Dark Flower III, Ch. 6: Out With The Old, In With The New

[Mikayla]

Dark Flower Book III, Chapter 6

Out With The Old, In With The New.




Pharaun dutifully reported all that he could discover about the Ventashma’s eating habits and ascent to power. Though the information was scant, it was enough to confirm the suspicions of Celuldor and Matron Shyntlara: the Ventashma was none other than Trax Auvryndar, a cousin of Sheyreiza’s who had disappeared three years earlier. Matron Shyntlara had drained Trax of life but he had been prepared. Prior to being slain he had become a soul-eater. Celuldor explained that once Matron Shyntlara drained him, Trax’s powers as a soul-eater were able to conceal him from her sight and detection completely and thus he avoided becoming her slave. Celuldor knew Trax was capable of this because Celuldor too had toyed with the idea of becoming a soul-eater to escape from Matron Shyntlara’s deadly embrace prior to passing his own test of Lolth. Trax, it seemed, had put the plan into action. After being drained by the Matron, Trax made good his escape from Qu’ellar Auvryndar and no spell or search could find him. Then he wrested control of Tuin’t Luthol from its founder, Mik’laysee. Once ensconced as the Ventashma, he set about bringing Tuin’t Luthol as close to Auvryndar as possible, presumably to betray his former house into ruin.

The strengths and weaknesses of vampires were well known to Sheyreiza, but she had never heard of these so called soul-eaters before. Celuldor explained that they used the raw energy of souls to power magic. A soul-eater could, for example, cloak himself in a shield made of souls that would conceal him from sight and spell. This was why Sheyreiza’s attempts to see the Ventashma, even with her most powerful prayers, had always failed. The soul-eater was not invulnerable though. As a vampire Trax had to feed and to feed he had to drop this cloak of concealment. If his feeding was interrupted, he would not be able to raise his concealment again until he finished a feeding. The only way to successfully interrupt his feeding, however, was to kill the person he was feeding on. There was also a price to pay for the powers he had gained as a soul-eater; unlike normal vampires, if he was destroyed, Trax would not reform. The souls he had stolen to power his unholy magic would be freed from his control and would drag his own soul down into the depths of the abyss. Armed with this insight, plans were prepared for the demise of the Ventashma.

Sheyreiza exited the portal that led to Qu’ellar Auvryndar’s ornate, spacious throne room. She had just finished briefing the Matron. The Matron in turn issued orders; Sheyreiza was to lead the assault on the Ventashma and Celuldor would assist only from a distance; the house mage was not to be involved in direct combat. While the Matron was not pleased at having to risk a high priestess to kill the wayward Trax, she had others in her service. Celuldor however, was far less replaceable. Out in the foyer Sheyreiza’s acolyte Faerylene waited for her mistress to return. As Sheyreiza entered the chamber Faerylene dutifully jumped to her feet. “Greetings honored Yathtallar.” The acolye said quickly, bowing her head.

“Faerylene, find the patrol have them dress for battle and meet me in the training room.” Sheyreiza walked past the nervous girl without pausing. She had to go see her brother, Celuldor. Among the wizard’s many talents was wand-crafting and he had sent word that his latest creation was ready for Sheyreiza to pick up.

An hour later Sheyreiza and most of her patrol gathered in the training room and Pharaun outlined the plan. He had rented rooms at the Glowing Goblet, a seedy tavern nestled amongst the lowest layers of the city where noble drow were reluctant to tread save in numbers. Sergeant Vedo had gone with him on this errand, so that those in the Goblet would know Pharaun was renting rooms with an Auvryndar. This information was allowed to reach the Ventashma’s ears. “My treachery of the Ventashma will be made clear to him.” Pharaun explained. “He will be made aware of the place I am going to reveal his nature and intentions - the Glowing Goblet. This is where he will die.”

Pharaun was to be the bait? That seemed suicidal to Sheyreiza. “There is a flaw in your plan Pharaun.” She said dryly. “We must kill the one the Ventashma feeds on.”

The scout nodded, unsurprised by her comment. “You must provide an 'emissary' - whether real or not, it does not matter, they must simply be noticeably Auvryndar. He will remain with me in the other room while I am unseen in the shadows. My plan relies on the fact the Ventashma’s hatred of Auvryndar is so intense that he will feed on this 'emissary' with little hesitation. When he does, I will kill him. Then you and whoever else is with us will enter the room and the Ventashma will be slain.”

That made more sense but it hinged on Pharaun not being spotted. “And you believe he will not examine the rooms before attacking? That he will not see you in the shadows?” The high priestess asked incredulously.

“He has overlooked me as I have hidden once before.” The scout spoke humbly and respectfully but was clearly confident in his abilities.

“Good.” Sheyreiza believed him, or at least, she believed that he believed himself and confidence was half the battle. “And what of his loyalists? Rua and what others he may have?”

“After the Ventashma is dead you will return with us to Tuin't Luthol and publically declare Mik'laysee as the new Ventash'ma. I do not think any would have doubts enough to defy a Yathtallar.”

“Will I?” Sheyreiza asked. Pharaun’s overly bold assertion of what was to happen amused Sheyreiza and gave her a much relished opportunity to gently but very pointedly put him in his place. “You seem quite confident in telling me what I will do.”

The scout saw his faux pas immediately. Common male warriors did not tell high priestesses what to do, even if it was in their best interest. Suggestions, even strongly worded ones, were much better received. “You can of course do as you wish. This is only how I believe success will be guaranteed. If you wish to entirely ruin Tuin't Luthol, so be it.”

Sheyreiza’s amused look turned to a satisfied smile as Pharaun conceded. “That is not our wish. If all goes according to plan, I will return to Tuin’t Luthol and declare Mik'laysee the Ventashma. However. I want all of the current Ventashma's papers and effects and I want the minotaur Rua alive, if possible. If not, I want his corpse. I also want the body of the current Ventashma, if such is tangible after the fight.”

“We are hardly in any position to stop you.” Pharaun admitted. “Is my plan clear?”

“Indeed.” Sheyreiza affirmed. “But, just to be safe, what is the signal for us to attack?

Pharaun gave a grim nod. “Yes, that is something I have had trouble with. That and how you are going to get into the room, since it will probably be locked.” He looked back to Celuldor who stood near the entry to the training room. “I was hoping you had a suggestion.

“I could transport them,” Celuldor said with a hint of a sigh, “but you know I will have to transport out per the matron's orders.”

“Of course.” Sheyreiza replied. Though she did not like the idea of facing a vampire without significant magical support, Sheyreiza was not going to try and countermand the Matron’s orders.

“I think you will hear your ‘emissary’ dying to be honest.” Pharaun added. “His victims tend to scream quite loudly. Of course…” he paused, looking from face to face, “I can not even be sure the Ventashma will come. In all honesty the chances of success are not high. I pray that Lolth favors us.”

Sheyreiza looked him straight in the eye. “I believe Lolth favors us, and if we are cunning, we will prevail.” She turned to Celuldor, but thought better of it and looked back on Pharaun with a smile. “However, if the victim does not scream, it would behoove you to do it for him.”

“I will do so.” Pharaun said wisely. Sheyreiza dismissed him to ready the ambush while she and Celuldor selected an expendable male to use as bait. An apprentice mage was chosen and Celuldor used a glamour to make the man look like Celuldor himself. The man was told he would be a decoy for Celuldor; such duty was risky but not uncommon. What the man did not know was that for the Auvryndar plan to succeed, he had to die. Such were drow politics and neither Sheyreiza nor Celuldor gave the fate of their kinsman a second thought. While the patrol prepared for the upcoming fight Sergeant Vedo returned with a young male Sheyreiza did not know. Vedo introduced him as Darhsaz Auvryndar, the youngest son of Sheyreiza’s oldest sister, Shalen. He was handsome, slight of form and seemingly nimble, but otherwise unremarkable. Vedo admitted the youth was inexperienced but thought him sensible enough to survive and good enough with his crossbow to be useful. Sheyreiza looked the young man over and decided to accept him, at least for the time being; they might need another disposable emissary. Quickly and tersely she gave him his orders. “Here are your priorities. First, protect the priestesses. Second, stay alive. That is all. Sergeant Vedo there is an experienced fighter.” She gestured to the thick-armed warrior with the huge sword. “I have seen him slay trolls and umberhulks. Take his advice and his orders. Stay out of melee, unless it is the only way to save a priestess. And most importantly, do not do anything stupid.” Darshaz bowed respectfully and seemed to absorb every word Sheryeiza laid upon him. She could not tell if it was an act or if he was genuinely trying to learn. For all she knew, he might be an assassin sent by one of her sisters. She would keep an eye on him, to the extent that she could spare any of her attention at all.

Knowing they were to face a vampire, Vedo provided the patrol with vials of garlic reduction. With wrinkled noses, the drow slathered the foul smelling concoction on their blades and bolt tips. The acrid stink nearly brought tears to Sheyreiza’s eyes. Garlic was not a common spice in the drow cuisine and she silently prayed that the Ventashma would not notice the stench. Of course, they would be ambushing him at the Glowing Goblet which was not a drow establishment. It was entirely possible that the place regularly smelled of garlic. Who knew what the primitive duergar, orcs and humans put in their food? There were quite likely to be far worse smells than garlic in that place.

With their blades prepared, the patrol left Qu’ellar Auvryndar as quietly and quickly as it could. Shrouded by the black hoods and folds of their piwafi cloaks, the patrol could have been any group of drow seeking to avoid unwanted attention. On the webbed streets of Ched Nasad such a group was entirely unremarkable. Halfway through their descent they paused at the House Unnamed long enough to pick up some of the Tuin’t Luthol conspirators, including the warrior Trazk and the once-and-would-be Ventashma, Mik’laysee Ze’marri. From there, the patrol descended into the depths of Ched Nasad’s lowest layers until at last they came to the Glowing Goblet. The Goblet was suspended in webs not far above the actual floor of the ravine. The smell of the rothe and garbage below permeated the layer. Drow were far and few between; most of the folk this far down in the city were goblins, ogres, duergar, orcs or even human. The Goblet itself was a duergar-run establishment. The stout gray dwarves made up at least half the patronage and most, if not all, of the staff. Sheyreiza and her patrol paid them no mind as they slipped through the dim but raucous common hall up to where the private rooms were. The patrol gathered in the chamber next to where Pharaun and the decoy were awaiting the Ventashma. Once ensconced, Faerylene and Sheyreiza set about raising their spell-defenses while the remainder of the patrol readied itself for combat. Sheyreiza’s battery of defensive magics was considerable and it took her some time to raise them all. As she was casting her ward against death magic, her voice as soft as possible, a terrible scream filled the air.

“Now!” She commanded.

The real Celuldor raised his arms as he started his arcane gestures. “Gather around me quickly!” The entire patrol pressed in on the wizard and there was a flash of light. An instant later, Sheyreiza found herself standing in a similar chamber with her patrol at her back. To her front, Pharaun stood, dagger in one hand, short sword in the other. The head of the decoy male was just hitting the floor, Pharaun having skillfully removed it even as the Ventashma sought to feed. The Ventashma, now visible for the first time, let the bloody body of the headless decoy fall to the ground. He looked from Pharaun to Sheyreiza and her patrol.

“So, you have betrayed me in more then one way Pharaun. And who are these...”

“Vendui Trax.” Sheyreiza interjected, pulling back her hood. She looked her cousin over. He was of average height, muscular in a compact way, tight, and he exuded confidence not normally seen in males. Though his countenance was familiar, much about him had changed since last she laid eyes upon him so many years before.

“Ah..cousin.” He said with a fanged grin as he recognized Sheyreiza. “I suppose there is no way to resolve this peacefully?” The tone of his voice made it clear he neither expected it to resolve peacefully, nor did he want it to resolve peacefully.

“I doubt it.” Sheyreiza responded honestly. Behind her, Mik’laysee began whistling a slow ballad as the rest of the patrol spread out.

“Pity.” Trax replied, his hand drawing forth an enormous, ancient looking sword.

Normally Sheyreiza would have already been swinging, but Trax had information she wanted so she parleyed a bit longer. “Tell me all you know of the plans of Wendonai and I will consider it.” Behind Sheyreiza, the Tuin’t Luthol mercenary Trazk Al’Dzra quietly turned over a table and took cover behind it. Darshaz, the new patrol member, slipped beside Trazk, crossbow in hand.

The Ventashma leaned back and cocked his head. “Wendonai? Not a clue.” He shifted his grip on his sword. “Prepare to die cousin.”

Sheyreiza was already moving – the moment Trax had said ‘not a clue’ she sprang forward, Lolth’s Blessing swinging through the air. Trax was quick, however, and he slipped her blow while slamming her with the hilt of his own weapon. Undaunted, she reversed her swing and the head of her morningstar chased Trax again. The rest of the patrol was only a heartbeat behind their mistress. Vedo and Pharaun leapt into the fray screaming the name of their god, Selvetarm. Faerylene also advanced, sword in hand while Trazk and Darshaz let loose their bolts. The room was small and crowded, but some how Trax was able to keep maneuvering. His skill was impressive and his agility positively unmatched. Bookshelves, chairs and tables were obliterated as swords and spells flew through the air. Trax’s sword was huge and deadly, but its size worked against him in the small, crowded chamber. Time and time again he had to resort to punching with its hilt, using the blade more for parrying than striking. Even hampered, he drew blood from almost every member of the patrol. The vampire fought fiercely and his powers made up for being so badly outnumbered. The patrol, however, did not relent in the assault.

Crowded and jostled by her comrades, Sheyreiza found herself more hindered by her allies than helped. Still, had they not been there, Trax would have been able to turn his full attention upon her and that would have likely been fatal. In the corner of her eye she saw Vedo step forward, blade arcing towards her heretical cousin. Trax, lightly armored but very quick, did the predictable thing and slipped out of the path of the oncoming sword. Unfortunately for him, by now, Sheyreiza had learned his rhythm. As he stepped out of the path of Vedo’s blade he stepped into the path of the dark-fire wrapped spiked ball of Lolth’s Blessing. Blood, bone and brains splattered across the room and the vampire fell. Another terrible scream followed and for a split second, Sheyreiza thought she saw something akin to a specter being dragged out of Trax’s body by ghostly hands. A moment later, and the body of her cousin was nothing but dust inside his armor and clothing.

Exhilarated by the fight and panting for breath, Sheyreiza could not help but smile. The triumph brought her a sense of relief, vengeance and accomplishment so intense she nearly had an orgasm. There was no aphrodisiac like victory for Sheyreiza, and it left her sex hot, wet and craving more. A few feet away, Pharaun fell to one knee, coughing up blood from a blow delivered by the Ventashma before his demise. Faerylene was there for him, however, before he succumbed to his wounds. “Pharaun, Lolth heal thee.” The acolyte intoned, her fingers channeling the Goddess’s power, knitting Pharaun’s flesh back together. Sheyreiza watched as the rest of the party caught its breath and healed its wounds. Reaching down, she picked up Trax’s sword. It was a huge hand-and-a-half weapon, of ancient design. Sheyreiza had not seen anything quite like it. The blade seemed alive and much like Lolth’s Blessing, blood did not stay upon its surface for long; Sheyreiza could feel its hunger. She pulled Trax’s scabbard from his body and sheathed the mighty blade just as the chamber door was slammed open.

Three armed and armored duergar stood in the doorway. Sheyreiza recognized one of them as the Tuin’t Luthol warrior, Tergrash Forgesnuffer who had served her on the Deepgloom raid. Believing them to be the Ventashma’s bodyguard, arriving just a bit too late, Sheyreiza let the head of Lolth’s Blessing swing free and prepared to kill them.

“Whut be all 'dis?” Tergrash snarled in wonder.

“Damnation!” Cried one of the other duergar.

Though lusting for more bloodletting, Sheyreiza decided to give the duergar a chance. “Are you loyal to the dead or to us dwarf?”

Pharaun answered for Tergrash. “The duergar is with us, he does not need to be harmed.”

“They are with us, Mistress.” Mik’laysee agreed.

Tergrash did not answer immediately but backtracked a few steps upon seeing Sheyreiza rear up in front of him.

“I see.” Sheyreiza replied, her voice carrying just the slightest twinge of disappointment. “Very well. Their timing is a bit late, but the Ventashma is dead.”

Out in the hall, the duergar called Tolinus Axckeln was urging Tergrash to leave. “Come on Master Forgesnuffer. Nothing for us wit’ der kin’.”

The third duergar, Nalak Darkstalder agreed. “I think we should make ourselves scarce.” Tergrash, however, silenced both of them with a gesture.

“Form up.” Sheyreiza ordered. “Pharaun, lead the way. The rest of you follow. We are taking control of Tuin’t Luthol. Any who resist get put down.”

Mutters rumbled through the Tuin’t Luthol mercenaries, drow and duergar alike, but they did as told. A short while later, Sheyreiza’s augmented patrol entered the stronghold of the Poisoned Spear. Rua, the minotaur lieutenant of the now-destroyed Ventashma, confronted them in the entry way.

“You are under arrest Pharaun!” The beast growled angrily, its words thundering like a cave-in through the dark hall.

“No, he is not Rua.” Replied Mik’laysee, his normally melodic voice clouded with wrath.

Sheyreiza’s voice, by contrast, was all silk. “Yield Rua. Drop the axe. Your
Ventashma is destroyed.”

“Impossible!” Rua bellowed, his yellow eyes widening in anger.

“You can yield and join us, or you can die.” Sheyreiza was still as smooth silk, but she was also as cold as ice.

“ You have been played, Rua. It happens.” Mik’laysee explained. And indeed, that was the short of it. Rua was piece in the great savva game; a game he was even barely aware of. Pieces had been moved, some sacrificed, and ultimately, Auvryndar had prevailed in this match. That Rua was still left “on the board” was merely happenstance. For him, however, it was an opportunity to switch colors, to switch sides, and stay alive.

But minotaurs are nothing if not bull-headed, figuratively and literally. “For the Ventash'ma!” The beast yelled, raising his axe. He did not strike immediately, however, instead he cast a spell; something that surprised Sheyreiza. Nevertheless, she had no intention of giving the beast any further chances. She danced in and slammed him with Lolth’s Blessing. Tergrash came in next, growling in duergar as his axe bit into Rua’s armor and hide. Everyone advanced and though the minotaur was a fierce foe, he was not the equal of the party and he fell quickly upon the stones at Sheyreiza’s feet.

“Secure the building.” Sheyreiza commanded as the life drained out of Rua.

“You will have no more fighting.” Said a male drow in Tuin’t Luthol colors, walking out of the gloom.

Pharaun looked to Sheyreiza and nodded at the new arrival. “He is our quartermaster.”

“Spymaster to be more precise Pharaun. I assume the Ventashma truly is dead?”

“Xas, he is Seril.” Pharaun confirmed. “And I thought you would like a less audacious title.”

“Be sensible, Seril.” Tergrash cautioned grimly.

Sheyreiza looked the man over and decided he seemed the intelligent type and intelligent people could be relied upon to do what was in their own best interests. Here, in Ched Nasad, that meant allying with winners so it would help if he knew who that was. “The Ventashma is destroyed.” She stated bluntly. “So say I, Yathtallar Sheyreiza Auvryndar. Gather your company.”

Seril bowed. “Will Auvryndar be taking full control Yathallar?”

“A new Ventashma is about to ascend.” She told him.

“I see.” He said, rising from his bow. “The Audience room?”

“You have one? Very well.” It seemed the best place for this impromptu ‘crowning.’

Seril set about gathering the mercenaries while Pharaun, Trazk and Mik’laysee led the Auvryndar down into the depths of the stronghold. On the lower level was a great chamber in which sat the throne of the Ventashma. Sheyreiza marched directly through the Tuin’t Luthol mercenaries who were already milling about. An honor guard of two warriors in immaculate armor flanked the throne. “You two,” Sheyreiza said to the honor guards. “Move away for now.” The two guards hesitated, but did as commanded. Sheyreiza, flanked by Faerylene and Vedo, sat upon the throne and faced the gathering company. Slowly, but quite deliberately, she pulled forth her four-headed whip of fangs, the symbol of her status as a high priestess. “Where is the quartermaster?”

“Here Yathallar.” Seril replied.

“Is your company assembled?”

“This all who are within the city and not on missions at the moment.”

“Very well.” Raising her voice she addressed the assembled members of the Poisoned Spear. “Tuin't Luthol, I am Yathtallar Sheyreiza Auvryndar of Qu'ellar Auvryndar. Your Ventashma is destroyed.” A visible wave of shock passed through the crowd as the mercenaries began to murmur. “Your Ventashma, who was a vampire heretic, was slain in accord with Lolth's will.” Surprise was evident upon the faces of the assembled company, except for the handful of duergar and drow who had been with Sheyreiza on the raid, and Seril. The duergar talked in their gruff tongue amongst themselves, but Pharaun stood silently at attention. “However, it is also been shown to us, the priestesses,” Sheyreiza continued, “that so long as Tuin't Luthol is loyal to Lolth, to Ched Nasad and to Qu'ellar Auvryndar, that the bulk of Tuin’t Luthol is to remain alive. Your Ventashma's heresy will not reflect upon you.” She let that sink for a moment, before adding her qualifier. “Under those aforementioned conditions.” In the crowd, Tergrash crossed his axe and shield in the duergar stance for holding against battle. “Qu'ellar Auvryndar will not be taking control of this company.” Sheyreiza announced, again surprising the assembled mercenaries. “We will follow Lolth's guidance. For now, Lolth has indicated that Tuin’t Luthol should remain its own company. Naturally, you will need a Ventashma. Fortunately, that path has also been made clear to us. Mik'laysee, come forward.” Seril blinked as Mik’laysee walked up to the throne, while Pharaun smiled. “Come male.” Sheyreiza urged. Mik’laysee, a little cautious, came to stand beside her. “As a Yathtallar d'Lolth, as a representative and Princess of Qu'ellar Auvryndar, I appoint thee the Ventashma of Tuin't Luthol.” She stood and moved away from the ornate chair that symbolized the power of the Ventashma. “You may take your throne.” Mik’laysee bowed low at her words.

“HAIL THE NEW VENTASHMA!” Bellowed Seril.

“HAIL THE NEW VENTASHMA!” Repeated the rest of the company. Even Pharaun, still standing rigidly, gave a hail to the new leader of Tuin’t Luthol.

“May long his reign be!” Barked Tergrash in his native duergar.

“I humbly accept the charge as Ventashma.” Mik’laysee said, rising from his bow.

Pharaun began to applaud loudly as he eyed Seril. “Hail the Ventashma!” He yelled. The rest of the company joined in and the hall was filled with the sound of vigorous applause and shouts.

Trax Auvryndar, the former Ventashma, was destroyed; Mik’laysee Ze’Marri, the Chronicler of Ched Nasad, was once again Ventashma of Tuin’t Luthol. Sheyreiza had scored a small victory in her match against the enemy and now it was time to report that victory. With Celuldor’s help, Sheyreiza and those who had participated in the slaying of the Ventashma, including the grumbling duergar, were transported to Qu’ellar Auvryndar where Matron Shyntlara received them in her throne room.

Sheyreiza gave her mother a formal bow, but was upstaged by the grand sweeping gesture of Mik’laysee beside her. She spared him the slightest of annoyed looks before making her announcement. “It is done honored matron. Trax is destroyed.”

The matron nodded her understanding and stood from her throne. “My family to my right. Tuin'T Luthol to my left. Now.” The party divided as instructed. The Tuin’t Luthol, except for Mik’laysee, dropped to one knee as they gathered to the Matron’s left. The duergar, led by Tergrash, gingerly avoided stepping on the rich carpet laid out in front of her throne as if it was a magical trap. As Pharaun moved beside Mik’laysee and Trazk, Shyntlara took notice of him. “Pharaun…Auvryndar…Why do you stand with Tuin’t Luthol? Accept your reward and stand with my family.”

Neither Sheyreiza, Vedo nor Faerylene could suppress their grins. Even Mik’laysee, eyebrows upraised in surprise, had to smirk. “Yes honored matron.” Pharaun replied bowing and crossing the carpet from the Tuin’t Luthol side to the Auvryndar side.

Walking between her family and her mercenaries, Shyntlara congratulated them on their victory. She explained what she expected of Mik’laysee, which was the same as Sheyreiza had already explained. Then she presented Mik’laysee with the enchanted armor the Ventashma had worn; Sheyreiza’s group had taken it from his body along with his sword. “It served the other Ventashma well enough,” she told Mik’laysee, “but it could not stop Auvryndar’s weapons once he crossed us.” The message was clear.

“I am honored, Matron Auvryndar. It will be put to fine use in positioning our two organizations to greatness.” Mik’laysee responded with great dignity.

“Yathallar,” Shyntlara said to Sheyreiza, “the blade is yours to do with what you will.”

“My thanks, Matron Mother.”

“This audience is at an end. I will have you briefed soon Ventashma on what you need to know to aid in this city’s survival.” Shyntlara concluded.

“As you desire, Matron Auvryndar.” Mik’laysee said with a final bow. Words to live by, Sheyreiza thought.

The patrol returned briefly to Tuin’t Luthol to search the Ventashma’s quarters. A journal was found and Sheyreiza took custody of it. The writing was encoded and entirely incomprehensible, so she turned the book over to Celuldor for translation. With the old Ventashma dead, the new Ventashma in place, the deed reported and the spoils divided, Sheyreiza could finally dismiss her company. They had been up and active for more than a cycle and a half and most had suffered grievous wounds in the bloody fight with the vampire. Though prayer-spells had stopped the bleeding and closed the wounds, all of them were sore and tired. As Sheyreiza released Pharaun and Vedo, she turned to the scout, a sly smile on her face.

“Pharaun, your house name is now Auvryndar.” He inclined his head, unsure of what she was driving at. “But what do you wish your given name to be? Pharaun still? Or your birth name, Ilmiryn?”

Pharaun stopped cold, eyes wide. “What?” He sputtered softly.

Vedo and Faerylene shared a chuckle as fear and surprise blanched Pharaun’s face to an ashen gray. Sheyreiza’s grin turned to a wicked smile. “You did not think we would adopt you with out knowing who you are, did you…..son of Oblodra?”

The scout, usually cool under the most intense pressure, was clearly on the edge of losing it completely. “How...?”

“Lolth's clergy have many ways of divining secrets.” And Sheyreiza had used her divinations to learn Pharaun’s secret: he had been born in Menzoberranzan as Ilmiryn Oblodra, of Qu’ellar Oblodra, then the third house of the City of Spiders. Oblodra was a house known to possess, foster and use mental powers. Their matron, Kyorl, was a mind-witch of unparalleled power but she was also quite mad. During the time of troubles she lashed out at her most bitter rivals, Qu’ellar Faen Tlabbar, killing the Tlabbar Matron and First Daughter. Then she prepared to take Oblodra to war against Qu’ellar Baenre for control of the city. The time of troubles ended just then, however, and Matron Kyorl Oblodra was sucked into the abyss by Lolth herself, while her house was destroyed by an enormous tentacle summoned by Matron Yvonnel Baenre. In accord with the Way of Lolth, the closest thing Menzoberranzan had to a legal code, all of Oblodra’s nobles had to die. Except that somehow Ilmiryn had escaped to Ched Nasad. Aware that he lived under a perpetual sentence of death so far as the Baenre and Faen Tlabbar were concerned, he changed his name to Pharaun and took up the life of a common mercenary. “I have known for quite some time.” Sheyreiza told Pharaun with no small amount of amusement.

“Then I am not to die?” Pharaun asked, somewhat tremulously.

Sheyreiza dropped the amused, wicked grin. “This is not a prelude to treachery, Ilmiryn. You have been adopted. You are Auvryndar now, Oblodra no longer. Indeed, Oblodra never.”

“As you say, Ilmyrn Oblodra is dead, and it is best he remains so. I am Pharaun
Auvryndar.”

“Very well. A wise choice I think. You are dismissed.” Just like with the Ventashma – out with the old, in with the new. And speaking of the new, she thought, there was one more thing to do. It was time for Faerylene to ascend from acolyte to full fledged priestess. Assuming Faerylene could make the proper sacrifice at the altar and Lolth’s blessing was forthcoming, the acolyte would be a Yathrin before the next cycle ebbed. In with the new indeed, Sheyreiza thought. But who would be going out to make room for her? That was the question.

[Burt]

Uber! Everything clicks into place. Alas, it all went downhill after that.

[greenlance]

Uber! Everything clicks into place. Alas, it all went downhill after that.

That depends on whose perspective you talk of.

[Zakharra]

Yay! Rousing fight! And I became a full priestess after this.