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tales_of_faerun2023-08-01 09:13 am
senmut) wrote in tales_of_faerun2023-08-01 09:13 am
Entry tags:
- au: canon divergence,
- author: ilyena_sylph,
- author: sharpest_asp,
- category: gen,
- character: drizzt do'urden,
- character: malice do'urden,
- character: vierna do'urden,
- character: zaknafein do'urden,
- freeform: canon-typical violence,
- rating: teen and up audiences,
- series: oblodra gloom,
- warning: no warnings apply
Oblodra Gloom Part III
Rising Rebellion (3400 words) by Sharpest_Asp, Ilyena_Sylph
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Jarlaxle Baenre, Vierna Do'Urden, Zaknafein Do'Urden, Malice Do'Urden, Kyorl Oblodra, Kimmuriel Oblodra, Triel Baenre
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon Typical Violence
Series: Part 3 of Oblodra Gloom
Summary:
The dragon hadn't been seen in months, Jarlaxle knew. An Oblodra woman had been all but torn apart, and Oblodra had responded with violence over and above anything the remaining Matrons could stomach. There had been no stirring from the dragon itself, or its minions.
It was time. Even with the decimation of the rabble of the common drow, those who were unattached or part of the non-noble Houses, numbers still favored them. And the Matrons were ripe for an all or nothing campaign. Oblodra had won no true allies in her reign of fear, backed by the dragon and its shadow-spawn.
Honestly, because Kyorl had given him such a prime opportunity, his ego almost wished to be there when she was destroyed. If he could just be there as she saw that the child she'd accidentally saved at birth was the author of her downfall.
Such musings, though, got people killed. He'd be fanning the flames where needed, not directly bracing a psychic sociopath with no love of anything but power itself.
As they prepared for the assault, Vierna weighed her options. There was, of course, no guarantee that any of the three of them were going to survive, let alone all of them, but she had to plan that they would. Which meant taking possibly the greatest risk of her life.
She caught Zaknafein's eye and made a quick gesture of 'need to talk' -- he was more than intelligent enough to realize that she meant 'privately' -- and retreated back to her quarters, where she could put the hated whip far from her without it being too suspicious.
Zaknafein wrapped up his inspection; he'd been a martinet the whole time about keeping gear in peak condition, and this was no time to stop. The discipline in these men and women ran far tighter than some of them were used to, but it kept them focused on the goal.
He got to Vierna's room, not long after she did, and shut the door while adding a cantrip for silence to it. Not effective against most spying, but it would keep their voices from carrying that way.
Vierna had been working on the hand-thick side of the top of her table for a few minutes. Her hands made as hot as she could without actively using a spell, she had shaped the mask of her god onto the table. When Zaknafein came in, she turned around from the table and took a step to the side, leaving the image behind her. "When this is over," she asked quietly, "do you want to go back to the House?"
The Masked God's own symbol, drawn by his daughter? His memories cascaded around the loss of a full generation of fighters, or nearly so, and not a few wizards beside them. His eyes narrowed, but... it made sense. Vierna was not as callous or cruel as any of the other priestesses, had taken to the egalitarian natured of the force they'd built well.
"Now that I know both of my children's lives and sanity are hanging on making the right choice," Zaknafein said in as low a voice as he could, "there is no choice to make." That he was pointedly acknowledging having sired her in his reply could be seen as a test, and he was watching her face carefully for any slip.
A smile broke across her lips as he claimed her as daughter, and she nodded her agreement. "I do plan to do everything I can to see our city free of that monster who already destroyed one drow city, but... as soon as possible after..." she shrugged slightly. "The portal to Ched Nasad, then one I know there?"
Zaknafein nodded. "Done quickly enough, we can be through before any matron realizes and sends to one there to apprehend us." Jarlaxle would be busy for a time, but no doubt the man would eventually find them -- for his own reasons. "We'll talk more, after."
"Of course," Vierna agreed, and moved back to lean against the table, blotting out the incriminating emblem with her body heat.
Now they only had to get through the actual battle and get to that portal. 'Only', she thought with an entirely mental laugh. "Until then, my teacher."
"Until then, my student," he said, leaving to return to the needed activities.
Malice tapped the spell-stone with her painstakingly updated map of Menzoberranzan. The mercenary that was coordinating Baenre's rebellion had said the strike was coming soon, to be ready.
The city was more than ready. She had survived another audience with Kyorl Oblodra just a week past, her mental layering defeating — she was certain! — the probes that the psionic witch had brought to bear.
If she had not had to work Zaknafein over so hard, to make him hide his blasphemy, she never would have survived this long under the occupation. For not the first time, she ached for his presence, wishing he would be here to lead the soldiers.
No matter. Dinin was actually a capable leader of the men. Rizzen had improved his own skills intently, and Nalfein had trained more than the usual number to support them with magic. That she only had Maya and a few lesser clerics of the House was no matter. She knew how to work with less.
She sent her page, Nalfein's own son, to deliver news of a House worship in the family chapel. They would stand ready to take back the city, agreeing with the mercenary that the dragon was not in residence to support Oblodra.
It began in the darkest hours. No one had truly managed the spell of Narbondel, and with the shadow miasma that stretched out from the dragon's House, it was never truly day, even by drow standards. The dimming of the faerie lights had remained a custom, a defiant one that honored the old pact of how to manage House Wars.
Even if those had tapered off, as the dragon and Oblodra slowly leeched away lives, or outright destroyed them, the threat remained just under the surface.
The priestesses of Lloth struck first, ahead of the soldiers and wizards, with the culmination of a ritual that had been crafted solely for this invasion. Sixty four priestesses and acolytes, an eight of eight, had prayed endlessly for eight days, offering sacrifices of precious things and captives alike.
As they gave the final chant, tucked away in a space carved out not far from the city, Narbondel itself shrieked on a psionic wave, lancing pain like acid through every single member of House Oblodra, its closest kin-tied lesser Houses, and several in the retinue of the dragon's House, corrupted by experiments there.
With that blow as their beachhead, Jarlaxle and his soldiers, men and women alike, poured into the city from strategic pass walls, to swarm the most dangerous Houses. From that point, the call to arms came up in the Houses he had cultivated to lead the resistance, while the wizards rousted the rabble to join around them, leading them to the slaughter as body shields around the spells they unleashed.
Vierna, as the priestess that had been directly with Jarlaxle for so long, had been spared the ritual. That had been a mercy; however, it meant that she was directly accompanying the assault on House Oblodra under her father's command. Zaknafein wasn't actually visibly present, of course; the Ghost of Menzoberranzan had clerics to hunt.
But his orders were holding, the taut discipline keeping the orders firm. A shield wall at the most vulnerable point of Oblodra's physical defenses held a corridor that the Oblodran cannon-fodder could not get past, and conventional wizards were steadily attacking and breaking the psionic defenses.
She'd lost sight of Drizzt at some point, deliberately on his part, as he had direct orders of his own. While the guardian she had crafted for him was visibly — and audibly — a part of the attack on the House, Drizzt had vanished. So had his astral panther, and the only reason Vierna wasn't fully upset over this was that she had seen Zaknafein talking with him at length before it all began.
She had used her most powerful spell of the day to summon a trio of ice mephits and turn them loose on anyone and anything wearing an Oblodra symbol or that was not drow. Her next most powerful had changed her mouth to give her a spider's fangs and venom, just in case anyone got close enough to harm her physically. It was a very disturbing feeling and she disliked it immensely, but... it was a useful precaution.
The ointment on her eyelids had already been invaluable in piercing the psionic and magical illusions scattered through Oblodra, and she had gone through both of the dismissals she could cast to banish demons released by traps as they forced their way further in. She had picked an assortment of possibly-useful spells as well... but she fully expected she was going to be transmuting them into direct attacks.
The soldiers that were closest to her were fighting with death in their hearts for all that they encountered, better trained by far than even the shadar-kai they found. The zar'thra'rin seemed to reap the most violence, with their deaths made in the most painful way possible if the drow involved wasn't too hard pressed.
Given the bloodline of those present, Vhaeraun was drinking His fill of their agony, whenever Vierna was near enough to it.
How long it took to get into the House proper, none of them could have said, but eventually they secured a staging area inside the walls, and fresh wizards were rushed forward to wreak havoc, eyes gleaming with malevolent intent against the psionicists they found.
A new wave of undead came swarming towards them, and Vierna ducked forward, flinging all of her will at drawing the creatures under her command. More than half fell to her, and she turned them on the others, skeletons and zombies ripping into each other instead of her soldiers -- which was satisfying.
One cheeky fighter grinned at her in passing, and kept moving forward, intent on killing as many of the enemy as he could. It would be a hard battle… but they were ready for it in all the ways they could be.
Kyorl was not a stupid woman despite that she was arrogant in the height of her power. She had a handful of warriors and psionicists with her during the defenses.
She still thought she could win. She had sent with all of her will for the rest of the shadar-kai to strike once every enemy appeared to be committed, to bring the remainder of the zar'thra'rin out of their House.
She could not be aware of every move in this war, could not see as Jarlaxle himself, aided by House Baenre's surviving siblings, had made the site of their former home the nexus of demonic summonings. Yochlol and glabrezu alike were swarming at the command of Lloth Herself to take back full control of Her city.
Some, later, might even say they glimpsed the Goddess in Her drider-like aspect, ripping the dragon-born drow apart.
Now, though, Kyorl was only seeing this as a means to purge her enemies from the city. She could push through the searing pain in her mind, could —
A huge beast, shaped similar to the displacers but lacking certain features suddenly pushed through her web of psionic alarms and traps as if they had not been there, freeing the door. In the time it took for them to land a banishment, the cat had killed over half the occupants of the room, and Kyorl was all but certain the beast had not been the only thing to enter.
"Kimmuriel, attend me n— " she demanded, tried to, as that awareness bloomed into certainty.
Her son turned, in time to see a sword emerge through the woman's chest from behind, barely parsing that a whip had cut off her voice, wrapped tightly around her throat. He bounded over to try and deal with the attacker, conventional spell ready.
A second fighter he'd never noted slammed into him from the side, and a pair of scimitars crossed at his throat.
"Kimmuriel Oblodra," the fighter said. "If you wish to live, surrender. Gromph Baenre has offered you sanctuary."
Kimmuriel considered that, wondered what the fighter was playing at, noting how damned young he looked — and he realized there were only two people breathing that he could hear at all.
Himself and this fighter. Yet … his mother was being removed from the sword by another person, one who was all but invisible to his ears and eyes!
With a calculation of the odds made, Kimmuriel pointedly dropped the material component of the spell, and crossed his arms over his chest… careful of the sharp blades that had yet to move from his throat.
Noise behind him made his spine tense, but it was only allies of the fighter, entering the room to take custody of the Oblodran. Not moments after the soldiers had bound his hands, the swords vanished from his throat… and the fighter withdrew.
Kimmuriel was bemused not to even learn his name, as he awaited the future.
By necessity, Zak had been the one to usher them to a safe point in the city of Ched Nasad, being the only one who had actually gone there. He also happened to know of a Bregan D'aerthe supply depot, that gave them a relatively safe point and the items they need to deal with their injuries.
None of them were unscathed.
Drizzt's guardian had been utterly destroyed, but that had been anticipated, and he did not have need of such any longer.
"Were either of you seen by a Do'Urden?" Zak asked hoarsely.
"I did not see the symbol on anyone," Drizzt answered, slowly easing his bracer off his left arm, almost certain there was a break.
Vierna shook her head. "No, not that I know of -- and I believe I would have known." Frowning, she moved to her brother and held out her hand for his arm. She was going to have to cast the long way, she'd been focused on combat spells for the day, but she thought Vhaeraun would forgive her.
"It can wait for tomorrow," Drizzt said, actually refusing to give it over. Zak found he approved, because his son would defy her on the small things. "I will clean it, make certain to brace it, and you can pray after resting for its healing," he added. "It is the worst of mine."
"He has a point that it can wait; the entry is warded; I happened to have a password for it," Zak pointed out. "We've been going for too long. Clean the wounds, eat a little, drink a little, rest."
Vierna sighed, glaring at her brother and her father, and nodded. "Fine. That's what we'll do, then."
Father and son exchanged a small smile for that victory.
"If we were unseen, and Jarlaxle holds the others to their secrecy -- which I think Triel was intrigued by, but not fighting it -- Malice will not know we live, which is one more safety point for us," Zaknafein reasoned. "The spell was only supposed to break on sight of you or I, Vierna, or being introduced to her son."
"I still don't understand why we had to leave, or why I can't meet my mother," Drizzt said softly.
"Because it is not safe for you or Vierna to live there, ever again," Zak said firmly. "You saw how much joy many of our fighters took in killing. That? Is normal in Menzoberranzan."
Drizzt blanched a little. "And… not what I wish to deal with."
"No," Vierna said, "you don't. I don't entirely understand that, but... it is how you are, and I am not going to see you harmed for it. After I have rested, I will explain why our father says it is not safe there for me, either."
Tomorrow, she could disintegrate the whip Triel had summoned for her.
Triel surveyed the Matrons that had assembled, hiding her disappointment at how many of them were daughters, sometimes mere nieces of the ones that had held the Houses before the dragon.
Ahh -- that was one face of the older Matrons Triel was relieved to see. Malice Do'Urden was, if anything, more intriguing now than when she and her mother set about their plan to let the ancient house rise back to the top of the city.
According to Jarlaxle, Malice believed both Vierna and the Ghost of Menzoberranzan to be dead, and knew nothing of a third-born son. It suited Triel to maintain that pretense; it might one day provide leverage to divert the ambitious woman.
"Every one of us here today must see to the rise of our city, to its defenses," Triel began. "We know the shadar-kai waged war on the illithids of Phanlinksal, but we do not know for certain if they eliminated the elder brain and its swarm of young. The duergar may well mass to attack in an attempt to reclaim the slaves the dragon left.
"Therefore, we must agree, for at least a fighter's generation, to not wage war among ourselves."
The women all seemed to accept that idea; honestly no single house was in shape to war on another. The low-town, where the common drow who had no affiliation lived, would be very quiet and near empty for generations, as the Houses had scooped up the survivors of the wizards' push to flesh out their ranks.
Thirty years of peace between Houses was as far as Triel would be able to push, though, and she knew it.
"And who will rule now, Triel?"
Oh that was a bold one -- House Duskryn, Triel thought, but not the woman she remembered.
"The Houses will each be ranked by the length of time the matron has held leadership," Triel announced, "by Lloth's own wish. House Baenre, having survived and returned with salvation, is the exception here."
She said it firmly, unsurprised at the hissing objections that were snapped off.
"I feel that is a touchstone of tradition worth keeping," Malice said to her fellow rulers, but then… she might very well be the senior-most Matron, making her ruler of the Second House. "It's not as if Baenre, or any of us, will be immune to needing to prove they hold the favor of Lloth once the city is mended, after the thirty years."
Triel did not smile, but oh that was smoothly done, settling ruffled webs of intrigue and spinning new ones in the minds of the others. Yes, it would definitely be to her advantage to watch Do'Urden, and keep the secret -- for now.
"We will meet every eight days, here in our Temple, to further plan our rise," Triel said. "Lloth watches over you all. Go."
Malice declined to move to any of the now open Houses. She might not have the most ostentatious House to display, but the fact she was defended by the thick cave wall behind her, and that they had access to their own water spring were not advantages to give up.
Maya was immediately enrolled at Arach-Tinilith and admonished to excel. Malice had never allowed her the opportunity under Oblodra's heresy. Triel was currently holding both her House as Matron and the High Priestess of Lloth at the temple, but that situation could not last. Triel would have to choose, and Malice could not see her giving up her House.
Dinin, having excelled during his years at Melee-Magthere, was sent back as an instructor, for a time. It was necessary to show she was willing to put her House on the line, by having both younger children at the school. Nalfein, however, was kept close. She trusted him most of the trio.
Rizzen was beginning to bore her, and they had such a nice influx of new men in the ranks…
… Malice smiled, coldly, as she decided that all of her work had led to this moment. Second House, with the First not yet having named an heiress or seemingly even having one on hand?
How far she had come from the too-young, untried Matron of the Fifteenth House. If only Zaknafein could have seen her triumph, despite his own heretical leaning.
Oblodra Gloom
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
* Links will work as parts are revealed
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Jarlaxle Baenre, Vierna Do'Urden, Zaknafein Do'Urden, Malice Do'Urden, Kyorl Oblodra, Kimmuriel Oblodra, Triel Baenre
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon Typical Violence
Series: Part 3 of Oblodra Gloom
Summary:
The city has finally had enough. Zaknafein and Vierna have a needed conversation. And then...
The dragon hadn't been seen in months, Jarlaxle knew. An Oblodra woman had been all but torn apart, and Oblodra had responded with violence over and above anything the remaining Matrons could stomach. There had been no stirring from the dragon itself, or its minions.
It was time. Even with the decimation of the rabble of the common drow, those who were unattached or part of the non-noble Houses, numbers still favored them. And the Matrons were ripe for an all or nothing campaign. Oblodra had won no true allies in her reign of fear, backed by the dragon and its shadow-spawn.
Honestly, because Kyorl had given him such a prime opportunity, his ego almost wished to be there when she was destroyed. If he could just be there as she saw that the child she'd accidentally saved at birth was the author of her downfall.
Such musings, though, got people killed. He'd be fanning the flames where needed, not directly bracing a psychic sociopath with no love of anything but power itself.
As they prepared for the assault, Vierna weighed her options. There was, of course, no guarantee that any of the three of them were going to survive, let alone all of them, but she had to plan that they would. Which meant taking possibly the greatest risk of her life.
She caught Zaknafein's eye and made a quick gesture of 'need to talk' -- he was more than intelligent enough to realize that she meant 'privately' -- and retreated back to her quarters, where she could put the hated whip far from her without it being too suspicious.
Zaknafein wrapped up his inspection; he'd been a martinet the whole time about keeping gear in peak condition, and this was no time to stop. The discipline in these men and women ran far tighter than some of them were used to, but it kept them focused on the goal.
He got to Vierna's room, not long after she did, and shut the door while adding a cantrip for silence to it. Not effective against most spying, but it would keep their voices from carrying that way.
Vierna had been working on the hand-thick side of the top of her table for a few minutes. Her hands made as hot as she could without actively using a spell, she had shaped the mask of her god onto the table. When Zaknafein came in, she turned around from the table and took a step to the side, leaving the image behind her. "When this is over," she asked quietly, "do you want to go back to the House?"
The Masked God's own symbol, drawn by his daughter? His memories cascaded around the loss of a full generation of fighters, or nearly so, and not a few wizards beside them. His eyes narrowed, but... it made sense. Vierna was not as callous or cruel as any of the other priestesses, had taken to the egalitarian natured of the force they'd built well.
"Now that I know both of my children's lives and sanity are hanging on making the right choice," Zaknafein said in as low a voice as he could, "there is no choice to make." That he was pointedly acknowledging having sired her in his reply could be seen as a test, and he was watching her face carefully for any slip.
A smile broke across her lips as he claimed her as daughter, and she nodded her agreement. "I do plan to do everything I can to see our city free of that monster who already destroyed one drow city, but... as soon as possible after..." she shrugged slightly. "The portal to Ched Nasad, then one I know there?"
Zaknafein nodded. "Done quickly enough, we can be through before any matron realizes and sends to one there to apprehend us." Jarlaxle would be busy for a time, but no doubt the man would eventually find them -- for his own reasons. "We'll talk more, after."
"Of course," Vierna agreed, and moved back to lean against the table, blotting out the incriminating emblem with her body heat.
Now they only had to get through the actual battle and get to that portal. 'Only', she thought with an entirely mental laugh. "Until then, my teacher."
"Until then, my student," he said, leaving to return to the needed activities.
Malice tapped the spell-stone with her painstakingly updated map of Menzoberranzan. The mercenary that was coordinating Baenre's rebellion had said the strike was coming soon, to be ready.
The city was more than ready. She had survived another audience with Kyorl Oblodra just a week past, her mental layering defeating — she was certain! — the probes that the psionic witch had brought to bear.
If she had not had to work Zaknafein over so hard, to make him hide his blasphemy, she never would have survived this long under the occupation. For not the first time, she ached for his presence, wishing he would be here to lead the soldiers.
No matter. Dinin was actually a capable leader of the men. Rizzen had improved his own skills intently, and Nalfein had trained more than the usual number to support them with magic. That she only had Maya and a few lesser clerics of the House was no matter. She knew how to work with less.
She sent her page, Nalfein's own son, to deliver news of a House worship in the family chapel. They would stand ready to take back the city, agreeing with the mercenary that the dragon was not in residence to support Oblodra.
It began in the darkest hours. No one had truly managed the spell of Narbondel, and with the shadow miasma that stretched out from the dragon's House, it was never truly day, even by drow standards. The dimming of the faerie lights had remained a custom, a defiant one that honored the old pact of how to manage House Wars.
Even if those had tapered off, as the dragon and Oblodra slowly leeched away lives, or outright destroyed them, the threat remained just under the surface.
The priestesses of Lloth struck first, ahead of the soldiers and wizards, with the culmination of a ritual that had been crafted solely for this invasion. Sixty four priestesses and acolytes, an eight of eight, had prayed endlessly for eight days, offering sacrifices of precious things and captives alike.
As they gave the final chant, tucked away in a space carved out not far from the city, Narbondel itself shrieked on a psionic wave, lancing pain like acid through every single member of House Oblodra, its closest kin-tied lesser Houses, and several in the retinue of the dragon's House, corrupted by experiments there.
With that blow as their beachhead, Jarlaxle and his soldiers, men and women alike, poured into the city from strategic pass walls, to swarm the most dangerous Houses. From that point, the call to arms came up in the Houses he had cultivated to lead the resistance, while the wizards rousted the rabble to join around them, leading them to the slaughter as body shields around the spells they unleashed.
Vierna, as the priestess that had been directly with Jarlaxle for so long, had been spared the ritual. That had been a mercy; however, it meant that she was directly accompanying the assault on House Oblodra under her father's command. Zaknafein wasn't actually visibly present, of course; the Ghost of Menzoberranzan had clerics to hunt.
But his orders were holding, the taut discipline keeping the orders firm. A shield wall at the most vulnerable point of Oblodra's physical defenses held a corridor that the Oblodran cannon-fodder could not get past, and conventional wizards were steadily attacking and breaking the psionic defenses.
She'd lost sight of Drizzt at some point, deliberately on his part, as he had direct orders of his own. While the guardian she had crafted for him was visibly — and audibly — a part of the attack on the House, Drizzt had vanished. So had his astral panther, and the only reason Vierna wasn't fully upset over this was that she had seen Zaknafein talking with him at length before it all began.
She had used her most powerful spell of the day to summon a trio of ice mephits and turn them loose on anyone and anything wearing an Oblodra symbol or that was not drow. Her next most powerful had changed her mouth to give her a spider's fangs and venom, just in case anyone got close enough to harm her physically. It was a very disturbing feeling and she disliked it immensely, but... it was a useful precaution.
The ointment on her eyelids had already been invaluable in piercing the psionic and magical illusions scattered through Oblodra, and she had gone through both of the dismissals she could cast to banish demons released by traps as they forced their way further in. She had picked an assortment of possibly-useful spells as well... but she fully expected she was going to be transmuting them into direct attacks.
The soldiers that were closest to her were fighting with death in their hearts for all that they encountered, better trained by far than even the shadar-kai they found. The zar'thra'rin seemed to reap the most violence, with their deaths made in the most painful way possible if the drow involved wasn't too hard pressed.
Given the bloodline of those present, Vhaeraun was drinking His fill of their agony, whenever Vierna was near enough to it.
How long it took to get into the House proper, none of them could have said, but eventually they secured a staging area inside the walls, and fresh wizards were rushed forward to wreak havoc, eyes gleaming with malevolent intent against the psionicists they found.
A new wave of undead came swarming towards them, and Vierna ducked forward, flinging all of her will at drawing the creatures under her command. More than half fell to her, and she turned them on the others, skeletons and zombies ripping into each other instead of her soldiers -- which was satisfying.
One cheeky fighter grinned at her in passing, and kept moving forward, intent on killing as many of the enemy as he could. It would be a hard battle… but they were ready for it in all the ways they could be.
Kyorl was not a stupid woman despite that she was arrogant in the height of her power. She had a handful of warriors and psionicists with her during the defenses.
She still thought she could win. She had sent with all of her will for the rest of the shadar-kai to strike once every enemy appeared to be committed, to bring the remainder of the zar'thra'rin out of their House.
She could not be aware of every move in this war, could not see as Jarlaxle himself, aided by House Baenre's surviving siblings, had made the site of their former home the nexus of demonic summonings. Yochlol and glabrezu alike were swarming at the command of Lloth Herself to take back full control of Her city.
Some, later, might even say they glimpsed the Goddess in Her drider-like aspect, ripping the dragon-born drow apart.
Now, though, Kyorl was only seeing this as a means to purge her enemies from the city. She could push through the searing pain in her mind, could —
A huge beast, shaped similar to the displacers but lacking certain features suddenly pushed through her web of psionic alarms and traps as if they had not been there, freeing the door. In the time it took for them to land a banishment, the cat had killed over half the occupants of the room, and Kyorl was all but certain the beast had not been the only thing to enter.
"Kimmuriel, attend me n— " she demanded, tried to, as that awareness bloomed into certainty.
Her son turned, in time to see a sword emerge through the woman's chest from behind, barely parsing that a whip had cut off her voice, wrapped tightly around her throat. He bounded over to try and deal with the attacker, conventional spell ready.
A second fighter he'd never noted slammed into him from the side, and a pair of scimitars crossed at his throat.
"Kimmuriel Oblodra," the fighter said. "If you wish to live, surrender. Gromph Baenre has offered you sanctuary."
Kimmuriel considered that, wondered what the fighter was playing at, noting how damned young he looked — and he realized there were only two people breathing that he could hear at all.
Himself and this fighter. Yet … his mother was being removed from the sword by another person, one who was all but invisible to his ears and eyes!
With a calculation of the odds made, Kimmuriel pointedly dropped the material component of the spell, and crossed his arms over his chest… careful of the sharp blades that had yet to move from his throat.
Noise behind him made his spine tense, but it was only allies of the fighter, entering the room to take custody of the Oblodran. Not moments after the soldiers had bound his hands, the swords vanished from his throat… and the fighter withdrew.
Kimmuriel was bemused not to even learn his name, as he awaited the future.
By necessity, Zak had been the one to usher them to a safe point in the city of Ched Nasad, being the only one who had actually gone there. He also happened to know of a Bregan D'aerthe supply depot, that gave them a relatively safe point and the items they need to deal with their injuries.
None of them were unscathed.
Drizzt's guardian had been utterly destroyed, but that had been anticipated, and he did not have need of such any longer.
"Were either of you seen by a Do'Urden?" Zak asked hoarsely.
"I did not see the symbol on anyone," Drizzt answered, slowly easing his bracer off his left arm, almost certain there was a break.
Vierna shook her head. "No, not that I know of -- and I believe I would have known." Frowning, she moved to her brother and held out her hand for his arm. She was going to have to cast the long way, she'd been focused on combat spells for the day, but she thought Vhaeraun would forgive her.
"It can wait for tomorrow," Drizzt said, actually refusing to give it over. Zak found he approved, because his son would defy her on the small things. "I will clean it, make certain to brace it, and you can pray after resting for its healing," he added. "It is the worst of mine."
"He has a point that it can wait; the entry is warded; I happened to have a password for it," Zak pointed out. "We've been going for too long. Clean the wounds, eat a little, drink a little, rest."
Vierna sighed, glaring at her brother and her father, and nodded. "Fine. That's what we'll do, then."
Father and son exchanged a small smile for that victory.
"If we were unseen, and Jarlaxle holds the others to their secrecy -- which I think Triel was intrigued by, but not fighting it -- Malice will not know we live, which is one more safety point for us," Zaknafein reasoned. "The spell was only supposed to break on sight of you or I, Vierna, or being introduced to her son."
"I still don't understand why we had to leave, or why I can't meet my mother," Drizzt said softly.
"Because it is not safe for you or Vierna to live there, ever again," Zak said firmly. "You saw how much joy many of our fighters took in killing. That? Is normal in Menzoberranzan."
Drizzt blanched a little. "And… not what I wish to deal with."
"No," Vierna said, "you don't. I don't entirely understand that, but... it is how you are, and I am not going to see you harmed for it. After I have rested, I will explain why our father says it is not safe there for me, either."
Tomorrow, she could disintegrate the whip Triel had summoned for her.
Triel surveyed the Matrons that had assembled, hiding her disappointment at how many of them were daughters, sometimes mere nieces of the ones that had held the Houses before the dragon.
Ahh -- that was one face of the older Matrons Triel was relieved to see. Malice Do'Urden was, if anything, more intriguing now than when she and her mother set about their plan to let the ancient house rise back to the top of the city.
According to Jarlaxle, Malice believed both Vierna and the Ghost of Menzoberranzan to be dead, and knew nothing of a third-born son. It suited Triel to maintain that pretense; it might one day provide leverage to divert the ambitious woman.
"Every one of us here today must see to the rise of our city, to its defenses," Triel began. "We know the shadar-kai waged war on the illithids of Phanlinksal, but we do not know for certain if they eliminated the elder brain and its swarm of young. The duergar may well mass to attack in an attempt to reclaim the slaves the dragon left.
"Therefore, we must agree, for at least a fighter's generation, to not wage war among ourselves."
The women all seemed to accept that idea; honestly no single house was in shape to war on another. The low-town, where the common drow who had no affiliation lived, would be very quiet and near empty for generations, as the Houses had scooped up the survivors of the wizards' push to flesh out their ranks.
Thirty years of peace between Houses was as far as Triel would be able to push, though, and she knew it.
"And who will rule now, Triel?"
Oh that was a bold one -- House Duskryn, Triel thought, but not the woman she remembered.
"The Houses will each be ranked by the length of time the matron has held leadership," Triel announced, "by Lloth's own wish. House Baenre, having survived and returned with salvation, is the exception here."
She said it firmly, unsurprised at the hissing objections that were snapped off.
"I feel that is a touchstone of tradition worth keeping," Malice said to her fellow rulers, but then… she might very well be the senior-most Matron, making her ruler of the Second House. "It's not as if Baenre, or any of us, will be immune to needing to prove they hold the favor of Lloth once the city is mended, after the thirty years."
Triel did not smile, but oh that was smoothly done, settling ruffled webs of intrigue and spinning new ones in the minds of the others. Yes, it would definitely be to her advantage to watch Do'Urden, and keep the secret -- for now.
"We will meet every eight days, here in our Temple, to further plan our rise," Triel said. "Lloth watches over you all. Go."
Malice declined to move to any of the now open Houses. She might not have the most ostentatious House to display, but the fact she was defended by the thick cave wall behind her, and that they had access to their own water spring were not advantages to give up.
Maya was immediately enrolled at Arach-Tinilith and admonished to excel. Malice had never allowed her the opportunity under Oblodra's heresy. Triel was currently holding both her House as Matron and the High Priestess of Lloth at the temple, but that situation could not last. Triel would have to choose, and Malice could not see her giving up her House.
Dinin, having excelled during his years at Melee-Magthere, was sent back as an instructor, for a time. It was necessary to show she was willing to put her House on the line, by having both younger children at the school. Nalfein, however, was kept close. She trusted him most of the trio.
Rizzen was beginning to bore her, and they had such a nice influx of new men in the ranks…
… Malice smiled, coldly, as she decided that all of her work had led to this moment. Second House, with the First not yet having named an heiress or seemingly even having one on hand?
How far she had come from the too-young, untried Matron of the Fifteenth House. If only Zaknafein could have seen her triumph, despite his own heretical leaning.
Oblodra Gloom
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V
* Links will work as parts are revealed