Dark Flower III, Ch. 2 The Doom of Deepgloom

[Mikayla]

Dark Flower III, Chapter 2

The Doom of Deepgloom


House Auvryndar declares that Clan Deepgloom must be destroyed for the attempted kidnapping and assault on the noble daughter of Auvryndar, Faerylene Auvryndar.

No duergar are allowed to enter or leave the city on pain of death and any who attempt to aid Clan Deepgloom will be considered accomplices and face the wrath of House Auvryndar.

Sheyreiza repeated the proclamation in her mind as she knelt before a shrine to Lolth in her chambers. Why would Clan Deepgloom, a duergar merchant clan operating within Ched Nasad, kidnap Faerylene? An even better question was why would they let her live long enough to escape? The logical answer, of course, was that they would do neither of those things; the logical answer was that someone else was trying to bring the wrath of Qu’ellar Auvryndar down upon Clan Deepgloom. The question then, was who.

Sheyreiza touched her forehead to the floor before statue of Lolth. She was naked and her indigo-black skin gleamed like silk in the soft fairy fire and candlelight. She rose and walked across the chamber to the fireplace where she tossed gritty cubes of expensive incense into the magical fire. As the cubes burned, reddish-brown smoke filled the room with a spicy smell. She knelt before the fire and drew the bloody heart of a goblin slave from a leather chamois; this also she tossed into the magical flame. From the mantle she retrieved parchment, a jar of the dead goblin’s blood, and a brush. As the slave’s heart began to burn in the enchanted fire, she picked up the brush and dipped it in the jar. With her other hand, she held up a sheet of the parchment. Closing her eyes Sheyreiza asked her first question aloud: “Did Clan Deepgloom kidnap Faerylene?” As she spoke she used the brush to fling blood on the parchment. When she no longer heard drops hitting the unfurled scroll, she opened her eyes. Her hand and the parchment were predictably splattered with blood. She held the parchment up to the fire backlighting the blood and as it ran it took the shape of a word. No, it read. The blood ran and soaked into the parchment and a moment later the word was gone. Sheyreiza tossed the parchment into the fire; normally parchment could be scraped but once used for a divination, it was tainted.

Sheyreiza wiped her brow, smearing blood on her face but she did not notice. There were more questions to be asked. She threw more incense into the fire and the heart of another goblin slave. “Who is responsible for kidnapping Faerylene Auvryndar?” When she opened her eyes no letters or words were discernible on the blood splattered parchment. She waited, staring intently, holding the parchment up to the fire but no answer was revealed. Frowning, she wadded the parchment up and threw it into the fire also.

Sweating now, from the heat and the exertion of casting her divinations, Sheyreiza went through the process yet again; there was as yet much still unseen and unexplained. She asked her next question: “Is it Lolth’s will that Qu’ellar Auvryndar destroy Clan Deepgloom?”

This time the letters in the splattered blood were clear: Yes.

Though not guilty of the crime that they had been accused of, Clan Deepgloom’s fate was sealed. Sheyreiza tossed the parchment into the fire and watched it burn, imagining that the Deepgloom Duergar would soon face a similar end. It did not matter to her that they were innocent of kidnapping Faerylene; Lolth had declared their destruction to be Her will and Sheyreiza would see it done whether she understood the reason or not.

************

The siege of Clan Deepgloom’s trade hall went on for several cycles. Despite being vastly outnumbered and overmatched, the gray dwarves had managed to seal their stronghold from any entry. Periodically a number of the duergar would sally forth, for what purpose the Auvryndar did not know, and then the dwarves would be slaughtered; the drow were well aware of duergar powers and were equally well prepared to counter them.

On the start of the fifth cycle since Deepgloom’s destruction had been announced, Sheyreiza was sent by Matron Shyntlara to the stronghold of the merchant company Tuin’t Luthol, the Poisoned Spear. Tuin’t Luthol was a relatively new company, formed in just the last few decades. It engaged in all manner of mercantile and mercenary endeavors, but its primary business was slavery so far as Sheyreiza knew. Next to Tuin’t Luthol’s stronghold in the middle layers was a great auction block upon which they displayed their living wares. Sheyreiza had visited more than once herself, seeking strong, tough slaves for the gladiator games. Recently, Matron Shyntlara had decided to employ Tuin’t Luthol, putting the entire company on retainer. The company had immediately started sending its warriors and scouts to the surface where they aided in the war against the shades. Some had served Sheyreiza while she had fought there. For the most part, she found them adequate.

Currently, the Deepgloom siege was headquartered at Tuin’t Luthol’s stronghold; the mercenaries’ mid-layer locale was much closer to the Deepgloom trade hall than Auvryndar’s castle looming high above near the top of Ched Nasad’s great ravine. Sheyreiza made her way down through the city, passing by the besieged trade hall just for a look. Dozens of Auvryndar drow crouched behind mantlets or other cover, flanked by hundreds of Auvryndar’s undead warriors. Periodically a bolt would fly from a crossbow slit in the trade hall and be answered by a volley in return. Thunder crashed as lighting bolts ripped through the air at the duergar fortress, but the walls held. With her hood up and cloak wrapped around her, Sheyreiza passed behind the Auvryndar lines almost unnoticed. She watched her warriors, wizards and sister priestesses and tried to gauge their strategy and effectiveness. She could see no obvious flaws in their performance; the duergar trade hall was simply resistant to their attacks. Where the duergar were getting such magical power was a mystery.

Sheyreiza did not linger long, however, she had orders to follow. Quickly and quietly she made her way to the meeting hall of Tuin’t Luthol where she met with the mercenary company’s second in command, the minotaur Rua. Also present were Sheyreiza’s siblings, the Judicator Ghal’tera, and the House Wizard Celuldor. Vedo, Sheyreiza’s sergeant was waiting for her as well. Sheyreiza took a seat at the head of the table and called the meeting to order. Her sister, Ghal’tera, watched Sheyreiza sit but remained standing herself. “Matron Auvryndar put me in charge of this battle Sister.” Sheyreiza narrowed her eyes just slightly and Ghal’tera relented. “But if you wish this seat. So be it.”

“I do.” Sheyreiza replied with a smile. “Thank you sister. Command or not, the laws of station shall be observed.” And a Yathtallar’s station was always higher than a mere warrior’s. Ghal’tera made no further protest and set about briefing the assembled Auvryndar and mercenaries.

“Auvryndar and Tuin't Luthol troops have locked in the Deepgloom troops. They can not escape. But neither can we enter. They created a ward that does not allow any without a wardstone to pass through it. Due to the favor of Lolth, Yathrin Faerylene found such a wardstone when she defeated her kidnappers with the help of Tuin't Luthol. Normally this would only work for one being. However, house wizard Celuldor Auvryndar devised a way using the wardstone to teleport a group of individuals through the ward. He will teleport you all into the trade hall. Your goal there is to lower the ward. The only way to do this is to kill the duergar priest who maintains it. Once the ward is down, our undead troops can march in and rip the flesh of any remaining duergar.”

A few questions from the assembled warriors followed, then Sheyreiza spoke up. “Who is going?” She asked.

Ghal’tera looked at Sheyreiza and then at the others. “The Yathtallar Sheyreiza will lead a patrol of Auvryndar, Claddath and Tuin’t Luthol warriors on this mission.” Sheyreiza was not surprised; she did not need her priestess divinations to see this coming.

One of the Tuin’t Luthol, Mik’laysee spoke up. “Revered Yathrin, is there a signal to pass once the duergar priest has been pacified?

“Just walk outside.” Ghal’tera answered simply.

Mik’laysee clearly did not like her answer. “And if that is not an option for us?

Ghal’tera frowned. “Answer his question Rua.”

But it was Sheyreiza who answered. “Failure means death mercenary.” And there it was, out in the open. This mission was potentially streaga, suicide. Sheyreiza had not needed any divinations to know that would be the case. She had suspected when she came down to Tuin’t Luthol just an hour ago that she was destined for a mission such as this. What bothered her was that she would be sent in with only rank and file warriors and scouts. Neither Celuldor the House Wizard, nor Ghal’tera the Weapons Mistress, would be going with her. Though as Yathtallar Sheyreiza was theoretically more valuable than either of them, the practical truth was different; Qu’ellar Auvryndar had neither wizard to match Celuldor nor any warrior to match Ghal’tera. On the other hand, Sheyreiza was but one of four high priestesses in the house and the most junior of them all. In short, of all the house’s royals, she was the most expendable and so it was that she drew this streaga, this suicide mission.

Ghal’tera finished her portion of the briefing and then Sheyreiza took charge, telling those who would be going with her to make themselves ready and to return quickly to the great hall. Celuldor meanwhile began drawing a circle in chalk upon the floor. He worked carefully and meticulously, and gracefully. Sheyreiza found it was a pleasure to watch him work.

The task at hand called for her attention, however, so she began her own preparations. One by one the members of her patrol came filtering in from their rooms. Sergeant Vedo dutifully organized them, ensuring that each warrior had sufficient potions, bolts and other expendables for the mission. While the sergeant was inspecting their equipment, Sheyreiza looked each of them over as well. Among the group was a minor noble from House Claddath, a male named Xerthal. He was a veteran of the Shade war and had fought along side Sheyreiza previously. He had proved competent enough and seemed faithful, though the most notable thing about him was his dress and style; the male certainly enjoyed being noble. The ranking commoner in the patrol appeared to be a male named Pharaun. Sheyreiza remembered him as a veteran of the Shade war also, a scout who had helped lead one of her raids. If her memory was correct, he was relatively competent. The interesting thing about him was his demeanor; he was quite intelligent and carried himself with far more self-confidence and nobility than most male commoners. Beside him was the bard called Mik’laysee; lean, handsome, quick with a smile, song or story, he was a charming male. Sheyreiza had little use for charming however. Mik’laysee had once been the Ventashma, the leader, of Tuin’t Luthol, but somehow had lost control to the current Ventashma. Why he still lived was a mystery to Sheyreiza, but the inner workings of the mercenary band were not particularly interesting to her. She hoped he would be valuable in the fight, but she had her doubts. The third Tuin’t Luthol warrior was another male, Trazk, remarkable only in that he remained quieter than the rest and seemed to observe everything around him with an intense curiosity unmatched by the others. The final Tuin’t Luthol warrior was a duergar, Stout, thick armed, with a dark gray skin and an axe that looked ridiculously large, he reminded Sheyreiza of Moilir, the duergar warrior who had bolstered her first patrol in Skullport. The duergar would be their shock troop.

Aside from the four Tuin’t Luthol warriors and the Claddath, only sergeant Vedo and Sheyreiza would be going; Celuldor’s spell could only transport a small number it seemed. When Vedo was done with his inspection, Sheyreiza addressed them. She told them the chain of command, the order of battle of what signals they would use. Finally, she warned them against infighting. “We are seven people with a mission and we will either succeed or die. Put aside your petty quarrels until later lest they get us all killed. While in the mouth of the dragon, we will act as one.”

With the patrol prepared, Sheyreiza led her warriors to Celuldor’s circle. Ghal’tera watched as Sheyreiza passed. Sheyreiza looked back at the judicator with a wry smile. “See you on the other side sister, one way or another.” Ghal’tera just chuckled.

Celuldor began preparing the wardstone and as he did, Sheyreiza raised her defensive magics. Some of the warriors drank potions or fiddled with their armor and shields. When Celuldor was done with the stone he held it up high and began intoning the arcane words to his spell. Sheyreiza took a deep breath, gripped her morningstar, Lolth’s Blessing, and waited.

A flash of light blinded her, but the blindness passed quickly. When she could see again she was standing in a rectangular stone room, lined with short, wide bunks, stout storage chests and two rows of thick columns. She heard a voice, not a drow, yelling in surprise. A shirtless duergar was rising from his bed. To Sheyreiza’s right was a doorway in which several duergar were standing. “Take the room.” Sheyreiza ordered succinctly. Metal clashed on metal as blades bit into armor and shield. Trazk drew first blood but the duergar were hardy and fought on. Sheyreiza watched intently as the melee grew. Vedo, Xerthal, Trazk, Pharaun and now the duergar Tergash were all engaged. Outside the chamber more duergar voices rose in shouts. It was ill fortune to have teleported into an occupied room. They would have to move quickly to prevent a coordinated counter attack. Sheyreiza watched the fight at the doorway. After what seemed like an eternity of fruitless fighting Tergash’s axe brought down one of his duergar kin. A heartbeat later Pharaun’s sword found one of the others and two of Deepgloom’s warriors lay dead. More were coming, however and they were trying to force their way into the chamber.

Something clipped Sheyreiza’s arm. She looked around, knowing a duergar could have snuck up on her invisibly, but no one was there. Mik’laysee, the bard, was pressed up against one of the stone columns, blood flowing from his arm. Before Sheyreiza could inquire, a bolt whizzed past her. A second followed a heartbeat later and skipped off her enchanted mithral shoulder plates. She spun looking for the source of the bolts and saw a line of crossbow slits along one wall; the damn duergar had crossbow slits in their own barracks! Bolts began to pour through. Sheyreiza took cover behind one of the columns like Mik’laysee. “Move forward!” She yelled at the warriors in the doorway. They had to get out of this room. More bolts hissed through the air, speeding towards the frantic melee at the chamber’s entrance. The crossbowmen did not seem to care whether they hit friend or foe; they would gladly sacrifice their brothers if it meant the death of the hated drow as well.

Sheyreiza saw one of her warriors stagger back wounded from the door. The fight was stalemated. She could not let them get trapped in her. Letting the head of her morningstar swing free, she ran out from behind cover and charged into the fight. The whirling head of Lolth’s Blessing found the unarmored head of an unfortunate duergar and cracked his skull open with a bloody spray. The wounded dwarf fell to his knees and was finished off a moment later.

A duergar captain forced his way through the melee and slammed his axe into Mik’laysee, sending the mercenary bard down to the floor with a yell. Sheyreiza was on the captain a moment later, smashing through his thick plate with the flaming head of her morningstar.

Another gray dwarf fell to Pharaun who yelled: “For Selvetarm!” Trazk, having staggered away from the combat, downed a healing potion while trying to stay behind cover to avoid the crossbow slits. The duergar did not give him much rest, however, as another broke through the combat at the door and engaged him. The drow were disciplined, experienced fighters however and they reformed their line. Sheyreiza stood behind them casting healing spells upon them even as crossbow bolts ricocheted off her nigh impenetrable armor. One by one the duergar fell, the last two dying on the blades of Pharaun and Xerthal.

“Pharaun, scout ahead.” Sheyreiza ordered. “There are too many crossbow slits. We have to get out of this room.” Sheyreiza resumed healing her wounded warriors but did not have long before Pharaun’s voice carried down the corridor.

“To me!” The scout yelled. The clash of metal on metal heralded another melee. The remaining drow moved out of the doorway and towards the sound of fighting. Duergar poured out of an adjacent room to meet them. Most carried crossbows and Sheyreiza presumed these were the ones who had been firing at them moments earlier. She waited for a second, watching the fight develop. When she identified the duergar leader, she threaded her way through the combat and engaged him but two of his guards interjected themselves. The captain did not spare Sheyreiza a moment but leapt in towards Tergash. The Tuin’t Luthol duergar was skilled and tough but the captain was unwounded and fresh. Tergash was on the defensive almost immediately. Sheyreiza fought through both of the captain’s guards, killing each in turn to get to the leader and put him down. A crossbowman tried to come to the captain’s aid but Pharaun planted a blade in his liver and sent him to his god.

They were all in melee now and the combat swirled and ebbed and flowed around the corridor and chambers. Vedo’s long blade arced through air trailing blood behind it as he swung; Pharaun nimbly dodged and weaved, finding the exposed sides and backs of more than one unwary duergar. Tergash, wounded and winded from his fight with the captain was pushed back by a frothing Deepgloom guard; axes clashed and then the Deepgloom’s blade found Tergash’s side. The Tuin’t Luthol duergar fell with a grunt, helpless, but the Deepgloom guard had no time to finish him off.

“Whoa Selvetarm!” Yelled Vedo as he brought his blade down, rending the guard’s armor and ripping through his neck.

Trazk and Pharaun both got separated and isolated in the frenetic combat and in moments both were down with wounds. Vedo and Sheyreiza fought there way to where they had seen Trazk fall but they had lost sight of Pharaun. Sheyreiza passed one of her potions to Trazk who downed it quickly and rejoined the fight. Mik’laysee began to sing as he fought, nimbly stabbing and parrying.

For a moment, Sheyreiza had no opponents, then she heard a duergar yell: “Attack!” Soot stained, shirtless duergar smiths and axe-armed guards in chainmail hauberks rushed forward. The duergar charge was chaotic but there were many of them and they were fanatic. Trazk was separated again and a bare-chested forge master laid him low with his hammer. The drow line was sundered. Sheyreiza found herself fighting two thick duergar warriors, dancing between axe and hammer while whirling her own morningstar about. One then the other fell to her vicious weapon, but they were quickly replaced. Sheyreiza did her best to pick out the duergar leaders and target them. Pharaun, badly wounded, rejoined the fray but was soon knocked out of it by the charging gray dwarves. Vedo fought desperately but expertly against the wild-eyed smith that had laid Trazk down as Sheyreiza dueled with the duergar leader. Other gray dwarves rushed in and out of the melee as Xerthal and Mik’laysee tried to hold the flanks. All was chaos and Sheyreiza gave up trying to keep track of her warriors. Instead she simply concentrated on the duergar in front of her. With a sickening crunch she caved in the head of a Deepgloom warrior. The downed fighter’s captain snarled with rage. “I’ll rip you to shreds!” He yelled, charging Sheyreiza with axe held high. The agile priestess sidestepped the man’s swing and counter-attacked. As she fought, she lost track of time and of anything save for the fight immediately at hand.

They were pushed back down a dead end corridor by the press of duergar; for a moment it seemed as if they would be lost. Sheyreiza and Vedo fought side by side, with Pharaun behind them, gravely wounded, firing crossbow bolts as fast as he could. The others were nowhere to be seen. Feint, slip, step, swing; feint, slip, step, swing. Again and again Sheyreiza did the dance of death with the duergar; again and again she was favored and came out alive while her enemies died. Vedo too remained standing despite a dozen wounds; his long blade arcing to and fro, biting deeply into gray dwarf steel and flesh.

Gradually, the tide of gray dwarves began to recede. Mik’laysee, finding himself without an opponent for a moment, fell back against a wall and began carefully pulling the crossbow bolts from his armor and flesh. Pharaun staggered between the columns, searching nearby corpses for healing potions. Tergash swung his heavy axe into a Deepgloom warrior and sent the man down flailing into a wall. Grunting, panting, he followed with another blow and put his distant kin down for good. The Tuin’t Luthol duergar paused, grunting in pain at his own torso wound which bled profusely. Nearby, Sheyreiza slipped a weak, slow strike from another wounded Deepgloom guard and brought her morningstar down on his head. Bone cracked and blood sprayed as the man died. Vedo stood a few feet away, several dead duergar at his feet, leaning on his sword, gasping for breath. Fatigued, wounded, her hands slick with gore, Sheyreiza began intoning healing spells on the bloodied warrior. Trazk, meanwhile, walked amongst the carnage cautiously. “Here mistress.” He called out. Sheyreiza walked towards him and saw Xerthal Claddath lying face down amidst the bodies of the Deepgloom, a duergar bolt in his back. The Claddath male was still alive, his hands clawing at the bolt’s shaft, trying to pull it free. With a scream he yanked the bolt out and blood seeped between the links of his chainmail. Vedo, healed to some extent by Sheyreiza’s spells, offered a healing potion to Pharaun who leaned heavily against a pillar. Too fatigued to speak, Pharaun nodded his thanks.

Not all the duergar were finished, however - a gruff voice echoed through the hall. “Die you drow whore!” A Deepgloom smith, his nearly naked body covered in soot and blood, rushed towards Sheyreiza. He never made it. Pharaun rolled off the pillar he was leaning against with drow quickness, his sword slashing the passing duergar even as Trazk leapt in between the priestess and the dwarf. The duergar whirled his hammer in a frenzy but Trazk and Pharaun cut him down.

Sheyreiza gave a small nod to the pair as they stood over their latest kill. “Vedo, keep watch. The rest of you, heal yourselves with potion and spell as best you are able. My healing is at an end.” Tergash spit out a mouthful of blood on the bodies of the Deepgloom warriors and cursed them in his native tongue.

Pharaun looked around at the carnage. “These iblith must be healing themselves with something.” Xerthal, breathing heavily, nodded in agreement so the pair began searching the dead for potions and scrolls. Tergash and Mik’laysee joined them, moving from body to body. They had only been searching for a few minutes when another wave of duergar charged down the main corridor. Everyone joined in the melee and the duergar were quickly pushed back. The drow pressed their advantage and took the next section of corridor. There was a ballista there, which Xerthal immediately manned. Once loaded, he aimed it down the hallway in case of another counter attack. Pharaun, meanwhile, was exploring the newly conquered rooms to each side of the corridor. In one stood a statue of some dwarven god and a shrine; another room contained food stores.

Sheyreiza detailed Pharaun to search the rooms and stores quickly. “We pause only to see if we can find healing.” She announced. Sergeant Vedo regrouped the party in the corridor while Sheyreiza walked to the far end. There was a door there; the exit. Sheyreiza smiled. She knew she could not open it until the Deepgloom priest was dead, but at least she had found the way. “Alright people,” she called out, “mark this door. This is the way out.” Xerthal stepped up and marked the door with his blade. “We still have to kill the duergar priest however.” She walked back down the corridor and signed to Pharaun. If you are done searching those barrels, scout ahead.

Pharaun did not have to scout for long. There was but one exit left unexplored in the trade-hall’s main corridor. “This is the only way left to go, Yathtallar.” He announced.

“Sergeant Vedo, watch my back.” Sheyreiza commanded. “The rest of you, on support. Pharaun, is that door trapped?” Pharaun, jaw clenched tight, tried the handle. It did not move and nothing happened.

“Locked.” He said with some measure of relief.

“Can you pick the lock?” Sheyreiza asked as she made herself ready for battle again.

Pharaun shook his head. “Not a skill of mine, Yathtallar.” He admitted.

Xerthal stepped towards the door. “I shall try then.” He set his crossbow down beside the doorway and crouched to examine the lock. Without warning, the door swung open of its own accord.

There were two duergar inside, standing before a shrine. “Come on in drow.” Said one of them. His invitation was too late, however.

“Lolth burn you.” Sheyreiza hissed in the abyssal tongue. A column of green flame erupted from a sudden fissure in the floor and one of the duergar was immolated. The stout, bald dwarf was as fast as he was tough, however and managed to roll away from the flames before being charred to a cinder.

“Foolish!” The burned duergar growled, hefting a huge, wickedly serrated axe.

The other duergar scowled in anger. “Ye damn fool wench! Ye understand nothing!”

Sheyreiza, born of the drow, was not one to hesitate. For every breath the duergar wasted on words she took two steps towards sealing their doom. She danced into the chamber, feinted left towards the burned duergar but suddenly slipped to the right and struck the other. The second duergar barely got his shield up in time; it saved his life but he took the blow heavily and staggered backwards. The other drow followed her in; Vedo rushed the first duergar who gave his own feint with his axe, and then reached out with a glowing hand towards Sheyreiza, uttering an unholy prayer to his dark dwarven god. Vedo’s blade struck the duergar priest’s arm first, however, and the evil energy of the spell was lost. Sheyreiza, seeing the threat behind her, spun quickly. The head of Lolth’s Blessing connected with the duergar’s head and he staggered backward where Pharaun was waiting. The scout slipped a blade under the duergar priest’s armpit and shoved it deep into his chest, killing him.

The other duergar was the best fighter they had yet encountered. Though badly outnumbered, he did not fall easily. He moved around the room, using the drow’s numbers against them where ever possible. Battle cries echoed through the chamber. “Hold!” Sheyreiza yelled. “Hold him!” She wanted the duergar alive if possible. The duergar chief, a canny fighter, took that moment to strike Sheyreiza. The agile priestess, encased in enchanted mithral, slipped the brunt of the blow but the axe still drew blood.

Fire filled Sheyreiza’s eyes and all thought of taking prisoners was lost. Without another word she danced in on the struggling gray dwarf and smashed his skull in. His bloody form fell to the ground, but not twenty feet away, another duergar of similar likeness suddenly appeared. “Ye fools!” He yelled, and then he ran out of the chamber and down the hall. Sheyreiza and Vedo pursued; they followed him out of the chamber, but he was no where to be seen. Warily, Sheyreiza returned to the shrine and began to search the bodies and the room. Tergash, the one duergar in the party, knelt quickly before the statue of Laduger and muttered something in the thick dwarven tongue.

“Are the wards undone?” Asked Xerthal Claddath from the doorway. The noble male still stood though sorely wounded like all the others and splattered from head to toe in his blood the blood of his enemies.

Sheyreiza rolled her head back and forth, stretching her neck muscles. In her hands she held up the wicked looking battle axe of the duergar priest. “We were to slay the priest that maintained the wards.” She gestured with the axe. “We have slain him. See if you can signal to the others. If they can come in, the wards are undone.”

“That will not be necessary, Yathallar.” Pharaun announced succinctly. “They are already here.”

Through the doorway walked Ghal’tera in her gleaming black and green armor. Celuldor slipped in behind her and dozens of drow warriors and Auvryndar undead followed. Outside in the corridor, sergeants were ordering their troops to make sure the dead were dead. Sheyreiza, wounded and bloody, but proud and triumphant, greeted the judicator coolly. “Hello sister.”

“It seems you have done more than merely kill the priest.” Ghal’tera observed, looking about the carnage they had wrought.

Sheyreiza gave a slight nod. “We killed many. They did not want to give up their priest.”

Ghal’tera looked up from the dozens of bodies on the floor to meet Sheyreiza’s eyes. “Malla tlu Sheyreiza.” Honor to Sheyreiza. There was true respect in her voice; an emulation of the common declaration of faith, Malla tlu Lolth, it was as honorable a salute as Ghal’tera could give. Sheyreiza took the honor silently, sparing Ghal’tera but the slightest of nods. She was not ungrateful for the respect, but in this case, she knew she had earned it; her patrol of seven had fought and killed nearly three dozen duergar, in their own stronghold. “Celuldor, dismiss the troops and bring the priestesses in. We have many corpses to raise.”

And so these Deepgloom would pass from a life spent in service to their clan, to an undeath spent in service to Auvryndar and Lolth. Though Sheyreiza knew the value of Auvryndar’s undead, she did not feel like sticking around to watch the process. There was something that bothered her about undead; perhaps it was using the bodies of the slain. Sheyreiza was vehemently opposed to defiling the dead, even enemies, and was not raising a corpse the ultimate defilement? She had been taught that it was not so; to serve Lolth, in life or in undeath, was a great honor – this service the duergar dead were now called to was the greatest moment of their existence, or so the priestesses would say. Still, Sheyreiza was not comfortable with it; odd for a priestess of Auvryndar, especially one who had followed Kiaransalee for a short time. On the other hand, perhaps it was precisely because she was so intimately tied to the use of undead that the process affected her so. Regardless, she decided she was too tired and too sore to stay and watch. Nearby, Tergash was growling at Xerthal over some slight or another. “Duergar.” Sheyreiza said simply. Tergash swallowed his growl and turned to face her. She handed him the wicked, enchanted axe she had taken from the priest. “It seems like a weapon you could use.” Her fatigue was evident in her voice.

Tergash turned the weapon over, examining it, slowly nodding as he realized its quality. “A Forgesnuffer’s thanks, Yathtallar.”

From out in the corridor came the eerie sound of female chanting; Sheyreiza knew that would be the lesser priestesses raising the Duergar up as zombies to be added to the Auvryndar army. She was done here. It was time to put pitch and salves on the rest of her wounds and take a long hot bath. As she left the sundered Deepgloom stronghold, more an abattoir now than a trade hall, she wondered why it was Lolth’s will that they be destroyed if they had not kidnapped Faerylene. She decided to sleep it on it. The duergar were dead. Lolth’s will, for the moment, was done.

[Ros-King]

Amazing writing, as im sure most everyone would agree......

Im just really mad, as I was under the assumption the Underdark was a giant subterranean daisy field where everyone roamed in joyous freedom, holding hands and reciting love poems to one another to pass the time.

*Ros-King <3's Sarcasm*

Keep up the excellent writing Mik, and I'll keep reading.

-Ros

[Burt]

You make it sound easy...and organised.

[Mikayla]

Well, I got tired of typing "and then x went down in a bloody spray - again."

To all who were not there - it was a bloody, chaotic, desperate fight and it did not look good for awhile.

But all is well that ends well. Malla tlu Lolth!

[Vendrin]

Awesome to read

[Zakharra]

So that's how it went.... Good writing as always, Mik.

[foaloke]

Arguably some of the best writing here. Absolutely great.

[Holy_Rage]

Excellent work, Mikayla. Great reading.

[greenlance]

I'm reading this and recalling every moment with a laughing nod. I'm certain your fellow players are grateful for you not exposing how many times each went down in the battle. It might be embarressing.