|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Oct 06, 2008 9:35 pm
Remembrance 3- Drow Never Cry
"Banished??!!"
Young Mikaril stared in disbelief at his older brother, who was calmly putting on his traveling gear and checking his weapons as though he was merely going out on a hunting trip instead of going....well, forever.
"Yeah," he replied with infuriating calmness, "I figured she would; either that or just strike me dead."
Mikaril shook his head. "But.....it doesn't make sense! You're not the warrior type; everybody knows it! Why does she act all surprised now? Can't she see you'd be better off serving our House the best way you know how?"
Triellyn reached out and ruffled Mikaril's hair, something he had done less and less often as Mikaril's coming of age was fast approaching. "When you're in charge, your orders don't have to make sense, Mik." The young drow watched Triellyn finish strapping the last of his gear on and take one last look around the sparsely furnished bedroom. "It doesn't matter anyway; I've had as much of this place as I can stand."
Mikaril put on what he knew was an innocently sad face. "Does that mean you're sick of me too?"
Triellyn chuckled and despite his load of gear, leaped onto his younger brother and put him in a loose headlock. "Hey, you know I don't mean you, and don't you try to guilt me into staying, you with the face!"
The younger drow squirmed for a few seconds, then his body went still, and Triellyn had to lean close to his head to hear what he said. "I don't mean to, it's just that......"
Mikaril staggered as he felt his brother release him, and as he turned to look at him, he was leaning against the wall with an air of mock-impatience. "Well? Might as well tell me, before I'm too far out of reach."
Mikaril felt a lump in his throat, and he could barely get the words out; when they did come, they sounded hoarse and gravelly. "I'm just.....scared. Of them. All of them. Especially HER. You know what she does. To us......"
He saw his brother shake his head, humor replaced by pity. "Whether I stay or leave, it won't change that any."
Mikaril fixed Triellyn with an expression of hope. "But you rescued me sometimes, remember? When she learned those new torture spells-"
Triellyn laughed suddenly and unpleasantly, cutting Mikaril off. "I rescued you alright; then I made you repay me by being my own little slave and doing my chores and running my errands for a month each time I did it! Don't you remember?"
Mikaril did remember; it wasn't easy to forget some of the most humiliating jobs he had ever done. But he still liked to think that his brother had had other motives than gaining his services. "Yeah....but I was still grateful."
Triellyn's serious demeanor returned, and this time it reached his eyes. "Well.....maybe I shouldn't have been so 'kind' to you back then."
Mikaril's mouth opened in an O of surprise and his eyes shone with hurt; Triellyn hurriedly continued. "Don't look at me like that; hear me out! I'm not saying I liked her torturing you or any of us, but I fear that you might expect others to come to your rescue later on in life, and you need to know right now that nobody will anymore. It isn't the drow way to help others unless it's of greater profit to do so."
Always uncomfortable with such serious speeches, Mikaril tried halfheartedly to lighten the mood. "Ar you saying my making your bed and scrubbing out your latrine wasn't profitable to you?"
All he gained from his brother was a ghost of a smile. "Granted, but in all seriousness Mik; you're going to have to toughen up more if you're going to survive here. I don't mean physically, I mean mentally. Females prefer the mental torments over the physical, and there's where you'll need to be strong. Act submissive, kiss a** if it'll keep you alive, but keep your sanity` intact."
At that moment, it seemed to hit Mikaril for the first time; his big brother, his mentor and only friend, was leaving and not coming back. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he stammered, "I'll try.....but....."
"NO!"
Triellyn's shout came as unexpectedly as his hand. Shocked, Mikaril staggered and reached up, feeling the stinging mark left on his cheek, and he stared at his brother with wide eyes. Never had he seen his brother look so angry.
"Don't you cry! You must never cry! Crying is the sign to the tormentor that they have won. That's what they want to see; that you're weak and fragile and not fit to be a drow. Remember this, little brother; Drow. Never. Cry. Say it."
The young drow fought the lump in his throat, struggling to form the words, "D-drow.....n-nev..."
"SAY IT!" Triellyn bellowed.
"Drow never cry!"
"It's weak to cry in front of others!" Triellyn hollered as though he were calling out training instructions.
"It's weak to cry in front of others!"
"It's expected of faeries, not drow!"
"It's for faeries, not drow!"
"Do you want to be like that?!"
"NO!" Mikaril heard himself screaming, his eyes blurred by the tears he was too ashamed of to spill. "I WON'T BE LIKE THEM! I WON'T CRY! I WON'T BE WEAK! SHE WON'T GET TO ME! I WON'T LET HER!!"
The next thing he knew, he was on his knees panting, and Triellyn was standing over him, looking concerned and a little amused. "Can you breathe?"
Mikaril wanted to say yes, but all he could do was nod as he let his brother help him up.
"Good. Because you'd be too heavy for me to drag out of here and dispose of properly if you die on me." Triellyn smiled at his younger brother, but Mikaril didn't return the smile. He felt as though he had just been purged of something, but he couldn't help but feel as though whatever it was that was gone now was something he hadn't really wanted to be purged of. On top of all that, Triellyn was still leaving, and he would be alone.
He could tell his older brother was disappointed that he hadn't returned his smile, but he didn't really know how to feel just yet. He wasn't happy, but he seemed to have temporarily been pushed beyond sad. It was almost like forgetting what feelings felt like, and it was more surreal than anything his sister could have thought up. At least not for another several decades.
But as he watched his brother fling his bag over his shoulder and quietly brush past him to head for the door, something inside him snapped, and it actually felt good.
"Triel?"
Triellyn stopped and turned his head halfway around to stare at Mikaril with a single dark red eye. "Yeah?"
"Is it okay for drow to....hug goodbye?
Triellyn looked as though he was pondering, and in truth he was; one last display could unravel what he had just got through telling him. Although.....wouldn't death come as a mercy if it did happen?
Triellyn sighed and lowered his bag before turning to look at his younger brother, whom he had brought up and taught all that he could in the time he had been here, who thought the world of him.
".........only when no one's looking."
Mikaril practically jumped at him, and for a few seconds it seemed as though a lifetime of thought and emotion was shared in one five second embrace. Then it was over, Triellyn was gone from the House and finally the city, never to return.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Oct 13, 2008 10:13 pm
[Remembrance 4- Fun and Games
Er...dark & graphic? oO
Mikaril clenched his fists, feeling the unrelenting grip of the leather straps that bit into his ankles and his bare wrists. He felt blood-colored splinters from the old table come loose and p***k his bare back, and his eyes sought out anything but the impenetrable darkness of the chamber. He had seen the other similar tables off to his left, all unoccupied with straps hanging; those didn't concern him.
What concerned the young male was the form with the glowing red eyes walking toward him from out of the shadows. It materialized when it was only a foot away, and Haellara stood before him, hovering so that she could reach his bound form better. In her hands was a small jar, and a pungent smell of fungus mixed with some sort of medicine reached his nose, causing his head to whirl. Noticing his reaction, Haellara smiled. "Like it? Wait 'till I put it on you." She dipped her dainty little fingers into the gloppy mess and smeared it on Mikaril's chest. It was a putrid color that looked like a mixture of orange and pink, and the smell began to fill his nostrils until it felt as though this had always been what plain air smelled like. Haellara smiled and floated a small ways away from him. "One of my magic books showed me how to make it. I call it "Nightmare Paint."
Mikaril suddenly blinked as Haellara vanished into thin air. The dark room was suddenly alive with a strange sort of hissing. He lifted his head and looked around, but he couldn't see anything. He suddenly noticed something dark and wiggly creeping up onto the table and enveloping his booted shoes. As it crept closer, a stinging sensation began to happen wherever the mess was touching him, as though a million tiny teeth were sinking themselves through his pants, and the pain intensified as the stuff reached his bare chest.
It wasn't until it was halfway up his chest that he realized what it was; hundreds of small spiders, crawling purposefully toward his face, and stopping to bite every inch of exposed flesh while more crawled over the ones getting a jawful of his flesh. Raw panic gripped Mikaril, and all he could do was watch helplessly as the swarm climbed up his neck, covering his hands and arms, entangling themselves in his hair, and then he began to scream as the creatures entered his mouth and tried to push their way down his nostrils. He felt them creeping down his throat, and he imagined them chewing their way out of his lungs.
Suddenly, the pain went away. The creeping sensation vanished, as well as the spiders. He looked at his chest and arms and found them unmarked, save for the putrid smear of nightmare paint that still remained on his chest. The smell had diminished, and his focus finally returned enough to spot Haellara off to the side, looking as though she had just enjoyed one Hell of a show. "That's the problem," she said thoughtfully to herself, "The stuff doesn't work very long; you have to keep putting it on and putting it on." She produced a rag and wiped the paint off of Mikaril's chest before dipping her fingers in again and smearing on a fresh dollop.
Vision after vision assaulted him as the torture continued. One of his hands turned frostbitten and his fingers began crumbling away like bits of ice while his other hand burned in a fire he could not shake off, his fingers becoming charred sticks and dropping off one by one. The ceiling above him turned into a sea of blood, moving upside down with tiny waves and the occasional bubble, before it suddenly seemed to let go of the ceiling and drop right onto him, robbing his breath and turning his world red and metallic. Another time he looked into the shadows and saw many pinpricks of red staring back at him, and out of the shadows a dozen drow zombies came shuffling, their faces half-rotted or all rotted, their limbs stuck out at angles or missing entirely. They moaned collectively as they shuffled toward him, and he struggled and screamed in fear as they approached. The first one to reach him grabbed his bound arm in fleshless fingers and bit down hard, its rotten gums oozing filth onto his bleeding arm. Yet another time his sister was present, except her face was elongated and her mouth had twice as many teeth. She held a strange weapon in the shape of a spider with each leg ending in a metal point. She drove it deep into his chest above his heart, and he watched in horror as among the spurting blood the weapon turned into a real spider, which began to eat away at the flesh beneath it until it reached his heart. But none of it turned out to be real, and by the time he came out of it, Haellara would be ready with a rag and a new application.
Somewhere in that time period, he fancied he could hear the voice of his mother, Matron Dilayne, enquiring about all the screaming. He heard Haellara reply that it was a game they were playing; just a simple, drow child's game. His mother didn't seem to think anything was amiss, for he never saw her, in a nightmare or otherwise, and she only came once.
After what seemed like an eternity, Mikaril lay on the table panting, soaked with sweat, his heart beating so fast it seemed as though it would never stop. He was currently alone; Haellara had finally run out of her foul concoction and was going to see how long it took to throw more together. His limbs trembled as though with fatigue, and his eyes were firmly shut; too fearful to open them.
"Mik."
The whisper barely reached his ears, so small was it, but he ignored it. Probably some new trick of hers, he thought angrily, and he turned his head away.
"Mik!"
The whisper was louder and more insistent, and not being able to help himself, Mikaril turned his head back around and looked. Triellyn stood off to the side, his eyes darting about warily. "Triel....?" he heard himself croak; his throat was raw from screaming. He saw his brother nod, and he found hope rising to squash the fear.
Triellyn glided over to the table and began to hurriedly undo the straps. "Can you move? Can you stand?"
"I....I think so." Mikaril replied as he sat up on the table. He placed his feet down, but he tottered unsteadily and began to fall. In one swift movement, he felt his brother scoop him up as though he were still a small child and carried him out of the chamber and into the corridor beyond.
"What did that witch do to you?" Triellyn asked. He wrinkled his nose before Mikaril could answer. "Ugh; you reek. Did she make you wet yourself?"
By the time Mikaril was through explaining the nightmare paint, Triellyn had taken Mikaril back to his room. Laying the young prince on his bed, Triellyn pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed as his younger brother lay there quietly, waiting for his heart to start beating normally again. "Don't worry; before long she'll tire of that stuff. Maybe she'll run out while she uses it on the rest of us. Thanks for the heads up on it though." He grinned cheekily at Mikaril. "But despite that, you owe me one for getting you out of there. How does a month of my chores and errand-running sound? You'll still have to do yours, of course." Mikaril nodded once before his eyelids closed and his breathing became even.
He was right, Mikaril thought many years later as he lay on the very same table, she DID grow tired of it. He was bigger now, but the table could easily accomodate the biggest of his remaining brothers, had Haellara decided to turn her attention to him.
But as the years had passed and she had come up with new game after new game, she had apparently discovered that Mikaril was her favorite playmate; he was smaller, younger, and less likely to break loose in a spasm of fear. She had come a long way from the budding young sorceress practicing her spells and concoctions on her weaker sibling. Now, she was still a sorceress, but she knew precisely what she was doing.
He could hear her off to the side, muttering a vulgar-sounding incantation. He didn't feel anything at first, which was always a bad sign; they tended to be worse the longer they took to take hold. Sure enough, not long after she went silent, he began to feel feverish. Every spot on him that protected an artery began to throb, and his heart even seemed to gasp. It felt as though she was making his blood hotter, and he almost felt it bubbling painfully inside his veins, causing pressure and making him cry out in agony.
When it finally stopped, Haellara once more emerged from the shadows. She had become a beautiful mature drow, with hair the color of the orb weaver's webs and eyes so big and so red that it seemed as though they were not eyes at all, but pools of fresh blood that her real eyes had left behind. She was clothed in a long robe of deep purple, and it only made Mikaril more conscious of the fact that he was laying there sans his clothes. Yes, she had learned many new games over the years, and looking back, Mikaril would have given anything to have her go back to the nightmare paint.
Haellara reached out with a long-nailed finger and traced a line that started from his jawline down his neck and shoulder, down his side and ending at his thigh. He felt his flesh ripple in response, and he gritted his teeth and looked away. He heard her lean over him and felt the velvety brush of her lips as she whispered in his ear. "You have such soft skin, not like your brothers and their rock-hard muscles." He felt her hands caressing his upper chest unabashedly, her pointy nails reminding him of spider legs. "Why were it not for your skin," she crooned, "You could be mistaken for a surface elf." Mikaril's eyes widened at being compared so, but he knew better than to speak when Haellara was in her element. Sometimes he swore that she was so far into her own world of sadistic pleasures that she probably wouldn't hear him if he yelled in her ear.
She was obviously expecting a bigger reaction, because seeing how little she received, she suddenly narrowed her eyes and struck out at Mikaril's face, gashing three fine lines on his cheek with her nails. "Why do you just lay there??!!" she screamed, showering his face with spittle. "What are you waiting for? Your dear brother to come and save you? He's gone, you idiot; gone forever, and he didn't even think to take you with him, did he? No, he abandoned you, just like the rest of us. Thought you were pretty special, weren't you?? You're pathetic; why pine for someone who doesn't give rothe-s**t about you?!!?"
Her temper suddenly vanished and her eyes lit up. "I've an idea, little brother; let's play a game. You are a surface elf, fresh captured from a raid, and I am the drow master who may do as she pleases with you." His face still covered in spit, Mikaril pulled at his wrist bindings in earnest, but he suddenly found himself facing her as she levitated horizontally above him, each of her hands pinning his arms down gently but firmly. "Now now, my little faerie, do not struggle; you will only make it harder if you do." Her fingernails dug in painfully, and he let his arms grow still. His eyes widened as she made to lower herself inch-by-inch, then seeming to change her mind, she righted herself and stood at the right side of the table, pondering. Snapping her fingers, she vanished into the shadows and reemerged with a basket of what looked like small pink mushrooms.
Mikaril's eyes went huge, and fright seized him in such a grip that he forgot her warning and tried to struggle, only to discover that he had been paralyzed.
He remembered the magical fungi well; Haellara called them 'revivers' because she usually put them to use whenever she overdid something with him and he was rendered unconscious. They were harmless, until one opened his mouth and put one on his tongue. Fed by the saliva, the evil plant would take root immediately and spread itself down the throat until it reached the heart and strangled it. But knowing that she was forbidden to kill any of her brothers, Haellara would wait until the mushroom came close to finishing its deadly task before she would reach out and touch the cap with a burst of energy that turned the mushroom and all of its roots to dust, the resulting jolt usually enough to bring him back from unconsciousness.
But he hated watching as she forced his mouth open and placed the stalk in. At least when he was unconscious he couldn't feel the roots winding down or feel the growing ache in his chest. And there was always the lingering fear that one day Haellara might wait too long and be too late to save him.
His body leaped up in his restraints as he felt the jolt, and he took a gulp of dusty air before she could put in the next one. She'd soon run out, and then she'd be sure to think of something else. It was always that way, since they were both small. And if anyone asked, it was just a little fun. Just plain fun and games.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 6:37 pm
Entry 5
To most drow, a good day is a day that you lay yourself down in your safest resting place with your heart still beating and your thoughts still your own. But that leaves a great deal of material for a bad day, and I believe that while I have definitely had worse days, this past one ended up being one of the worst.
It started well enough, despite my finding out what it felt like to be turned to stone. I followed the wrong female and she had potent ways of catching nosy drow. But when I was freed, it turned out she had the very problem that chased away my boredom with being stuck for so long inside my own city. I was going to get the opportunity to rob a higher ranking house; something I had only done once before, and while it was not as high-ranking as the last, it still presented just the right amount of danger I needed to make my life worth living. Not only was it a high-ranking house, but the strange female I had as my accomplice was a member who had been disgraced; if I was caught, disgrace would fall on me, and if I was linked to my house, disgrace would be the least of my problems.
But it seemed to start well; she lowered the magical obstacles so that I could do my work (one day I will be able to do such things on my own!), and I ended up doing something charitable; I honestly don't know what came over me at that moment. Maybe I felt a twang of sympathy, knowing what it was like for someone so temperamental to have a hold over you that seemed so unbreakable. In any case, it cost nothing to me at the time, though had I known how it would end, I might have done differently.
We were spotted, or rather I was, and to stabilize the growing partnership I made it seem to the best of my ability that I was the sole offender, at great personal risk. It turned out alright; I never knew whether or not my act was seen or appreciated by my cohort, but I had my loot and my 'bonus', and that was what mattered.
But that was all expected, and did not do anything to worsen my day. No, that started when I was departing before the angry guards of the house could organize any kind of search for me. I could hear my brother's voice inside my head, gently chastising me the way he used to when he was the teacher and I the learner. Usually I hung on to his every word like it was my life's blood and followed it to the very syllable. But I found myself angry with the echo of advice, insisting that I had done it my way and would continue to do so, and being my teacher didn't make him the supreme authority on each and every matter. I had never done such a thing before, and on my way back, I had time to think on it.
Perhaps it was the memory of Haellara standing over me, screaming that he had left to save his own skin and that I was stupid to think that he cared enough about me to think of me half as much as I thought of him. Perhaps it was just being apart from him for so long. Whatever the cause, I found that I missed him less and less with each passing day, and as I gained experience, I was learning that there are other ways of thinking and other ways of doing things, and nobody was there to show me anymore. I had to find it all out on my own, and that left little room for pining for a banished brother. Besides, much as I hated to admit it, Haellara's barbs had a tiny note of truth; does Triellyn ever think of me? Does he search every face in a crowd, as I have, hoping to glimpse familiar features? Or am I just a part of his life that's gone now? I don't even hear from him anymore. Perhaps he has no time for me, and perhaps with my profession, which requires every ounce of attention I have, there is no longer any room for him.
This painful revelation was only the beginning. Upon returning home I hoped to earn my matron mother's favor with the unusually large spoils. But thanks to my Hellspawn of a sister and her forked tongue, I was robbed of my share and my exploits made to sound as trivial as mugging a goblin. Damn her!
The icing on the proverbial cake was the servant who announced to all within earshot that the festival which had been my reason for being chained to my city like a prisoner in a slave line was going to commence, right when I was certain that it would be officially called off and I would be free once more to visit my favorite places in the Underdark and be far away from my family. I suppose Lolth can't stand the thought of a passed chance to be worshipped and adored. Just like a goddess. You would think that the great gods and goddesses relied solely on our worship and devotion. But that kind of thinking is what makes drow wind up in a pit of scorpions, or becoming a mutilated corpse hanging in webbing over the door of their houses.
I'm getting so angry I can hardly write. But I feel as though despite today turning out so foul, I have gained a brand new insight on my life. I was able to take a long hard look and determine what changes I need to make in order to survive this chaotic world. Funny how I would not have gained such an insight without the robbery and the inside help of my cohort, who happens to have no eyes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Nov 02, 2008 7:55 pm
Entry 6
This entry markes a milestone, one I am not particularly proud of. Today was the day I discovered that I have killed my first drow.
I didn't do it on purpose, though I will shed no tears for his passing. I didn't know who he was then, nor did I care to, for he was rude and arrogant, but despite that, killing was not on my mind that day.
I get ahead of myself; let me start at the beginning.
It had happened right after the robbing of Imordana's house, my blind associate who helped me land a huge profit for my house, though none for myself thanks to Haellara. I found myself on the street once more, pulling purses and doing things that were tiny in comparison. As luck would have it, I passed a public bath house, and the thought occured to me that I had never robbed a bath house before, and the thought of all the purses and jewelry removed while their owners bathed was enough to convince me to try.
I returned not long after with a secret weapon; a tablet I had purchased with much of my funds that when dissolved in water would work its magic not in the liquid, but in the steam. I had an especially large one made, round and slightly porous to look like a fizzing bath ball that was typically used to make the bath waters more fragrant. I managed to gain access to the more private area, where as luck would have it, two rich drow were lounging. They looked upon me with disdain as I joined them, but I took it well, knowing that before long they would have nothing of value upon either of them.
The tablet worked more successfully than I had dared hope, and in seconds both were lying facedown in the warm water. I had covered my nose and mouth with my wet towel pryor, so I alone was conscious, and I wasted no time in picking both of their respective belonging piles clean. Such spoils I found! A pair of beautiful bracelets fit for a lord, and a ring with a purple jewel that alone had to be worth our entire treasure room. I should have known then the risk I was taking, but whether it was the heat of the moment or the tantalizing scent of the drugged bathwater, I paid it no heed.
Figuring that louts that they were, it would be best to not soil my House's name, I pulled the two from the water, making a racket so that the servant who came in did not suspect me, but thought of the three of us collectively as victims, and I was merely lucky enough to have escaped the effects of the drug. Even when I was stopped in the lobby by a more clear-headed servant who insisted he search me, nothing was found; my prizes had gone into my satchel, and were by then safe inside my sanctuary. I was free to rush out and hide before the word got out that there had been a robbery.
It wasn't until I was inside my own House that I discovered that it was a murder as well. I had barely made it inside when Matron Dilayne stopped me and demanded to know what I had been up to. Word was spreading fast that a noble of the second house had drowned inside a public bath house, but not before being robbed of his valuables. Rumors had flown of a green-cloaked drow who had been with them and had been the only one not affected by the mysterious drug that had caused the noble and his friend to fall asleep facedown in the water.
I thought for sure I was going to be punished severely, but instead, Matron Dilayne saw the potential of such consternation, and instead made one of her 'suggestions' that I leave the city immediately until any suspicion against House Torlyl was dissolved. I couldn't believe that I was let off so easily; I even fancied I could detect my sister's anger at having been cheated out of a little fun with me, and I wasted no time in donning my armor and leaving.
But there was a catch that I did not forsee. Dilayne instructed me not to go to any of the places I had previously visited, lest anyone shrewd enough to suspect me would seek out the places I like to go and search for me there. She ordered me to head deep into the South, to a city such as Llurth Dreir, where I might wait until word is sent that all is well. I do not expect any such message; she has never bothered to send one before. But here I am, just on the outskirts of the city of Llurth Dreir, and I do not know what awaits me here. It doesn't look like a place I would choose to travel to, but I have no choice but to stay here and sit it out for a while; perhaps then I will risk traveling elsewhere; not back to Undrek'Thoz, but to another place I know and like better. After all, I can disguise myself if need be; I have a new way of hiding my ears, and a short-haired red-eyed drow is as common as caves.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Dec 07, 2008 10:13 pm
Entry 7
Throughout my seemingly short time as a thief, I have given little thought to the consequences my actions might bring to others, thinking only of how they might effect me. I suppose it was because I found no cause to be concerned for someone other than myself. But I have a friend now, and I discovered what it feels like to know that consequences for your own actions can negatively affect those you care for.
I found myself back in the city where I made my first and only friend, Kyil. I remembered the way to the pleasure house, and I had wondered how I would visit him, when who should I bump into on the street but Kyil himself; filthy and in rags, unrecognizable save for his delicate pink eyes. We barely recognized each other at first, but once we did, it was a bittersweet reunion. Kyil had explained to me that because he had let me go the last time I visited, his mistress had been displeased and had turned him out of the pleasure house. Not knowing how to survive on his own, he had soon become another dirty street urchin, at the mercy of the scummy lowlifes who sought to placate themselves with the innocents who let them.
I felt so rotten; Kyil had spared me from the dungeons and possible tortures that would have awaited me at the hands of his mistress, and he had lost everything in doing so. I had arrived in the city in a foul temper; I had left a good part of my innocence and shameless worship of my brother behind, and though I was starting to think less of the accident at the bath house, I had seemed less like myself, and full of misery and self pity. But at least I could fend for myself when need be; my friend had nothing and no one to rely upon, and now he was here suffering because he had dared to show me kindness. My woes seemed so trivial next to his.
I wasted no time in getting him some proper food and clothing, and giving him a chance to wash away the grime from the streets. I decided that I would help him by teaching him some basic thievery; that way he would be able to keep himself from starving if his mistress did not come looking for him, though he so adamantly believed that someday she would.
I've never had someone look up to me before, and I can't say that I don't like it. I do wish Kyil would look upon me more as a friend than a master, but I suppose I can forgive him his upbringing. I only try to break such a habit because if he is continuously worried about pleasing everyone except himself, he might find himself pulling a purse and then turning around and apologizing to the victim, which I seriously doubt would be as understanding as I have been.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 29, 2009 10:32 pm
Entry 8
The weak deserve to die.
That is one of the many lessons that a young drow learns as he is instructed and drilled in the ways of our race. There are many other things to commit to memory that are just as vital and important to our culture and our very lives, but that particular statement seems to be the very cornerstone; taking religion out fo the equation, the very reason for our disloyal, backstabbing ways. It is a creed, an idea, a way of life.
And for the longest time, it was a lesson I believed in. In the Underdark, there is no room for weak individuals; they are the ones who end up food for the carrion feeders and soulless shells awaiting the pleasures of captors and abusers. My brother knew of this and did his best to teach it to me; appearing weak in the slightest put one in as much danger as thumbing your nose at a matron mother in the chapel of Lolth herself. Even when I came to that hard decision (more of a realization really) that my brother had not had all the answers, as I in my childlike adoration of him had thought he had, I still firmly believed that if you were weak, there was no place for you in the Underdark.
But fate, if one believes that Lolth has little hand in it, has an interesting way of reminding us just how useless our eyes really are. When I first met my friend Kyil, I did not think of him as weak exactly, but I did fear for him, thinking that in his state, should something happen to him that would cause him to be driven out of his abode, he would be at the mercy of the Underdark and no doubt last less than one day.
I have already written about what had happened; that the very thing I had feared came to pass, and how glad I was to find him before he could meet the same end I had predicted. I estabished myself the stronger, and sought to bring Kyil up out of the status of weak, and make him strong, that he would survive and perhaps serve as a friend to me for many years to come.
But what a joke fate had decided to play on me. I attemped to teach him my trade, and to get some hands-on experience, I supervised what should have been an easy job of ransacking a room at an inn. But when I fell for the relatively amateurish trick of getting pricked by a poisoned tack on a trick box, it went downhill from there. We discovered that we had been attempting to rob a female, and our escape was, to say the least, undignified and sloppy.
More so when as we sought to put some distance between us and the inn, the poison from the dart increased its hold on me despite earlier attempts to suck the poison out, and I was suddenly in a weakened position, barely able to stand, much less run, and slipping fast into the realm of fevered dreams. Were it not for Kyil, who told me later that despite my heavy armor he had actually carried me all the way to a potion shop, acquired the antidote, and carried me back to our hideaway on the outskirts of town, I would have surely been found, tortured, and eventually killed. That night and for the next week as my system fought to rid itself of the poison, I was the weak one, and Kyil was the stronger.
I have recovered for the most part thanks to my friend, but I wonder now if maybe he had been the stronger one all along. When we were escaping, the female had magicked a cage around me, which I could not escape from. Kyil managed to not only negate the spell, but turn it loose upon the caster, which had given us our time to escape. He told me later on that he was something called a spell thief, which apparently gives him the ability to steal magic spells and use them to his own benefit; something that I could not even begin to imagine. All this time I had thought that Kyil was helpless and needed me, and this strange and magnificent ability had been sleeping inside him, just waiting to be awakened.
I do not fell the slightest bit of anger at the seeming reversal of roles (though I will freely admit I am a little jealous), nor do I feel as though Kyil no longer needed me, but it led me to wonder. If it was true that the weak deserved to die, why then to those with tangible powers die anyway, and those who seemingly have none at times are the ones that end up surviving? And if Kyil is to serve as an example, how can we accurately tell the difference?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Apr 15, 2009 10:12 pm
Entry 9
Happiness. It's something most drow care little for, or they end up confusing it with the euphoria that comes from having massive amounts of power, or knowing that you are in Lolth's favor. It seems as though happiness is one of those elusive emotions that seem forever forbidden to our race, like love and compassion. Why then, if we know so little of it, are so many constantly seeking it? Do they not know what is they are searching for? Or do they just feel the need to constantly find something better, which I know is all too common?
It used to be that I thought that just acting out my profession, ransacking rooms and picking pockets, and thereby acquiring lots of wealth, would bring me happiness, along with the chaos it would ultimately cause. But I found myself lacking. I sought to broaden my horizons; I bought a rowboat, traveled the Underdark, and familiarized myself as best I could with it's wilds for the better part of a decade. I saw many wonders, survived many dangers, and learned many things. But I still felt restless. Even as I found my first and only friend, a treasure truly more rare than an entire wyrm's hoard, I felt something missing.
I thought for sure I would beat the strange hollow sensation the night I showed Kyil how to rob a magic shop. I was ready to make the heist and was keeping an extra sharp eye out for any traps that might catch me unawares, still remembering that Abyss-cursed box. We had planned it carefully; Kyil turned out to be a natural mapmaker, and we even waited in position for hours until the time was right. I felt so alive; I usually do in those tense few moments before the actual deed is done. Thanks to Kyil and his spell-negating, we were able to get in and fill our magically enhanced sacks. And what a selection! Wands, jewelry, weapons, robes, spell components, tomes, bottles and bottles of strange substances with worn labels. It was the haul that other thieves dream about, if they were foolish enough to allow themselves to sleep that deep.
I can imagine that what I had felt was happiness as I began to grab what suited my fancy from the shelves, and seeing Kyil off to the side making his own selections and stealing the enchantments from an entire line of garments only made it stronger. I was doing it; showing Kyil how to be an adept thief, and how to reap the rewards of it. For once I was the teacher, and it felt great.
It would have been better had we noticed the grime-covered window at the front of the shop and bothered to cover it, but as luck would have it, we were seen by a drow patrolling the street. I managed to knock him out with an almost-accidental blow to the mouth with my dagger hilt that caused him to go down, but as we made a hasty retreat, I heard the awful sounds of reinforcements, and we had some tense moments of hiding. Once more I was happy; thievery was no fun without a little danger; someone to run behind you and shout dire threats at you for when they caught up, which they never did. It was like a game; a glorious, adrenaline-pumping game, and it was one I lived for.
After eluding the patrol, we expected to be in the clear, but instead we ran into some of the city's less pleasant dwellers. Still fueled by the sheer excitement, I still managed to think of Kyil, and worried that my friend and new partner might not overcome his reluctance to handle weapons fast enough. But luck was favoring us at last; Kyil tossed me a wand out of the bag, with which I used to ensnare most of the threatening attackers into some sticky, mucous-like substance. As we made our second escape, I left the wand behind for the patrol to find, and seeing as we heard nothing since, I think it's safe to assume that they caught their thieves last night and we are in the clear.
And yet......we had sold much of our loot, keeping only what we wanted and felt we could use, and now we have a considerable stash, and yet I find myself restless, barely a week since the night of the robbery. I am compelled now to go back to my House and see what has become of it; I cannot get the dream I had out of my head, when I had been enveloped in fever, of my mother dying by Haellara's hand. I've little love for her, but....I still wish to please her and show her that I can be so much more if only she would look on me as a son rather than a mere male. It seems hopeless, but I cannot help but continue to grasp at it.
Now we find ourselves leaving our comfortable cave, our newly-budding reputation as master thieves, and the only sense of security I had ever had, all to satisfy my curiousity. Once again, happiness eludes me. I wish I knew why; it seems as though I have tried so many ways to aquire it, and all of them are wrong. I highly doubt I shall find it at my house, but perhaps something will come along when I am once more walking the streets of Brudag. Or Goddess forbid, I lead us both into a trap and we never see the outside again. Still, when I think about it, what's a house dungeon, if not a smaller Underdark, where rocks are the main feature, the air is stale, and hope and happiness survive like frost on magma?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 26, 2009 10:19 pm
Remembrance 5- Voices
Whispers in the dark....where are they? In my ears or my head?
"Pick him up, and be careful with the bolt. I know of an inn not far from here.......see if you can get that bolt out."
"At least he's speaking now; that's a good sign....."
How could it have happened? How had it all gone so wrong? Damn, I should have known! Kyil was different; you couldn't help just ANY drow like you had him! Stupid! Why didn't I just leave him there; it was his own fault he had been shot, and now they had paid for their moment of mercy. He had to have been the one to lead his sister's puppets to the inn; his presence by her side when they were brought in had no other explanation. Stupid.....
Pain, stabbing me like knives, gritting my teeth, twisting my flesh....have I always been this way? Why can't I remember what it feels like, not feeling like this? Pain is all around me; in my eyes, my ears, my mouth....has there always been this much hurt in drinking? Didn't I used to drink something that didn't hurt going down, that actually might have once felt good? No, it can't be; if I had, I might remember what feeling good actually felt like.....
Echoes.....they're echoing now. Are they still out there, or are they on the inside?
"Who are you......who are you.....are you.....?"
"Why are YOU in that chair......in that chair.....in that chair....?! Where's Matron Dilayne.......Matron Dilayne........Matron Dilayne....?!"
She's dead.....did I say that out loud? I can't be sure....but it doesn't matter. Dilayne is gone, and so are my chances of having my mother care about me. I probably didn't have a chance anyway, but now that all chance of that hope is gone....it was all I had. What can I hope for now? Dilayne is dead, my brother is gone, I don't have any friends in the house....no friends....
"Don't touch him; it's me you want....me you want.....me you want!"
"Master......master......master!"
That wasn't my voice....who was that? Oh of course; Kyil. That had been Kyil. The one I had meant to help, and now he's in Hael's clutches, same as I am. No, not the same as I am. Probably worse off; who knows what sort of mental anguish he's being made to writhe through every day? And it's all my fault.....I was supposed to protect him; I convinced him to come. He doesn't stand a chance against Haellara, and who knows what that devious little black-haired monster she has under her wing will do to him? It's my fault; I made him come.
Is that blood pouring down my wrist, or is it sweat? Does it really matter? Either one will have my drying up like a husk. Heh; I should be so lucky. Haellara wouldn't let me die by anything other than her own hands; she's waited so long to do all of this to me. Hnn! I can feel the wrist strap finally cutting into me; I don't want to pull on it, but I can't help it; every jolt of pain makes me spasm and pull on them. I guess I should be glad for plain leather instead of irons, but so long as I'm wishing, how about none of the above?
"What have you got me hooked up to?"
""I thought it might interest you to know that I now own your dear little friend Kyil. This paper deems me his owner; he is now my slave."
That last one.....Haellara. She had bought Kyil; he was still alive, but was that a good thing with my sister legally owning him like a milking rothe? Gods, what a sick joke. If anything, I'm the one more akin to a milking rothe; every slight move I make that involves my back reminds me of the barbed hooks she has placed there, working in sync with the pain extractor to siphon the very essence of my torment into a jar so that she can make me drink it every night. It keeps me in a half sleep where pain follows me, making my limbs jerk like a puppet with broken strings, and I see and hear things that aren't there. Even now I can feel it crawling through my veins like thick ooze, eating me alive.
"Who's there.....there......there?"
"You can't even think properly, can you.....can you.....can you?"
Kyil......he had found the time and braved my sister's wrath to come down here and visit me. It must be hard seeing me like this. I wish I could tell him it isn't as bad as it looks, but then I would be lying. Ssss! I hope Hael hasn't given him any of this; I know I don't always get all of it. Maybe she's using it with some of her potions. Kyil always seems well when he comes, but I know how good he is with hiding things. He wouldn't tell me if they were hurting him. If only he knew how brave he really is......
"Mind what I say.....stay alive."
"Your friend has magic abilities, does he not? Of what nature are they? How well does he control them?? Answer!"
"What are Kyil's powers?!"
"I don't KNOW!"
I remember that time, and apparently so does my body; I have to bite my lip and bring my legs up as best I can in an involuntary curl-up. It feels as though my stomach is remembering how the barbs from her weapon had pierced it relentlessly; twisting, stabbing, catching, tearing...... It feels like an eternity before the stabs of pain subside, but I know it's only the beginning. With the pain comes a great wash of shame; I had given in and told Haellara of Kyil's powers, and now she is free to scheme up a way to use them. Damn it; why can't I be stronger? Why must I be so weak!!?
"You know I was able to find your friend Kyil earlier.......he is quite adept at massages.......such nimble little fingers......"
"I was able to take him......"
"I don't believe you! Kyil would never do something like that willingly.....You must have threatened him, or tricked him...."
Yes......THAT was the torment she had had for poor Kyil; she knew his background and was taking full advantage of it. Poor Kyil! He was being subjected to the one thing that Haellara would not use on her own brother, if only for the prevention of incest. I can barely stand the thought of it; I know that he would never willingly serve her in such a way. It's my doing; if I hadn't been so selfish in wanting him to come, he might still be safe in Eryndlyn, instead of in that witch's bed......and now who knows what else she was doing to him, because I was weak enough to spill the secrets my friend entrusted me with....perhaps it was a good thing when Hael had stitched my mouth shut; I wouldn't have been able to reveal anything more.
"Don't lose yourself like this. I...I need you.........even knowing the concequences...I...love you."
"Love just sounds like such a strange word, even if the feeling isn't. I.......love....you also."
Oh Kyil! You risk so much by being my friend! Who taught you how to be so kind, so loyal? It's so unlike us......I thought I had it wrong by just feeling sympathy now and then. But you....you are so strong, and yet you feel all of the emotions that we were taught were evil, that made us weak. How is it you live? You must continue.....you must not......lose hope......
"Do you know why I love to punish you, Mika.....Mika.......Mika?"
"You deserve to feel the pain of rebelling....rebelling.....rebelling."
You are, at heart, as soft as a surface elf....elf.......elf."
"No! It's not true! It's not!" I know I am shouting at echoes, and I don't care.
"Embrace the darkness....darkness.....darkness."
"I am willing to make it all go away...away......away."
"You're a liar....." My voice sounds squeaky in my ears......my unicorn ears.....Lolth help me, she knows about them! What will she do? Will she cut them off? Try and complete the transformation? Perform experiments on them until they drop off or melt away? Now I can't stop shaking.....she'll have something, she always does......just as she had that day...... Just the thought still makes me feel sick. She had done something so unspeakable, so horrifying.....it defied mere words. She had somehow cut Kyil, cut him deeply, removing meat from his lean body and cooking it like common rothe cuts. And then....I have to turn my head and force myself to swallow before I can continue the thought. I had been so blissfully unaware when she had fed them to me; I should have known she was up to something. I should have spat them out; it isn't as though you can force meat the way you can liquid pain. I feel so terrible; I enjoyed it, before I knew what the strips really were....I was eating him.....I had relished it.......oh Goddess.....why Kyil? Must he be hurt so for my sake? Why can't they leave him alone?!
"Mikaril....... Please. Don't...not because of me....."
"I won't accept it! If I do that, I will become just like my brothers; uncaring and cold......I'll not leave you the way he left me! You deserve better....."
Dear Kyil.....never have I hated Haellara so much as that one moment. After all of the things she has done to me: drugging me, lashing me, burning me with her Hell-spawned fire pets, stitching my mouth shut and puncturing my eardrums, skewering me with sharpened poles and even feeding me Kyil's rib meat. Of all the things she had done, to give Kyil a false hope, to make it seem as though our situation could be bettered at all, knowing I would see through it and he would not...... I can forgive Kyil easily; he doesn't know her and her games. It was just a trick; a stupid one to further his anguish by using me. I hate her for that. I want her to burn forever in the Abyss, to be tortured by some demon, to be strung up by webbing and be made helpless, the way she has done to us. I wish she was dead.
Can't....take much more of this. It's not just the liquid pain, it's everything; I can't sleep, my body hasn't been able to heal properly for weeks; healing potions can mend wounds but it cannot give the true healing that restful sleep can give. I feel everything; every bead of sweat on my body, every jolt of pain the liquid that has left my body and now come back again is sending through me like a current, the lingering effects of every torment that she has inflicted on me, not knowing that if you do not wait for a while, the lingering aches accumulate. Hell, that would probably please her. It.....all hurts so much. I can't do this anymore. I just want the pain to stop.......
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 21, 2009 1:17 am
Remembrance 6- Last Rites
I finally did it.
For so long I have waited for this moment, this one chance, ever since I was a page prince and learned that because Haellara was female and I was a mere male, and therefore her word would always be taken over mine, I had sought to exact some form of revenge. Revenge for all the times when she had done something wrong and threw the blame onto me, for every imagined slander upon her person that had resulted in my getting punished, every lashing, whipping, every spell or chemical that left me minus one leg or shivering with fever. I wanted to get back at her somehow, someday, even though she was bigger than me and always would be; I didn't care. I would have it.
And at last it has come, though revenge was not my primary motive. I had known for weeks that Haellara had purchased Kyil, and at first I was so filled with anguish at the thought of him serving her as his new mistress and yet there wasn't a single damned thing I could do about it. Kyil continued to risk himself by coming to see me, bringing me food, healing my wounds and whispering words of hope to me. Often we ended up comforting each other; I knew that Kyil was going through a Hell of his own at the hands of my sister and her demonic little consort-in-training. It filled me with anger the way she used him; making him wait on her hand and foot, even making him be the hopeful courier of her message that I had but to renounce my renegade ways and she would release me from the rack, allowing me to once more take my place as a house noble.
Ha! The very idea makes laughter well up inside of me, the same sort that had burst forth so unabated not too long ago. Haellara had come here earlier today and told me that she was finally taking her little black-eyed snitch of a consort to be her official patron, and I was to attend the ceremony, being family. I cannot remember much of getting to the throne room; she had given me some of my pain but with added drugs that amplified the placating effects but dulled the pain-enducing ones; in short, to make me docile for the ceremony's duration. Arrogant b***h; that was her downfall. By altering the drug, I was able to come to only just as they were finishing up the ceremony.
The last time Kyil had snuck food to me, I had formulated a plan that would break Haellara's hold on him and give him the chance to escape and regain his freedom, possibly more of it than he had ever had. I knew that Haellara kept Kyil's ownership papers in the pocket of her robe, and were I to have but a few seconds to grab them, she would undoubtedly release a fireball at me, and all I would have to do then was hold out the papers and watch them go up in smoke. My plan had halted when the biggest problem persented itself; how could I possibly get close enough to her to perform such a feat? The answer struck me as I knelt there, naked and supposedly drugged out of my senses; the only time would be when she would be certain that I was no threat to her. Such a time was staring me in the face, and as Haellara had begun to walk past me with her new patron, I realized that such a time would probably never come by me again.
I had acted fast; in spite of my bound hands I secured the papers; she in her rage flung me down and sent a fireball careening into me. The pain was exquisite; as though my entire front was being buried in fire slugs. My nose was full of the stench of my own burned skin, and I could even feel it bubbling in certain places. But it all meant so little compared to the tiny scrap of paper I now held in my hand, the corner of the ownership papers that thanks to my hand had survived the blast. I felt so happy! It had worked! Kyil was free; the papers were destroyed, and Haellara was just staring at me like a stupid goblin, mouth open in disbelief. Then I had realized it; not only had I freed my friend, but I had finally done what I had always wanted to do; symbolically spit in her face and show her that she could indeed be bested by a mere male. My happiness knew no bounds, and for the longest time I just lay there laughing, my peals drowning out the sizzling skin and the astonished murmurs. I heard Haellara scream something at me, but it only fueled my merriment; she was pissed, and there was nothing she could do about it! She sent some males over to beat me, but again it didn't matter; I think much of my laughing was now bordering on hysteria rather than true happiness, but I couldn't stop it, nor did I want to. I was being disruptive, and I reveled in the moment.
Kyil only added to the confusion by fireballing the males off of me; the act shocked me enough to cease my laughter, just in time to hear him call me 'master' once more. He knew! He knew what that small remaining scrap had meant! Now he would surely escape, and with the skills I taught him seek a new way of life in the Underdark, no longer someone's possession to be used and abused. Even as Haellara hauled me to my feet and told me that I was to be sacrificed to Lolth later on that night as punishment for my insolence, it still mattered little to me. I knew that I was to be sacrificed eventually; what mattered is that I had freed my friend before it had happened.
Now here I lay, stretched upon the rack like new leather, stung by the burns that adorn my arms, chest and stomach, and the last two aching from the impact of the guards' feet as they had kicked me before Kyil had flung them away. Haellara has gone; I am not sure where, and now that uncertainty is eating my brain, determined to make my last moments muddled and frightening.
For someone who has lived a life full of danger and possible death around every corner, I have given little thought to what awaits me in the afterlife. Haellara was always smug enough to tell me that should I die before her, my soul would go to the Demonweb Pits, where I would be held for when she arrived, and once she did, she would torment me much like the way she has, for all eternity. I had always vowed after that that I would outlive her if it was the last thing I ever did, but now that death is so near, I find myself genuinely afraid. I followed in the teachings of Lolth because that is all my family knows, but how well I remember cursing her the day I discovered that she had not spared me from my sister's mis-cast spell as I had believed for so long. I know how little she cares about mere males, and I am no different in her eyes than the hundreds of thousands of males that to her are only there for the convenience of her daughters, the females. I will soon be going to her now, to face an eternity of hopelessness, despair, and pain. Surely there must be something more; some other place we could go to. Humans, dwarves and even the damnable surface elves speak of paradises in their afterlives; surely the Demonweb Pits would not be considered drow paradise, at least not for the males. Then again, we are so low in their eyes, and in the eyes of their Goddess. Perhaps we are undeserving of a paradise.
The thought fills me with despair even as I seek to banish it with the feeling of joy that come what may, Kyil is free. Even if Haellara does away with him for his part in the treachery, he grew up away from the malignant influence of Lolth. Surely another God or Goddess would pity his pure, innocent soul, and seek to claim it for their own. They would take him to a paradise, where he would be surrounded by flowers, and lavished with silk garments and beautiful ornaments that would never tarnish. Perhaps, if the dimension was anywhere close to Lolth's, I might look up and catch a glimpse of him. One look would be sure to help me endure an eternity of torment at the hands of my sister and her horrible Goddess.
Better though that he should escape. My life is drawing to an end, but for Kyil, a new life will emerge for him. How long had he been a slave? Since he was small? Practically his entire life? The destruction of his slave papers might very well be as a rebirthing for him; a new life where he would never have to lower his head to another, call them master or mistress, be made to do something he did not want. He is so much stronger than he gives himself credit for; he will survive; he MUST survive. Perhaps, if he finds time, he will think of me and say a prayer for me.
I could sure use a prayer now, but who would waste their breath on me? I can feel the mirth returning; an ugly time for it, but I cannot help it. I am no hero, no saviour; just a pitiful male drow who never learned his place. I have at last run out of luck, and soon I will run out of life. Haellara will send me to Lolth, but she will remember for the rest of her life that there had been a time when a male had bested her; not only a male but the very one that she held in the lowest regard. I was able to spit in her face, in front of the entire house and two priestesses of Lolth! If word of this got out, the house might be attacked! It could crumble to dust, her playroom to rubble, her ambitions to ruins, all because of me. I have shown her the power of alien ideals such as friendship, and now she and Lolth can both smoke it! Ha! I don't care if they hear me! Ha ha ha!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Aug 16, 2009 1:18 pm
Entry 10
Amazing just how little time is needed to make one's entire world do a complete turn. In this case it seemed only to take an hour to go from me laying on the rack contemplating my death to finding myself back in my sanctuary, attemtping to sleep off a Hellish month of torture.
It all happened so quickly; it still sets my mind whirling when I think on it. I had been ready, well, as ready as I ever would be, to die at Haellara's hands, satisfied at least that I had spared Kyil from a similar fate. But then whom should appear but Kyil himself, coming to remove me from the rack and hide the both of us away in the only part of the house where we would be completely safe. I had asked him what had become of Haellara; why was she not right on his heels, or at least a few of her guards? He had only replied that he had 'taken care of her', and though I burned with curiousity, I also burned with the desire to be off of the rack, and that was the more pressing of the two.
It must have been so hard for Kyil to forcefully pull me off of the rack with his own hands. It hurt terribly for me, but imagining if our roles were reversed, and I was the one pulling him away, I could imagine that it would have felt just as bad as eating his rib meat had been. Nevertheless he succeeded, and soon with me laying on top of his back, I was able to direct him to the treasure room and the secret area therein, where for the first time in what seemed like months, we could both rest and be at ease. Haellara would never find this place, of that I am certain, and we could catch up on the rest we both so badly needed without fear of interruption.
The first thing Kyil did was attend to me; finding bandages and potions that would hasten my healing; not even considering resting himself until I was taken care of. Will I ever be used to such kindness? I find myself almost hoping that I never become used to it, lest it lose its wonder for me. Again he was the stronger, in spite of the horrors he had been made to experience, but it was more than just being stronger. He was showing more of that very demeanor that had made him so interesting when we had first met; genuine concern for someone other than himself, in my case, something so much deeper. He had told me that he loved me on one of those occasions when he had been able to sneak down to the playroom and visit me, and though I wasn't sure I fully understood the depth of the emotion, I think I am finally beginning to understand the sheer depth of it. So many risks taken for the well-being of another, putting personal gain aside as though it were trivial in order to maintain the happiness of another. I almost heard it in Kyil's words as I drifted off to sleep; he would do anything for me, even kill himself had I asked, though of course I would never ever ask him any such thing. I found myself hoping ferverently that I could show Kyil that I felt the same way, that I would be given such an opportunity. Never before have I wished for the safety and personal well-being of another drow, not even for my brother, as deeply as I do for Kyil. I would like nothing more than for him to be with me always, for us to be there for each other and experience anything and everything that is in store for us in the near future. I understand this sort of love, and I will take as many pains as necessary to ensure that it stays and thrives, even in this world of darkness and grief.
Right now, I am obviously well enough to be laying here, writing in my journal. Kyil has gone out to raid the treasure room; if we had but a few more bags, I do not doubt that we would be making off with easily half of my house's hoard. How Haellara would howl if that happened! Speaking of her, Kyil did tell me how he had 'taken care of her', and for once in my life, I almost felt sorry for her. Apparently she had in her possession a love potion that she had intended to make Kyil drink, thus making him fall in love with her, and as long as she kept giving him the potions, who knows just how long he would have been under her spell. But arrogant as she is, she told Kyil before giving it to him what it would do, and in desparation, he struggled with her and made her drink the potion instead. Now if Kyil's account is correct, she is somewhere above us, pining for a love that she cannot have. I know this is a different sort of love than the one Kyil and I have, but I cannot help but be saddened by the thought of a forced love, a false love, one that had all of the desire but nothing in return, leaving the other like an empty shell, all of the good stuff and meaning scooped out. Why would anyone make such a potion? Of course, this is OUR race we are speaking of, but after feeling real, genuine love, it makes false love seem all the more deplorable.
I do not blame Kyil for doing what he did; Haellara is a monster and she deserves this punishment, but I do wish that when the potion inevitably wears off, she would come away from it with at least an inkling of what it's like to love someone, to care about them so much that you make your world revolve around them just being there. But of course, I have known her to be heartless since I was a page, and all she will feel is anger at having been duped (again!) by a mere male. Such a pity. But soon it will not matter to us, for soon we will both be away from here, and back to the wilds, where we can live our lives together. There I believe lies my happiness.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Oct 04, 2009 11:06 pm
Entry 11
I have always loved the Glimmersea. Ever since I first laid eyes on it those many long years ago, it seemed to offer me a sense of peace and happiness that I couldn't find anywhere else. Even now, as we escape from Undrek'Thoz and leave it and my sister far behind us, I can finally give my body a chance at real sleep, safe in the fact that it would be nearly impossible to find us on such a vast expanse of water.
As I write, we did escape from House Torlyl, if just barely. We managed to make it all the way to the outer courtyard before I clumsily lost my footing and negated my invisibility, and it was even worse luck that Haellara happened to be staring out the window that offered the best view of our hasty escape. Oh, the things she called out to Kyil as we ran! It never really hit me until then just what Kyil had done in giving her that potion. It was as though for a brief moment, she shared the pain that both Kyil and had been feeling at her hands; pain of loss, of seeing someone you cared about becoming more lost with each passing second. Even in my blind panic, I still had to convince myself that it was all fake, false feelings brought on by a horrible potion.
Her cries brought Nuumia and what seemed like the entire house guard, and they surrounded us as we tried to open the gate. I thought for sure our escape, as well as our very lives, were at an end. But by the sheerest luck, and I have convinced myself that it was just that and not some divine intervention, a drow happened to pass by who saw our plight, took pity on us, and used some form of magic that involved thousands of winged insects to create a diversion and enabled us to unlock the gate and escape. Not questioning our fortune, we followed him to an inn, where it seemed we had lost our pursuers. I did think that they would try guarding the gates instead of conducting a citywide search, and I appeared to be right; we were not followed to the inn, and we were able to catch a much-needed respite.
We are now traveling back to our home in Eryndlyn, after what must have been at least a month or two of horrible ordeals and horrific torture at the hands of our host, my sister. My sister the mother-killer, the drow-carver, the forceful seductress......my hands tremble as I write, and I find myself looking across the rowboat at poor Kyil, sleeping as best he can in spite of the rocking of the boat. The only friend I ever had, the one that I treasure more than anything in the entire world, and all I have done is ruin his life; putting him in danger, causing him to be hurt more than he could ever imagine. Dear Kyil....one day, when I know you will not brush it away or shoulder it yourself, I will beg for your forgiveness.
And yet it seems as though I am already serving a part of my penance. For as our rescuer wanted nothing in return for saving us, he brought with him a message. Well, more like I squeezed the message out of him; I had been under the misconception that his arrival had been a sign that Lolth just might have seen fit to spare my sorry hide, in spite of showing more favor to my sister. No such luck; the male didn't even follow the Spider Queen. Instead, he followed the deity Eilistraee, the daughter of Lolth. I hadn't known much about her aside from what Haellara had taught me; a Goddess with a third of Lolth's power, if that, who lured weak-minded drow to the surface with promises of an easier life, a life free of the troubles that plague our kind in the Underdark. Only when they reach the surface, they are placed in the hands of the damnable surface elves, where they are never seen again. Doubtless they are slain.
But as I voiced this to our host, he seemed almost eager to disprove what I had been taught, even offering up his own life story as an example. It turns out he had been born among those faithful to this Goddess; they had helped his mother when she had been with child, which to me was as astonishing as Lolth handing out sweets. Haellara used to tell me stories with both rage and glee of how the surface elves loved to slay drow with child, how the little spirit would taste so sweet to their Gods, and that it would count as two kills instead of one. She had always made sure to include those in the stories when the elves drove us down to the darkness, slaying ANY who could not keep up. But here they had helped this female, and raised her young son. Had they been a rogue group of elves, as there are rogue groups of drow? But he seemed to speak as though it were the norm for the elves to behave in such a way. I was quick to voice my disbelief, though I did believe his story. He had probably just been lucky is all; it happens.
But then he began speaking of his Goddess, and as much as I wished to close my ears, after the realization that Lolth had left me to die at Haellara's hands, I found myself listening as he poured forth with such earnest a picture of a Goddess who wished that all drow, be they male or female, would come to her on the surface and live in peace with the other species' up above. I could feel myself rebelling with every word, and yet.....I could not shake the image of a Goddess who looked upon males with kinder eyes, who welcomed them with open arms and a kind smile instead of the lashings of a whip and the delaration that their sole purpose was to serve the females. She seemed for all the world like the mother figure I had been desiring since I was a page, and the very idea gave me such a sick feeling, as though I was betraying my real mother, and all that she stood for, in spite of her having never really loved me. He even had a gentler picture to paint of the surface world, a place where a silver disc in a sea of stars much like the Glimmersea presided over fields of flowers, gracing the air with perfume. Such a sight tugged at my insides, despite my vow to never set foot there.
And now as we sail the Glimmersea, I look up at the ceiling and find myself imagining what it might look like with a large silver disc in the midst of the glowing minerals, turning the waters to silver and bathing the walls in a glorious yet gentle light. I imagine a cavern-sized opening filled with flowers, waving in wind that comes from everywhere and nowhere. It tugs at me while I am still firmly rooted to the Underdark, and the feeling pulls at me much the same painful way my body has been pulled on the rack. Why should I hold any sort of hope that this Goddess would want me, a male who hides in the darkness, who loathes the surface elves that she begs us to make peace with, and who doesn't even know how to protect the one thing in the world he truly cares about? I try to convince myself that such forgiveness and love cannot possibly come from a deity, not without a price. And yet I find myself hoping like a stupid fool. I try to think that in spite of our host's kindness, he will doubtless end up dead in a matter of days, as is the way of many 'heretics'. But suppose, just suppose, that in strength he is another Kyil; one who appears harmless and easy to take advantage of, but when the time comes, is strong like a mighty stalagmite, stony and unmoving. He did, after all, manage to hold all of the guards of House Torlyl at bay on his own.
Be that as it may, it doesn't matter. I will not leave Kyil again, especially not to travel to where I know is dangerous and place my life into the hands of a Goddess who I know barely anything about. Never again will I be so foolish. Kyil is the only thing I have now that truly matters to me, and I will never again put him in such danger. I hesitate even now to continue teaching him thievery, lest he fall to a stray dart or some mishap. But I tell myself that if he should ever fall behind, I will slow myself to help him, and we will both die together, if that is to be our fate. I will never be separated from him again, nor will I allow him to feel the pain of being separated from me. I vow this even now, as I remove my house insignia, the only link I have to my house, and offer it to the Glimmersea for safekeeping. Nothing else matters to me now except Kyil. Not any treasure, or Goddess, or profession. He shall always come first. It is the least I can do.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 05, 2010 10:03 pm
Entry 12
So often now have I shouldered the blame inside my own mind of all that has transpired with me and Kyil; I find myself almost unwilling to accept mere accidents when they come along. For I know now that what has happened to Kyil was the purest accident, and yet somehow I find myself feeling as though it would be somehow right to bear some of the blame anyway. It would be easy to find some real or imagined connection that would link me to it; I just have to find it before my blameless companion does.
It had started with an innocent little bottle of wine. I am still not sure how it made it's way among our spoils; I figured that perhaps one of us had stooped to pick it up while we raided House Torlyl's treasure room; some wines after all can be quite valuable. Even I could not possibly guess what lurked beneath that potent liquid, what secrets swirled inside those crimson ripples? Logic would dictate that anything remotely magical would be with Haellara, and a simple bottle of rare wine would be held in the treasure room. I know we had set out to steal anything we possibly could, and I suppose since neither of us particularly indulged in drink, it would be easy enough for us to sell and bolster our funds for the makings of our thieves guild.
And so, hiding unassumingly among the rest of the spoils, the bottle travelled with us as we made our way back to Eryndlyn with as much haste as we could make without tiring ourselves anew. I thought several times that Nuumia might learn of our eventual flight and send hunters after us, but as none came, I supposed that he was too busy trying to free Haellara from the insidious spell that the potion had cast upon her. The last thing on my mind was going over the spoils; they would keep until we got to the safety of our cave. What if I had chosen to look, on one of those times when we had take a breather, and Kyil was curled up beside me, counting on me to keep the bad dreams away? Would I have had suspicions about the bottle then? So often I have wondered since the spell was cast, and I've managed to find so many different answers.
When we finally reached the cave, we were both so glad to be someplace so inviting and familiar; I almost didn't want to leave it for fear of it vanishing like smoke, another trick to bring out my air of safety that Hael so loved to draw out and crush. But step out we did, and we ended up having no end of fun stocking up on provisions. We even found time to attend a circus; something I had never seen before. The performers were amazing, and the mood was surprisingly light and cheery. Still, after being 'selected' as a volunteer for one of the post-performance sideshows, I was happy enought ot return to the safety of the cave.
We had returned, well-provisioned and ready to set up housekeeping, as we had intended to do from the beginning before my foolishness took us away. It was then that the bottle appeared, and we both thought it fitting that we use it to toast to our new lives, free and as far away as possible from the nightmare that was Undrek'Thoz. I should have known better than to trust a beverage from my sister's house; I should have paused and read the inscription on the bottle. Perhaps then I might have stalled the cup on it's way to unsuspecting Kyil's lips, and I myself would never have partaken of it. But like a fool, I poured us both a cup, and we drank and celebrated, completely oblivious.
I remember feeling suddenly sleepy after a cup or two (or was it only a sip or two?), and I had crawled to the pile of blankets to sleep. I still thought little of it; I had overindulged once or twice and figured that it must just be an advancely aged wine. The last thing I expected was to wake up to the sound of my poor friend retching his insides out all over the cave and screaming as though in terrible pain. I had never felt so frightened; I didn't know if this was some far-flung trick of my sister's, or just a violent reaction to the strong wine. Against all logic, I found myself taking him to the circus, of all places. To this day I still cannt figure out just what compulsed me to go there when I knew there was a healer somewhere in Eryndlyn who probably would have done just fine. The closest thing that I can think of is her. The Dark Phoenix. I know her as Ssu now, but then she was one of the circus performers, the same one in fact that I had played helper to in the sideshow. It must have been something she had done, some impression she had made on me, that ensured me that of all the drow in the city, she was the one who would help him save Kyil.
She didn't seem to share my optimism or my insane logic when I took Kyil to her wagon, but she didn't turn us away, and she even summoned the circus healer to see to Kyil. She did more than see to him though, and I swear on all that I adore that if she ever tries what she did again, I will slice off her wrinkled old breasts and pull out all of her gnarled fingers by the roots. I'm even certain she couldn't have been any happier when she informed us that the wine had had a powerful spell laced into it, and over several month's time, Kyil would harbor a child inside of him, and eventually bear it. I feel so guilty; my poor friend has to be this way for months, sitting by and watching his stomach grow without being able to do anything about it, all because in my negligence I did not see just what it was we were pouting into our cups and drinking. And I have heard so much about how difficult it is for females to bear children; how much more so will it be for Kyil, who lacks what a female's body has to help her through it? It makes me feel ill inside, that we have come so far now and I might have already sentenced my friend to death without Hael's help. I hate myself so much right now.
What good has come from this is that Ssu has insisted that we stay with her, at least until Kyil has the baby. In her traveling circus, we are safer than we would be on our own, with Kyil being able to rest more and be kept safe from any malicious forces, including any drow Hael & Nuumia might send out to look for us. But......will it do any good if Kyil does not survive? What have I done? What have I done?.........
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 06, 2010 10:50 pm
Entry 13
Emotions are dangerous.
Yet another of the life lessons that my brother had tried to teach me early; emotions always get in the way, dulling your focus and wounding you in places where the most potent and expensive healing potion cannot reach. If you let them grow inside of you, it can spread throughout your body and mind, crippling it like some devastating illness. Every drow learns this early, and takes it to heart by utterly rejecting every emotion that they find useless or dangerous, like love and compassion, and carefully nurturing those that can actually be used, like anger and hate.
But one thing they forgot to mention is just how tiring emotions can be. Up until this very moment, it seems as though I've experienced just about every emotion a body CAN experience. Oh I had the usual, less discouraged emotions that all drow tended to have; desire for power, bitter disappointment, even slow, simmering hatred. If only I had known that it was in my destiny to experience so much more than a drow ought to in the way of emotions.
I find myself still in a state of disbelief that I am able to write at all right now. Hours ago, the spell that had mingled and bonded with the wine that Kyil and I drank finally reached its conclusion. I'm tearing up with relief all over again as I report that Kyil has survived what some females do not, and now we have a baby girl. I admit at first I was uncertain of the slick, tiny scrap of life that had lurked within Kyil for so long and had caused him so much discomfort and pain. Maybe that was why so many females found it easy to become so detached from their children right from the start, even not caring about the unfortunate third male that makes a sacrifice to Lolth; they could easily focus on the nine agonizing months of retching, pain, and sluggishness. But looking at my friend's face whe he saw her for the first time, what had turned out to be a representation of just how much we cared for each other...how could I possibly even think of disliking her?
So now I have a whole other kind of love to feel; one that I thought I would never live to experience. I had never given any thought to having a child; I think I always assumed that I would either be dead or continue faithfully in my abject fear of females to have the situation ever happen. But now here is the chance for me to experience all of the emotions that come with being a parent, and not just an average drow parent. I couldn't think of disciplining her the way it's usually done; beating her childish innocence out of her and causing it to pool on the cold floor with her blood. The very idea makes me cringe. No, she will be loved by myself and Kyil, and we will cherish her as our most precious treasure.
Would that it had ended there, I would probably be feeling so much more rested and at ease right now. But whether I like it or not, my mind is so riddled with a dozen more emotions; I feel like I could just fly apart any minute because my scrawny frame can't hold them all in. See, as Kyil had waited out his pregnancy, Ssu had done so much to ensure that we would both be safe and Kyil would get as much care as though he were a fully fledged circus member. She had gone out of her way, even risked her ringmistress finding out about her harboring the two of us as stowaways. At first I had given her the same mixture of fear and respect that seemed to satisfy most females I have met, but it wasn't too long before she made it clear that she had had a reason for keeping us there after all. Goddess, I don't think my heart had ever thumped so hard as when she had insisted that I recline on her bed, with her burrowed close and her head resting on my lap. I would have been more at ease cradling a yochlol. Then she had to give the cauldron of emotion inside my mind a stir by informing me that she wanted to 'take her time with me.' She wants me, I can see it gleaming in her eyes, just below the surface, and yet she wants to wait until I can become more at ease. In reality it only frightens me more; often Haellara would seek to make me more at ease, and that was when she chose to lash out, making the resulting wound, be it physical or emotional, that much deeper. And yet I feel ashamed the instant I think such things, because something inside of me, that foolish part of me that an overindulgence of forbidden emotion has transformed, tells me that Ssu is not that kind of drow.
I almost feel the same as I had when Anon had spoken of his Goddess. His deity held the promise of a more peaceful life, and the thought of succumbing to the advances of this highly influential (not to mention beautiful) female promised more security, maybe even a relationship that I could wind up treasuring, much like the one I have with Kyil. Both spoke of a way to possibly better my lot, something that we all strive to do, no matter who or what we are. The question is, is it possible? I told myself with such finality that Kyil came before any Goddess, and seeing Ssu looking at me with such hope, each day her eyes asking me silently if today is the day that I will actually allow her to be close and not react in fear but in answering passion....it tears at me inside. It's something I feel that I truly want, but is just out of my reach. So I try to coax it forward. I've stolen a few things; trinkets really, and left them for her to find. It helps that unlike Dilayne, it is much easier to bring a smile to her face, and I find myself craving that smile the way a starving urchin craves bread. Every time I see her smiling at me, a true smile without any evil intent or passionate lust, I find myself almost wishing that I could do what she wants of me. Goddess knows she ought to have anything I can give her, after all that she has done for us, but what if she asks for more than I can give?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
