The Dark Flower, Book II - Prologue

[Mikayla]

The Dark Flower, Book II

Prologue

Far above the Spine of the World, in the frozen wastes known as Icewind Dale, the spring sun had reached the peak of its rather short east-to-west arc. Even at its peak, the sun seemed to barely clear the southern horizon. Such were the days of the far north.

The day was bright, however, despite the low sun. Light glared off the brilliantly white snow that covered the ground and trees. A person not used to such glare would quickly find theirs eyes itching and watering uncontrollably. In the far north, even light was dangerous.

As the sun peaked, something substantially more dangerous than snow-blindness moved through a canyon; an ogre. The beast stood nearly ten feet tall, or would have had it stood up straight. Its gnarled, twisted, muscled body seemed perpetually locked into a grotesque hunch-back. The ogre did not seem hampered by its condition, however. Snow crunched as the ogre trotted. Prey had been sighted, and what tasty prey it was; a female elf, with skin as black as night and hair as white as snow. The ogre had heard of such elves before, and had heard tales of their near-mystical lethality. One look at the she-elf told the ogre all those legends were wrong. It was nothing more than a mere slip of an elf. One good blow from the ogre’s club and he would be putting her on a spit over fire. He was already salivating when his trot broke into a run and his real charge began.

The prey, a lithe, beautiful dark-elf not much more than half the ogre’s height and fraction of its weight, turned from the path she was walking and stepped towards the charging ogre. In one hand she bore a shield, in the other a sword. Both bore the moon-symbol of Eilistraee, the Dark Maiden of the drow. The symbol was also evident upon the chest of the gleaming mithril plate armor the drowess wore. Though resplendent in silver armor, shield and sword, the ogre was not afraid. The battle seemed far from fair. The ogre easily outweighed the elven woman by 300 or more pounds. The beast's forearms were thicker than the woman’s thighs. His club was as tall as the elf and seemed capable of crushing her beautiful silver armor and shield like a child might crush a bug. Still, the woman did not flee.

With only a few yards left between them the ogre let out a cry and raised its club as it came on. The woman side-stepped right and raised her shield. The ogre adjusted and swung down aiming at the shield. He did not bother trying to get his club past the woman’s defense. He would simply crush it. No matter what that shield was made of, her arm would never withstand a direct blow.

The club came down in long arc and struck the ground. A snow cloud blossomed from where the ogre had slammed its weapon down. The ogre blinked. The she-elf had spun away from the strike. His club had not even glanced her. The ogre saw the she-elf step towards him. He raised his club. The ogre saw a flash of sun-light on steel and felt something rip along his ribs. She had slashed him! Now he was mad. Now he was not going to be nice. Now he would find someway to make her pay. He would not be merciful and kill her nicely before cooking her. He would find a way to make this she-elf suffer.

Club raised, the ogre pivoted and struck at the diminutive elf again. The woman side-stepped and the strike glanced off her shield. She stepped in quickly and put the tip of her blade through the ogre’s thigh.

Now he was really mad. He did not know how, but somehow he would find a way to cook and eat the she-elf while she was still alive. She would feel pain. She had no right to hurt him like this and she would suffer for her audacity. The ogre raised the club and gripped it with both hands. From the corner of his eyes, the ogre saw another flash of light, but this one was sun-light on gold, not silver. The ogre began to spin but it was too late.

From the ogre’s flank a gold-armored elf with matching golden hair and bronze skin leaped into the fray without a sound. The man led with a round shield but he held a long, shining sword high. As his leap reached its zenith, he thrust out the sword and its tip slid into the side of the ogre. The man finished his leap by kicking off the ogre’s thigh and landed with elven grace in the snow.

The ogre staggered backwards, coughing up blood, its eyes wild and full of panic. It tried to swing its club but its strength failed. The beast fell backwards into the snow. It coughed again, blood from its pierced lungs forming frothy pink foam at its mouth.

The dark elf woman walked calmly up to the stricken beast and slashed its throat open. A moment later, the ogre lay motionless, its red steaming blood melting the snow around its cooling body.

“Is that the last of them, love?” Sheyreiza asked.

Jain’n gave the dark woods a brief look. “Yes, Flower. The last of them between here and the road anyway.”

Sheyreiza nodded, and looked down the valley. The two elves had left a trail of carnage along their path, slaying the local ogres as they found them. She wiped the blood off of her sword on the grotesque body laying at her feet. She said a brief prayer to Eilistraee, and then nodded to Jain’n.

“Well, we have seen what has become of Sunderhelm now.” Jain said. “It seems the old entrance has completely collapsed into the ground. Shall we patrol the ruins of Bryn Shander?”

Sheyreiza nodded slightly. “Xas. Yes.” She paused and looked back through the dark woods and the valley. At the other end, where they had just come from, lay the entrance to Sunderhelm. Or at least, that was where it had been. Now, there was just a hole in the ground into which the streams coming down from the mountains emptied. Sheyreiza had stood at the edge of the crevasse, peering into the darkness. She could tell by the smell the crevasse ran deep and connected to the upperdark. She had also smelled sulphur and while she knew that often meant diabolic involvement, she was not sure yet what it signified here. The smell of the dark coming from the hole and the knowledge that it led back to the underdark, tugged at Sheyreiza’s soul. That hole, that chasm, led to her world. It was not her home anymore, but it was her birthplace, and it still held a power over her that she could not deny.

She turned back to face Jain’n. “Alright Love, let us go.” She watched him for a moment. Jain’n, Lord of Lonelywood, was the quintessential sun elf. Tall for a Tel’Quessir, with silken golden hair and flawless bronzed skin, Jain’n looked like a portrait of an elf from ancient times. And that was not too far from the truth as Sheyreiza well knew. While Jain’n looked every inch like a prototypical sun elf, he was not. Indeed, there were some that might argue he was not even truly an elf. Sheyreiza forced that thought from her mind. There was no need to dwell on it again. He was what he was. After more than five years as his mate, she was still struggling to accept his true nature and what it meant for their relationship. Now was not the time for introspection, however. They were on patrol. It was time for caution and action.

The two elves, one fair and dressed in gold, the other dark, and dressed in silver, made their way through the snows. For the last few years they often patrolled together like this. They ranged south past Bryn Shander, west to the village ruins there, and back again. They fought with the orcs of Stormhold, the gnolls of the Talona plague druids, the winter wolves of the north, and anything else which might harm the people’s of the Ten Towns. When not patrolling, Jain’n and Sheyreiza were mates. They were the Lord and Lady of Lonelywood. Together they had one child, Shein’n, who had been deemed Jain’n’s heir. Shein’n was destined to be the lion of the north, but in the meantime, her parents, Jain’n and Sheyreiza, had to keep the north free. Too many powers seemed interested in this remote, barren wasteland. Thayan wizards, Talona plague druids, gnoll raiders, frost giant marauders, orc brigands, human barbarians and duergar murderers all threatened the sparsely populated dale. Above all of them, the great white wyrm Xurshin sat in his mountain lair, slowly deciding which faction to destroy, which to support and which to ignore.

Against this seemingly unstoppable tide of evil stood the warband of Lonelywood. Like a rock standing strong against the surf, they were often surrounded, cutoff from safety and occasionally overwhelmed. Still, they held. Time and time again they had repulsed invading gnolls, orcs, frost giants and worse. Many of the plague druids and at least one Thayan wizard had fallen beneath their blades. Though the fighting had dragged on for the last three years, the war was far from over. Currently, there was a lull, but such lulls only heralded the coming another offensive.

Jain’n led and Sheyreiza trailed as they walked through the valleys and hills to Bryn Shander. Once a thriving town of humans, the place had been destroyed by the Thayans and Talonites. They had sealed the gates, supposedly against the plague that terrorized the North, and once sealed, the wizards set about slaying and animating all the unfortunate humans in the town. The human’s thick walls, designed to defend them, became their prison as they were subjected to the horrors of the wizards’ necromancy. Sheyreiza knew what they had gone through. Her house in Ched Nasad was the foremost user of undead in all of the city, and more than once had they simply ‘assimilated’ an enemy by reducing them to undead slaves. The fear, the panic, the shear horror of such an operation was beyond the kin of most surface folk, and for good reason. Such evil was both the product and cause of insanity. One could not perpetrate or suffer such evil and remain unchanged.

The ruined gates of Bryn Shander came into view and Sheyreiza notched an arrow. Her red and blue eyes scanned the snows head of her for tracks. No longer was Bryn Shander a necropolis; its red wizard masters had left and now it was a staging ground for the seven foot tall fanged monstrosities called gnolls. Sheyreiza narrowed her eyes and studied the macabre landscape ahead of her. The buildings and walls of Bryn Shander had fallen into heaps for the most part. With the snowfall, they sat like great, squat, white monsters. Here and there a timber broke through the snow cover like a shoot, or a spike. Between the snow covered mounds two poles had been planted in the ground and decorated with Skulls. Gnoll sign.

Something moved.

Sheyreiza raised her bow but what she saw was not gnoll, it was drow. A drow female. Sheyreiza’s eyes narrowed to slits and she drew the arrow back. She did not recognize this woman and any drow not recognized was suspect.

“Vendui’” the woman said, showing open and empty hands.

“Vendui’.” Sheyreiza replied.

Jain’n spared Sheyreiza a glance and nod and silently moved to the stranger’s flank.

“Who are you?” Sheyreiza asked.

The woman smiled tentatively. “I am Naraje, and I seek Lonelywood.”

Sheyreiza’s eyes narrowed to red and blue slits. “Why?”

The woman watched Jain’n move to her side, but made no move of her own to protect herself. “I have heard there is a circle of Ilythiiri there who worship the Dark Maiden.”

Sheyreiza nodded just slightly. “Yes, that is so.” Sheyreiza kept her arrow drawn. “And you have the fortune of encountering now the priestess of that circle.”

The woman smiled broadly. “Well met then.”

The smile caught Sheyreiza off guard. Though she was used to seeing Inthara smile, a grin on a drow face seemed entirely out of place. The drow rarely took enough pleasure in anything to actually smile. Except maybe victory and torture.

Sheyreiza lowered her bow. Jain’n stood close enough to the woman to draw his sword and strike quickly should the need arise.

“I am Sheyreiza Auvryndar then, Yathrin d’Eilistraee, and Lady of Lonelywood.” Jain’n smiled as Sheyreiza spoke. Sheyreiza knew he very much enjoyed hearing her describe herself as the Lady of Lonelywood. That title was infinitely more palatable to him and the others than her previous one; Princess of Qu’ellar Auvryndar and Yathrin d’Lolth.

Sheyreiza walked towards the stranger and drew her sword. “Do not be alarmed.” Sheyreiza said, though she knew any of her race would be and rightly so. A few feet from the woman, Sheyreiza stopped and began drawing in the snow with the tip of her sword. She drew a spider in a web, a mask and a skull.

“Here then are the symbols of the Spider Queen, the Masked Lord, and the Revenancer.” Sheyreiza looked the woman in the eye and leveled her sword. “Defile them please.”

The woman smiled. “Very well. But stand back.”

Sheyreiza raised an eyebrow, but complied, moving back several paces.

The woman broke into an incantation, her voice rising and falling as if in song but it was no melody she worked, it was the weave. A flash of fire engulfed the ground where Sheyreiza had drawn the unholy symbols, vaporizing the snow and obliterating the marks. Sheyreiza felt a flash of heat on her face and was blinded for a moment. When she could see again, there was naught left where she had put the symbols but scorched ground and an enormous cloud of steaming rising into the air.

Sheyreiza smiled. “Good. Come with us, we will take you to Lonelywood.” Sheyreiza nodded to Jain’n who gestured to the woman to walk down the road.

Naraje looked at the ruined gates behind her. “We will not be going through Bryn Shander then?”

Jain’n shook his head. “No. We will not enter gnoll territory with an untested stranger. We will return to Lonelywood and bring you before the Maiden. If you pass her test, you will be accepted into the woods. If not, you will be sacrificed to Shevaresh.”

Sheyreiza froze. She felt as if an icy hand had reached straight into her chest and grabbed her heart. Sacrificed to Shevaresh? What was he talking about? She knew the penalty for being found false by the Maiden was death, but she had never heard about sacrificing anyone to the Black Archer.
Sheyreiza looked sharply at Jain’n. “If she lies to us, then yes, she may be put to death, but there will be no sacrifice to Shevaresh.”

Jain’n gestured to Naraje to start walking. “Yes there will be.” He replied. “It is our way.”

Sheyreiza blinked. “I have lived in the wood for five years, and never have I heard of such a thing.”

“It is our way. It is your way. You accepted it.” Jain’n’s features stiffened.

Sheyreiza’s eyes narrowed. “I never accepted any such thing. Nor would I. I will perform no such ritual to the Black Archer.”

Jain’n got Naraje walking and followed her closely, hand on sword hilt. “Then we will do it without you. This is not the place to debate this.”

Sheyreiza’s eyes narrowed to slits again as she watched Jain’n march Naraje down the road. She would not worship the Black Archer, nor could she allow a sacrifice in his name. Jain’n, however, had adopted his stone face, the personality he used when he wanted to get his own way. Reason seldom worked with him. Indeed, in such a state, nothing really worked with him. Nevertheless, Sheyreiza could not be party to such evil. She over took the pair and led the way back towards Lonelywood.

***

The journey back to the wood was long and tense. No one spoke. Sheyreiza and Jain’n did not look at each other, they watched only Naraje. Naraje watched the two of them and grew increasingly nervous.

Once in the village, Sheyreiza led Naraje to the little stone guest cottage on the far side of the settlement. Sheyreiza opened the heavy wooden door. “You may stay here for now, until we decide to bring you to the sacred circle.”

Naraje smiled. “Thank y—“

Jain’n cut her off. “No. We go to the circle now. She will be tested at once.”

Sheyreiza scowled at her mate. “I would like to speak to you about that first. Naraje can wait here while we talk.”

“There is no need for talk.” Jain’n waved a hand dismissively. “We will do it the way it has always been done.”

“I will not partake in any such ceremony!” Sheyreiza growled.

“Then don’t. Stay here.” Jain’n said coldly. “You, come.” He said to Naraje.

“Wait.” Sheyreiza put out a hand to stop Naraje from going. “We need to talk.”

“Perhaps I should just go.” Naraje offered.

“You are not going anywhere.” Jain’n hissed.

Sheyreiza began to speak but Naraje began another arcane incantation. She disappeared from sight. Jain’n’s eyes flew open and he drew his sword. Snow crunched and Sheyreiza realized Naraje was fleeing. Jain’n saw the invisible woman’s footsteps in the snow and ran after her.

“Let her go!” Sheyreiza yelled. Jain’n did not heed her.

Sheyreiza walked towards the faerie trod. Whether he caught Naraje or not, Jain’n would have to return here. Sheyreiza intended to confront him when he did. Quietly, Sheyreiza spoke the words to her own incantations, though these were divine rather than arcane. As much as she loved Jain’n, she could not allow him to sacrifice anyone to the Black Archer.

Shevaresh, the Black Archer, was quite possibly Lolth’s greatest triumph. Shevaresh had been a mortal elf whose loved ones were slain in the drow raid of the Elven Court some 6,000 years ago. Shevaresh then dedicated his life to killing all the drow, no matter what their goddess or god. Ultimately, he wished to kill Lolth herself. Shevaresh ascended to godhood, but he did so with a black heart; a heart filled not with love of elf-kind but filled with hate of drow-kind. He was god of elves who kill elves. He brought only death, not life or love. In so doing, he caused the elven races even more pain. He had succumbed to Lolth’s will. He did not follow her command, but he followed her path; the path of selfish hate. The pain of every elf that suffers, be it a sun elf or drow, is felt by the father of the elves, Corellon. That Shevaresh was driven by Lolth to dedicate his life and his godhood to slaying other elves was a triumph of unmatched proportion. Forever would Shevaresh’s arrows serve to keep the races of elves apart; forever would Shevaresh’s hate infect the hearts of otherwise good elves; forever would Shevaresh’s attempted genocide ensure the drow sought the protection of Lolth; forever would Shevaresh’s killing cause pain to Corellon.

Sheyreiza had lived above and below the world. She had served drow Matrons, and mated with sun elf lords. If she had learned anything, it was that violence begets violence. The only path towards reconciliation of the elven races was a peaceful path, a path of salvation not killing. Shevaresh was one of the greatest obstacles in that path. Accordingly, Sheyreiza would not, indeed, could not, be party to any ritual in his name. Nor could she knowingly allow such to take place.

***

Jain’n returned minutes later. Naraje was in his arms, somewhat limp. Sheyreiza could tell even at a distance that Jain’n had broken her fingers. He also had an arm around her throat to choke off her air should she try to speak. What had she seen in this man? He was little different than the drow she had left behind in Ched Nasad. He had his own rules and his own tests, and those he encountered would either follow those rules and pass those tests or be sacrificed to a god whose heart was filled with nothing but hate. The differences between Jain’n and a priestess of Lolth were merely superficial it seemed. Well, with one glaring exception: a priestess of Lolth did not purport to be ‘good.’ It seemed hypocrisy was an evil even the Spider Queen’s faithful did not engage, leaving that for their surface cousins like Jain’n.

Sheyreiza stepped into his path. “Hold.” She said flatly. In one hand she held her rapier, the one Vraja had borne before his death. In her other hand she held her shield. She did not want to fight Jain’n, but she could not stand by while he committed such evil.

He did not stop. He did not even acknowledge her. He simply walked past her and stepped into the faerie trod. Sheyreiza spit in anger and turned to follow.

On the other side of the faeire trod, deep in the woods, Sheyreiza ran to the circle. Jain’n would take the woman there, without fail. Sure enough, they were there.

Sheyreiza yelled across the circle. “Let her go.”

Jain’n scowled. “Get out.” His voice was a snarl. “Get out of the woods.”

“No.” Sheyreiza said. She saw in Jain’n the beastial, hypocritical side of him she had come to despise. It was the side she knew was there all along, but did not want to consciously admit knowing of. Jain’n had extended to her rulership of the woods. He had promised they would be equals, but now that she disagreed with him, it appeared the bargain was off. Apparently, she was only his ‘equal’ and ‘co-ruler’ so long as she did what he wanted.

And she was not surprised. She supposed she knew all along he would be like this. Her love for him, for who she thought he was, or at least who she thought he could be, hand blinded her. A few times, in their tiny tent near the ruined tower, Jain’n had seemed a good lover, a good partner, a good man. She knew though, there was this side of him. The side that did not know right from wrong, good from evil, lie from truth. This was the side that did whatever the ancestors wanted. This was the side of him that truly ruled his life. This was the side of him that truly reflected who he was, and what he was.

When Sheyreiza and Jain’n had started the process of bonding, Jain’n had shared his memories with her. Sheyreiza had seen Jain’n Vyshaan, son of Emperor Gilvaas Vyshaan. She knew all too well of the horror and treachery the insane Gilvaas had visited upon elf-kind. The Vyshaan had been the ones who had gathered all the High Priests and Archmages together to curse the Ilythiiri, naming them drow and driving them underground. Afterwards, Gilvaas, afraid that the elven nations might realize it was really the Vyshaan, not the Ilythiiri, behind the Crown Wars, would do the same to his people. Rather than let that happen, Gilvaas had set about purging the elven nations of their high priests and archmages. One after another fell to Gilvaas’ assassins and accusations. He literally decapitated the arcane and divine power of the elven peoples.

The other elven nations saw the fiendish side of Emperor Gilvaas too late. By the time they realized Gilvaas was the murderer he was, their priests and wizards were already dead.

It was not another Elven nation that stopped Gilvaas, it was Jain’n, Gilvaas’ son. Jain’n was a young captain, and heir to the Vyshaan dynasty. Unlike his father, however, Jain’n was not insanely evil. He was just weak. For most of his life, Jain’n turned a blind eye to what his father was doing and the true nature of the Emperor. Finally, Jain’n could not lie to himself any longer, and he slew his own father, ending the line of Vyshaan emperors.

The other elven nations had convened, and with the guidance of the Seldarine, the Vyshaan dynasty of the Aryvandaar Empire were adjudged the culprits of the Crown Wars. Their spirits were cursed and they were barred from the fields of Arvandor. Those still living were thrown down, and the empire fell. The Vyshaan dynasty ceased to exist.

Almost.

The spirits of the Vyshaan lived on. In a purgatory of their own making, they schemed and plotted and sought to force open the gates of Arvandor and achieve the reward they believed they deserved. Corellon had shown the cursed spirits the key to the gates of Arvandor, but to get that key, the spirits needed an agent in the mortal realm. They chose Jain’n. His spirit was sent back in a fashion Sheyreiza could only understand in the broadest theory. She referred to him as a ‘spirit golem’; a construct like a golem but made not of flesh, iron, stone or clay, but of spirits.

And so, he was a slave to his ancestors. Unlike most golems, Jain’n had consciousness, and a consciousness implied free will. Sheyreiza had no luck convincing Jain’n of the existence of that free will, however. He considered himself a tool of his ancestors, and so long as he believed that, he was.

Ironically, Jain’n had set Sheyreiza free of similar bonds. Once Sheyreiza thought herself bound to the will of the Spider Queen for all eternity by virtue of her race and birth. It was Jain’n that showed her she could choose to follow another path. It was Jain’n who showed her she was not entangled in the webs of Lolth, but in chains formed of her own fears and weakness. Sheyreiza achieved freedom the moment she simply realized she was free to choose her path. True, Lolth was a goddess and could inflict terrible punishments upon Sheyreiza, perhaps even kill her, but no goddess, no god, no power at all could make Sheyreiza think a certain way or believe in any dogma she did not choose to follow.

Sadly, Sheyreiza had been unable to free Jain’n from his own bonds. The ancestors held as tight a grip on him now as they ever did. Jain’n would tell her he was a part of them, that they created him. So what? He could choose not to do their bidding. Yes, they might recall his spirit, or force it out of the flesh golem, but his soul would be free. Jain’n did not listen. He did not want to listen. He wanted to serve the ancestors. Why? Sheyreiza believed it was guilt. Guilt for not having stopped Gilvaas earlier; guilt for having killed his own father; guilt for having been a part of the most shameful thing to ever happen to the elven peoples. That guilt formed the chain that kept Jain’n’s soul bound to the Vyshaan ancestors. The ancestors used that chain to manipulate him, and through him, others such as Sheyreiza. They had used her like a brood mare to bear the child who was the key to their salvation. The ancestors cared nothing for others; all they cared about was their release from purgatory, and they were willing to use, discard or destroy anyone they needed to in order to accomplish that goal. Sheyreiza found it hard to contemplate that this was truly the way Corellon wanted the Vyshaan to atone for their crimes, but the gates of Arvandor were his to open, not hers.

Now Jain’n stood before her prepared to cast Sheyreiza, his mate, from their home to maintain his right to sacrifice a life to a god whose black heart was filled with nothing but hate.

“Get out!” He spat again. “You betray your duty to the land.” Jain’n spat. “You betray the Seldarine.”

“I betray nothing, I do what is right.” Sheyreiza responded. “I will not allow a sacrifice to the Black Archer.”

“You are to leave the wood.” Jain’n commanded.

The two lovers eyed each other across the snowy circle for a moment. Naraje, with her broken fingers, shivered in the snow at Jain’n feet. Her eyes darted back and forth from Sheyreiza to Jain’n. For a moment, the circle was still. There was no sound but the three elves breathing.

Sheyreiza moved first. She cast a spell of holding on Jain’n but the enchantment failed. Jain’n charged, his sword slipping from its sheath and arcing towards Sheyreiza. She slipped the attack and cast a second spell of holding, but this one also failed. Jain’n’s sword arced at her again and again she danced away from it. She had no more spells of holding. Nothing else she had would stop Jain’n without killing him and she did not want to kill him. He pressed his attack and his sword finally found Sheyreiza. Blood flowed. The wound was not bad, but it was a wound. Sheyreiza quaffed a vial of healing potion and Jain’n used the opportunity to strike again. More blood flowed and Sheyreiza quaffed another vial. This time when Jain’n came in on her she slipped his attack. Though her sword was in hand, she had not yet swung and did not want to. She had no desire to kill Jain’n, but she had to stop him.

Jain’n, however, clearly wished to kill Sheyreiza. He attacked again, his sword moving expertly and quickly. Sheyreiza fell back under the furious assault, using her footwork and shield to slip his swings. She still had not attacked, but she realized she could not dance forever. If she did not stop him, eventually he would kill her. She was going to have to strike, whether she wanted to or not. She was going to have to kill him, or try anyway. She could not stand by and let him send souls to the afterlife in the name of Shevaresh.

A silver glow encapsulated Naraje. Sheyreiza brought her sword up, preparing to strike for the first time, but she found her movements slowing. Jain’n too, was moving slower. Warmth filled Sheyreiza’s body and soul, as if a powerful healing spell had been cast upon her. She stopped her movement, and so did Jain’n. Naraje was standing now, her fingers unbroken, her hair a beautiful mass of silver light. Eilistraee was here, possessing Naraje.

Sheyreiza felt the Maiden in her head. Eilistraee spoke to her mind. Shevaresh is my brother. You must honor his pact with the Lord of Lonelywood. This pact was made long ago. It is a pact between the ancestors and the Black Archer and long has it stood.

Sheyreiza growled. Her answer was audible, simple and clear.

No.

The goddess left Sheyreiza’s mind but her warmth lingered on in Sheyreiza’s body. Eilistraee had not abandoned her, but there would be no further conversation. Naraje was gone. Simply gone.

Something pulled at Sheyreiza from the inside. She grunted. It pulled more. She gasped. It pulled again. She screamed.

She realized she was losing her connection the land and to the ancestors. They were withdrawing from her soul and body. Sheyreiza could not say she was unhappy about that; she had never wanted them inside her. She knew what it meant, however, She was no longer the Lady of Lonelywood. Indeed, she knew she would be banished.

Without another word Sheyreiza turned and walked away from the circle. Jain’n was speaking to her, talking about duty and the ancestors and telling her to get out of the woods or some such thing. She ignored him. She had things to do. She had to go to the tower and tell the others she was leaving. She had to see Shein’n.

Shein’n. Sheyreiza’s daughter by Jain’n. For a moment, Sheyreiza thought about taking Shein’n with her into exile, but dismissed the thought. Shein’n was truly Jain’n’s child not hers. Jain’n and the ancestors had seen to that when they had defiled Sheyreiza’s body with their touch against her wishes, awakening Shein’n’s spirit in the womb. Since then, Shein’n had been a Vyshaan, not an Auvryndar. So be it. She was still Sheyreiza’s daughter and Sheyreiza was still her mother. Sheyreiza had raised Shein’n. Perhaps she would not now live here, but Sheyreiza would explain to Shein’n why.

At Ellewyn’s tower, the home of the warband, Sheyreiza made her good byes. The rest of the warband was stunned, and none more so than Inthara. The sorceress begged to come with Sheyreiza, but that was impractical. Inthara had little baby Vraja to raise and could not leave him like Sheyreiza could leave Shein’n. Inthara knew Sheyreiza was right. Shein’n was not in the tower, however.

Sheyreiza found her daughter with Jain’n in the northern barrens of the wood, where the ancestors were buried. There was perhaps, no place in the entire surface world Sheyreiza loathed as much as this stretch of unholy ground. Here were buried the Vyshaan Emperors and their families; the greatest criminals of the elven races of all time. Not even the dynasties of the Ilythiiri empire before its fall had wreaked as much pain and sorrow on the elves of Abeir-Toril as the sun elves buried here. And not only did their bodies reside here, so too did their spirits live in this frozen, desolate place. Barred from both Arvandor and the Demonweb, the spirits of the Vyshaan had been trapped between the living and dead, heaven and hell, for millennia. Here, in the barrens, their spirits roamed like banshees or specters, toying with the living in their unceasing effort to be released from their private torments and achieve the paradise of Arvandor.

Jain’n stood atop the greatest of the burial mounds, just above the hidden doorway that Sheyreiza knew led to the most sacred catacombs. Sheyreiza’s own ancestor, a drow woman known as Xukulth, lay there beside the other dead royals. Xukulth had been a consort of the first Vyshaan Emperor and was often the voice of the ancestors when they sought to manipulate Sheyreiza. Inthara, Nylo and some others of the warband had followed Sheyreiza out into the graveyard. Inthara was still crying, with Nylo trying to comfort her.

“I would like to see Shein’n before I go.” Sheyreiza said calmly.

“No.” Jain’n replied, though it was not his voice, it was one of the ancestors.

“Yes.” Sheyreiza said, her voice growing deeper. “Shein’n is my daughter and I will speak with her before I go.”

The ancestors began speaking through Jain’n again, arguing about what to do. Some suggested removing Sheyreiza from the woods, others suggested killing her. Inthara pleaded with the ancestors, and berated them. The drow sorceress loved Sheyreiza and often chafed at how Sheyreiza had been treated by the spirits. Now she begged for them to let Sheyreiza see Shein’n. Nylo tried to console Inthara, but the tears and pleas would not stop.

Sheyreiza ignored the ancestor’s conversation for the most part. She was through with their posturing and she had enough of their self-serving plots. All she wanted was to say good-bye to Shein’n and then go. The ancestors could have Jain’n. They were who he really loved anyway. No matter they did, no matter how they acted, no matter what they asked, Jain’n’s first loyalty was to these abominable, cursed spirits. He was as much their slave and tool as any subject of the Spider Queen, and like the Spider Queen’s tools, he would use and even kill other people at his masters’ command. He was, in a word, weak. Sheyreiza wondered what she had seen in him.
The illusion of strength, perhaps? The illusion of love? Jain’n had seemed willing to lay down his life to save Sheyreiza. Perhaps he had been. Only now did Sheyreiza realize why. Jain’n did not save Sheyreiza because he loved her; he saved Sheyreiza because the ancestors and Eilistraee told him to. The ancestors needed a brood mare to bear Jain’n’s child. For them, the child was the key to the gates of Arvandor. No child, no release from their millennia of torment. A child, even one whose spirit is awoken long before it is birthed, still needs a mother. The ancestors and Eilistraee had chosen Sheyreiza. So, Jain’n had ‘chosen’ Sheyreiza. It was as simple as that. He ‘loved’ her because he was told too. When that ‘love’ was no longer convenient, or necessary, he was told to discard it and so he did.

Sheyreiza shook her head. How sad this was. The very person who helped set her free of her mental slavery could not see his own chains. So be it. Sheyreiza had tried for years, but to no avail. Now, she was weary and she just wanted to go.

“Let me see Shein’n. I am through with the rest of you, but I will say good bye to my daughter.”

Jain’n’s body shook his head. “No. Remove her.”

Sheyreiza sighed. Then Jain’n was gone. Shein’n was gone. Inthara, Nylo, the others, the burial mound, all gone. Sheyreiza blinked and looked around. She was no longer in the northern barrens of the woods. She was at the overlook, on the edge of the woods. She had been removed. She knew the password to the faerie trods would be changed before she could reach them. She was cut off from the interior of the woods. She was cut off from Shein’n.

She screamed and fell to her knees in the snow. For the second time in her life, the servants of some malicious power had taken a child from her. First, it had been her Matron Mother, Shyntlara, taking Sheyreiza’s baby boy away from her and giving the child to another priestess in the house to raise. Now, it was Jain’n and the ancestors taking Shein’n away from Sheyreiza.

The kneeling priestess began to sob. How could Eilistraee let this happen? How could Eilistraee allow a mother to be separated so horribly from her child? How could Eilistraee sanction a sacrifice in the name of hate? How could Eilistraee punish Sheyreiza like this for doing nothing other than what was good and right?

Sheyreiza tried to scream again but it came out as guttural growl, like a great hunting cat roaring in the forest. She began to mumble proverbs of Eilistraeen dogma, trying to achieve some level of calm, trying to make sense of this injustice.
She wanted to kill Jain’n, to defile the ancestors’ tombs and burn Lonelywood to the ground but she knew that was wrong. What would Eilistraee say?

Return rudeness with kindness.

That was the Dark Maiden’s dogma.

Return rudeness with kindness.

Sheyreiza began to chant under her breath. “Return rudeness with kindness.” She pictured her friends, now lost to her on the other side of the faeire trods and her voice grew louder. “Return rudeness with kindness.” She pictured the stone-cold look on Jain’n’s face as had struck at her, trying to kill her for the crime of refusing to sacrifice a living being. “Return rudeness with kindness.” She pictured Shein’n looking at her from Jain’n’s arms, the confusion and terror obvious in her eyes and she chanted louder still. “Return rudeness with kindness.” She pictured the clear, innocent eyes of a child she had lost long ago and they merged with the child who had been lost to her only moments ago and her chant turned into yell. “RETURN RUDENESS WITH …” She bit her lip to keep from finishing and blood seeped from her lip. Her hands clenched and more blood dripped from her palms. Her body shook with rage and pain. Her eyes clenched and tears flowed down her dark cheeks. A growl started in her chest and emanated from her, rolling through her body like an earthquake.

The rumbling passed. The shaking stopped. Sheyreiza’s eyes opened upon Lonelywood, stretched out below the overlook. No more tears flowed. Her hands relaxed. There was no expression on her face. She shook a drop of blood from her fist into the snow, and followed it with a sanguine spit.

She spoke her chant again, evenly, calmly, coldly.

“Return rudeness with vengeance.”

Sheyreiza Auvryndar, former Lady of Lonelywood, stood and walked away from the place she had called home for more than five years. The sun would drop below the horizon soon and with it would go what little heat the north had to offer. The night would bring naught but freezing death. Sheyreiza had to head south and find shelter. From there, she would make her way even further south to Luskan, and then on to Waterdeep. No matter what she felt about Lonelywood, Sheyreiza had another task at hand. She had to bring the remains of a fallen drowess called Sadei to a priestess of greater power than Sheyreiza. Sheyreiza had heard of only one other temple to the Dark Maiden, and that was the Promenade of Eilistraee. The Promenade was said to lie beneath Waterdeep, near Skullport. Sheyreiza had no desire to return to the port of shadows, but she had to fulfill her quest to see Sadei’s remains delivered. Lonelywood would wait.

Sheyreiza readied her bow, adjusted her armor and set out. She had a long way to walk.

[Mord]

[Misty]

wow. just... wow

[Burt]

Return rudeness with cyber?

[Zakharra]

.....Mik, that left me stunned. I so wanted to be there for Sheyreiza. You put so much emotion in this story, I weep for Sheyreiza.

Usstan niyar whol l' pure d' xukuth. Ninta ssinssrigg lu' lilbh'iahin silara fotus natha ssussun nindel zhah jal ulu a'leai wun nindol tresk'ri. Usstan niyar whol l' t'larryo hearted. Xal nind ragar l' z'ress ulu ragar nindel ssinssrigg lu' lilbh'iahin h'uena 'sohna. Eilistraee dumo dos Sheyreiza Yathrin d'Eilistraee. 'anon lu' 'chev d'lil Vynnessia

** I weep for the pure of heart. Their love and joy brings forth a light that is all to rare in this world. I weep for the broken hearted. May they find the strength to find that love and joy once again. Eilistraee bless you Sheyreiza Yathrin d'Eilistraee. Flower and beloved of the Butterfly**

[Vendrin]

It's all you get when you go good. Pain and hurt.

[Burt]

Something that struck me as odd upon further thought was that the newly arrived drowess was to be sacrificed to Shevarash. As I recall when Sheyreiza first arrived in Lonelywood there was no such ritual mentioned (or at least Jain'n did not appear eager to perform it - like in this case). Indeed, Sheyreiza's eventual betrayal of Lolth only came about because of a persistant and determined effort to turn her. Why was the new drow not to be offered the same treatment? Also why would Eilistraee not prefer this to a sacrifice? Is this the result of a change in IC attitudes or some sort of inexplicable inconsistency? Perhaps it'll all be revealed in due time and I'm being pedantic.

[Vendrin]

My reasoning is this:

1. Sheyreiza never claimed to be an eilistraeen.
2. The newly arrived drowess did. She was either lying or telling the truth.
3. So if she was lying, that brought about a specific set of circumstances that did not exist before with Shey, bringing into the clause of a sacrifce to the Black Archer.

[mr duncan]

love the story mik.

burt, ill answer your questions since you want a spoiler of the game from my point of view. lonelywoods pact with the maiden, is that she will always show sign if we bring one seeking her to this sacred circle. if there is no sign, they are a rotten spy trying to get in on our secrets. now... "Sacrifce to sherevash" is/was just a way of speaking, we would simply have killed her... not an actual "sacrifice" but killing a dherow on the feild of battle is a sacrifce to sherevash to J's crowded mind. (oh yeah.. and i was CRAZY time freaked out when the "guest" tried to run after lookng over the village)

the drow has to ask for shelter to be taken. shey spent a long time in prisoned before she was ready. the diffrence was meeting a stranger on the road who insitsted they were ready, right then. (and not having access to the prison we used to). if i had taken shey to the test and she had failed, i would have set on her. (as it would have meant all her previous RP was a sham to ruin us).

i cant help but feel your complaint is actually because your own elf fell short of the lonelywoods requirement to accept all our gods, or get out... and you had the poor judgement to bring a character you liked into a CvC situation so so so long ago.

or mabey im just being all defensive cause im sober.

J

[Mikayla]

When Sheyreiza was brought to Lonelywood it was only after months in the dungeons of Battlehammer Hall. Jain'n only took Sheyreiza from the dungeon to Lonelywood after Sheyreiza had given up Lolth. Sheyreiza had not yet taken up worshipping Eilsitraee, however. For a time, Sheyreiza was between goddesses.

As for the test/ritual, it was made clear to us that upon being taken to Lonelywood we would be brought to the sacred circle to await a sign from Eilistraee. If Eilistraee did not approve of us, we would be put to death. There was no mention of Shevaresh, however. The first I ever heard of Shevaresh in connection with the testing was the night we played this out. I did know, and Shey knew as is indicated in the story, that the price of be judged as false by Eilistraee was death - but neither I nor Shey knew that the death penalty came in the form of a sacrifice to Shevaresh.

As for Naraje - we never even got to the test of Eilistraee, so we never even found out if the Maiden would accept her or reject her. Only if the Maiden rejected her would she have been sacrificed to Shevaresh. As for what the Maiden would have done, I can only assume the Maiden does, in fact, wish to save souls, not condemn them. That being said, Eilistraee (Sadmuse) made it clear in no uncertain terms that Lonelywood's pact with Shevaresh would be upheld. Sheyreiza could not tolerate that, not even from her goddess.

Such is life.

[Burt]

EDIT: Two people posted while I wrote my response to Vendrin, making all my musings defunct. Curse you both!

Trying again here.

I still find the situation unusual. Surely the original creator of these rules would be fully aware that drow were at some time or another likely to try and give the area grief for their (in the average drow's mind) heretical teachings. Now here is how I see it:

Sheyreiza originally met the Lonelywood group on the road and her disguise was foiled. At this time the lw group could surely not have known whether she was there to cause trouble (murder, pillage, that sort of thing) or just passing through. The logical assumption would be the former - stirring shit up is what drow do, and devotees of Eilistraee would know this as well as, if not better, than the next person. Jain'n makes the decision to have her imprisoned and attempts to convert her and her companions with a large degree of success.

In this new case the drow is greeted somewhat openly and led to Lonelywood under the assumption she is a follower of the Maiden. Whether or not she actually does hold her as patron is irrelevant. Jain'n correctly assumes the worst and, unlike in the first case, makes his mind up she will be executed should things prove it neccessary.

Now here's what baffles me. Why in the first case, where the drow is known to be an evil cleric is she shown mercy, when we can automatically assume she will wish the worst upon Jain'n and everyone in Lonelywood. However in the second case the drow will not be shown any mercy despite possibly having the same intentions.

Are not all drow deserving of an equal chance for redemption? In this campaign Eilistraee apparently has quite a physical prescence - why would she, as a drow goddess in full knowledge of their deceptive nature, allow differentiation and therefor loss of life based purely on what a drow does or does not say? Of course they're going to try and infiltrate Lonelywood. It's their nature to do so.

P.S. My intentions are not to stir up an argument on that old situation John. Yes of course I did not appreciate losing a character I invested considerable amount of hours in, but I never contested the death as I considered it completely legitimate (if in poor taste).

[Mikayla]

For what it is worth, one reason this particular story is so emotionally charged (at least I hope I conveyed that) is because it was an extremely emotional night. When I logged in that evening, I had no idea that in a couple of hours I would be leaving the people I had been gaming with for 8 months and searching for a new server. I think it was a traumatic night for all of us, especially mr duncan, sadmuse, zakharra and I.

Such is the quality of role-play in ALFA.

[NickD]

For what it is worth, one reason this particular story is so emotionally charged (at least I hope I conveyed that) is because it was an extremely emotional night. When I logged in that evening, I had no idea that in a couple of hours I would be leaving the people I had been gaming with for 8 months and searching for a new server. I think it was a traumatic night for all of us, especially mr duncan, sadmuse, zakharra and I.

Such is the quality of role-play in ALFA.

Wow, and it was all over what sounds like a misinterpretation of what Jain'n meant.

"Sacrifce to sherevash" is/was just a way of speaking, we would simply have killed her... not an actual "sacrifice" but killing a dherow on the feild of battle is a sacrifce to sherevash to J's crowded mind.

If Eilistraee did not approve of us, we would be put to death. There was no mention of Shevaresh, however. The first I ever heard of Shevaresh in connection with the testing was the night we played this out. I did know, and Shey knew as is indicated in the story, that the price of be judged as false by Eilistraee was death - but neither I nor Shey knew that the death penalty came in the form of a sacrifice to Shevaresh.

[Mord]

omfg drama in the freakin library now... poor show

[Burt]

Hehe it's not drama you njub, just trying to get to grips with an inconsistency that bothered me.