Welcome to Gaia! ::

{I thought we were speaking in the Drow language...but we all speak Undercommon too, so...it's a big 'whatever' for me.}

"Your terms remain just," Chalthara said calmly, only partially meeting the gaze of the half-fiend as she looked up at his face. She frowned briefly at him before turning away, not enjoying his scrutiny. "I still choose my twenty sacrifices."

She whirled on her guards, who stood far enough away from her that they hadn't been breathing down her neck during the negotiations. "You will be spared." She looked towards the guard that had talked back to her earlier. "Since you are of low status, it pains me to say that you will be included in the number that remain alive. For now, you are to be my messenger and relay the news to those who will be sacrificed. I think that's punishment enough for you, hmm?"

It was the longest speech she'd given in a long time, so the poor guard knew she had to be serious. He paled at the thought of delivering such news to his superiors -- but he supposed that that was the sort of torture Chalthara loved dishing out.

"All you need do is tell me their names and they shall be notified, Lady Kenrahel," he said with a shallow bow.

Chalthara laughed at the use of her fallen House's name, then lapsed into thought for a few minutes, sorting through those members who had always seemed hostile to her despite Izaran's urgings of acceptance. Most of them just weren't comfortable with a drow in their midst...and certainly not at the head of the army. The unfaithful of the 'fodder' would just have to wait for their judgement. Those who could act on their mistrust of her were the ones she worried about. In that way, Val'atar's offer had been quite helpful. At least it would have been if she were allowed to maintain control of Izaran's army after all this was done.

Once the matter was cleared with Eclavice, Chalthara vowed to herself that she would return to her clerical studies. The thought of 'death by dragon' had frightened her into a new form of her faith. Both Myrkul and dissolving in oblivion scared her beyond anything she had previously known.

"Captain; assist me in delivering Lord Druu'giir's command," she ordered, voice wavering perceptibly this time.

(well, Valthier usualy speaks in whatever language he is being spoken to in, unless he doesn't know that language, in which case he prefers either undercommon or common, but will use another shared language if the pwerson he is speaking to knows neither, which is almost unheard of. i need to list valthier's languages known....)

((*slaps you.* i technically didn't catch you as you were online since you wrote that, but you had to be online while writing it, sooo... logically i am justified... >> ))

In a strange building covered in glowing flowers, a madwoman chose a knife. She placed the blade in the front pocket of her apron and looked with soulless eyes to the door. Dolls sat staring on every shelf in the room. They whispered to her "Go, find the child, Maovu. Bring her back to us. Bring her children back to us. Bring the broken back to us." The madwoman took a deep, shuddering breath. "Alright." She said and left the toys and the shop she called home.
No matter how far she strayed, Maovu could still hear their voices. "Turn here. Go down this alley." They whispered in her head. Finally, she found the child. A corpse dumped in the street. Seth Derahel, first daughter of the second house and Maovu's last apprentice. "Look what they did to her. Those broken elves. They broke the child like they broke themselves." The voices hissed. Maovu knelt by Seth's body. Tears streamed down her misshapen gray face. "Maovu... Do you know what you must do?" They asked. "Yes." She whispered. Maovu took the knife from her apron and carefully began to cut away Seth's face. "She was such a pretty child. Now, you'll be pretty too... And no one will ever forget her." The voices cooed. Maovu peeled the flesh from Seth's head and held it before her face like a mask. She pulled one of many sewing needles from her wrist and pushed its tip through Seth's flesh and then into her face. As she pulled the needle out, her blood became thread. She delicately sewed the skin over her own face. When Maovu finished, she wore Seth's face as well as the high priestess herself. "How lovely you look. How very lovely." The voices purred in Maovu's mind.
Blood dripped slowly down Maovu's neck. It tickled and she laughed. High and sweet at first but it soon became a howl and then a desperate sob. "I hate this. Living. Seth... Why couldn't it have been me? Why didn't you take me with you? Why won't the pain stop? Why can't I die?" Maovu cried at the corpse. "Because they are still broken. You cannot rest until they are fixed. You're the only one who can do it, Maovu. The child, she tried. She tried and she failed! You are the only one who knows how. Fix these wretched people or they will break more children. Fix them! Before it's too late!" The voices screamed within her. "Yes. Of course." Maovu whispered. She held the needle tightly and stabbed it back into her wrist. The madwoman stood and returned to her home among the dolls. She left Seth and the knife both bloody in the gutter.

(Scary eek *hides under her chair* )

Reivan's eyes narrowed as the hissing voice of his god instructed him, a killing was to be done. The Drow glanced under his hood to the others then slipped into the shadows. "Such a task will not be easy... " he mused after reappearing in the streets of the city, "They do not trust me despite the common goals. Understandable though I am a Drow...and an assassin..." Suddenly a rancid stench hit his nostrils and he turned to find a Drow corpse completely skinned. the sight caused him to retch and he turned his back to compose himself. Glancing back over his shoulder with his hand over his mouth and nose he sighed and called a guard. Slaves were called in to dump the body and Reivan was questioned closely. when the whole ordeal was over Reivan sat down, "poor girl... I wonder who she was...." with a shrug he stretched and continued on his work.

Reivan entered the toy shop and shivered, he had always found Seth's living dolls more than a little creepy but seeing so many of such creatures in such a wide variety here disturbed hims down to his very soul. Rubbing the red marks on his arms briskly, as if warming himself he stepped further inside, "hello?" he called out not seeing anyone at first.