A few of the golems were amongst the Seer's forces near the temple; some of the enemies that had spilled out of the gates had gotten past Solaufein and his dek'za, but no one made it past the golems. Lith My'athar was armed and ready to receive war - weapon-wielding and armored citizens attacked stragglers in groups and chased them into their army's pike-men and within range of the crossbows.

A hezrou and a horde of quasits had been summoned into their midst by an enemy wizard; first the hezrou started tearing through the bolt men, and then Valen took notice. With a snarl that was completely unintelligible, the warrior tiefling ran flail-first straight at the demon. Solaufein did not worry about him initially - Valen was reckless sometimes, certainly, but he was unlikely to take on an enemy that he knew might overwhelm him. Solaufein contented himself by attacking the quasits and keeping them off his abbil; he knew their claws had a paralytic agent that made them a nuisance to fight up close. Enserric sheared off their wings and made quick work of them - they did not get close to him. For not the first time, he wished Binne were near rather than by the docks, so that she might have easily dismissed the summons.'

Solaufein turned his back on Valen's combat for a moment while he engaged another dhaerow male enemy in the Valsharess' colors that had dared approach him; he received a jolt of energy from Enserric this time as the sword greedily drank its victim's life-force. When he turned back, he noted Valen had somehow managed to leap on top of the hezrou and was hitting it in the head with his flail over and over again and continued until it fell forward to the ground in a slump.

Valen rolled off the remains, ready to engage the next enemy, and was treated to a crossbow bolt to the neck. An icy slice of unfamiliar emotion made its way abruptly into Solaufein's heart as he saw Valen quickly reach up to the bolt, as if confused, and touched the haft as it emerged from the side of his neck. Valen began to stumble, and finally fell to his knees as he was pelted with crossbow bolts by victorious dark elves on the Valsharess' side who cried out at downing the General. Valen fell forward onto his knees by the time Solaufein sped to him - bolts flickered off his armor as they struck him when he placed himself between Valen and the archers as a living shield.

Ferron, in his shining and glorious golden form, broke through the line of crossbowmen and started pummeling them, drawing their focus away from Solaufein and Valen. Sharwyn was nearby and started playing a song of healing that generated a soft glow around Valen. Solaufein knelt down to Valen's level and grasped the bolt at Valen's neck firmly and drew the man's gaze. "It must come out," Solaufein said apologetically and abruptly yanked on the barbed bolt.

A torrent of the tiefling's blood sprayed out of the wound onto the ground. The healing song could only do so much. Valen gasped - once - before falling into Solaufein's arms. He placed the tiefling on the ground, in the process coating himself in Valen's blood, and felt for the man's pulse at his neck. It fluttered rapidly - he was dying, and swiftly. Solaufein prayed, for he did not know what else to do, and he asked Eilistraee with everything he had left in him to heal the wound because if anyone deserved to live, it was Valen. The scarred General had survived so much that to die here, from an errant and unlucky bolt, would be ignoble. Unjust. Such was his relief at the light that came to his hands that he nearly cried out - Valen's blue eyes closed for a moment as his wound sealed itself under Eilistraee's silver light, and Solaufein allowed himself a fleeting moment of profound relief. He hadn't realized quite until that moment what a large part of him Valen held - he was more than abbil. There had been panic when Valen fell - there was more than trust that lay between them; they had become something else.

An ice-bolt striking a nearby enemy heralded Deekin's arrival - Nathyrra and Binne were not far behind, but the little kobold had ridden on the back of a giant spider back toward his Boss through the city. The spider turned as it approached and spat out a gobbet of webbing that spread across the ground and tangled the feet of many enemies, who suddenly tripped up. It left them vulnerable to Sharwyn's dire wolves, who tore them apart brutally. "Boooooosssss!" Deekin cried out and nearly collided into him - Solaufein had to move to Valen's other side where he knelt as the spider collided with an enemy who had been approaching him from behind, and Deekin dove off the spider's back as it started to wrap up its foe in webbing and paralyze him with its fangs.

"Uh-oh," Deekin spoke up, looking down at the unconscious tiefling. "What happened to goat-man?"

"Have you any potions of regeneration?" Solaufein asked without explaining. Deekin abruptly swung his pack off his back and started rummaging through his bag of holding's potion supply. Solaufein knew Valen would not recover fully from the blood loss and poison until he had a full regeneration, or at the very least the Seer's attention in the absence of the former. He fingered the relic in his pocket and kept a watchful eye around them, but the flood of enemies that had emerged from the gates had been reduced to a trickle in their fierce melee, and of the ones who were left, none dared approach them. Some had attempted to flee into the city past them, but Solaufein could hear the sounds of battle in every part of the cavern around them and knew they faced fierce resistance from the Seer's forces guarding the temple. They would be able to handle a few stragglers.

When Deekin finally emerged with the potion, Binne had run over to them and knelt down immediately at Valen's side with an expression of concern. "He lives," Solaufein assured her immediately when she sought out his gaze.

"What did it?" She asked.

"A bolt to the neck, d'jal l'xsa ap'za."

Binne glared. "This is what you both get when you don't wear bloody helmets!"

Solaufein rolled his eyes. "I am sure he will enjoy your lecture once he is conscious to hear it. Give it to me," he demanded to Deekin, who handed it over. With Binne's help, they were able to prop up Valen enough that the potion went down his throat. He considered teleporting the tiefling back to the Seer in the temple but should Valen regain consciousness they would undoubtedly need his presence and leadership on the battlefield.

Binne solved this by offering, "I'll keep an eye on the big boy 'til he wakes, now you go kill all the bad guys," with a smile.

He leaned in and pleasantly surprised her with a quick kiss before standing up to do just that.

Aberrant monsters ran through Lith My'athar, but the steady stream of enemies finally slowed down to manageable levels. Many on their side had died; Ossyr had been slain at the gates, Imloth at the city center after their retreat, and at a certain point when Solaufein had turned his back on the golem, Ferron had been torn apart and decommissioned while his fellows and Nathyrra gathered his pieces. He saw Sharwyn hovering over Ghilanna's body and others in similar straits, some weeping, some simply staring, others laughing in relief. The battle was, in essence, over, and they had won.

"Hey, Solaufein," Tomi greeted as he approached. The halfling was busily looting corpses on the battlefield of their coin. "Got something to show you," he offered.

Solaufein nodded and followed him at an easy pace and found himself being led to the market where Gulhrys' stall was still open for business. The mage himself steeped out of a dimension door to greet them and attempted to sell them on some potions almost immediately. Tomi grinned. "Give us all your resurrection sticks," he said rather demandingly. Gulhrys, clearly expecting a sale, produced two such rods nearly identical to the one Solaufein had given Deekin, given to them on the surface by the Sunite White Thesta. There were only a few charges left on his rod, he did not know how many, so he thanked Tomi for his foresight.

He decided not to pay. Solaufein simply grabbed the sticks and stared at Gulhrys until the Mae'vir wizard stopped talking. He held his grip on Enserric the whole time while Tomi wore his best shit-eating grin. They simply took the rods with little to no objection from the wizard, who decided that the gold he'd make on that sale wasn't worth the effort of trying to get past Enserric and Tomi. "Consider it a . . . Donation to the Seer's cause," Gulhrys decided as Solaufein walked away with the sticks.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, drowsy," Tomi said with a big smile and followed Solaufein.

There were many that were past the point of resurrection, Ghilanna and Ossyr amongst them. Imloth rose and was glad for it; the rods were useless on Ferron, who according to Nathyrra had to be rebuilt before he could be reactivated, and it was possible, if time-consuming. Solaufein gave one of the rods to Deekin and the two of them used the charges that they had to resurrect as many of their allies that had fallen on the battlefield as possible. It was a bittersweet ending to their fight, and Solaufein was proud of their side for winning.

By the time he made it back to Binne, he was thoroughly exhausted and had resurrected many. Valen had just stirred awake at his approach and was seated, holding his head delicately in his hands. He turned to look up at Solaufein with a somewhat bitter smile. "Did I miss the ending?" Valen asked as Solaufein approached.

"You are alive, abbil," Solaufein answered. He smiled in relief; Enserric's enchantment had helped with his exhaustion, but now that they were at the end of the fight Solaufein allowed himself a small breath of relief that his abbin, at least, were alive and well. "That is what matters."

"My head would disagree with you," the tiefling growled.

Solaufein sat down next to the General and placed his arm on Valen's shoulders. The tiefling did not seem to mind; they had evolved, during the last few days. Binne took her place on the other side of Valen, which seemed to startle the General for a moment before Binne simply patted him on the leg comfortingly and smiled at him. Valen smiled tentatively back. "What matters is that we lived for Deekin to tell the tale!" she declared. "Also, I didn't die! Again!"

A strange pain began to bloom in Solaufein's gut that spread throughout his body - it was subtle at first, but abruptly disorienting, and it left him halfway onto the ground next to Valen, feeling confused and nauseous. Binne had begun to ask Valen about the marilith comment, but Solaufein couldn't listen - something strange was happening to him. He fingered the relic in his pocket and noted, oddly, that it was warm to the touch. It rapidly got warmer.

"Solaufein?" He looked up and saw Binne had leaned forward to put a concerned hand on his shoulder.

And then the world melted away. All around him the cavern of Lith My'athar, the tiefling next to them, the fallen and resurrected warriors, everything faded to shadows and shifted into a new environment. Suddenly, he and Binne were in a place he had only seen once - in a dream before venturing into Undermountain.

"What the bloody fuck just happened?" Binne blurted, staring around them in panicked confusion.

Before him stood the Valsharess clad in her enchanted and largely useless-looking armor, looking appropriately furious at him with her hand clutching at a matron's whip at her side, and behind her loomed a menacing shadow that would have normally housed a statue of Lloth. He could not see what form lay behind her but could easily guess the great shadow in the dark behind her had something to do with the arch-fiend that was still rumored to be under her chain. Around them in an array were a small army of still, silent, red-clad priestesses waiting for the order to strike.

"Dos!" the Valsharess cried out, not even able to formulate an insult to add to it. You, was all she could say.

"Usstan," he greeted back, and stood to draw his sword. "We meet again."

"Kill them, Mephistopheles!" The Valsharess commanded, adding an emphatic stamp with her boot for good measure.

There was a stirring in the nave. Slowly, achingly, with great big, hoofed feet clomped the infamous - and now named - arch-fiend himself. He stood well over fifteen feet, towering above them all, with a goat's tail and black as soot hooves and horns that curved up over the top of his head, adding to the fiend's height. His skin was the hue of fresh blood, and he locked eyes with Solaufein with glowing amber eyes that mirrored Binne's. Mephistopheles opened his mouth to speak, and what emerged was unexpected. "I shall . . . not do as you command, great Valsharess," the arch-devil intoned in a voice that sent shivers up the spines of the unprepared. Solaufein had met more menacing - and ancient - dragons. The fiend did not frighten him, but his own powerlessness over how the next situation would unfold did.

The Valsharess took a moment to whip her head around to stare at her chained arch-devil in angered disbelief. "What?" She squawked. "You dare refuse me? I command you! You cannot defy me!"

"You command me no longer," Mephistopheles growled.

Solaufein clenched his hand around Enserric's hilt a little tighter, and the sword telepathically communicated his unease. His eyes narrowed and jaw grit as he refused to take his eyes off of the arch-fiend, who had locked eyes with him and engaged in a particularly disturbing smile. Binne seemed to have the opposite reaction to the danger than he did and cut in with a mockingly friendly, "Hello!" to the Valsharess, who turned her boiling glare on the cambion. "You're that drow-matron-lady that was trying to sacrifice her boy-baby, right? Remember me, the girl you tried to summon to supervise the sacrifice months and months ago? Yes, hello again, I recognize you. Funny that we should find ourselves in this situation, of all things! I certainly never thought I'd have to see you again, but here we are, bound by—"

"Silence, fool!" the Valsharess snapped and twisted her hand in an arcane gesture. The words coming out of Binne's mouth kept their shape but lost their sound as the silence spell took effect. Binne didn't seem entirely upset so much as angry and raised her middle finger toward the dark elven woman and mouthed 'you're dead.'

That was the moment that he remembered that the woman standing before him had sent Akordia after him. Not only die she owe the Seer's people her death in exchange for their sacrifices, but she owed Solaufein a debt of pain.

The Valsharess had turned away from Binne to stare at the arch-devil in trepidation. Mephistopheles' grin grew wider, as did Solaufein's unease. "What is the meaning of this?" the Valsharess demanded. "You will obey me!" She didn't seem to believe that the arch-devil wasn't bound by her will in this instance; though Solaufein did not know the nature of their bond, if it was by geas or something worse, it would take a mighty spell or artifact to break it. The relic in his pocket had grown warm.

"I will not," Mephistopheles simply stated. "Instead, I think I shall . . . Kill all of your Red Sisters," he offered and twisted his black-clawed hand in front of him.

A wave of magic swept over the room with his gesture, and Solaufein shuddered as the eldritch energy passed over him harmlessly like a tickling feather. In a row, one after the other, the Red Sisters surrounding them helplessly died, watching each other fall to the ground as the life was cut from them like a puppet's strings. The Valsharess watched on, helpless at the changing situation.

"You cannot do this!" The Valsharess cried out, still in stunned disbelief. Solaufein looked over to Binne, who shrugged silently in confusion and clenched her scythe.

"You know nothing of the powers you play with," the arch-devil growled. "Now, pay the price!"

Solaufein knew he wouldn't get another opportunity quite like this one. He dove forward with the full speed of his boots and tried to skewer the matron with the gleeful Enserric. "Haha!" The sword laughed in victory, then went, "Oops," as they missed. The Valsharess was unexpectedly quick in her armor and spun low and away from the sword and snaked out with her whip.

By chance or luck, or perhaps Beshaba's will, her whip wrapped around the length of Enserric's blade and whipped it abruptly from Solaufein's grip. He hadn't anticipated that she would be so quick to react in the situation, and he had to speed backward to dodge a blow and dive for his sword again where the Valsharess had tossed it.

Binne swept silently forward as the Valsharess tried to strike him again, this time spilling out arcane words and gesturing wildly - soon one of her arms was sailing through the air as she screamed as Binne sliced cleanly through her upper left arm, completely disarming her.

"Payback!" Enserric cried out in amusement as Solaufein picked him up and ran the Valsharess through with his point while she was still in shock over her missing arm. It wasn't the ending he'd wanted - he wanted more pain, more suffering - but it was enough that she was dead. It was an abrupt battle, compared to the long, drawn-out conflict between their forces and her own. All it had required was one mistake - one mis-step on the Valsharess' part, and Solaufein had been able to keep his promise to her.

Now, all that was left, was Mephistopheles.

The arch-devil had started laughing as Enserric drained the last of the Valsharess' life away. 'Now we reach the true enemy,' Enserric silently said to Solaufein.

"You've played your part well, mortals," Mephistopheles commended as his laughter died away. His hulking form stepped closer toward the dim light from the torches lining the summoning room. "Now . . . Now I am free to walk Prime as I please, and no one - not even the great Asmodeus - has the power to stop me. I owe you a debt - one I shall repay shortly. For now, finish him, child."

The words Mephistopheles said and their context were lost on Solaufein in the moment; in hindsight, and in v'dri, he would notice things about this scene before him that he hadn't before. He would hear the sound that Mephistopheles made - unintelligible to his ears at first, but a whisper across creation that took hold in the air and bent something - someone - to his will. Solaufein would look back on that moment and see the look in Binne's eyes as she took Enserric from his limp hands, so swiftly that it didn't occur to him what was to be done. He would see the similarities he'd never noticed before - the notch in Mephistopheles' horn, the amber color of his eyes and russet color of his skin, those black claws - in hindsight, the connection would be obvious. It was not so obvious in the moment, until Enserric was sticking out of his chest.

The silence spell wore off of Binne in that moment, as the last of the Valsharess' life blood spilled on the ground. At first Binne could only gasp in horror, and then the word 'no' emerged from her mouth over and over in a repetitive torrent, as if by verbally denying what she had done could take it away.

Solaufein felt his knees grow weak. "Well, wielder, what a fine predicament we're in now," Enserric intoned bitterly as his shining red and black point emerged between Solaufein's lungs. Solaufein was out of breath and could say nothing. He looked down at Enserric and fell forward, powerless, and betrayed.

"Excellent work, my daughter," Mephistopheles howled in victory. "I always love it when a gamble pays off! Who knew a Chosen would stumble upon my relic - but then, for him to stumble upon you, child. Ah, I love it when loose ends tie themselves up. Victory is indeed sweet . . ."

"Ussta'che . . ." Solaufein tried to utter words, but they failed him - blood welled up in his throat and chest and he spit and coughed it out, falling forward. Binne caught him, dropping Enserric's hilt and pulling him into her lap as she frantically attempted to staunch the bleeding. She was still in disbelief over what she had done. Solaufein understood in that moment that it wasn't her - it was Mephistopheles, who held a power over her she hadn't known. He forgave her immediately, though he knew she would not forgive herself.

"Solaufein, I'm so sorry," she sobbed out. "I couldn't—I can't—I don't know what—oh gods, it's everywhere—please stay awake! Solaufein! No, no, no, no—I didn't mean to—I wo—I wouldn't—"

"Fear not, mortals," Mephistopheles cut in, sounding smug. "Oblivion does not await you - you have performed your part well in service of a new god. Let me offer you your reward. But first, daughter? Finish it. Kill yourself." There was that whisper again - the will and intent that pierced the air with its sound - and Enserric scraped off the ground as Binne lifted it and pointed it toward herself. Solaufein raised a hand to stop her, but that was all he could do. He could do nothing as she pointed the sword toward herself and pierced herself through. All Enserric could do was complain.

Her breath hitched; she could not scream, so her mouth opened soundlessly and gaped in pain. Tears streamed down her face as she obeyed her father's will which violated her own, then the world went black, and finally all the pain throughout his body ceased as Solaufein descended into nothingness and died.

---

Drow-to-Common Dictionary:

A'temra . . . Female demon, demoness
Ussta'che . . . Term of endearment, literally my (romantic) love, or like saying "my dear" or "my love"
Alure . . . Dance, like an event, not the verb
Xonathull . . . Fight, battle
Xsa . . . Dammit
Dos treemma wh . . . Solaufein's like, I'm too sleepy for your shit right now Valen, okay
Blyn haszak . . . Seven illithid
Orb alur . . . Fighting stance for multiple enemies
D'jal l'xsa . . . Of all the fucked up ironies

Solaufein: *actually tries to hit Valen*
Valen: *dodges literally everything and is smug*
Solaufein: *knocks flail from Valen's hand*
Valen: *gets excited*
Solaufein: *smooches Valen*
Valen's brain: * has stopped responding*
Valen's body: *helloooooo nurse*
Binne: *watches with popcorn*