Daughter, your children will never know the rains of Calenethon upon their faces; They will never know the snows which crown the mountains; Like your hair crowns your brow. --Carrenelleon, King of the Calenethonian elves. Lectern on the Histories -- The Great Controversy
Rykzir read the page from across the great hall. The lectern stood before the gown of the matriarch of house Queblith. The gown was carved so thinly upon the Drowess that he could tantalizingly admire her naked form; immortalized in the black schist grown through with radial crystals of emerald.
"She looked beautiful in her time," he said to Truhrgar who stood to his side and a step ahead.
"Pay attention to the moment, my lord. "
To the opposite of the entry to the great hall, a house mage ascended the steps of a pulpit. Rykzir recalled many lectures from there by their high priestess when she taught the house, and client Altyrdrow of the dregs, on Kro'heskith's admonishments. He held out his hands, and with a flair of movement and mutterings too inaudible for even Drow ears, the tapestries above the statues of past matrons flared from black to the colors of Qu'eblith. The enduring flames along the schist pillars illumined their deep blues, red trims, and gold embroidery.
" House Qu'eblith," he spoke with a great voice that echoed through the hall. "Our matron, Lyrkwen'eth."
Truhrgar stood rigidly, his chin tucked to his chest. Rykzir watched all the slaves do the same as the heavy doors parted, pulled by a pair of the house guard. Each wearing silver mithril pauldrons signifying higher rank in stark contrast to the rest of the black armor. His gaze caught a Drowess warriors eyes lusting for him from beneath a helmet. He recognized her from the last tryst and quickly looked for anything else to look at, settling upon the altar near the end of the great hall.
"How many more tyls until the consorts test?" He whispered to Truhrgar, referring to how many more times the tyl spider would complete its web.
"Seven, my lord. "
"Do you think I can learn the ephemeral spell before then and escape this test?"
" No, my lord. Why not just fail the test? "
"It is not in my nature. "
"It is not in the nature of any Vulgyrdrow. Such are given dominion over all of Metzyr'eblith. "
The procession marched into the great hall, filling it with lockstep clamor hitting the dark and gray stone floor. The rest of the matrons consorts fell in line as she passed, followed by the high priestesss consorts.
"Have you learned to discern which of the consorts, at this time, hold power over the other Drow, my lord?"
" Drekzil, he was with our matron in the litter. "
Truhrgar released a guttural growl.
"You disagree? "
" For some houses maybe one would be enough, but this is the house of Qu'eblith," Truhrgar hissed between his teeth. "There is a faction that dominates. "
Rykzir studied the procession as they passed. It could be any of them. In the histories, some houses Drow were dominated by a single consort, sometimes by factions. Sometimes those factions were comprised of consorts of both the matron and the high priestess.
"Have any consorts outside those of the matron or high priestess ever held power?" He asked, looking at various consorts of other high ranking Drowess.
"None I have ever read about. "
"So you can read Drower? Rykzir quipped."
"There are histories of the Drow in all languages, my lord."
Rykzir fell silent as the high priestess and her entourage passed by. All male Drow were required to bow their heads, more specifically their eyes. In any well governed house the high priestess and matron were of coequal rank, but the matron ruled actively through command, while the high priestess inspired passively through the admonishments.
He pulled the hood of his cloak around his ears. He shifted his hair so that it flowed like an avalanche out of one side of the dark shadow which covered his face. He raised his eyes so that he could see Lolketh as she walked close behind the high priestess, holding her garment off the stone. Behind them was a line of the priestesses, two abreast, who joined from the sides of the great hall.
Her dark complexion could not hide her cheeks which shone in the firelight. Her hair was swept behind her ears by an onyx diadem centered with a bejeweled spider across her brow. Her hair flowed over both her shoulders accentuating her breasts. He caught her eye and quickly looked to the stone floor.
" Our high priestess, Ab'ereth," the great voice reverberated through the columns and statues. Rykzir pulled back his hood as the Drow raised their heads and joined the Drowess in looking to the pulpit. As the high priestess attempted the steps, the matron put her hand on her shoulder, stopping her. Lyrkwen'eth leaned in close to hide her lips in front of Ab'ereth's ears while she whispered.
Ab'ereth ascended the pulpit while the house mage descended the steps. As the high priestess and the matron took their places at the end of the great hall, so did their entourages, lining the forward columns ahead of the rest of the house rank and file.
"Kro'henlith continues to favor our house, " she spoke softly, but the great hall magnified her voice. She stretched out her arm toward the entrance and the seneschal, glowering at the threshold, cracked his whip. Truhrgar flinched, but dared not take his chin from off his chest. The tip of the whip flashed in the arcane light, a giant scorpions stinger, its necrotic poison renowned for the pain and tissue death it caused. But, its victims would usually survive, although with a web of horrible scars tracing their veins.
The guard shuffled in a menagerie of other peoples. Some dvergar, looking defiant, but knowing their fate was sealed. A few mushreants, little more than walking mushrooms with a variety of shapes and sizes. They looked confused, not intelligent enough to know where they were. Rykzir thought of what delicacies they made when prepared just right. He watched as a younger looking mushreant wiggled its toes against the stone, its filaments and hairs looking for something to eat.
The menagerie continued with a few other lesser races, but Rykzir was keenly interested in the racks of exotic weapons which followed. Axes, halberds, darts, and a mushreant spear.
" It is said a single slash from the mushreants spear and you are doomed to be consumed by fungus that erupt in mushrooms from all over your body, " he whispered to Truhrgar.
" Aye, the more powerful ones dont kill, but infest your mind, enthralling its victim to their shamans."
One of the Drow next to Rykzir struck Truhrgars cheek to silence him. He cowered his sore ear as Rykzir grabbed the Drows gauntleted forearm and silently stared him down before releasing it back to him. The great hall hushed and murmured as a team of slaves and warriors dragged in a giant scorpion behind the weapons rack. Their ropes tied around its claws and legs and its tail chained flat around its carapace. But the hall fell silent for what passed through the threshold next.
"What is that?" Rykzir asked his slave.
"I dont know. "
It was unusual, he thought, for Truhrgar to not know something. She was bound to a chain and pulled along by a house guard, also wearing a silver mithril pauldron. He was mesmerized, first by her hair, which was like gold placed close to firelight. Then by her skin that shone like mother-of-pearl from the giant abalone in the Mer. Her skin did not luster the same, but it was far too beautiful to liken to bone or the ivory tooth of a wyrm.
She wore an outfit he was unfamiliar with as she defiantly and fearfully pulled against the chains while she was dragged her past the other prizes. Her clothes were brown and green. Her cloak was broached with a golden clasp; a symbol he didnt recognize. It looked like an elongated, curled teardrop, with a curvilinear vein from stem to taper and smaller veins branching off to the sides.
"We found this female abomination a few tyls sail down the Mer, " the seneschal spoke from a step below the matron. Loudly, so his voice boomed through the hall. The warriors pushed the heavy doors closed after she entered. "She was caught in the Tyridion forests, trying to speak with the mushreants. " The hall burst into laughter.
"Mushreants dont speak," a Drowess yelled from the throng.
The slender captive leaned over to a dvergar and spoke at him. He hung his head, daring not to look at her. Rykzir thought it sounded Dvergish, but couldnt understand any of the words. He tapped Truhrgar's shoulder.
"Ive never heard that dialect before, " he replied to the nudge.
She looked around the room, her ears and face were the most familiar features, but her otherwise slender and frail body reminded him nothing of his people. She shouted brazenly to the crowd as they looked on. They murmured among their neighbors as her words fell on deaf ears. It was a sound like Rykzir never heard before, and yet, for a moment, he thought of the flowing Mer and the gentle springs which issued from the surrounding cavern.
"Neither does she, " the seneschal jokingly replied to the Drowess's yell. The house laughed. The warrior holding her chains threw a satchel at his feet and, picking it up, he rummaged through its contents. "Pebbles, " he said and tossed out some stones onto the floor. Rykzir could see ruby, emerald, even opal, but of seemingly poor quality. Mushrooms, he continued and held out a gently wiggling, tiny mushreant in his hand. He bit it in half and chewed then shouted with his mouth full. " Delicious. "
She shouted something to him and looked around the hall pleadingly, holding out her chained hands before burying her face in them and sobbed. Lyrkwen'eth quickly moved down the steps to the same level as the female, the seneschal bowed at the waist holding his right arm across his chest and his left firmly at his side. So did all the Drow who were placed higher than the rest of the assembled house, but those on the same level as the matron simply bowed their heads. The Drowess bowed theirs less, giving only a nod of deference to their matron.
"Tears? " Lyrkwen'eth asked exasperated, grabbing the female's face and inspecting it. She raised her finger along the females cheek and let a teardrop flow onto it. She marveled at how benign the tears were, just water. She jerked the females head as she pulled away her hand and, grasping the broach, ripped it away. The cloak fell, revealing the females shoulders which were still covered by a shirt. Lyrkwen'eth grabbed the front and back plackets and ripped it down around her arms. The shirt bundled around her waist and forearms, exposing her breasts. Rykzir longed to see her from the front, her back was like silk, smooth and delicate.
"Weak, " Lyrkweneth said, grabbing her arm, tugging on her. She leaned with the matrons pull without much resistance. "Who are you? Do you speak? " Lyrkweneth turned and looked to the seneschal.
"She said only gibberish since we caught her, our matron." The hall fell silent, except for the clicking and hissing of the giant scorpion.
" When we found her she tried to hide in a wyrm's tunnels, did she not? " Perceiving the seneschals affirmation, she muttered to the female. "Where are you from? " She looked out to the host of Drow and Drowess before her in the great hall. "Who among the Drow would have allowed such an abomination to live once born? Among the wyrm no less. Like some animal. " The assembly hissed and sneered at the rhetorical question. The high priestess raised her hand.
"Kro'henlith despises the weak and the impure," Abereth shouted into the hall. "Kro'heskith admonished us to remove either, and this abomination is both. "
The female began speaking, but the delicacies of her voice offended Lyrkwen'eth and she slapped her across the mouth, knocking her to the ground. The matron ascended the steps to her place at the end of the hall and the Drow and Drowess ceased to bow.
"Seneschal, " the high priestess called out to him, he turned and struck his arm across his chest. "Remove her clothes. "
He stepped down to her and drew his blade, long and curved, the sharp edge glinted across the hall from the arcane lights. Rykzir squinted when it shined in his eye as the reflection darted to and fro, and thought it odd when the pale female did not seem to notice the brightness when it flickered across her face. She cowered from the blade, but she did not close her eyes in reflex.
He cut the shirt from her sleeves, leaving those crumpled around her forearms. Grabbing the center of her belt, beneath her teardrop belly button, he quickly sliced down both pant legs. Behind her an assistant ripped them away revealing her soft, round butt. The many Drowess Rykzir trysted with had such curves, but they all were firmer than hers. He grabbed her by her flowing hair and dragged her across the altar kicking and screaming, the assistant stretched her across the length of the table by the chains around her ankles. He raised his blade and looked to the matron who raised her hand to stop him, then looked to the high priestess who looked on, stoically.
" Rykzir, " Lyrkwen'eth said. The hall clamored with gossip. He knew he could not hide, but his hesitation prompted Truhrgar to elbow him in the gut. Rykzir stepped out of the body of the assembled house and into the aisle. "Come forward, young Rykzir. " She paused as he walked toward the scene unfolding at the end of the great hall.
"Young Rykzir is now thirty kuryls," she continued, introducing him to the assembly. " I have decided he, among others, should be tested for consort to Lolketh."
Rykzir passed in front of the altar, looking over the slender body of the female, noticing her smooth pubic area and soft abdomen. She sobbed at him, pleadingly. He took a place at the foot of the stairs in front of where Lolketh was standing and turned to face the hall.
"Why dont you show us some of your magic now, young Rykzir? " The matron asked.
Rykzir looked timidly at the matron, then at Lolketh, but said nothing. He stepped to the head of the altar, his ears filled with her sobbing as she looked around aimlessly, he could now tell that she could not see what was even close to her. For a moment he pitied her, blind and weak, not even intelligent enough to speak more than nonsense. The pity almost enraged him and his hands flared green with the swirling arcane. Her skin reflected the color almost invitingly and she looked over to the light of his hands. Her eyes widened and glowed like the emeralds in the statues.
He wondered what happened to such creatures, would they also meet Krohenlith. He looked at Trurhgar, at least he was strong and could see. Perhaps he would serve in everlasting life to the goddess. Even the mushreants were deadly and served a favorable purpose to her. He worried the house would think he hesitated out of pity. He had trained over and over with the blade and with his magic, but, this was his first time.
"Kro'henliths tears, wash away all impurities," he prayed, then muttered the incantation, moving his hands toward the altar. The green light flowed from his palms and bathed her torso and pelvis. She screamed out from the bottom of a pit of terror, but not for long. He watched over her as her breasts melted away and her chest caved in. White shards of ribs appeared through a red, sunken maw; bubbling and hissing, letting off steam and a noxious vapor.
She writhed and twisted and jerked, but that too stopped as the acid reached through her to the altar, its stonework polished by many such repetitions that had gone before her. The liquid poured out onto the floor, devouring the arms as they dammed the flow. No longer green, it became a putrid color as it reacted with what there was left of her. The whole host looked on in silence.
"Let us pray, that such abominations are never born, " Ab'ereth said quietly as the noise of the arcane reaction quieted.
"So may it be, " the host replied in unison. Rykzir realized he forgot to join them in prayer, his hands trembled. Lolketh stepped down beside him and he turned to her and bowed. She took his chin in her hand and raised his head to look him in the eyes. Their moment was interrupted when Rykzir reflexively caught the bag that the seneschal threw at him.
"Her stuff is yours," he said.
"What did she have in there?" Lolketh asked excitedly, placing Rykzirs hands in her palms.
He reached in and felt around a moment, peering downward, then pulled out a book. Lolketh took the bag from him, letting him open the binding. Inside the front cover there were hand drawn curves and pockets, most leading to dead ends. But one squiggle ended in an opening that he recognized, filled with drawings of mushrooms next to some lines that looked like waves.
"Looks like a map, but of tunnels I've never seen before," he flipped through the pages. "And a language I've never seen. "
"Let me see, " she said as she stepped out of the way of some slaves who approached the altar to remove the parts of the female that the acid had not consumed. Lolketh looked through the pages. " Some kind of arcane?"
" Its not any kind of arcane I have ever seen. Truhrgar didn't recognize her language either when she spoke to the dvergar. "
"Why would an abomination have this? " Lolketh asked about the book. " And what is this?"
Her fingers traced some of the tunnels to an origin that opened much larger than the Tyridion mushroom forests drawn on the other end of the map. It had clearly drawn buildings and a single word was marked by it in a script neither of them understood.
"Praise Kro'henlith," the matron shouted over the clamor of the house. "Let us prepare a feast. "
With that she and her consorts began to exit the great hall, and the warriors attending the mushreants shoved and herded them further into the house.
"I dont know," Rykzir answered, he snatched the book back from Lolketh and put it alongside his spell book. " But, I intend to find out. "
Chapter 1 - https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/story-lore/34997-the-heart-of-the-drow-chapter-1
Chapter 2
Daughter, your children will never know the rains of Calenethon upon their faces;
They will never know the snows which crown the mountains;
Like your hair crowns your brow.
--Carrenelleon, King of the Calenethonian elves.
Lectern on the Histories -- The Great Controversy
Rykzir read the page from across the great hall. The lectern stood before the gown of the matriarch of house Queblith. The gown was carved so thinly upon the Drowess that he could tantalizingly admire her naked form; immortalized in the black schist grown through with radial crystals of emerald.
"She looked beautiful in her time," he said to Truhrgar who stood to his side and a step ahead.
"Pay attention to the moment, my lord. "
To the opposite of the entry to the great hall, a house mage ascended the steps of a pulpit. Rykzir recalled many lectures from there by their high priestess when she taught the house, and client Altyrdrow of the dregs, on Kro'heskith's admonishments. He held out his hands, and with a flair of movement and mutterings too inaudible for even Drow ears, the tapestries above the statues of past matrons flared from black to the colors of Qu'eblith. The enduring flames along the schist pillars illumined their deep blues, red trims, and gold embroidery.
" House Qu'eblith," he spoke with a great voice that echoed through the hall. "Our matron, Lyrkwen'eth."
Truhrgar stood rigidly, his chin tucked to his chest. Rykzir watched all the slaves do the same as the heavy doors parted, pulled by a pair of the house guard. Each wearing silver mithril pauldrons signifying higher rank in stark contrast to the rest of the black armor. His gaze caught a Drowess warriors eyes lusting for him from beneath a helmet. He recognized her from the last tryst and quickly looked for anything else to look at, settling upon the altar near the end of the great hall.
"How many more tyls until the consorts test?" He whispered to Truhrgar, referring to how many more times the tyl spider would complete its web.
"Seven, my lord. "
"Do you think I can learn the ephemeral spell before then and escape this test?"
" No, my lord. Why not just fail the test? "
"It is not in my nature. "
"It is not in the nature of any Vulgyrdrow. Such are given dominion over all of Metzyr'eblith. "
The procession marched into the great hall, filling it with lockstep clamor hitting the dark and gray stone floor. The rest of the matrons consorts fell in line as she passed, followed by the high priestesss consorts.
"Have you learned to discern which of the consorts, at this time, hold power over the other Drow, my lord?"
" Drekzil, he was with our matron in the litter. "
Truhrgar released a guttural growl.
"You disagree? "
" For some houses maybe one would be enough, but this is the house of Qu'eblith," Truhrgar hissed between his teeth. "There is a faction that dominates. "
Rykzir studied the procession as they passed. It could be any of them. In the histories, some houses Drow were dominated by a single consort, sometimes by factions. Sometimes those factions were comprised of consorts of both the matron and the high priestess.
"Have any consorts outside those of the matron or high priestess ever held power?" He asked, looking at various consorts of other high ranking Drowess.
"None I have ever read about. "
"So you can read Drower? Rykzir quipped."
"There are histories of the Drow in all languages, my lord."
Rykzir fell silent as the high priestess and her entourage passed by. All male Drow were required to bow their heads, more specifically their eyes. In any well governed house the high priestess and matron were of coequal rank, but the matron ruled actively through command, while the high priestess inspired passively through the admonishments.
He pulled the hood of his cloak around his ears. He shifted his hair so that it flowed like an avalanche out of one side of the dark shadow which covered his face. He raised his eyes so that he could see Lolketh as she walked close behind the high priestess, holding her garment off the stone. Behind them was a line of the priestesses, two abreast, who joined from the sides of the great hall.
Her dark complexion could not hide her cheeks which shone in the firelight. Her hair was swept behind her ears by an onyx diadem centered with a bejeweled spider across her brow. Her hair flowed over both her shoulders accentuating her breasts. He caught her eye and quickly looked to the stone floor.
" Our high priestess, Ab'ereth," the great voice reverberated through the columns and statues. Rykzir pulled back his hood as the Drow raised their heads and joined the Drowess in looking to the pulpit. As the high priestess attempted the steps, the matron put her hand on her shoulder, stopping her. Lyrkwen'eth leaned in close to hide her lips in front of Ab'ereth's ears while she whispered.
Ab'ereth ascended the pulpit while the house mage descended the steps. As the high priestess and the matron took their places at the end of the great hall, so did their entourages, lining the forward columns ahead of the rest of the house rank and file.
"Kro'henlith continues to favor our house, " she spoke softly, but the great hall magnified her voice. She stretched out her arm toward the entrance and the seneschal, glowering at the threshold, cracked his whip. Truhrgar flinched, but dared not take his chin from off his chest. The tip of the whip flashed in the arcane light, a giant scorpions stinger, its necrotic poison renowned for the pain and tissue death it caused. But, its victims would usually survive, although with a web of horrible scars tracing their veins.
The guard shuffled in a menagerie of other peoples. Some dvergar, looking defiant, but knowing their fate was sealed. A few mushreants, little more than walking mushrooms with a variety of shapes and sizes. They looked confused, not intelligent enough to know where they were. Rykzir thought of what delicacies they made when prepared just right. He watched as a younger looking mushreant wiggled its toes against the stone, its filaments and hairs looking for something to eat.
The menagerie continued with a few other lesser races, but Rykzir was keenly interested in the racks of exotic weapons which followed. Axes, halberds, darts, and a mushreant spear.
" It is said a single slash from the mushreants spear and you are doomed to be consumed by fungus that erupt in mushrooms from all over your body, " he whispered to Truhrgar.
" Aye, the more powerful ones dont kill, but infest your mind, enthralling its victim to their shamans."
One of the Drow next to Rykzir struck Truhrgars cheek to silence him. He cowered his sore ear as Rykzir grabbed the Drows gauntleted forearm and silently stared him down before releasing it back to him. The great hall hushed and murmured as a team of slaves and warriors dragged in a giant scorpion behind the weapons rack. Their ropes tied around its claws and legs and its tail chained flat around its carapace. But the hall fell silent for what passed through the threshold next.
"What is that?" Rykzir asked his slave.
"I dont know. "
It was unusual, he thought, for Truhrgar to not know something. She was bound to a chain and pulled along by a house guard, also wearing a silver mithril pauldron. He was mesmerized, first by her hair, which was like gold placed close to firelight. Then by her skin that shone like mother-of-pearl from the giant abalone in the Mer. Her skin did not luster the same, but it was far too beautiful to liken to bone or the ivory tooth of a wyrm.
She wore an outfit he was unfamiliar with as she defiantly and fearfully pulled against the chains while she was dragged her past the other prizes. Her clothes were brown and green. Her cloak was broached with a golden clasp; a symbol he didnt recognize. It looked like an elongated, curled teardrop, with a curvilinear vein from stem to taper and smaller veins branching off to the sides.
"We found this female abomination a few tyls sail down the Mer, " the seneschal spoke from a step below the matron. Loudly, so his voice boomed through the hall. The warriors pushed the heavy doors closed after she entered. "She was caught in the Tyridion forests, trying to speak with the mushreants. " The hall burst into laughter.
"Mushreants dont speak," a Drowess yelled from the throng.
The slender captive leaned over to a dvergar and spoke at him. He hung his head, daring not to look at her. Rykzir thought it sounded Dvergish, but couldnt understand any of the words. He tapped Truhrgar's shoulder.
"Ive never heard that dialect before, " he replied to the nudge.
She looked around the room, her ears and face were the most familiar features, but her otherwise slender and frail body reminded him nothing of his people. She shouted brazenly to the crowd as they looked on. They murmured among their neighbors as her words fell on deaf ears. It was a sound like Rykzir never heard before, and yet, for a moment, he thought of the flowing Mer and the gentle springs which issued from the surrounding cavern.
"Neither does she, " the seneschal jokingly replied to the Drowess's yell. The house laughed. The warrior holding her chains threw a satchel at his feet and, picking it up, he rummaged through its contents. "Pebbles, " he said and tossed out some stones onto the floor. Rykzir could see ruby, emerald, even opal, but of seemingly poor quality. Mushrooms, he continued and held out a gently wiggling, tiny mushreant in his hand. He bit it in half and chewed then shouted with his mouth full. " Delicious. "
She shouted something to him and looked around the hall pleadingly, holding out her chained hands before burying her face in them and sobbed. Lyrkwen'eth quickly moved down the steps to the same level as the female, the seneschal bowed at the waist holding his right arm across his chest and his left firmly at his side. So did all the Drow who were placed higher than the rest of the assembled house, but those on the same level as the matron simply bowed their heads. The Drowess bowed theirs less, giving only a nod of deference to their matron.
"Tears? " Lyrkwen'eth asked exasperated, grabbing the female's face and inspecting it. She raised her finger along the females cheek and let a teardrop flow onto it. She marveled at how benign the tears were, just water. She jerked the females head as she pulled away her hand and, grasping the broach, ripped it away. The cloak fell, revealing the females shoulders which were still covered by a shirt. Lyrkwen'eth grabbed the front and back plackets and ripped it down around her arms. The shirt bundled around her waist and forearms, exposing her breasts. Rykzir longed to see her from the front, her back was like silk, smooth and delicate.
"Weak, " Lyrkweneth said, grabbing her arm, tugging on her. She leaned with the matrons pull without much resistance. "Who are you? Do you speak? " Lyrkweneth turned and looked to the seneschal.
"She said only gibberish since we caught her, our matron." The hall fell silent, except for the clicking and hissing of the giant scorpion.
" When we found her she tried to hide in a wyrm's tunnels, did she not? " Perceiving the seneschals affirmation, she muttered to the female. "Where are you from? " She looked out to the host of Drow and Drowess before her in the great hall. "Who among the Drow would have allowed such an abomination to live once born? Among the wyrm no less. Like some animal. " The assembly hissed and sneered at the rhetorical question. The high priestess raised her hand.
"Kro'henlith despises the weak and the impure," Abereth shouted into the hall. "Kro'heskith admonished us to remove either, and this abomination is both. "
The female began speaking, but the delicacies of her voice offended Lyrkwen'eth and she slapped her across the mouth, knocking her to the ground. The matron ascended the steps to her place at the end of the hall and the Drow and Drowess ceased to bow.
"Seneschal, " the high priestess called out to him, he turned and struck his arm across his chest. "Remove her clothes. "
He stepped down to her and drew his blade, long and curved, the sharp edge glinted across the hall from the arcane lights. Rykzir squinted when it shined in his eye as the reflection darted to and fro, and thought it odd when the pale female did not seem to notice the brightness when it flickered across her face. She cowered from the blade, but she did not close her eyes in reflex.
He cut the shirt from her sleeves, leaving those crumpled around her forearms. Grabbing the center of her belt, beneath her teardrop belly button, he quickly sliced down both pant legs. Behind her an assistant ripped them away revealing her soft, round butt. The many Drowess Rykzir trysted with had such curves, but they all were firmer than hers. He grabbed her by her flowing hair and dragged her across the altar kicking and screaming, the assistant stretched her across the length of the table by the chains around her ankles. He raised his blade and looked to the matron who raised her hand to stop him, then looked to the high priestess who looked on, stoically.
" Rykzir, " Lyrkwen'eth said. The hall clamored with gossip. He knew he could not hide, but his hesitation prompted Truhrgar to elbow him in the gut. Rykzir stepped out of the body of the assembled house and into the aisle. "Come forward, young Rykzir. " She paused as he walked toward the scene unfolding at the end of the great hall.
"Young Rykzir is now thirty kuryls," she continued, introducing him to the assembly. " I have decided he, among others, should be tested for consort to Lolketh."
Rykzir passed in front of the altar, looking over the slender body of the female, noticing her smooth pubic area and soft abdomen. She sobbed at him, pleadingly. He took a place at the foot of the stairs in front of where Lolketh was standing and turned to face the hall.
"Why dont you show us some of your magic now, young Rykzir? " The matron asked.
Rykzir looked timidly at the matron, then at Lolketh, but said nothing. He stepped to the head of the altar, his ears filled with her sobbing as she looked around aimlessly, he could now tell that she could not see what was even close to her. For a moment he pitied her, blind and weak, not even intelligent enough to speak more than nonsense. The pity almost enraged him and his hands flared green with the swirling arcane. Her skin reflected the color almost invitingly and she looked over to the light of his hands. Her eyes widened and glowed like the emeralds in the statues.
He wondered what happened to such creatures, would they also meet Krohenlith. He looked at Trurhgar, at least he was strong and could see. Perhaps he would serve in everlasting life to the goddess. Even the mushreants were deadly and served a favorable purpose to her. He worried the house would think he hesitated out of pity. He had trained over and over with the blade and with his magic, but, this was his first time.
"Kro'henliths tears, wash away all impurities," he prayed, then muttered the incantation, moving his hands toward the altar. The green light flowed from his palms and bathed her torso and pelvis. She screamed out from the bottom of a pit of terror, but not for long. He watched over her as her breasts melted away and her chest caved in. White shards of ribs appeared through a red, sunken maw; bubbling and hissing, letting off steam and a noxious vapor.
She writhed and twisted and jerked, but that too stopped as the acid reached through her to the altar, its stonework polished by many such repetitions that had gone before her. The liquid poured out onto the floor, devouring the arms as they dammed the flow. No longer green, it became a putrid color as it reacted with what there was left of her. The whole host looked on in silence.
"Let us pray, that such abominations are never born, " Ab'ereth said quietly as the noise of the arcane reaction quieted.
"So may it be, " the host replied in unison. Rykzir realized he forgot to join them in prayer, his hands trembled. Lolketh stepped down beside him and he turned to her and bowed. She took his chin in her hand and raised his head to look him in the eyes. Their moment was interrupted when Rykzir reflexively caught the bag that the seneschal threw at him.
"Her stuff is yours," he said.
"What did she have in there?" Lolketh asked excitedly, placing Rykzirs hands in her palms.
He reached in and felt around a moment, peering downward, then pulled out a book. Lolketh took the bag from him, letting him open the binding. Inside the front cover there were hand drawn curves and pockets, most leading to dead ends. But one squiggle ended in an opening that he recognized, filled with drawings of mushrooms next to some lines that looked like waves.
"Looks like a map, but of tunnels I've never seen before," he flipped through the pages. "And a language I've never seen. "
"Let me see, " she said as she stepped out of the way of some slaves who approached the altar to remove the parts of the female that the acid had not consumed. Lolketh looked through the pages. " Some kind of arcane?"
" Its not any kind of arcane I have ever seen. Truhrgar didn't recognize her language either when she spoke to the dvergar. "
"Why would an abomination have this? " Lolketh asked about the book. " And what is this?"
Her fingers traced some of the tunnels to an origin that opened much larger than the Tyridion mushroom forests drawn on the other end of the map. It had clearly drawn buildings and a single word was marked by it in a script neither of them understood.
"Praise Kro'henlith," the matron shouted over the clamor of the house. "Let us prepare a feast. "
With that she and her consorts began to exit the great hall, and the warriors attending the mushreants shoved and herded them further into the house.
"I dont know," Rykzir answered, he snatched the book back from Lolketh and put it alongside his spell book. " But, I intend to find out. "
Read the first chapters. Feel free to critique. Will link the next chapters at the end of the first. Two stories running so far.
Simeon Tor:
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/story-lore/34598-simeon-tor-chapter-1-the-heat-of-battle
The Heart of the Drow:
https://www.dndbeyond.com/forums/d-d-beyond-general/story-lore/36014-heart-of-the-drow-chapter-1