Sunrise - Shadows at play

[Storm Munin]

Shadows at play.

Note of intent to the readers:
I intend to post a journal entry after each adventure the pair share, unless too droll.
Event writeups will be included.
EmpoweredFan (Nawiel) will cohost the thread.


Main characters:
Sussuri Oreb'le'i, male drow scout dancer of blade and shadows.
Nawiel Jr'eine, female drow trickster and dancer of shadows.

other cast (updated as it evolves):
Expedition members:
Whisper, agent of the seventh circle
Bonesnapper, orc
Inthuulsol, aide of the quartermaster

Others:
Seat and chaptermaster of the seventh circle Ilphryssin Arkentlar
Xercia Dantress, jali fahliell extraordinarie and Nawiel's halfsister
That rude trading jali at the bazaar. (awaiting permission of naming)

The family and some household troopers of the merchant house of Ravenkin:
Matron Ardulafae, Mother
Housewizard Nalirin, uncle
Heir apparent Les'en, younger sister and spoiled brat
First son Maral, jovial bard

------


A beginning.


*cling* *cling*

His eyes opened slowly taking in the pale blue light from the glowstones in the chamber's ceiling. As he yawned and stretched his back he knew there was something different about the beginning of this cycle.
His head felt dense as he prepared to get up and dress, once again he heard the chimes of his sister's enchanted earrings. No doubt she was heading for breakfast.

A puzzled frown briefly touched his brow as he felt a slight tug over his chest and his legs as he began to roll over. What?

Memories wild and strong fired through the synapses of his brain as he simultaneously came to notice the scattered heaps of discarded clothing leaving a trail from the doorway to the bed.
Eyes wide he turned his head to gaze upon the shapely jali that lay beside him in wonder.
Her red orbs were barely visibe behind those unruly tangles of pure white but she appeared to still be lost in reverie.
A pleasant smile crossed his lips as he lost himself in remembrance of the surprises that had been unleashed on him in the late hours of the last cycle.


Brother? A soft melodic voice called from the hallway.
Memories jumbled with realities in the form of words like hallway and sister. Sister! Wait, no! The thought had barely registered in his brain as Les'en's turned head appeared in the doorway as she glided forward along the hallway in her morning robes. With a sigh Sussuri took note of how his sister's pupils dilated as she took notice of the trail of clothes and the second inhabitant of the bed in particular, she literally froze in her steps. Bugger.

A faint blush flashed on his onyx cheeks as he quickly rose out of bed to pick up and toss the earlier forlorn sheets over his lover's unmoving skinclad body.

Good morning, sweet Les'en He tried to sound casual whispering a raspy greeting to his sister as if nothing was different from yesterday's morn.

A wide teethy smile broke onto his sisters lips as she sauntered into the room looking quite giddy about what she had discovered in his room. That smile always made her gaunt still somewhat juvenile face look chipmunklike below those large eyes.
Les'en moved her muscular husk surprisingly nimbly and quite rudely passed by ignoring him while closing in on the bed to mirthfully laugh quietly as she took note of who lay there. Les'en folded her knees to come to rest her elbows on the bed as she leaned her head on her hands while patiently looking at Nawiel.


With a quiet sigh Sussuri realized he felt rather uncaring about what his sister was on about and he began to register the normal telltale early morning sounds of the compound.

From beyond the windowsil he could make out the thuds as the guards practiced archery in the central plaza.
His uncle Nalirin was obviously involved in some experiment across the plaza judging by the arcane syllabels being unleashed into the quiet of the morning.
In the hallway his Mother's songs of devotion softly rolled unhindered as she sang while no doubt going through the early morning message deliveries in her study on the floor above.

A tiny shrug moved over his shoulders as Sussuri kneeled down to pick up his trousers before turning towards the bed with a cheerful smile on his face.
Another cycle had begun, hopefully with an old aquaintance yet new companion by his side sharing his life in what was to come.

Thank you dancer, he whispered reverently.

[Storm Munin]

A pleased smile stuck on his lips as petite Nawiel more or less pulled him out into the streets.


For the first time he had a plan of his own and the chapter master had endorsed it!
Seat Arkentlar had even gone so far as to recommend suitable companions for the expedition. Was the gift of the orc halfwit a boon or a curse though?
Bonesnapper no doubt could carry a horseload or two but was he capable of stealth?
Sussuri shook his head, Ilphryssin might be a heartless bastard but he is one clever jabuk faern.

In a stroke of good luck his elusive guild companion Whisper had agreed to join the pair on the journey, while also recommending the Quartermaster's assistant as a solid choice for the position as the expeditional faern.
How to entice Inshuul to join him though?
Sussuri didnt know the faern personally and from what he had seen the runty Quartermaster Mili seemed to drive the male arcanist hard.
He sighed, they really should bring a healer as well...

The cavern skies darkened as the pair left the bustling streets of central Sshamath behind. Understandable, there was probably less effort put into keeping the city sections mostly inhabited by lesser beings in splendor. Momentarily the sway of Nawiel's silvery braid and hips entranced him then the reality of the darkness intruded anew on his thoughts and he studied their surroundings with keen intent.

Almost soundlessly they moved through the streets of Sshamath in the late cycle gloom, their stride taking them towards the Darkspires and Nawiel's accommodations. The male drow felt expectations rise along with a slight sense of worry, his lover could be irrate at times and her pattern of thought slippery as a slime lord.

A glance at her sleek figure calmed him, how bad could it be?
She was a fellow dancer after all.

[Empoweredfan]

Continuation of the first post:
Note: I will probably post things, no matter how droll they may be. And so, please enjoy the cheese:

Nawiel's world drifted into reality, passing through passionate dances, stories of gnomes and dragons and half-orcs dressed as a scholars. As it became more and more clear what had transpired during the cycle that came before, she couldn't have stopped herself from grinning even if she wanted to.

And she kept grinning, until the face before her grew into focus, and her expression froze slightly. There were similarities, true, but the head before her had a bit more hair than she remembered. Softer features were also there, and she didn't remember Sussuri being quite so . . . feminine.

It took her a moment to realize that the person in front of her that was not Sussuri, was in fact talking to her, and Nawiel hadn't heard a word of it. In her still fuzzy state of mind, all she could think to ask was “What is blue?”

The head stopped talking to her, and gave her an odd look. 'What is blue?' Nawiel asked herself. The ocean? No, not really, it just looked it. . . Had she only imagined the night before? Had. . . no. . . who was that in front of her?

The face had gotten over her puzzlement, and started asking questions again. “What happened? Did he treat you to dinner? Was it romantic?” and Nawiel heard them all, but her mind was occupied with the game of 'cups', where 3 cups were used to hide a ball of some sort and was used as a fairly popular gambling game amongst the goblin slaves. . . which was what she related to the last time she had seen the female's face.

“Ocean Cup!” she said, sitting up, and only quick reflexes saved the sheet that was about to fall off her naked form. She was naked? Then that meant. . .

She looked around quickly, and there, a little bit away from the bed, looking at her with a smile of his own, stood Sussuri. He had just taken his trousers on, and was watching the two. Her smile returned, and she missed Les'en's next questions again, as she lost herself in the flood of memories.

Still, she should answer the youngest daughter of Ardulafaet Oreb'le'i. “We danced in darkness, and nothing fell over,” she told his sister, as if this was the most amazing thing that had happened. “Apart form us, but that was earlier.” she added, still looking into Sussuri's eyes as she simplified her attempted abduction of the Second boy of House Oreb'le'i.

It was easy to lose oneself in his grey eyes, so to distract herself, she threw her arms around Les'en Oreb'le'i, to get started on the reunion. . . doing so, she had forgotten about the sheet. . .

[Empoweredfan]

Continuation of the second post:

The two of them had been dancing by the time they entered the Darkspire. They had twisted and spun around the lava pool outside, and that had started them off on a quick and dizzying trot, to see who would be the first to fall out of it.

As it was, it happened to be Sussuri that had the honour. As they entered the room, after reversing their turns at the opening of her door, he had entered first and stopped dead, nearly making Nawiel bump into him.

She had giggled at that, and not faulted him at all. Most people that saw her room for the first time did so, even the duergard that had taken to robbing her in their spare time. She could not fault them either. . . but then, she always stole most of the things they took back again.

With care not to push him, she ducked under his arm so they could watch the room together, and as his arm settled on her shoulder, he whispered in that raspy voice. “Che, is this safe?”

Nawiel laughed a bit, because it was indeed not safe. They stood before a room, packed with so many odds and ends that it could hurt the eyes of the unwary. Books was piled both on tables and the floor, as were a variety of weapons, and a large collection of strange items she had found since coming to the city. None of it was organized or had any true place. As it was, her room had a lot of sharp edges lying around everywhere you looked.

She pushed him in lightly, and shut the door after them. He in turn did a little skip over a lightly enchanted broadsword so not to cut himself, and spun around to catch her when she jumped after him.

She laughed as he twisted a bit more than he intended, to save her from landing on a carelessly placed collection of cut precious stones. Again he paused, looking slightly worried, but in a playful way. “Do I have to worry about what your bed might conceal?” he whispered again, looking at her plain, and unassuming bed.

It stopped her laughing, and she had to think for a few seconds. Then without a word, she tiptoed over the floor, and took the covers off. . . . there were nothing but the bed under it. So she took the pillows off, revealing nothing.

With a frown, she was about to lift the madras, when his larger hand closed upon hers aiding her in lifting it up so she could look under it.

When she didn't find anything there, she looked up into his face which held an oddly amused expression. “Are you looking for something in particular, mio-il amore?” he whispered, his mouth not too far from her ear.

Her smile could not be contained, and it grew once more. “Yes che. I am looking for thieves.” It wasn't strictly true. She had been looking for stashed weapons, that could lead to accidents, but somehow, the thought of thieves had been there in it's place.

As his expression changed, and he took another hard look at her room, she had time to marvel at how lucky she was. True, he wasn't the most spectacular male she had seen. He did not possess the aura of power that some of the more powerful mages or sorcerers had, nor did he look like he was capable of infinite violence to reach his goal. His skin was too scared to call it perfect, and his throat robed him of the charm that scares might have added to his complexion.

But when he turned his grey eyes back to her, it gave him depth like no other she had ever met. They held so much, and she was only able to look at it's surface, even as she wanted to study them forever.

Her own expression must have changed, because when he looked at her again he became worried. “Che? Are you all right? There are no thieves here.” he whispered to her, his voice gaining enough sound that she could see that it bothered him.

“Yes, yes I am mio-il amore,” she said to him in as gentle a voice as she could muster. Truly, gazing into those eyes, was like looking at an overcast sky. It was grey, but you just knew, that behind them there were so much light and wonder that just waited to be revealed.

Sussuri's own expression calmed as he looked at her, and a playful smile made it's presence known. "Oh, I was wrong. Seems that I found a thief after all."

Truly, she had found the greatest treasure of all. . . and the silent whisper in her head, agreed with her.

[Empoweredfan]

Nawiel was happily sitting up in her bed, writing and making notes in her 'memory', which was what she called her journal.

it was an old ritual, to make sure that facts had been noted and that her mind didn't play tricks on her. A daily routine, as it were.

Beside her, lay Sussuri. Probably lost in his own thoughts by now, wandering around in thoughts and ideas. . .

As far as she knew, he was the only person that she hadn't bothered to name. The only one person where the name was enough. And that person was lying in her bed.

Sussuri. Sussuri Oreb'le'i. Che, Mio-il Amore . . . alright, maybe she had a few other names for him now. . . but they didn't count as designations. They were truths. He was her love. And she was his.

At the though, she looked around her chamber. The floor, which was clean when they entered, was now littered with weapons again, as well as their clothes. And as far as Nawiel could reason, that must have been the plan all along.

Because only insane people would suggest sleeping together in a small bed, with two very sharp daggers, a couple of unruly kukri's, her whole collection of darts and the addition of Sussuri's longer, and thus more space taking swords. . . and Nawiel was pretty sure that she wasn't insane. Eccentric and at times very careless yes, but not insane. . . no matter what voices she might hear.

Again, she had to smile at the mess. They had jumped into bed with the armory, and when she suffered her first cut, Sussuri had demanded. . . well, requested firmly, that the blades should be left out of the bed. . .

Which, was the entire plan. . . probably.

Her gaze travelled back to the male beside her. Her love. Who had taken it upon himself to bandage her cut, even as a healing potion had done it's work on her. He had gone on about 'arteries' and the possibility of cut tendons, and told her short stories about people who had lost the ability to use limbs due to unfortunate cuts. Not the most enticing talk to engage in at the time, but it got the point across.

There were still five potions left on the nightstand, so that was her evidence. That the plan was for Sussuri to take a more commanding role in their relationship. . . Not that he had, mind you, just guided her onto the idea that the option was safer, and more suited to what they were there for.

What Nawiel thought to do, was to make them more like Fahir and Helga. The human couple that had owned the tavern in which she used to work in Skullport, freed slaves, both of them.

Helga might have been the one to give the most orders, but when Fahir spoke, his words were heeded.

There, it wasn't just Sussuri that was traditional. Not exactly drow tradition, but tradition none the less.

With a sigh, she turned her attention back on 'memory'. She was writing about Sussuri's expedition, which she would join. In the dark tunnels with him, it was an opportunity that was just too good to leave behind.

They wouldn't be alone, that was true, but still. And they were going to try and make contact with the Zhent's. . . which would send chills down her spine any day of the week.

She shuddered at a long removed memory, and the taste of blood. The people of the black network was scary and ruthless, and she wanted to make sure that Sussuri was safe. . . and the thought of him talking to them and something happening, scared her. . . and her throat felt lumpy.

To distract herself, she thought about hair. She was to do Les'en's hair next she got the chance. She had gambled with Sussuri over it. And just the thought brought her smile back.

She had never actually done any hair beside her own. Getting tangled in the long hair of the priestess that had introduced her to Eilistraee didn't count, and though they had been nice about it, she knew that they hadn't liked cutting her out of it.

Her own was a mess. Had been for a while now, but it was growing out again.

She thought briefly about perhaps keeping it short, and only grow a bit of it out. A strip at the back perhaps? The sides?

At some point she had crawled under the covers, and slipped up to Sussuri. She could feel his bodyheat against her.

Which is where she slipped happily into reverie. . .

[Storm Munin]

Sussuri leaned back lounging in the highbacked chair as he idly sipped wine.


It seemed like he had been looking for faern Inthuulsol for cycles and then Inthuulsol just stood there in Gloura's when he sauntered in. Sometimes blind luck beats determination.

Sussuri had engaged in conversation and offered the sharing of some wine to have the faern's attention. Once first rounds was tasted Sussuri was in for a sweet surprise.
He hed barely started talking about the trading troubles with Darkhold when the faern confessed to attempting to open up a trade link to the zhentarim by his own designs. The faern had been quite thirsty it seemed since he had called the custodians for a second round of wine mere minutes after they began drinking on the first cup.

What Sussuri had thought would take quite the effort proved almost too easy to be true. Inthuulsol readily agreed to join the expedition, Whisper's suggestion of what faern to contact had been spot on.
The faern even had had ideas for what priest to approach about joining the expedition, apparently the kretoc tribe of Greyfang might hold a suitable candidate.

The more he thought about it the more he liked the idea, another kretoc would mean a kin for Bonesnapper to socialize with during an expedition that might take months to complete. Besides the Greyfang tribe were as much part of the Seventh Circle as he was.


He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the chair.
An excellent vintage indeed.

[Empoweredfan]

Her mother was in the city!

Nawiel's actual mother was in the city of Sshamath!

The mother that Nawiel herself had never, ever seen in her life (that she knew of). And her half-sister, Xercia, was looking to kill her.

Nawiel didn't have words for it. None at all.

In actual fact, she didn't have anything BUT words for it. Words form an all too knowledgeable assassin that knew way too much.

Xercia was supposed to have hired him to 'keep her safe' from another assassination attempt, where she supposedly killed four herself, with out much apparent effort.

And now, according to the assassin, she was running around the sewers in a blind rage, looking for her. . . their mother, who was supposed to be an assassin herself.

It didn't make much sense at all, and it made Nawiel wander around the streets in a daze. Which eventually landed her in the Darkwoods district. Why had she gone there? Nawiel couldn't answer that. . . but it was probably related. Because, who in their right mind would hide in a sewer?

[Empoweredfan]

Serious. . .

It hadn't gone well. Not well at all.

Nawiel was walking back to the Darkspire, and fought for breath when she periodically forgot to breathe.

She had run into Sussuri's mother, the matron of house Ravenkin, at the Gloura's. They had talked. . . sort of. . . children had been mentioned, as well as. . . more suitable females for Sussuri. . . All in all, it had been as if the matron took Nawiel emotions in a barrel and rolled it down a steep decent.

Nawiel recoiled slightly as she walked into the side of a building.

A quick look around assured her that she was alone. Looking drunk was never a good idea, not when she was about to enter the city's duergard compound of smiths and metalworkers (petty thieves, one and all).

So she leaned her back against the wall and she tried to get a better idea of what had happened.

Ardulafae had given her blessing in the end, but it was clear that she wasn't happy with Nawiel as a suitable mate for her boy.

The really heart-breaking thing, was that Nawiel much agreed on it. Sussuri was a noble, and she was without a house. . . unless the Dantress was noble in some odd way, which she doubted.

Her own mother, Darin, was an assassin, if what she had heard was to be trusted. Assassins didn't belong to noble houses, because they could usually afford to have someone else do the killing.

Then again, it could just be that Xercia was messing with her head in a way that made mind flayers sane by comparison. It should not be put past her to do something like that.

Getting back to what was important, she was still without a house and future prospects. Ardulafae was right. She had little to offer the house, nothing but herself and what she could do. . . and being able to do conjuring tricks with coins with one hand, and pick peoples pockets with the other probably wasn't the sort of skills that House Oreb'le'i wanted.

And then there were the mentioning of children. . .

Which scared Nawiel to the bone. . . primarily because she had absolutely no idea how to raise children. . . what to do with them. . . what to teach them?

'Don't put limbs inside a Gnoll's mouth on a dare'. . . 'If someone's hands are less than an inch from a blade, there is a very good possibility that they are going to try and draw them. Especially if the blade is bloody already.' . . . probably not the pearls of wisdom that was relevant to a noble house.

What else could she contribute? She knew people. . . pirates, actors . . . a keeper of candles that she was reasonably sure didn't know that Nawiel was a dark elf. Who else?

There was her contacts within the Bregan. . . truly, she had little to offer that the family couldn't get easily themselves.
There was only one thing for it. . . she needed to get rich. Filthy rich. She needed to make herself a suitable mate for Sussuri by any means she could muster. Either that, or get a proper position within the city, and even Nawiel herself knew that was both a long way off, and a great deal more dangerous to herself, and the city at large.

There was nothing to it. . . Nawiel needed to learn how to make coin multiply, and not just disappear.

[Empoweredfan]

Broken. . . .

Nawiel felt out of breath. . .

Which was very strange, because the delivery was made hours ago, and she was enjoying her new-found wealth.

Over one hundred thousand for a simple delivery. . . well, not that simple. . . perhaps eventful would fit better.

There had been some fighting involved. . . when she could not avoid it. There had been several times along the way when she could have slit the throats of those that would do her harm. . . which was bad. Not needed. . . unnecessary.

And then there was the pointed teeth lady. . . scary woman in the shadows. And the draining sensation. . .

Her breath was heavy, as she sat there toying with her reward. It was so much. . . and she was happy to have it. . . happy. . . She even liked the tasty alu. . . even though she had been used somewhat. . . and she hadn't managed to bite her as hard as she hoped. . .

And the angel. . . that warned her not to work with them further. . . which she wouldn't. . . why could she not reveal her presence to the divine creature? She had wanted to. The urge to step forward and say, 'here I am', was there. . . then quenched, deflated. . . gone.

Her anger at this had disappeared as well. Along with the voice in her head. The new one. . . the bad one that talked about pigeons. How she wished she could take it out and place it under her chair leg. . . and then sit on the chair. . .

Still, she had her gold. . . so much gold. . . the wealth she needed. . . but why did it feel so hollow to hold?

No, that wasn't right. . . It didn't feel hollow. It felt wonderful to actually have enough coin to finance some of her ideas for once.

With this, she could probably buy some slaves and have. . .

She blinked uncertainly. Slaves? Nawiel didn't want slaves. She would never want slaves

She rolled a single coin, a large solid gold coin, back and forth between her fingers. It was A great deal. So much money, just to see a scary pointy teethed lady of Ravens. . . that had done something to make the floor eat her. . . and she had lied.

Well, not answered her when she asked if it would be in one piece. . . which she didn't think she did.

Her eyes turned back towards the gold coin. It truly was a big shiny coin. . .

Later that evening.

She hadn't returned to the Oreb'le'i compound. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to do so, not now.

It was strange. She had wealth now. She had a good reason to show her face there. She had something to offer the family. She knew that she was right for the second boy. . . and he was hers. . .

But. . . she couldn't. It wasn't the same as when she couldn't reveal herself to the angel. That had been involuntary. . . hadn't it? What if it was what she truly wanted? Why? She had nothing to fear from angels. . . had she?

An angel had saved her life on the surface once. . . and this one had warned the dark, that she should not work for the aAu or the Raven Lady again. . . so, why had she not managed to step forward to heard it out?

And then there was her anger. . .

The moment she entered the city, it had disappeared. Gone, to be replaced by . . happiness. A happiness that she now had deduced, was hollow as the happiness of the drunkard.

All she could think of at the time was to get back to the wing, have her reward from the beautiful Alu. . . and taste the tail. . .NO, bite the tail. BITE the tail. . . but she hadn't, had she. Not really. She could bite harder than that. . .

That was supposed to be the whole reward. . .not the coins. . . she didn't want the coins before entering the city. . . had she? Why hadn't she? There worth in regular currency was just about one hundred thousand. . . Few could boast such a reward for an evenings work. . .

As she sat there, in the sole chair in her room. . . her stomach turned. . . and flipped. . . and jumped and in other ways made her feel nauseous.

But. . . had she done something wrong? She didn't think so. . . not unless you counted not revealing herself to an angel. . . and just stay hidden, safely in the dark.

. . . The dark that had never seemed 'that' safe before this evening. . .

She rubbed her eyes. She wanted to throw up, but she didn't know why. Her whole body was tense, as if knowing something she didn't.

Then there was the Alu. . . had she forced her will upon her? If she had, Nawiel didn't much care. . . or did she? The voice said she did. . . wanted to stick so many daggers in the alluring creature, that it would resemble a sacrifice to lolth. . .

She twisted in her chair. Tears started falling. What had been done to her? She didn't want it dead? She didn't want anyone dead. . . did she?

The Next cycle.

Her mood had not changed. . . she had not found peace during meditation. She only ever managed to roll herself up, hugging her legs to her, as her body tried to remember how to feel. . . not broken.

It wasn't. Her body wasn't broken. Not her body. Her mind on the other hand. . .

. . . something was very wrong with her mind. . . and it all started with that blasted alu creature, and the money. . . the money that she could not use for what it was intended. . . and it still made her happy to have. . .

She could not use it to show Ardulafae that she was deserving of her son. It was not right. . . it was hers. . . ? The selfish thought crept up on her like a shadow.

Said money, a pouch of large currency lay in the furthest corner of her room. Carelessly thrown there, in a burst of unexpected anger that she could not really feel. She had shouted at several of the smiths when she entered, startling them with such an unexpected outburst.

She squeezed her legs, holding on to them as if they were a lifeline to reality. . . where Nawiel knew that she had been used. . . knew that she had let her guard down. . . knew that her will. . . had been stolen. . .

A frustrated scream resonated in the Duergard living quarters, where she held lodging. Door shut by a dagger wedged under it, stopping it from opening.

She had been used. . . she understood it. . . her worst nightmare. . . and she did not like the idea. She really didn't, no matter how much she believed that she really didn't care. . . That all was well with being enthralled, that nothing bad had happened. . .

. . . it was wrong. . .

Nawiel felt violated. Used. Tricked. . . abused. . . and whatever happiness held sway, whatever joy she felt about the reward was replaced with sadness.

The second voice had been an invader. . . something from the outside. . . and again, Nawiel wished she could hurt it. . . like she entertained actually stealing Sussuri from the Oreb'le'i family. . . to just take him from them, instead of working for their approval. . .

. . . she knew that she held sway over him. The more she tried to grant him a measure of control in their relationship, the more sway she felt she had. He agreed to near anything. . .

. . . and now, Nawiel didn't even approve of herself. . .

It was a battle to organise her thoughts and searching her will, which she no longer trusted to be her own, but she knew that she needed to speak to the angel. . . she may not want to, but she did. . . at the moment. . . she needed to speak to the angel. . .

. . . and the only way to talk to an angel. . . was to speak to. . . a priestess. . . that meant her sister Chalithra, who wasn't very easy to find these days. . . or possibly. . . Ardulafae Oreb'le'i. . . Sussuri's mother. . .

. . . she knew that she feared the Marton of the house. . . but why did the prospect of meeting the angel cause dread? What could it say?

She stopped moving. Laying perfectly still, listening.

The voice in her head was silent now. Having shouted at her the entire evening before. Saying that she was foolish. She hadn't been cautious enough. . . telling her to go and buy the most deadly dagger she could find, and go hunt the Raven Lady down, and shove it into her back.

It had even raved on about buying assassins, mages. . . anything. That she needed to act.

It had rambled on about laws. . . that she knew her mind was invaded by a none-drow. . . which was disrespectful. . . that the city would deal with the creature. . .

It was a torment to think that the only thing that really felt normal since meeting the Alu, was her argument with herself. That it would lead others to invade her mind, to see her secrets. . . to make her will not her own. . .

She tossed around, crying again.

How could she trust her own feelings now? She had been angry, and then suddenly, been as happy as she could ever be. It hadn't seemed strange at the time. . . but which emotion was her?

And then. . . the angel. . .she couldn't move. . . had she even wanted to? She had? But she hadn't moved? What if she didn't want to speak to the angel, and someone else had tried to move. . .

what if the anger had been someone else's doing, and entering the protective wards of the city had dispelled them?. . .

What if her panic attack now was just a continuing of the intrusion of her mind. . . ? What if. . .

What if she wasn't really Nawiel. . . perhaps she was actually Darin Dantress. . . ? She might be. . . No, but she had been Nawiel so long. . . why. . . Jr'eine. . . the name wasn't real. . . what if Nawiel wasn't either. . .

In the back of her head, the voice spoke. . .

“Beware. . .beware. . . the alluring fiend. . . her words are like honey. . .but she will poison your deed. “

And bit by bit, Nawiel broke. Her thoughts shattered, taking themselves apart. Removing her from what she knew to be herself.

. . . Catch a thief. . . cut off her hand. . . she is stolen. . . my mind. . . my mind. . .

. . . Nawiel, Nawiel, standing in the shade. . . in which shadow does she lurk, when time is so grave.

. . . beware, beware, the alluring fiend. . . her words are like honey. . .but they will poison your deed. . .

beware, beware. . . the creepy dark voice. . . did it hold sway, or was it her choice. . .

beware. . . beware. . . the ugly old crow, teeth like needles, giving darkness hungry form. . .

[Empoweredfan]

Nawiel groaned when she woke on the cold stone floor. She had blacked out during the kicking, and she was slowly coming to the realization that guarding had to be some of the least exciting thing the warriors of the city could possibly do. They had to be really bored to get excited about beating up prisoners that couldn't do anything in return.

She didn't make any more noise after that, though she had to bite her teeth together not to do so when she crawled back towards the wall. Sussuri got really agitated when she did, which in turn, would make the guards start on him again.

Her poor Sussuri probably got worse than her. He fought them back. . . and from the sound of it, gave them more reason to be a lot rougher. All because of her. . .

Sussuri denied it, tried to comfort her as best he could, but Nawiel knew that her focus had been wrong. . . and the merchant, the dear masked merchant had paid a lot for trying to get Nawiel her sought after revenge.

Had Nawiel been thinking straight, she would have known better than to seek the temple of the spider for service. The Merchant too probably, but the temple had been the fattest merchant, and changed the agreement behind their back. . . No more the office of the many legged priestess, but in the temple itself, which wasn't what it was supposed to be. . .

Because, the moment the child appeared, everything changed. She had to close her eyes and take a few deep calming breaths that didn't stop her hands from shaking. The poor child's screams would haunt her forever, and she wished she had been a little faster, that she could have reached the lesser she devil before the Balor had.

She wished. . . that she could save it. . .

Soft whimpers resonated in her cell, and she quieted herself after the realisation. Sussuri hadn't stirred yet, which both worried her and reassured her that he hadn't heard. She didn't want him to take another beating.

She believed that Sussuri would get out of this, but wasn't so sure about herself, but he was more important than her. His connections with the seventh circle, his own house and the work he did for the city. . . he was more or less a city employee.

And to herself . . . he was the most important thing of all.

. . . and Nawiel was already thinking on how she could grant the Masked Merchant a semblance of justice. . . Not revenge, but to try and make her actions appear less damning than the temple of lolth wanted to make it appear.

The most important thing there, was the notion of human sacrifices so close to the Bazaar. Even Nawiel knew that was as poor an idea as it was possibly to have in a city where trade was so important. . . she just hoped the conclave would see it that way.

Sacrificing children. . . if human traders from the surface had witnessed it, word would spread. . . not even the most desperate would risk being cut open just to visit the city's pride and joy. If anything, the masked merchant had been protecting the city's interest by breaking the law.

. . . actually, if any creature with even a semblance of heart discovered it, the trade in the city could possibly receive a severe blow. . . alienating the customers that had money to spend, and they would be forced to lower the prices. . .

As for her and Sussuri. . . that was the result of a desperate situation, and an issued command to run for it. . . and they got back. . . simply a matter of survival.

The thought depressed her. The child had not survived . . . and she felt helpless. . . what could they have done?

. . . not sought revenge was the answer. . . and it was true. The fiend had won. . . and now Nawiel didn't care about it. She could deal with that if the need ever crossed her path. Just remember and prepare.

. . . there was no justice to be had in revenge. Only preparation and make things more difficult for those that sought power over others.

Now she could only hope that the conclave would think this an opportunity to take power from the temple. Live sacrifices in the city. . . scaring away trade. . .

And if she got out alive. . . one child was lost. . . there were more that should be saved. . . a lot more. . .

Now where did the temple put their sacrifices before use. . . or even, where did they steal them from?

[Empoweredfan]

Nawiel stumbled towards the Oreb'le'i compound in a tired shuffle.

Trying to verify that the alu-fiend were at the darkwoods had been, according to it, a trap. And it was a trap. . . a trap that left Nawiel near unable to walk at this point, even after drinking several potions designed for recovery. Though the bleed had stopped and the poison was out of her system, her arm wasn't healed.

It still sported a large ugly wound where the fiend has stabbed her. . . and twisted her blade . . . repeatedly.

Dizziness overcame her for a second and she fell to her knees, and the landing rattled her arm enough that she felt paralysed and unable to contain the whimper that escaped her. The fiend. . . had hunted her. Tricked her. . . hurt her.

It was evil, Nawiel knew. The laughter had rattled her core. . . and if not for the geas. . . she was sure that she would have just tumbled into the water to die.

As it was, she had to drag herself out of the district on her hand and knees, fighting blood-loss that still affected her all the while being taunted and shouted at by a creature that was beyond redemption.

It still rattled her that she had been spotted. . . even when she was so careful. . . it made her feel useless. Not even a golden opportunity to pick her pocket. . . when the fiend had bitten her in the mouth, had been successful.

She was pretty sure that was why she had done so much to her arm. . .

Struggling to her feet again, she resumed her journey to the compound where she should have gone the moment that she was released. She had to tell them that Sussuri would come home. That was important.

And then. . . well, she couldn't die. . . and apparently, she could not hide either. The thought of how the fiend had worked her like a tool. . . it was disheartening. . . she was lucky to have survived the encounter. . .

The only thing she could think to do, was tell the authorities. . . because the fiend had done something stupid for once. It had left Nawiel alive.

She would have to consult the Matron of the Oreb'le'i, if her status as an accused would make it impossible for her to accuse the fiend for assault. . . assault on a citizen of Sshamath. . . violence in the streets. . . dishonouring natives. . . that was three charges right there. . . and a witness that was drow. . .

She would not act before thinking this time. . . she needed counsel. . . she needed rest. . . she needed to see Sussuri safe first. . .

. . . but for the first time. . . Nawiel felt like she might have something to go on. Oreb'le'i was a noble house, and she was, not exactly part of the family, she was part of the house. . . and as it was, it had been an assault on one of theirs by a non-citizen. . .

Another step dispelled her hopes, as pain once more shot up her arm. The potion had healed every other outward sign of hurt, but the would on her arm. . . by the feel of it, had started to bleed again. She knew that there were more injuries though. Her ribs felt sore.

It took her forever to reach the gates, and another eternity before she was let in.
The guards at the gate were suspicious, even though they had seen her before. It would seen that it wasn't just Ardulafae that was angry with her.

Still she was let inside, and the moment she was, it felt as if safety rolled a blanket over her for the first time in weeks.

Sussuri would be home soon. He was to be released from torture when he woke. . . she had to tell them.

And she did. To the guards. That done, not even the geas could keep her conscious any more. . .


She didn't know when she last woke. But she had been moved to a bed. Sussuri's bed to be exact.

But it wasn't Sussuri that was looking at her when she opened her eyes. She could see the daughter Les'en Oreb'le'i looking at herself in the mirror. . . . her sister. . .

Les'en turned around, smiled happily. . . and then the pain of treatment began.

As the heiress of the Oreb'le'i worked on her recovery with frighteningly strong hands, Nawiel had time to both curse and muse on what had happened. Because, there were one thing that stood out, even from the pain.

She was alive. She had prayed for it. A short and hurried prayer before the fiend had started to cut. A prayer that she would live. . . . and she wasn't dead. Not yet.

. . . A hunter turned hunted was prey. . . but when the hunted knew. . . then the hunter wasn't prey. . . but bait. . .

She would not be stupid again.

[Storm Munin]

Dazzled and pained he slowly made his way through the streets of Sshamath. His body in just about the same state of turmoil as his mind.

The throb from the mutilated hand beating steadily along with his head aches while the jolts of misery from his midsection everytime he made another step told of failing ribs. The gaolers of Sshamath had not treated him kindly. What coherency there was left to his thoughts lingered on finding his way home.

His thoughts was a mess, he did not understand how he.. they had ended up in this situation. Sure, Nawiel had done some crazy stuff in the past but this.. this was not good.

Who was this demongirl and what had she done to Nawiel really?
Ruby eyes shining like jewels in the shadows between light and darkness, a lithe body spinning, a giggle whispered to his ear.
Was there a reason to what seemed to be a betrayal by the spiderkissing priestesses beside deceit and spite in general?
Was Nawiel sane? Saner now than before?
What had been on the shopkeeper's mind when the Gate was opened..to the Abyss?
A bag, why.. no, not important was it? a child crying out.
Why was Lolth claimed to be so pleased by feeding on souls of the poor human child and the unlucky shopkeeper?
Cries of dying succubi beneath his blades, Nawiel's curses as her daggers didnt bring the Balor down, tiny limbs tumbling aflame through the red mists, demonic laughter.
Why had the sadistic officer of the watch in the jail stolen his guild ring?
Agony, confusion, horror. laughing males.
The visit by the demoncur to taunt Nawiel, was it intentional, was there meaning beyond the glee? What made the death of the angel so important as to bring remains to Nawiel in jail?
Anger, hate, fangs between full lush lips, snide words and a prancing tail.
It all just didnt make any sense.

He shook his head, crying out as frsh sharp pains coursed through his brain.
For now what mattered was getting home.
Maybe his mother or the Circle had answers, maybe not, it wasnt important at the moment.
Breathing and Nawiel was.

Left, then right...


The city of Dark Weaving stood as mute and silent as ever in the eternal darkness of the underdark.

[Empoweredfan]

:This will be hard to follow for anyone, I think. Think of it as jumbled thoughts, which it more or less is.:

Rag-Doll. . .

Nawiel could not enter reviere. Not now. . .

All of her hurt. Her neck burned every time it hit the pillow, and her back, she just knew it had to be a mess. She could not stand to touch anything with it, not even a blanket to cover herself.

The only mercy, or perhaps Xercia's aim, had left her face nearly free from scaring by the whip. . . nearly. . .

Sussuri was lost to reviere already, from exhaustion and pain. Where Xercia's strikes had been fast and precise, Valaklith. . . she had made sure to cover the gentle male all over.

Green slashing lines marked his face, throat, back and chest. . . her poor poor Sussuri had been under the hands of a tiny monster this cycle. And Nawiel would remember it on the day that Valaklith was taken by the younger spiders, who would in time be devoured by their own underlings. . . if only Nawiel could be sure to live that long.

With a slight shift, new pain shot up her spine, and she hissed into the pillow.

Almost at once, Sister Chalithra was there, hushing gently at Nawiel and stroking her hair.

Chalithra was crying, but Nawiel did not know why. Sure, the scars were there, but they would probably fade in time. Chalithra had enabled them to stand, and without her, they would probably still be crawling away from the city of dark weaving.

. . . Chalithra kept making the same soothing noises, but her breath was jumping and what she managed was fairly fragmented. Nawiel realized she was staring at her, and blinked to dispel the notion.

She tried to smile. Still didn't manage to make it a true smile though. . .

As her sister stroked her hair, Nawiel relaxed again. Her sister was back. . . things would be well.

With Chalithra there. . . they were safe. . . they could stop worrying for a moment. . .

As soon as reviere caught her, Nawiel saw the events of the day. Pain and horror, evil so strong that it chocked the air and made her stomach crawl. Reasons without reason and petty children marinated in evil and given power. . . then there was pain.

The pain of Sussuri and Akornita repeated itself upon her inner eye, as memories of her own pain faded into the void that kept such things away from her. Again and again, she saw Sussuri turn and scream out in pain as Valaklith struck. . . again and again.

Urged by a temple that made the fiend look like a little street bully in comparison. As thoughts of the fiend drifted in, visions of another, shorter, but slightly more pleasant memory entered.

The fiend had come. Come to gloat. . . come to taunt. Come to bring Nawiel dark fears of her own fault.

It was all lies, she knew. What had happened was as much a construction from the temple and those in power as anything. A play for power from the conclave, the temple and the seventh circle. . . and they were all children.

The fiend who had come to gloat, had tasted the blessed light this cycle. She hadn't known, but she did it herself. All Nawiel had done, was give her the bottle. . . . the bottle filled with a pale green and blessed light.

Memories drifted to another incident. A month or so in the past. To a darkness that stole something from Nawiel, and tricking her to think the shadows were safe. It was still tricking her, because fiends lurked in the darkness. . . but now Nawiel knew.

Her memory travelled forward again, to the events of the cycle. . .

Back in the passage, she saw the Alu-fiend play with the bottle of Undermountain brew. The best of Skullport, the silvery liquid with the pale green glow. Sweet, with a nutty after-taste. Nawiel's favourite.

Had the fiend known it was blessed, she would never have drunk from the bottle, but she did. Tasted the blessed light. . . and reacted badly.

With yet another spike of sharp pain, Nawiel's perspective came back to the real world.

Akornita lay by the fire. Scared and barely alive. . . the merchant had managed to construct an argument towards the pain, and though Nawiel did not know if she had won or lost in the end. . . she was a near casualty to the whims of the whip.

. . . she did not deserve it. . . no matter if she had raged and insulted her way into a triple punishment. . . twice more than Nawiel and Sussuri had endured. . .

. . . it was nearly enough to make her forget that until the trial, the merchant had been dead. Last seen in the burning embrace of demons. . . only to end her journey back into violent children’s hands. . .

. . . her thoughts travelled to the conclave. . . and if they had managed to resurrect her from nothing, only to stand trial for their amusement. . . and it stung. Nawiel's perspective had been so wrong, about so many things. . . and she hoped that she would be able to learn from this. . . which in turns would mean that she had to be able to live. . .

. . . Her thoughts drifted to the memory of the Alu-Fiend drinking the light, and spitting blood.

Nawiel had not wanted that. In her own way, it was meant to put something of the light in the fiend, as the dark she had found in the ruins had taken something from Nawiel. . . which was of no consequence. Poetic justice or not, the fiend did not matter.

Sussuri and Akornita's pain was important. . .

The pain of whips and cruelty, of a city that was one declaration of war away from being in a civil war with itself. One sanctioned attack from a clergy of Lolth, and Sshamath would no longer be a city of mages. It would belong to the Spider Queen. . .

It was a lost city. Trade no more ruled it than the blood thirsty mobs that roamed it. . . and if traders wanted the city to rob them, that was their choice.

Nawiel was through with it, and since she have no reason to go back there, banishment sounded like a wonderful thing. . . thought she didn't really want to hunt anything for their amusement.

Impossible creatures, it would no doubt be, so she feared an impossible hunt as well.

. . . why else send them after anything for their amusement?

Nawiel felt herself lost in reviere again. Lost to memories that shaped themselves oddly and meant more than they should.

. . . She saw Sussuri being hit, again and again, by a long chain, attached to a child. No not Sussuri. . . a precious thing. An old stuffed bear, but . . no it was still Sussuri. Her most precious person. In pain, dealt by the chained child.

The merchant was there as well. Being hit by the same child. Again and again, the chain hit the merchant. A merchant that expanded and grew fat, a kind old woman, but not a kind old woman.

She was the stern bringer of trade, a trader. . . but her mind was addled. Not right. . . slightly deluded. Her words had fallen on ears that wanted to hear something else. . . poor masked merchant. . . she had endured too much. . . and her scars, though the same, they were not the same.

Nawiel and Sussuri were green striped tigers in comparison. . . the Merchant was scarred with tissue as well. . . something more had been done. . . she had more green than black on her. . . But sister Chalithra would find the way. . . she would help them. She said she would. . .

. . . but Nawiel's heart was still heavy with the realization of the day. . .

. . . It wasn't easy to live in a world of cruel children. . .

. . . not when you finally realize. . . that you are nothing but a rag-doll. . .

[Empoweredfan]

Six stones:

Four stones danced in a repetitive pattern, sailing gently through the air to the music of running water.

They were supposed to be six, but the fifth one was causing trouble, and the sixth was all but impossible to get to cooperate.

Four stones on the other hand, swam through the air like dancing fish in the rivers of the surface.

Nawiel didn't even have to look at them. . . she just had to make sure they went the right way.

Her wounds had stopped hurting too much. They were still uncomfortable, but the burning had stopped, and she hoped it was a sign of recovery. . . which enabled her to chase important things. . . such as juggling.

She had always been able to juggle. . . since she was taught it by Kripher the Kobold. . . but she had never juggled six items at once before, which now could be instrumental for her survival.

One by one, she caught the stones, and the river concealed the noise of them hitting the ground when they eventually did. Or each other when she caught them.

It was the reason why she did this by the river in the first place. She had learned early on that the beasts out here hunted by sound. . . and sharp sounds travelled.

Once she had them all, not having dropped any at all, which she felt slightly smug for. . . she picked up the fifth one again.

Then she started once more. . .

The first stone entered the air in a gentle arc, as the second followed it. The third was thrown so she could catch the first one and a moment later the forth entered the air as the second was caught. The fifth had also left her hand at that time. . . to be followed by the second and then the first. . .

It was a clockwork operation. Every stone occupying the space it needed for the pattern to form.

She needed to move around a bit to keep the stones airborne, but after vivid practice with the first four, the fifth had started to behave itself.

And it did. . . for well over two minutes, before the second stone slipped off the end of her fingers, and caused the others to follow.

Still, it was an improvement.

Nawiel looked around to see if anything was watching her, or tried to sneak up on her. . . but there were only Go Rok, who calmly watched over her like he always did. Calm as the terrain around him.

His cloak was coated in dried blood still, and Nawiel had planed to try and clean it a bit later. . . not that she stood any chance of actually getting the blood out of the fabric. . . it was too old for that. But she might be able to rub some of the dry coating that it seemed to retain with a stone.

Might make it easier for the rock man to get a hold of it, which was how he got his pack off most of the time.

Time. . . which they had in abundance. The Conclave had not, as far as she knew, given them a time limit. . . probably to give them time to actually pay the city before going to their death in the lowerdark. . .

She stopped practising.

The past months had taught her more about her own kind than she ever wanted to know.

They were children. . . no matter the power they could possess. . . they were nothing but chained children.

Those that had power over others would flaunt it at every opportunity, or try to trap other into their power. . . and Nawiel felt like an outsider in the face of the notion of always looking to improve ones standing. . .

She understood the reason for it. Felt it herself even. . . but she could not help but see the glaring weaknesses such a society betrayed.

There were no trust. There were no real alliances. . . and when all was said and done. . . the fiend had been right. Drow, was possibly the weakest race of all, in the squabble for power and positions of authority.

. . . her own half sister had bartered her soul away to demons for temporary power. . . which would damn her the moment she died.

And then there was the sadistic streak she had been on the receiving end of. . . since her meeting with the fiend. . .

A fiend that twisted minds and feelings. . .

Nawiel believed it when it had said, that it didn't even lift a finger. She hand managed to damn herself in her confusion. Trusted others too much, revealed weaknesses and paid the price. . .

Nawiel noticed that she had stopped breathing and took a deep breath.

There was no good reason to dwell on past slights, even things that scared her witless. . .

The fiend would die by some other creatures hands. Something more evil. . . it was the way it worked. . . like spiders. The young ate their mothers, and before that the mother ate the father. . .

At least she would die with a bit of light in her. . . as much good it would do.

To get her thoughts of it, she turned to the future. A future that involved juggling. Juggling, hopefully deception on her end. . . and possibly entertainment that the conclave would feel worthy enough to keep them living. . . long enough to find a way to remove the geas that they'd put on her, Sussuri and Akornita.

Once more she started the the dance of stones. Stones gently flying through the air, and Nawiel keeping pace underneath them. This was important, just like she would need to find it in herself to be quicker than the stones. Quicker, and secure in her movements.

Enough so that they would continue their dance, for long enough, that she would be able to start another dance of her own, before their first misstep without her.

. . . the clock kept ticking, as the stones skipped and danced. The fifth working like a charm. . .

. . . a charm. . . a thought that had her drop the stones and throw up into the river.

. . . it was Goshgosh, the kind Orc, all over again. . . but with no Anna to violently stab the creature in the throat.

Nawiel looked into the river, as her vomit drifted down the stream. It was now time to go somewhere else. Something would smell that, or taste it and follow it to where she was. It was how the Underdark worked.

Smells and sounds indicated life, and thus prey. Predators would come, and she would not want to be their prey. . . and Go Rok did not need to kill everything that came for her.

So it was with a sigh, and wobbly feet that she gathered up her stones. All six of them, and started to move in the direction of the caverns west of Varallas. They did not stay there, but it was as good a rout as any.

. . . and without thinking, she started to be evasive. Moving close to a wall, letting her cloak take on the grey hue of the stone behind her. Her feet did not make any sound, and only her pauses to let Go Rok catch up betrayed her position.

Learning to survive out here had been another lesson. One she was far from finished with. . . but every precaution was needed, and to one such as her, undetected was the best way to travel.

With Go Rok though, it was not an easy task. As formidable a fighter as he was, stealth was not his strength. At best, he could stand still, and some creatures would think him a piece of terrain. . . few did though. He smelled of old blood, and thus dead food. . . how wrong those creatures were.

Nawiel was under no illusion of Go Rok being a loyal companion. He was a mercenary, and paid to be there. . . but unlike many others, she knew that there was real wisdom lurking behind his half-closed eyes.

A wisdom that only those who bothered to try and put his words together would notice. . . and few others did.

Go Rok, could very well be her friend, but for payment, he would attack her. She knew it. Just like the Seller of Swords would. . .

She let her thoughts drift as she made her way to the camp for the coming two cycles.

The scars didn't hurt as much as they had. More a dull ache than pain. Sister Chalithra had not said when they would be gone, so Nawiel assumed that they would heal naturally. . . which she hoped.

She did not like to look like this for Sussuri, though he didn't seem to mind. It just bothered her in a vain sort of way. His scars didn't look too bad either, though they covered his form more than hers. The 3 lines on his face was not pretty to look at, but they did make him look dangerous and experienced as a warrior.

He was of course, though those marks were not of combat. He had plenty of those as well, but the marks they shared was made by a whip, and not in any battle. Luckily, they would never rob his eyes of their beauty.

Nawiel edged around a stalagmite to avoid the distant form of an Umber Hulk, and resigned herself to a side tunnel to avoid it. Quiet feet soon to be followed by muffled thuds, from Go Rok, whom she had seen fit to put sacks of heavy cloth on, over his boots. It didn't help too much, but there were no echo from his steps any more.

It was strange. Nawiel had always been houseless. Never cared about it much either. She had made friends. . . or friendlies, was probably the best word for it. People that found her useful alive, and liked her company. . . and she had never made herself a threat to anyone so there had been no reason to betray that trust.

Now that Nawiel had found a house to care for, she had ended up hurting more than she could ever have imagined, even in her worst nightmares. Because she felt violated by the fiend. . . a fiend she was lothed to admit, she sort of admired.

It had played her in many ways, and Nawiel did not like it in any of them. Nearly hated it, in fact. . . but she still admired how it played not just her, but everyone. Wizards, warriors. . . now, if Valaklith was a good indicator, the temple.

Somehow, either through intelligence or guile, it had made Sshamath her plaything. . . and Nawiel was sure that it would have the city dancing to it's tune before long. . . which she didn't want to happen.

. . . if only there were any way to make it repent. . . which she knew was impossible. The Creature was evil to the bone. It delighted in suffering and wanted to cause pain for the heck of it. Not a creature to see the light of Selûne. Even when it was poured down it's throat.

. . . the sickening part, was that if not for the intrusion, for charming her, Nawiel would probably have 'really' been happy about receiving the payment. . . instead of it feeling like being paid for a violation of her very being, making her feel like an unwilling pleasure girl. . . which just made her feel sick.

The creature was beautiful to behold, but her way of being made her sickening beyond belief. . . which in retrospect probably made her near every drow male's desire. No wonder it was so successful. . .

Nawiel didn't mind admitting it. It was beautiful, even if it was too large and plump. . . would have looked much better with bird-wings though.

A notion that she knew to be foolish. . . . all she could really do was to learn to juggle. To juggle and to entertain, so that if she ended up in a desperate situation, she could turn the world against her enemies in a light worthy of the dawn. To know her world better. . .

Her eyes travelled to the cavern roof. The rock was not solid everywhere.

Some places it was crumbled, fallen to the ground so long ago that what was originally there had been carried away by either water or creatures of the darkness.

She could see it where the edges were sharp and angular. Different than the more usual, smooth walls around her. If she were to hazard a guess, she would have said that water had made that.

Carved out the tunnels when the tunnels was new and formed by the river that had carved out a different and calm path this close to the city.

It had been long ago though. The jagged edged where rocks had fallen was numerous, and very few tunnels remained unmarked by them. Also, the stalagmite and stalactites were normal, and Nawiel knew them to be very slow to form.

She had taken it upon herself to study and measure a stalagmite over a period of six years back in Skullport, and in all that time, even with dripping water, the thing had not grown. Not that she could notice at any rate.

From the size of some of those around her, not to mention those that hid the temple in Sshamath, the cavers was really, really old.

. . . Nawiel wasn't. She didn't know how old she was. . . only that she was not yet a hundred. It might be in two years, it might be in fifteen. . . she had no real idea. Possibly Darin Dantress knew, but she only had the word of a barter mage and a lapdog that the mother of Xercia was hers as well.

It made for a really poor case of argument and possibly just a means to manipulate her when it was convenient. Xercia was capable of such a ruse. . . all in all, it was possibly more probable than it being the truth.

Magic was a tool she knew how to use, and Nawiel did not. Nawiel could only sense, and at times manipulate the shadows around her. More a puppet show than magic. . . and for that, Nawiel was glad.

Magic misused, and she considered all drow use of magic as misuse. Manipulation of the minds of others, desecration of soul and body or just destroy others for the heck of it.

In Nawiel's point of view, the only useful magic the drow possessed, was the ability to shape and form the rocks around them. That would be useful. . . but as it were, Nawiel had to limit herself to using bombs.

Once more she turned to watch the formidable Go Rok approach.

He had been right. . . in so many things.

And it did not bother Nawiel to agree. The world they lived in, was truly amazing. Magic could create and destroy, but the world remained. As indifferent to who it housed as it was unimpressed by all the powers some creatures could possess. More ancient than even the gods.

But it was not a simple thing. Stones were not the same. Some were brittle, some crumbled. . . others harder than steel. One could read the stone, and study it's mood by careful examination and watch for the divides. Where one stone met another, and what mood ruled from area to area.

What stone would fall, and what stone would stand. . .

Perhaps, if she could master the world, she might be able to master ways to make her and Sussuri's lives worth something again. . . and the first thing needed for this to happen, was to learn to dance the sixth stone with the others.

The six stones that was as close to each other in shape and size as she could make them. Six 'stand-in' dancers, to teach Nawiel the dance of the jugglers. . .