Dark Flower, Book III. Prologue.
Posted: Fri Feb 10, 2006 7:43 pm
Dark Flower, Book III, Prologue.
The lightless depths of the Northdark are a mind-boggling three dimensional patchwork of narrow tunnels, wide caverns, spectacular vaults, lethal chasms, long chimneys, black abysses, rising pinnacles, impossible bridges and frigid waterways. Through this multi-dimensional, multi-textured labyrinth, creatures of all shapes and sizes crawl, walk, run, slither, swim and fly. All the natural features and all the varied creatures have one thing in common though; they all kill. If there is one unremitting feature to the Underdark, the world beneath the world, it is its hostility to life. Nowhere, at least on this plane of existence, can a person find death as quickly and easily as in the Underdark. It is as if the Underdark itself is alive, and all its denizens and environments are merely tools it uses to consume the heat of life from those that still possess the spark, just as the darkness of its enormous spaces seems to swallow the lights of those that tread there.
Through this deadly maze, far, far beneath the infamous ruin of Hellgate Keep a giant spider like creature traveled east through a narrow, tortuous tunnel. The eastern end of the tunnel opened up into a larger cavern; a long reach of underdark terrain that ran north-south. The spider paused at the tunnel’s exit, listening, watching, smelling, and waiting for any sign of anything hostile. Slowly and silently the spider slipped its fore-legs through the narrow opening and pulled its bulbous body through. The spider-creature was huge, as large as a surface-dwelling peasant cottage. It was also not of this world; it was a bebilith, a demon of the abyss. Its common name to those who knew it was Hartex. On its back road a smaller humanoid figure, whose slender, curved body was wrapped in a black silken piwafi-cloak. The bebilith, having exited the tunnel, turned south and began to move along the rough cavern floor. Its eight legs ended in wickedly sharp hooks enabling the spider-creature to move its great bulk along floor, wall or ceiling with equal ease. The beast began to pick up speed and in mere moments it was traveling through the wide, tall underdark space with a speed that would rival any riding lizard or horse. It slid between rock formations using stalactites and stalagmites for purchase. The rider on the creature’s back stayed low and held fast to her mount as it traversed up and down the walls and ceilings always seeking the clearest route through the terrain. As the bebilith hit its full stride, the woman on its back could not help but laugh with excitement.
They traveled as fast as the bebilith could manage, following a southerly course. The path they followed paralleled the great subterranean road of the lost Dwarven kingdom of Ammarindar which lay just a mile or two above the pair. No creature in their path dared challenge them or even linger long before the charging demon and its unholy passenger. The underdark is full of dangerous beasts and people, but few could have matched this couple.
At the gates of Ched Nasad the bebilith slowed. The rider on its back rose up, looking upon the great adamantine-bound portals that led to the City of Shimmering Webs. She looked for signs of guardians but saw none but this was not unusual. The guards of the gates were mostly likely taking cover inside, looking out upon her through the narrow arrow slits of the gate’s watch towers ready to unleash poisoned bolts and deadly spells should the need arise.
The bebilith’s rider knew that no such need would arise, at least not at the moment. She was not here to attack the city or steal from it. She was a daughter of Ched Nasad, though long had she been an exiled one, and she had come to the gates to return to the city of her birth.
The cloaked rider urged the spider-creature on and the bebilith walked slowly towards the gates. Inside, the guards took note; while used to the sight of demons, a bebilith was still an unusual encounter and an extraordinarily dangerous one. The beast’s rider could hear the guardians scurrying about in the tower, preparing to resist the bebilith should they have to. She smiled. They were right to respect the power of this demonic beast, for it was no ordinary bebilith. It could not take the city, but in all likelihood, it could slaughter the gate garrison.
Sheyreiza Auvryndar looked up at the arrow slits and battlements and drew back her hood revealing her face. She pulled back the folds of her cloak and revealed her house symbol of Qu’ellar Auvryndar. The great spider-demon knelt down on its forelegs and she slipped gracefully from its back. Once dismounted, she walked towards the gates. Behind her, the bebilith changed shape taking the form of a muscular male drow.
“It’s been more than twenty-years, Hartex.” Sheyreiza said with a sigh. “In fact, five and twenty years I think, since I have been home.”
“Far too long, mistress.” He replied, his voice even and strong.
“Indeed.” She studied the gates, running her delicate black hands over their surface. The adamantine was cool to the touch, and smooth. She had longed for this city in her heart since the moment she left; and she had feared it. When her heresy had been discovered, there was no place in Abeir-Toril less safe for her. Even the woodland realms of the surface fairies were safer, as experience had shown. Still, Ched Nasad with its magical castles and temples built upon the divine webs of Lolth Herself was the center of Sheyreiza’s world. No city, no town, no nation and no people she had encountered in all her travels above or below the surface was as impressive. Waterdeep was a squalid slum of iblith who lived like pigs in a partially paved sty decorated with a few ugly, squat uninspired fortresses; Silverymoon was enchanted, but lifeless and devoid of any real passion or spark; Immurk’s hold was as Waterdeep, only worse and with the stink of rotting fish; Skullport with its multiple levels was an imitator, but a pale one; even the vault of mighty Menzoberranzan did not compare. Ched Nasad was the center of culture, music, magic and faith. It was the standard by which Sheyreiza judged all others; the lens through which she looked at the rest of the world, and in her view, the rest of the world was wanting.
Except maybe for food. Sheyreiza smiled, almost laughing. The food of the surface world was incredibly varied and she had to admit, once she got used to the smell of cultures that relied on cow, sheep and goat, she did enjoy the food immensely. The fruits were the best. Bananas, apples and her particular favorite, blood oranges. Still, such trivialities could be imported.
She turned to look upon Hartex who stood behind her waiting patiently. What was a few minutes to a demon? She smiled. “When I left, I was a heretic. Now, I return as a high priestess.”
The slightest twinge of a smile crept onto Hartex’s lips and a tiny fire lit in his eye. “You return, mistress, as the city’s future ruler.”
Sheyreiza she simply nodded. She knew well the ambition in her heart that Hartex fed, and she let him feed it. It was her ambition after all. Without another word Sheyreiza pushed open the gates. They swung open slowly but easily. A barrage of sounds, sights and smells struck the high priestess all at once and she felt suddenly as if she had been thrust back in time to when she was but a girl-child preparing for the academy, touring the city’s bazaars for the first time.
On the other side of the gate the garrion’s warriors were lined up against the walls in the gleaming, polished red and black armor of the Sisterhood. A huge, vulture-headed demon stalked amongst them reinforcing their numbers. They did not bar Sheyreiza’s way or even challenge her; instead, their captain merely bowed his head. “Yathtallar.” She said respectfully.
Beyond the gate was the city, stretching off as far as Sheyreiza could see, not only in front of her and to the sides, but above and below. Ched Nasad was a city built on calcified webbing that filled a great V-shaped chasm and its neighborhoods were divided vertically, not horizontally. As Sheyreiza walked in she looked up and saw a spider-shape lurking motionless in the city-web above her; a spider so huge it dwarfed Hartex’s bebilith form like a drow dwarfed a normal arachnid. It was Zhennu Orbb; the Great Spider. An arachnid shaped fortress that housed the Sisterhood, the Brotherhood, the Muster and most importantly, the Academy. She marveled at it for a moment then tore her eyes away.
She walked to an opening in the webbing at her feet. Looking down, she could see layer after layer dropping into darkness. Drow moved on all the layers, and in their midst moved duergar traders, goblin-slaves, minotaur guards, bugbear mercenaries, demons of all shapes and sizes, illithid ambassadors, orc soldiers, and other beasts of all descriptions. Ahead of her on this layer was one of Ched Nasad’s bazaars and Sheyreiza could smell incense, rothe-cheese, mushroom wine and fresh cave-fish. Vendors haggled with patrons in the drow tongue, undercommon, even abyssal. Suspended above, below and beside the bazaar and the Great Spider which sat over it were all manner of beautiful, enchanted structures and castles, many outlined in feint fairy fire of every imaginable colors. They reminded Sheyreiza that several layers above was the castle of Qu’ellar Auvryndar, Sheyreiza’s family home. That would have to be her first stop.
It was time to see Matron Shyntlara again; Sheyreiza had come home.
The lightless depths of the Northdark are a mind-boggling three dimensional patchwork of narrow tunnels, wide caverns, spectacular vaults, lethal chasms, long chimneys, black abysses, rising pinnacles, impossible bridges and frigid waterways. Through this multi-dimensional, multi-textured labyrinth, creatures of all shapes and sizes crawl, walk, run, slither, swim and fly. All the natural features and all the varied creatures have one thing in common though; they all kill. If there is one unremitting feature to the Underdark, the world beneath the world, it is its hostility to life. Nowhere, at least on this plane of existence, can a person find death as quickly and easily as in the Underdark. It is as if the Underdark itself is alive, and all its denizens and environments are merely tools it uses to consume the heat of life from those that still possess the spark, just as the darkness of its enormous spaces seems to swallow the lights of those that tread there.
Through this deadly maze, far, far beneath the infamous ruin of Hellgate Keep a giant spider like creature traveled east through a narrow, tortuous tunnel. The eastern end of the tunnel opened up into a larger cavern; a long reach of underdark terrain that ran north-south. The spider paused at the tunnel’s exit, listening, watching, smelling, and waiting for any sign of anything hostile. Slowly and silently the spider slipped its fore-legs through the narrow opening and pulled its bulbous body through. The spider-creature was huge, as large as a surface-dwelling peasant cottage. It was also not of this world; it was a bebilith, a demon of the abyss. Its common name to those who knew it was Hartex. On its back road a smaller humanoid figure, whose slender, curved body was wrapped in a black silken piwafi-cloak. The bebilith, having exited the tunnel, turned south and began to move along the rough cavern floor. Its eight legs ended in wickedly sharp hooks enabling the spider-creature to move its great bulk along floor, wall or ceiling with equal ease. The beast began to pick up speed and in mere moments it was traveling through the wide, tall underdark space with a speed that would rival any riding lizard or horse. It slid between rock formations using stalactites and stalagmites for purchase. The rider on the creature’s back stayed low and held fast to her mount as it traversed up and down the walls and ceilings always seeking the clearest route through the terrain. As the bebilith hit its full stride, the woman on its back could not help but laugh with excitement.
They traveled as fast as the bebilith could manage, following a southerly course. The path they followed paralleled the great subterranean road of the lost Dwarven kingdom of Ammarindar which lay just a mile or two above the pair. No creature in their path dared challenge them or even linger long before the charging demon and its unholy passenger. The underdark is full of dangerous beasts and people, but few could have matched this couple.
At the gates of Ched Nasad the bebilith slowed. The rider on its back rose up, looking upon the great adamantine-bound portals that led to the City of Shimmering Webs. She looked for signs of guardians but saw none but this was not unusual. The guards of the gates were mostly likely taking cover inside, looking out upon her through the narrow arrow slits of the gate’s watch towers ready to unleash poisoned bolts and deadly spells should the need arise.
The bebilith’s rider knew that no such need would arise, at least not at the moment. She was not here to attack the city or steal from it. She was a daughter of Ched Nasad, though long had she been an exiled one, and she had come to the gates to return to the city of her birth.
The cloaked rider urged the spider-creature on and the bebilith walked slowly towards the gates. Inside, the guards took note; while used to the sight of demons, a bebilith was still an unusual encounter and an extraordinarily dangerous one. The beast’s rider could hear the guardians scurrying about in the tower, preparing to resist the bebilith should they have to. She smiled. They were right to respect the power of this demonic beast, for it was no ordinary bebilith. It could not take the city, but in all likelihood, it could slaughter the gate garrison.
Sheyreiza Auvryndar looked up at the arrow slits and battlements and drew back her hood revealing her face. She pulled back the folds of her cloak and revealed her house symbol of Qu’ellar Auvryndar. The great spider-demon knelt down on its forelegs and she slipped gracefully from its back. Once dismounted, she walked towards the gates. Behind her, the bebilith changed shape taking the form of a muscular male drow.
“It’s been more than twenty-years, Hartex.” Sheyreiza said with a sigh. “In fact, five and twenty years I think, since I have been home.”
“Far too long, mistress.” He replied, his voice even and strong.
“Indeed.” She studied the gates, running her delicate black hands over their surface. The adamantine was cool to the touch, and smooth. She had longed for this city in her heart since the moment she left; and she had feared it. When her heresy had been discovered, there was no place in Abeir-Toril less safe for her. Even the woodland realms of the surface fairies were safer, as experience had shown. Still, Ched Nasad with its magical castles and temples built upon the divine webs of Lolth Herself was the center of Sheyreiza’s world. No city, no town, no nation and no people she had encountered in all her travels above or below the surface was as impressive. Waterdeep was a squalid slum of iblith who lived like pigs in a partially paved sty decorated with a few ugly, squat uninspired fortresses; Silverymoon was enchanted, but lifeless and devoid of any real passion or spark; Immurk’s hold was as Waterdeep, only worse and with the stink of rotting fish; Skullport with its multiple levels was an imitator, but a pale one; even the vault of mighty Menzoberranzan did not compare. Ched Nasad was the center of culture, music, magic and faith. It was the standard by which Sheyreiza judged all others; the lens through which she looked at the rest of the world, and in her view, the rest of the world was wanting.
Except maybe for food. Sheyreiza smiled, almost laughing. The food of the surface world was incredibly varied and she had to admit, once she got used to the smell of cultures that relied on cow, sheep and goat, she did enjoy the food immensely. The fruits were the best. Bananas, apples and her particular favorite, blood oranges. Still, such trivialities could be imported.
She turned to look upon Hartex who stood behind her waiting patiently. What was a few minutes to a demon? She smiled. “When I left, I was a heretic. Now, I return as a high priestess.”
The slightest twinge of a smile crept onto Hartex’s lips and a tiny fire lit in his eye. “You return, mistress, as the city’s future ruler.”
Sheyreiza she simply nodded. She knew well the ambition in her heart that Hartex fed, and she let him feed it. It was her ambition after all. Without another word Sheyreiza pushed open the gates. They swung open slowly but easily. A barrage of sounds, sights and smells struck the high priestess all at once and she felt suddenly as if she had been thrust back in time to when she was but a girl-child preparing for the academy, touring the city’s bazaars for the first time.
On the other side of the gate the garrion’s warriors were lined up against the walls in the gleaming, polished red and black armor of the Sisterhood. A huge, vulture-headed demon stalked amongst them reinforcing their numbers. They did not bar Sheyreiza’s way or even challenge her; instead, their captain merely bowed his head. “Yathtallar.” She said respectfully.
Beyond the gate was the city, stretching off as far as Sheyreiza could see, not only in front of her and to the sides, but above and below. Ched Nasad was a city built on calcified webbing that filled a great V-shaped chasm and its neighborhoods were divided vertically, not horizontally. As Sheyreiza walked in she looked up and saw a spider-shape lurking motionless in the city-web above her; a spider so huge it dwarfed Hartex’s bebilith form like a drow dwarfed a normal arachnid. It was Zhennu Orbb; the Great Spider. An arachnid shaped fortress that housed the Sisterhood, the Brotherhood, the Muster and most importantly, the Academy. She marveled at it for a moment then tore her eyes away.
She walked to an opening in the webbing at her feet. Looking down, she could see layer after layer dropping into darkness. Drow moved on all the layers, and in their midst moved duergar traders, goblin-slaves, minotaur guards, bugbear mercenaries, demons of all shapes and sizes, illithid ambassadors, orc soldiers, and other beasts of all descriptions. Ahead of her on this layer was one of Ched Nasad’s bazaars and Sheyreiza could smell incense, rothe-cheese, mushroom wine and fresh cave-fish. Vendors haggled with patrons in the drow tongue, undercommon, even abyssal. Suspended above, below and beside the bazaar and the Great Spider which sat over it were all manner of beautiful, enchanted structures and castles, many outlined in feint fairy fire of every imaginable colors. They reminded Sheyreiza that several layers above was the castle of Qu’ellar Auvryndar, Sheyreiza’s family home. That would have to be her first stop.
It was time to see Matron Shyntlara again; Sheyreiza had come home.