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19/06/2018 10:24 pm
Originally posted by Nanill
From the moment I drew breath, I knew you were there. Before I knew your name, before I knew my name. After I was birthed, and I was ejected into the maw of the underdark, I could feel your presence where light could not reach; where hope could not be found. Without stay or mercy, I was beaten, tortured, and shaped into a weapon of darkness. When I was forced to swallow the libations of “her” glory, I asked for your strength so that I wouldn’t retch. Surrounded by webs of deceit and derision, I grew silent. My brothers felt their own lashes, and handled them on their own, but not I.
No, from the moment I drew breath, I knew I was not alone. We were not alone.
Like a student, I stayed my voice so that I could hear yours. I asked questions in the face of answers; seeking the truths underlying each material fact. It is true that the Drow are cruel. But do you know why?
I know why.
Because the Drow are afraid.
Not afraid of you, or me. But each other. Themselves.
In our society, death is failure. Are we all doomed to fail? Fail each other? Fail ourselves?
A virtue of determination became something more sinister. It bred chaos. One drow’s success came at two drow failures. And we became worse. We started kicking proverbial ladders, stepping on fingers climbing to the top, and planted knives in our own brothers’ backs as gripping points to continue climbing. Jealousy, resentment, greed, wrath, and the greatest emotional vices became both our weapons and armor. There was no justification, only an incomprehensible web of manipulation. Ten thousand Drow corpses not just to build a temple to ˥O˥┴H (curse her name). A hundred thousand Drow killed by infighting over a city worth less than 500 thousand gold coins, or land that bears neither food nor resources. Betrayal after betrayal. Coup after coup. It was making me…
“….sick..”
A young boy finished his sentence. He must’ve been speaking while I was…
“What? Speak to me again, son.”
I knelt down. He was wearing tattered clothes indicative of a life of either slavery or homelessness.
“Please, help me. I’m so hungry that I’m sick. If you could just spare –“
I raised my hand, quelling his voice. He was perhaps on the cusp of young adulthood, but he was tall, lanky, and gaunt. He was surely drow, by skin-tone and facial features, but his eyes were a deep onyx, more human in shape. He must’ve been a half-breed. I was born a pedigree drow paragon. And even I endured misery. I looked in his eyes, and saw something familiar. When you look past the humiliation, pain, and sorrow, there’s something deeper. I couldn’t be any more certain of what had to be done.
In those deep, depressed eyes, I saw you.
“My boy, it is my duty to help the meek.”
“You have coin?”
“I have something better than coin to offer.”
I closed my eyes and left a silent prayer in a language I knew he didn’t understand. I waved my hands over him, and used my most powerful healing magic to ease his condition. At first he was startled, but not soon after, he looked at me with teary and grateful eyes. Before he could speak, I handed him a piece of rye bread, which he devoured hungrily. I took out a fine glass and conjured purified water. The boy drank greedily.
We shared a moment of silence, as he ate, and I kept making provisions. Eventually he stopped eating, perhaps full to bursting. He looked at me again, and his tears flowed like rain.
“I can’t thank you enough, but….I can’t…. I can’t pay you… I can’t do anything…”
I smiled.
“Nonsense. You may yet be helpless, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be helpful.”
“What do you mean?”
I stood, and held out my hand.
“Let’s get out of the street.”
He gripped my wrist and pulled himself up, brushing dust and crumbs off of his cloths.
“You’re a tall fellow for a Drow.”
He Chuckled “Yea, I’m….uh… My father was human.”
I raised an eyebrow. I’m glad he felt like he was in trustworthy company.
“Intriguing, what of your mother?”
“I don’t know. I was separated from her at birth.”
I frowned.
“Any other relatives or friends?”
He shrugged. “I’m a vagabond. I’ve been drifting for years…”
“You were never sold into slavery, or purchased? What do you do for work?”
“Whatever I could for coin. I ran a printing press, mined adamantine for a few years –“
“Why didn’t you settle? Was it ever possible?”
“Maybe. I never fit in anywhere. When I work with my hands, I’m resented because I’m bigger. When I work with my head, people treat me like a degenerate. And nobody wants to introduce a half-breed to their parents.”
I chuckled softly, but quelled my actual amusement In order to come off more sympathetic.
“Sounds like what you really need is a family.”
He frowned and nodded. “All I ever wanted. But it feels…Hopeless…”
“But you’ve yet to give up your own hope. You’ve survived up to this point, and were hopeful enough to ask a stranger for help.”
He paused for a moment, to think about what I was saying.
“Hope is a powerful tool. You would be surprised what a strong sense of belief will do for you and those around you. The people you like, and the people you don’t.”
I laugh. I meant what I meant.
“Do you have a family?”
I grin.
“Something like that. I was made in a batch like cupcakes. Perfect Drowcakes. They forgot to frost one of them, but we’re all exactly the same. Brothers. 8 of us.”
“That’s peculiar. Are you close?”
“Shoulder to shoulder most of the time. In terms of whether or not we trust each other, the truth is uncertain. Some of us want to be trusting, and make the best out of our situation. Some of the others aren’t so willing.”
“What about you?”
“I have a few policies. Trust is something that you can either earn or be born with. I trust my cupcakes because I was born in the same oven as them. But if you’re a cupcake from a different pan, you’re going to have to earn my trust.”
“So yes?”
“For now. I’m like you. I’d rather have a family than be a drifter.”
There was a pause.
“I think you’re a trusting person at heart.”
I smile, and raise my eyebrow.
“Oh? Why?”
“You told me all that about your brothers and your life, and you hardly know me.”
I laugh heartily, and he chuckles with me, although he surely doesn’t understand why.
“My son, I know more about you than you think. You’re quite trusting yourself.”
He laughs again, surprising me.
“I suppose that’s true. I have to be.”
“I also know that you’re easily distracted, because I’ve led you to the outskirts of town, and the guard patrol won’t come for at least 45 minutes.”
A twang of uncertainty rippled within his chest, and his pupils dilated.
“O-Oh.. Really?”
I laugh.
“Yes.”
“W-well… What..”
“Remember our conversation about some kind of repayment?”
He gulped. Real fear began to manifest.
“L-look… Listen… I…”
“I’m just fucking with you. The guard will be here in 45 seconds.”
I laugh like a jackass, while the boy calms down, somewhere between irritated and amused. No sooner than I mentioned, the guard walked by, and I waved. He nodded, and kept his path.
“This was a test, you see. In a way, it was double blind. I really did lure you out to the middle of nowhere. I did that to see if you might take it as an opportunity to stab me in the back.”
“So… If I wasn’t like that… Then it was to see if I actually did trust you.”
“Exactly.”
“But what about you? If I was a thief or something…”
I pull off my cloak, revealing my spider-silk armor, and my sheathed longknife. I adjusted my holy symbol and pushed back my hair; the holy symbol of the whispered one on my neck. I unsheathed my beloved dagger, and held it at him, though at a distance, as to display its features. I put the dagger away, and put my cloak back on.
“I trusted you the whole time. To be honest, or…”
This time, the boy laughed ahead, without me.
”You’ve earned my trust. I said. “That’s not easy. Trust me. No pun intended.”
“I can’t thank you enough. I trust you more than all the Drow around me, whether or not that’s saying much considering-“
My eyes lit up.
“You’ve said more than you can imagine with those few words. I want you to join my family.
His eyes lit up.
“You mean –“
“Tell me. Do you believe in the gods?”
“Sure.”
“Lolth?”
“I- I’m not the religious type.”
I grinned
“Between you and me, ˥O˥H┴ is hardly worthy of a mention of name.”
He sighed with relief. Clearly ˥O˥H┴ not kind to this Drow soul either. A pity, considering she deludes herself to be our mother.
“I want you to join my family. But you must obey the rules of my house. I will be generous to you, but you must be generous in kind. You must worship the lord of my house, as I do. We will give you food, shelter, and something much greater.”
“What could be better than –“
“Knowledge.”
I take out a small scroll hidden in one of my pouches, and unroll it. It was no longer than my index finger.
This contract is between two sentient beings who are represented on either side of this parchment.
A drop of blood signifies binding assent between the aforementioned parties.
l
l
l
l
l
Assent to this contract incurs a binding clause between signatories.
X will follow the tenants of the whispered pact.
Breech will force y to slay x or face equitable remedy
“I truly wish for you to join us, but think about your decision before you make it. I will only make this offer once. After which, you will never see me or this offer again.”
He paused, but predictably, nodded his head. “Fine. The moment I met you, you gave me free food and water. You gave me medical attention I didn’t know I needed. All my pain… Surely, your god is more kind than any god I’ve confronted yet. If my penance is to help others as you’ve helped me, then you’ve helped give me a purpose.”
I hand him a small needle, and he pricks his finger. A drop of blood splats, and hits the left side of the parchment. I follow suit, and blot the right side of the parchment with my own blood.
We share a moment of silence. I close my eyes. There is warmth in my heart. The same warmth I felt all those years ago I spent laying on a cot of despair, waiting. Defiant. Hopeful. You were with me. Defiant. Waiting. Together, with time…
“My son. You never told me your name.”
“My whole life I’ve been called lots of names, but none of them came from my parents.”
I put my hand on his shoulder, and my other on his forehead.
“My powers of intuition are telling me that you’ve had a name since birth. You were simply never told.”
“What?”
“You are reborn a son of the whispered one. Now you will never be alone again. Aven.”
He smiled, and hugged me.
“You’ve given me so much. When do I start my work?”
I smile greedily.
“My son, you’ve already begun.”
Ah, yes it had. Slowly but surely, we all labor in service of one plan, and one true benefactor. A god amongst demigods.
“Come. I’ll lead you to where I’m keeping quarter, and we’ll discuss things further.”
I don’t need to ask my lord for his approval, nor do I have to ask if I’ve done the right thing.
Because I already know.
Praise Vecna.
Topic starter
19/06/2018 10:40 pm
Originally posted by Nanill
It was a late evening. My temple doors still open as the straggling drudges finished their prayers or begs. My hands still covered in blood. My robes still spattered with cadaverous fluids. A Convert opens his mouth, as if speaking to me, but I either cannot or will not hear his voice.
“Today’s rites are complete. Stop by for tomorrow’s sermon.”
I did not wait for a response.
I stride past the columns and simple temple dressings. With time and coin, this place will be a monument to your greatness. But for now…
“L’ sol kyorlen jal, drill naut jal kyorl l’ rah.” [the eye sees all, but not all see the hand]
My arcane lock clicked, and the door to my private chambers creaked open. My assistant sat at my desk in her night-cloth. A quill in her hand, and an inquisitive smile on her face.
“Father, have you had a long day?”
I look at her. We lock eyes, and she sees the hollow in my pupils. The crow’s feet under my eyes. The rage of the sleeper.
“Father?”
I unbuckle my belt, and drop it to the floor. I take down my hood, and drop my dagger callously on the desk. I peel off my holy symbol, and grip it tight. Before I can throw it across the room, she jumps out of the chair, and grabs my wrist.
“Father Nil, please!”
“You don’t worship my god. Unhand me.”
“I won’t.”
I grit my teeth and scowl.
“You disgrace my temple with your false beliefs. And you disgrace my presence with your false confid-”
“We all have moments of weakness. But would he unhand you?”
My scowl fades, and the hollow returns to my lowered eyes. I sigh. I push her out of the way, and sit on my bed. Stray tears running down my dark cheeks. My assistant sits next to me, and puts her arm around me.
I whisper. “I shouldn’t be so weak as to let rain fall in the house of my lord.”
“Father, you’re only a drow. Don’t you think your brothers feel sorrow too?”
“I always thought they beat the sorrow out of my brothers. My lord granting, I was tortured the least. And yet I feel the sting of their lash on spots that are yet unstruck. I feel the sensation of wounds that neither exist nor heal.”
“You carry the world on your shoulders. You care more about your people than you think.”
“Are they worth saving? Villainous heathens, worshipping abominable gods, committing abominable acts. Hedonists living in the pursuit of pleasure and leaving a wake of pain… Are they worth the price of -”
“Were you?”
I look into her eyes, as my eyes dry up. I wipe my face, and look down at my holy symbol. A chiseled piece of obsidian, shaped into a small fist, gripping an eye. My assistant lowers her hands, stroking my breast.
“You’re his eye, aren’t you?”
I nod. She moves her hand down to mine, and strokes the eye of my symbol.
“Where is the eye?”
“In the palm of God’s hand.”
The corners of my mouth curl, but she smiles for me. I sigh greatly.
“What happened?”
“My brother Alaketh had me stop by our comfort house. The captain of this filthy company and his sorted lot of degenerates ravaged the house’s women. One in particular was on the cusp of death by the time my hands were on her.”
She stays silent, and rubs my back. I politely push her arm away.
“This animal hardly had his way with her. From what it looked like to me, he beat her senseless and may as well have penetrated her with his long-knife. All the signs of an impotent short-knife.”
My assistant gasps.
“But you were able to quell her suffering?”
“She had three broken ribs, a punctured lung. Her cervix was substantially bruised and both her arms had fractures. If she didn’t have a still-bleeding nose, I’d have thought she was a corpse.”
She frowns, and moves closer, despite my negative disposition.
“But you’ve seen worse, haven’t you?”
“I’ve healed worse.”
“And she’ll be okay, won’t she?”
I stand up.
“No. It’ll just happen again, or to someone else.”
“But your powers of healing won’t stop bringing peace to these girls.”
“And so they are doomed to a purgatory of agony. And I’m doomed to -”
“Be a saint? Save your people from themselves?”
I scoff. “I hardly think of myself like that. My people don’t think they need to be saved. The only ones who appreciate my talents are my brothers. And I have the sense of mind to believe its because I’m the only one who can-”
“I think if you really believed that, you would have hid your abilities. You hide mostly everything else anyway.”
I grab my chair from my desk, turn it around, and sit facing her.
“I’m sorry I’ve lost my temper. I shouldn’t take out my anger on you or…”
She smiles, and clasps my hands around my holy symbol, gripping tight.
“Don’t lose faith in yourself. The Gods have mysterious intentions, and the challenges of our lives reflect the tests they want us to take. You of all people should know that the most powerful forces are largely unseen.”
This time, I smile. “I appreciate your words of comfort.”
“The others will see your way soon enough.”
“One of them already has. We’re going to have to make provisions for his initiation.”
“I’ll see to it in the morning.”
I nod, and crack my neck.
“Do you want to lay with me?”
“I want to wash myself of this filth and go to sleep. Join me if you will, but I’m in no fervorous mood. I mean it.”
She nods, and stands up, pulling me up with her.
“That’s fine. You look like you could use some company anyway.”
I chuckle.
“I’m always in good company.”
I kneel down, and pick up my belt. I place it on my desk, and pull open one of the pouches, A small sphere empties out, rolling slowly and gleaming brightly in the candlelight.
“I want you to start keeping secrets too.”
I grab the bead, and put it in her hand, closing her palms around it.
“What are -”
“I might not be around all the time. If you ever feel threatened, be it by a beast or drow, throw this at them. Whether you can run or call for me, I’d suggest you use your intuition should an emergency ever -”
She interrupts me, kissing me on the cheek. I shake uncomfortably, but blush.
“I will. And thank you.”
“Put those away and follow me.”
I push open a door inside my office which leads to my bath. I encourage her to go in, and walk back to the front door of my office.
“L’ sol kyorlen jal, drill naut jal kyorl l’ rah.” [the eye sees all, but not all see the hand]
The lock glows, and then fades away, confirming its security. I take a breath of relief.
I’ve always trusted you take care of me. But I can’t hide anything from you; I’m uncertain of the future, and my ability to take care of those around me.
But with the knowledge of darkness… You can keep the ones you care about from dying.
And…
And you can cheat death.
I smile. No pain no gain. No gain no change. And change is needed. Fast.
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