NEW- Questionable Posts

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Lucinda Darke
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Re: NEW- Questionable Posts

Post by Jayne » Sat Apr 16, 2016 5:20 am

A Deal is Struck. Plans are Made. An Attack is Devised.
Author: Kel Russell
Date: 16 November 2003

Disclaimer! Some blood, some nudity, some mention of sex, and the normal stuff. You've been warned. Drow post a-comin'!


The Third House was all in a flurry, with the news of their previous Patron possibly returning, to the rumour of dead Yathrin walking again. None were more apt to listen to the latter with open ears than Iymalstra... the Matron Mother.

It was not often she would venture from her chambers, and even less often that she would visit her daughters in theirs. This night, however, she would do both. And it was never a good time when she deemed it worthy to step out of her room.

With long white hair dragging behind her as she walked, Iymalstra clacked on hard-heeled black leather boots toward one of her daughters' rooms. Her deep red skirt was more a loincloth, tied at the hips with bits of leather string. The black gauzy shift she wore to 'cover' her torso left little to the imagination, but that was nothing unusual. Drow were proud of their bodies. Let anyone tell them they were ugly.

Her normally-half-vacant face was cross. She was determined to find out the basis of the ludicrous rumours that tugged at her heartstrings. The loss of two of her daughters came as a shock to the Matron Mother, and she would have no infidel telling her they were being brought back.

She waited for no invitation, sweeping into Vic`imar's room without so much of an announcement. The one in question was seated on a grey pillow, deep in prayer to Lolth when Iymalstra gave her a quick slap to the head, sending the unaware priestess sprawling.

"Vic`imar, you conniving wretch! Do you hear what my people are saying about your deceased sisters! They claim to tell me that there has been a way to bring them back to life. Where is Cormllenaa? I distinctly recall you were going to bring him back." Her red eyes here nearly black, a common sign of anger among the Drow.

Vic`imar only smiled and sat up, wiping the bit of blood from her cut cheek where Iymalstra's ring sliced into the soft black flesh. Her own crimson gaze was cheerful as she stood, situating the white dress about her.

"Matron Mother, those are not rumours. Alak`qualyn and Elkaste shall be among us again within the week. I made a deal with one upon the surface to further our gain ... to further the power and status of Hel`viret." Her whisper permeated the thick air of the room, heady with incense and scented oils. A male crouched in the corner, hands glistening still with the sandalwood oil he had used upon Vic`imar. The male was beautiful even by Drow standards, which was why Vic`imar kept him to herself. She wanted no disfigurements upon his pristine body.

"You lie to me, Vic`imar? You have never done such before. None upon the surface would bring a Yathrin back to life ... let alone two." Iymalstra drew her hand back again for another blow, but stopped as Vic`imar wrapped her arms around the black waist of the Matron. Lowering her hand to her child's head, Vic`imar nuzzled her mother's neck.

"Sweet Matron," she crooned, sliding her fingertips on Iymalstra's lower back, "I have managed to coerce a wizard into bringing them back for us. In exchange, I offered our protection for him ... and Cormllenaa. We are not to bring him back here. He is free from our clutches, Matron, but we have our two Yathrin back within a short time." She could feel her mother tense, a smile blooming over ebon lips as Vic`imar spoke on.

"He was not hesitant when I offered the exchange, Matron Mother. This one, Caius Stygian he is called, can bring them back from the dead. So strong is his heart toward Cormllenaa ... that I feel this exchange is well worth losing him has a Patron." The Yathrin was also giving up her status as Second Yathrin ... to be bumped down to Fourth.

"Yes. And, in so doing, we shall become the Second House come the end of the month." Iymalstra added it up herself, grinning wickedly as she stroked her daughter's hair. "Lolth must smile upon me to give me such cunning children. Vic`imar, you do your mother and your Goddess proud. Take to heart these words, my daughter, for they are your bond. What you did that night for Hel`viret ... will live on for eternity."

Vic`imar could only nod. She wanted no recognition. She failed to mention that Stygian had thought she wanted to be Matron herself, knocking off both Iymalstra and G`eldvyr in the process. She preferred to work where Drow work best: from the shadows. It did her no good to be out in the open, under prying eyes and loose tongues, to lash her and make her feel pain she did not need. Pulling the strings of the puppets she chose was her pastime ... and Stygian was now one of them. Her black fist was clenched around him.

"It puzzles me why one such as Caius Stygian would aid a Drow House at all."

Iymalstra mused to herself as she held her daughter, swaying a little as she thought aloud. "For the love of Cormllenaa he would risk Hel`viret making a move against the surface? How does he know we do not have an interest in the town he lives?"

"Perhaps Cormllenaa convinced him otherwise. After all, Matron Mother, we never did express an interest in the topside while Cormllenaa was Patron." Pulling away, Vic`imar settled back on her cushion, closing her eyes as she prepared to go back into a prayer-like reverie.

"Perhaps. I will think on this. When shall the bodies of Alak`qualyn and Elkaste be delivered? Of course, we bring Alak`qualyn back first. She is the key to gaining control of the Second House. Few match her powers of Lolth." The Matron began walking toward the door, smiling to herself at how cunning and double-crossing her daughters had become. Such pride she felt.. and knew Lolth must be feeling.

"We deliver them come two days' time, Matron. I will bring Sszker`les and Amalvier with me. I had also promised Caius Stygian access to knowledge of Drow magic. I thought it a small price to pay for the lives of your daughters." Vic`imar's eyes did not open as she spoke, a black light beginning to surround her as she connected with the divine powers of Lolth.

"Do as you will, Vic`imar. You have yet to fail me." With those last words, Iymalstra left her whispering daughter's room, swelling with pride and her anger fading to nothingness.


Deep in Hel`viret, the Third House, lay a tomb dedicated to Yathrin. Here, encased in spells and enchantments, lay two bodies. Alak`qualyn, former first Yathrin. Elkaste, former Second Yathrin.

Having been dead well over four hundred years, Alak`qualyn would likely be quite disoriented come her resurrection. She had died during childbirth, giving life to the daughter that fled Hel`viret to be with her half-breed lover. Though only half-Drow herself, Alak`qualyn was the most dedicated to Lolth and her cause ... second in power only to Iymalstra herself. Even then, the Yathrin could give her mother a sweat and a good battle.

Elkaste, on the other hand, had been dead for only less than a year. She had been murdered for the abuse of Sszker`les, the father of Alak`quayln's daughter. The enraged lover of said child had killed her. After all, being the hodge-podge of races she was, the daughter loved her father endlessly.

Iymalstra knew there would be tension once Alak`qualyn found out possession of Sszker`les had fallen to Elkaste upon her death. Alak`qualyn would hate Elkaste for the treatment of her lover. Such hatred would flow like the blood would soon from the Second House. Battle would ensue like no other, but not one spell ... nor one blow would be freed.

Standing between the two smokey-glass encasements, Iymalstra lightly lay a hand on either of them, smiling to her daughters' bodies.

"Soon, my Yathrin, you shall be among us once again. With your aid, we shall become the Second most powerful House in all of Chath`z`ress. They shall fall to our hand ... and Lolth's favour shall grow for Hel`viret. Our army will flourish and I shall reign over it all with a black fist. The time will be soon that I shall look upon your living faces once more. Too long has it been that your whips have not tasted blood. Too long have your ears become deaf to the fulfilling wails of pain from the slaves. Too long have your hands been dry from their blood and tears, my daughters. Very soon, you shall relive the pleasures of pain and torment ... torture and bloodshed. Very soon, we shall enter battle with the Second House and arise victorious among those in Chath`z`ress. The First House shall quiver when they see our Sigil raise in power ... status ... in honour of Lolth. Her favour rests with Hel`viret. We shall soon truly be Those Above the Void."

A chuckle bubbled up in Iymalstra's throat as she stood, clenching her hands into those black fists she so spoke of. Sinking to her knees, she laughed, her long hair splayed about her like so much foam and gathered starlight. She laughed. The joyful sound rocketing to the vaulted ceiling of the tomb, the realisation of power and glory sinking in fully.

Such a day would come soon. Very soon.


G`eldvyr stood over the bloodied body of a man, his once-white hair matted to his naked back with his own blood, her whip in her hand. She, too, was smattered with his life, her eyes deep red with anger.

"They always die. It matters not how strong they may seem. They always die." She viciously kicked the corpse of the naked man, a horrendous scowl plastered over her ebon face. Naked herself, G`eldvyr left the body where it lay, in a crumpled heap next to her bed. She felt sick to her stomach, as she always did after watching another male die in an attempt to bed her.

She picked up her black robe, slipping into it before collapsing onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She only had limited amulets, and she had already given one away on loan. She did not have the means to keep asking Iymalstra to refresh the enchantments for trivial uses like sex. There was just no way the Matron would agree to it.

She had heard the rumours of Alak`qualyn and Elkaste possibly walking again. If they lived, she would be forced back to Third Yathrin, the threat of her happenings being taken away from her looming over her head. That could not happen. There was no guarantee that her dealings would be swept away like so much fickle favour from Lolth, but there was always that nagging feeling.

Glancing down at the dead male beside her bed, G`eldvyr sighed and snapped her fingers once, a shuddering hiss ensuing from one of the corners of her room. Many knew that the Venomous Yathrin kept her pets within her chambers ... from her giant spider to her black-scaled riding lizard.

The lizard ambled out of the darkness, black eyes glittering in the low light of the Faerie Fire that lit the woman's bedroom. Its sharp teeth sparkled as it grinned at the torn and flayed black skin of the man G`eldvyr seemed to have no interest upon. With light steps, it swiftly trotted to the corpse, snagging it by an ankle before dragging it back into the shadows. Dinner would be sweet Drow flesh, not bitter and rotten rats or whatever else it could scavenge.

G`eldvyr knew she was fighting a losing battle each time she picked a male to come to her bed. The poisons she'd been ingesting for her entire life were too potent now. Her very touch could scorch the skin, her kiss could bring illness. It was no surprise that physical love could bring death. It always brought death.

That was one reason G`eldvyr would never be Matron Mother. Vic`imar held the same fate. Her body was so used to pain, it craved it so, that the woman's touch could bring it. No child could survive in a body constantly inflicting pain upon it. It seemed Iymalstra had had plans when she raised her children. It would be difficult in overthrowing her when the time came.

And it would come. It always did.

Standing at a knock on the door, G`eldvyr tied her robe shut loosely and moved to it, bare feet treading in the blood smeared on the floor. That would be cleaned up later.

There was Vic`imar at the door, looking solemn as ever in her white clothing. Scowling again, G`eldvyr left the door to her chambers open before turning away, slinking back to her bed to lay down. Vic`imar was the last Drow she wanted to see.

With red eyes scanning the room, pointed ears listening to the chewing sounds coming from the corner of the riding lizard, Vic`imar put two and two together, clacking to her sister's bed before joining her. She lay on her side, draping an arm over G`eldvyr's stomach and pulling her close as if in a comforting embrace.

"I know it pains you each time they die, sister. I know how it frustrates you that you shall never feel the intimate embrace of a man ..." Her whispering voice died off as G`eldvyr flashed her a wicked glare.

"You know nothing of what I fee, Vic`imar. You have had your share of men. Do not dare to patronise me, -sister-, else you shall feel the bite of my venom just like all the others." Her voice was as acidic as her touch, though Vic`imar did not notice the pain, it seemed. "You have bedded even Cormllenaa, the Matron's own mate. You are only lucky that she never found out. You know how she hates to share." A treasonous grin spread over her lips, green eyes glittering brightly at the thought of turning her sister in.

"I see that you are right, G`eldvyr. I only wished to offer you some comfort though you shall be forced down to Third Yathrin again. It has been so long for you to have been Third Yathrin. How long has it been? Four hundred and ... sixty-four years?" She disregarded the empty threat, pulling her sister closer and lightly running her fingertips over her black stomach.

"So it is true. Alak`qualyn and Elkaste will live again." Her tone was empty save for a roiling rage just under the surface. She was enjoying her time as First Yathrin.

"Yes, sister, it is. But, though you may become Third Yathrin, you shall soon be Third Yathrin of the Second House. Think of the unspoken power you shall obtain." Her nose found purchase in her older sister's neck, nuzzling her gently as she felt G`eldvyr's pulse slow and calm.

"Yes. I suppose you are right. Without at least Alak`qualyn ... Hel`viret
would never rise to Second House. It is folly to think otherwise. Has
anyone talked to Matron Mother about the plans?" She sat up, taking
Vic`imar with her, resting a hand on her hip.

"No. I came to fetch you so we might go together. Molshalee and Amalvier must already be there, for they are not in their rooms." Vic`imar, smiled and brushed her lips against G`eldvyr's, offering her some of what she craved, though not in the form she so craved it.

It did bring a smile to the Yathrin of Poison's face as she lightly kissed her back, giving her sister a gentle hug in appreciation of the small gesture. "Let us go and speak with Iymalstra, then. Perhaps I might at least fetch a lovely position in the coming war."

Vic`imar laughed as she waited for G`eldvyr to pretty herself up before the two left the room, closing the door behind them.


All of the Yathrin were soon gathered in a large antechamber high above Hel`viret, covered with so many spells and enchantments, not even the spies -of- Hel`viret could listen upon the secret conversation.

There was a plan brewing on how to take down the Second House. They were crucial to the very existence of Hel`viret. If they failed, it would mean the end of their House. They would all die or become slaves. They would rather die.

"Alak`qualyn shall take Sszker`les, since together, their power is unequaled." Iymalstra's voice rose over the table as she spoke, her long white hair braided into a thick plait cascading down her back to drag along the floor. "G`eldvyr shall travel with Vic`imar. You two know your touch may harm, and use that to your advantage. Molshalee, you shall be alone. Amalvier, you shall have the House Assassin and Weapons Master with you at all times. They will make sure you have the time to cast your more powerful spells."

Amalvier nodded while the others followed suit. The threat of the Second House was looming as the rumours of two Yathrin long since dead were going to be alive again. They had heard word of the Second House planning their own attack upon them. They could not have that. They were not strong enough without all of their Yathrin.

"I will remain behind, casting the necessary spells to keep you all protected and strong. Elkaste will be by herself when she is living, because we all know she likes it better that way. G`eldvyr, Vic`imar." The two looked attentive. "You two will make a beeline for the central antechamber to attack the Yathrin head-on. Alak`qualyn will be there with Sszker`les to help you once they get there. I am sure more will be attacking them, since I know you two know stealth better than the coming First Yathrin."

G`eldvyr nodded to Vic`imar. They would be the one to slay the Matron of the Second House. Perfect.

"Alak`qualyn will be resurrected come the morrow. Elkaste, as Vic`imar has stated, three days following. Prepare your spells and your strategies, my daughters. Victory is at hand and all we must to is clench our fist." Iymalstra grinned as a black outline lit around her. Lolth was listening. "Lolth's favour is with us as we await the rising of two of Her children. Take note of this moment, for it will be the few left where we are Third House of Chath`z`ress!"

Those gathered cheered and laughed as the idea of the Second House crumbling around itself grew in their minds.

It would be a bloody war.

Posts: 359
Joined: Sun Mar 13, 2016 9:42 pm
Preferred Title: Nymphadora
Characters: [Main Characters]
Lucinda Darke
Nixlya Silkire
Inessa Deathsong
Location: Australia

Re: NEW- Questionable Posts

Post by Jayne » Mon Apr 18, 2016 12:57 am

Their Cries Echo Our Victory. War is Upon Us!
Author: Kel Russell
DAte: 20 November 2003

Disclaimer: LONG! War stuff. Fighting, blood, gore, not so much torture. Just normal war stuff. Kind of.

It was time. Alak`qualyn and Elkaste had been risen. Sszker`les had been fully restored to his former glory of House Wizard. Micar`flyn was summoned as the House Weapons Master. G`eldvyr, Amalvier, Vic`imar, Molshalee, and Iymalstra were decked out for war.

The Third would become the Second.

All of the Yathrin wore the same outfit, save differing in colours. A leather bottom resembling underwear covered them, knee-high heel-less boots snug about their calves. A leather bustier was atop each torso, with black metal armour covering that. The same armour donned their shins, arms, and decorated their hair.

Alak`qualyn, Yathrin of Lightning, wore deep gold, her whip hanging at her hip, a serrated kukri dagger at her back, and a row of stiletto daggers lined the outside of her left leg. Her hair was braided into a long plait down her back, laced with gold-tinted ribbon. She was ready for her enemies to turn bathe her in their blood.

Elkaste, Yathrin of Ice, wore midnight blue, her whip grasped in her hand already. She chose no other weapon. Her own head, shorn almost bald, was white with a soft fuzz of hair, red eyes glittering hungrily. She was ready for her enemies' screams to lull her into bliss.

G`eldvyr, Yathrin of Venom, wore emerald green, her own whip coiled at her hip like Alak`qualyn. A black-bladed shortsword was at her other hip, tipped in potent poison, living spiders crawling over her form. In various secret compartments she housed toxins and venoms, poisons and death-inducing concoctions. Her very lips were coated with poison. Her own hair was long and flowing, fine and thin, with no adornments, save a black metal band at her head to keep her bangs out of her face. She was ready for her enemies to beg for mercy as they fell apart at the joints.

Vic`imar, Yathrin of Pain, wore white as always. Her whip rested in its holster at her hip, warfans at her back as her hair was braided many times and coiled about her head. Her hair was up in a ponytail, wrapped in white ribbon and tied off at the bottom, a bit of her hair hanging loose toward the end of the wrap. She was ready for her enemies to wail her name, making her whispers seem like sweet nothings.

Molshalee, Yathrin of Shadow and Force, wore black. Her skin was black, her hair, eyes, and clothing were all black. She had her whip, many knives, shuriken, vials of acid and alchemist's fire. She wanted it to be fun and loud. She wanted Lolth to see her. She was smiling. Her hair was back in low pigtails, tied with black leather. She was ready to play with her enemies. Make rain fall from their eyes.

Amalvier, Yathrin of Fire, wore a deep crimson, her own whip resting at her leg. She carried with her a crossbow, a shortsword, and a wand. What the wand did was anyone's guess. Her hair was smattered with tiny braids, but left loose for the most part. She was ready to scorch her enemies into submission.

Iymalstra was the most impressive. She was clad in a black so dark it shone blue in the light. Her whip quivered as if alive at her hip, thirsting for chaos and death, blood and gore. Her hair was gathered near her head, since it would drag the floor should she otherwise leave it down. Though she would not physically be there, she would be praying to Lolth from Hel`viret to aid her daughters.

Sszker`les wore his slick black catsuit, smattered with belts used only for decorations. He needed no weapons, though none knew why. His hair was back in a low ponytail, leaving his black face clear to see, red eyes hungry for pain that was not his to feel.

Micar`flyn was covered with the black armour, a sword at each side, two at his back, a crossbow at his lower back, and various throwing daggers smattered over his ebon body. His hair was cut short, slanted red eyes broken and ready for orders.

Iymalstra stepped up to her family, spreading her arms. "This night, we become the Second House. We will trounce our enemies, feel their blood upon us, hear their screams singing in our ears! My children, tonight we make Lolth proud of us. We invite Her to witness this victory. Cladd`ana`ghym will fall beneath us! They will become the void of which we rise above!" She grinned wickedly, turning her back to pad to a dais, kneeling before it to begin her prayer.

The others took this as their signal.

Molshalee streaked off into the Shadow Realm, laughing as she went, her body nimble and quick. She had once been a rival of Alak`qualyn, but since her Mind Breaking ... she was insane. A wide grin was plastered on her face as she raced through the Realm toward Cladd`ana`ghym.

Alak`qualyn took Sszker`les' hand and followed suit of Molshalee, the couple moving a little slower so the Drow in the vicinity would follow after the mad Yathrin, rather than them.

G`eldvyr and Vic`imar walked out to gather the troops they would lead. Or rather, the troops they would lead to their deaths. They were about 300 strong, these men, many of them armed with enchanted weapons and armour, still others versed in magic and the arcane. No priestesses were among them save G`eldvyr and Vic`imar.

Amalvier took Micar`flyn with her, taking her post with her own troops, only hers were less than her sisters'. Only about seventy-five strong, Amalvier led her troops with Micar`flyn proudly. It was her first real war.


The battle was fierce; Drow cutting down Drow. Spells hitting the mark and injuring those around. Amalvier was with Micar`flyn, praying to Lolth to give him strength and power to defeat their enemies. It was as if he were enchanted himself, his weapons finding purchase each strike, his words echoing his victories as blood flowed around his feet. Snarling, he took the brunt of a magic missile attack and gutted the wizard up close and personal, rather than using stealth. He was in the middle of it all, Amalvier high atop a pillar of stone, keeping him safe.


Molshalee was inside, having slit the throats of several of the guards stationed at specific points in the Realm. She was having such fun, a mad grin plastered on her face. She flit through the shadows, daggers drawn, whip still securely in its holster at her hip. Black eyes sparkling, she leapt out in the middle of a throng of soldiers led by a Yathrin. This was what she had wanted.

Cackling, Molshalee deftly avoided a well-placed knife, back-flipping into the shadows, only to reappear behind him, having come out of the shadows of his back, plunging her twin poisoned blades deep into his spine. Blood flowed over her hands and he shuddered, licking her fingers as she vanished back into the Realm.

The Yathrin of Cladd`ana`ghym looked around warily, drawing out her own snake-headed whip. Molshalee thought those were stupid. Useless things only good for decoration! Flicking her wrist, she smashes a bottle of acid, splashing it upon one of the other soldiers, knocking it down to only three left. Not counting the Yathrin.

Knowing full well that Cladd`ana`ghym had but four Yathrin, Molshalee next used a bottle of alchemist's fire. With a heave, she watched it shatter and ignite upon the powerful priestess. Of course, the little insane Drowess had to cover her eyes as the flames rose to the ceiling, everything the liquid touched bursting into flames.

It was over too quickly for Molshalee. She wanted more death. More screams. More!

G`eldvyr and Vic`imar came upon the outside of Cladd`ana`ghym, their faces placid as they watched the soldiers pour out of their base to go toward Hel`viret. They knew Iymalstra still had more of her own back there to guard the now-Third House.

"Sister, it seems there is a block in our advance," Vic`imar whispered, her hand snaking toward her whip.

"Yes. It appears they do not wish to allow us passage." G`eldvyr smiled wickedly as she loosed her own whip, letting it slap against the ground as she plucked a vial of poison from behind the holdster. Opening it, she empties the venom into her mouth, but holds it there. She does not feel the burning sensation. She was immune.

"Let us dance, my dear sister." Vic`imar prayed softly, using a certain tactic she had learned long ago to allow her Inflict Wounds spells to reach further than she could touch. Spreading her arms, a wave of pain forced its way through the soldiers, harming both her own and Cladd`ana`ghym's. When the seas were parted, the two Yathrin plunged forward, whips slashing and harming. Poisoning and hurting.

G`eldvyr snagged a nearby enemy male, planting a secure kiss on his lips, depositing a very small amount of the poison into his mouth. He convulsed, dropping to the ground to scream and wail as his skin burned away, blood pooling around him as the venom ate away at him from the outside. She smiled and moved on, using her shortsword to slice and wound, her whip to maim and kill.

Vic`imar merely touched those that got near her, and they would howl and fall back, only to try long-distance attacks. Her whip was too quick, slashing throats and arms and stomachs. Apparently, Cladd`ana`ghym had not had time to prepare: most of her soldiers were without armour. A man lashed out at her, aiming his serrated stiletto at her side, but she gracefully slid, grasping his bare wrist with her fingers.

"You shall feel pain like no other, insolent wretch." Her whispered words were heard by the man as he bled from his ears, the pain streaking from his wrist to his nerves, causing them to explode as he fell to the ground. Blood oozed out of every orifice as Vic`imar moved on.

The pair of Yathrin quickly made a path for themselves into Cladd`ana`ghym, leaving their soldiers to battle. Silent prayers to Lolth wove their way round, asking for strength for their soldiers, weakness for Cladd`ana`ghym's.


Alak`qualyn and Sszker`les emerged as far as they could go. Too many enchantments were woven about Cladd`ana`ghym to use the Shadow Realm all the way.

"Use your Shadow Talents, Wizard, to get us there," Alak`qualyn ordered, forgetting all of her love for the man during the war. She was the First Yathrin, her order secure and her demeanor demanding.

"Yes, Jabbress." Sszker`les hissed something in an unknown language ... the very language the shadows spoke. The words oozed from his mouth like hot water, pooling around him as the shadows came to life, moving as if sentient. Creatures resembling deformed gnomes slunk into rooms to unlock them, leaving the virgin Cladd`ana`ghym spread wide for Hel`viret to penetrate.

Turning his ponytailed head, Sszker`les hissed again, the words echoing down the hallway as he pointed to the left, silent footsteps carrying him quickly toward the inner antechamber of the Ilharess of Cladd`ana`ghym. The Matron Mother.

Alak`qualyn smiled, proud of her lover, and followed him, her own steps just as quick and nimble. She wasn't First Yathrin for nothing.


Elkaste was alone. No troops did she command. She did not need the muscle of men to do her bidding. Racing toward Cladd`ana`ghym, she constantly came upon groups of men set upon Hel`viret. Each of them felt her hatred toward their sex, felt her icy whip upon their skin as she flayed flesh from bone. Behind her she left a wave of blood and death.


Amalvier watched Micar`flyn battle below, praying for his strength as she gazed. Raising her arms, she felt her whip ignite, sending rockets of flame lancing up her body to pool in her hands, spiralling from one to the other above her head like a fiery rainbow.

Her voice rose above the crowd, causing many to look up as it grew brighter. Her eyes closed, lilac blooms budding for the night, the fire growing in heat and brightness. With a cry, she jerked her arms downward, a shower of fire streaking toward the men.

Micar`flyn dove for cover, squishing himself against a rock to avoid the inferno raining from the sky. A spell like meteor shower fell around him, incinerating those without armour ... melting those with it to their protective gear. Many of Cladd`ana`ghym fell. Few of Hel`viret met their fiery deaths.

Amalvier kept the spell up, her voice carrying over the battlefield as she cast, eyes blazing as the fire she commanded did her bidding.

Yathrin of Fire was succeeding.


G`eldvyr raced through Cladd`ana`ghym, Vic`imar close beside her. The two Yathrin of Painful Touch silently wound their way through the corridors, stopping from time to time to scry their way through. Of course, they did leave room for error, considering the enchantments that were bound to be laid, not to mention those the Matron of the House could be casting at the very same moment.

Vic`imar stopped, holding G`eldvyr back as an arrow came whizzing just past the older woman's face. The Venom Yathrin frowned and poured another vial into her mouth, stepping out to a volley of arrows. Several struck her, embedding the bolts into her legs and arms, but still she came. Her eyes glowed green as she watched their heat signatures. They were nervous.

Stopping to reload, the men did not see the acid spewed upon them. They did not see the Yathrin reach out to touch them. They only felt the searing pain that followed. Venom burned holes in their skin, their muscle, their very bone. G`eldvyr held one to her, planting a kiss upon his acid-eaten lips to kill him instantly.

Her touch was growing more and more fatal with each passing day, the venoms she consumed slowly growing more potent within her.

Vic`imar smiled and moved passed her sister, the Silent Yathrin leaving her to her own entertainment.


Alak`qualyn and Sszker`les came upon a large door, which they were sure was at least a Temple to Lolth. How dare Cladd`ana`ghym pray to their Goddess ... begging Her for Her graces!

Phasing through it, Sszker`les deposited Alak`qualyn to herself as he wound his way around the wall, watching the two Yathrin within with his glittering red eyes.

Looking up, who was surely the Second Yathrin glowered at the intruders, barking orders to her sister to attack. Sszker`les was hit with an Inflict spell, sending him crashing against the wall with a cry. His eyes glowed black as he looked at her, angry.

Streaking faster than she could see, using the shadows to aid him, Sszker`les swept his arm, a scimitar forming out of the very shadow-stuff in the room, plunging deep into the gut of the Yathrin. He felt her warm blood course over his hand as she grasped his shoulders, casting a stronger inflict spell. He held on, twisting the scimitar.

The Yathrin drew out a dagger, stabbing him square in the shoulder which had the hand that held the scimitar. Sszker`les did not let go, twisting the sword more as he slowly began to pull it out of her stomach. She cast spell after spell, from Inflict Minor to Critical wounds slamming into Sszker`les' body, tearing him up from the inside.

The scar at his throat reopened, blood seeping down his neck as the spells wracked his body. Soon, however, the spells stopped. The Yathrin tried to cast, but Lolth did not respond. She jerked her quickly-dimming eyes to Alak`qualyn.

Her sister was dead, body burnt to a crisp, probably by the lightning whip that the Hel`viret woman held. Electricity arched over the whip, turning it a glowing yellow, no black leather visible. Her steps were quick as she lanced her whip at the woman, striking her in the shoulder just as Sszker`les let go of his sword.

The woman wailed, her scream of pain and loss echoing in the vast room. As she fell, Sszker`les did, too, his body broken in places, internal bleeding evident by his coughing, blood seeping out of his nose and ears. Even his tear ducts bled.

"Sszker`les. You were valiant. I cannot heal you right now, lest I waste magic I could use to further Hel`viret. I know you understand. We will get you healed." She kissed his forehead and ran out of the room, leaving her lover on the floor.

"I understand, Jabbress," he whispered a little too late, crumpling to the floor. His breathing was shallow, blood pooling around him.


Elkaste fought valiantly outside of the House, downing male after male that came upon her, sweat sheening her body. Red eyes blazing, she cut them down one by one, her whip turning many into ice, others wishing they could be so lucky.


Molshalee came upon the main antechamber just as G`eldvyr, Alak`qualyn, and Vic`imar did. The four Yathrin entered the room together, face-to-face with the Ilharess and First Yathrin of Cladd`ana`ghym.

Alak`qualyn quickly made a bee-line toward the Ilharess, her lilac eyes blazing, grey skin slick with sweat and blood. G`eldvyr and Vic`imar stalled the spells the First Yathrin did by grasping her arms and neck with their hands, pumping pain and venom into her system.

The Ilharess frowned and stood, grabbing her snake-headed whip quickly. With a grunt, she lashed out at Alak`qualyn, gashing her across her bared thighs, causing blood to flow quickly from the wounds.

Alak`qualyn growled and lightning raced down her arm to arch from her fingertips, dancing upon the heads of the Matron's whip, causing it to die. She was without her station's weapon. Alak`qualyn could taste the victory.

"Where is your Assassin, Ilharess? Your Weapons Master? Your Patron?" G`eldvyr's acidic voice streaked to her ears, green eyes sparkling brightly, bolts sticking out of her body, though she paid them no heed. "I will devour you, Ilharess. You will wish you had never crossed us."

The Matron stalked forward, unafraid of Alak`qualyn. "My servants fight your people below, Yathrin. They kill yours. I will kill you in return." She drew a black dagger, launching it at Alak`qualyn.

Before anyone could speak, before Alak`qualyn could move, Molshalee leapt at the dagger, taking it in the side. She would save her sister. She used to be like her sister. Skidding across the ground, Molshalee quickly got into a crouch, pouncing on the Yathrin, metal claws glistening at her fingertips.

Alak`qualyn was surprised as her dark, insane sister bled upon the Ilharess. Molshalee swiped at her face, her stomach, her chest. She opened her arms, her breasts, her cheeks and lips. Her claws tore ruthlessly as the Yathrin of Shadow and Force laughed loudly, blood sprinkling her until she leapt off.

The Ilharess stood, red eyes dark with anger. "I will not be beaten by a giddy child!" A fierce Inflict spell rattled Molshalee and she shot backward, an expression of relish on her face as the pain engulfed her. When she landed, she got up again, stalking toward the Ilharess with a blissful smile upon her face.

"More." Molshalee's mad voice crept its way across the room as she dripped her own black blood on the floor. "Molshalee wants more pain!" She screamed the last word, causing the others to shoot their hands to their ears.

The Matron of Cladd`ana`ghym took this time to use what little arcane knowledge she had to release a volley of magic missile upon Molshalee, causing her armour to melt to her in places, holes burnt into it in others. Falling back again, Molshalee stayed down, breathing hard.

During the distraction, G`eldvyr had tossed Alak`qualyn a vial of poison, winking at her.

Nodding, Alak`qualyn streaked to the Matron, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her to the ground. Ilharess of Cladd`ana`ghym was downed, pinned by the First Yathrin of Hel`viret.

"And so ... you die. And Hel`viret takes you." She pries open the Matron's mouth and dumps the poison in. It was quick and she fell silent. The Matron did not move. She did not breathe. Hel`viret was victorious.

Iymalstra stood in the antechamber in what once was Cladd`ana`ghym. Sszker`les lay dying on the floor, having been brought there. Molshalee lay there next to him, also dying. G`eldvyr was kneeling, bolts taking their toll on her, though the poison had no effect. Vic`imar was not wounded. Elkaste suffered slight scrapes, and Amalvier and Micar`flyn were not injured either. Alak`qualyn only was injured in spirit anymore.

"So we become Second House." Iymalstra surveyed the goings-on below, watching the newly acquired slaves being ushered into Hel`viret ... Second House of Chath`z`ress.

The Ilharess of Cladd`ana`ghym awoke, groaning as she sat up. The poison had only been a strong sleep agent, making one appear dead. Iymalstra had wanted that pleasure.

Clacking to her, Iymalstra looked into the now-frightened face of the Matron of Cladd`ana`ghym. "You have lost, Ilharess. Cladd`ana`ghym is the Void. We rise above you. Lolth has abandoned you. Face your death with open eyes." She reached down, lightly grasping the woman's eyelids and pulling up sharply. She ripped them off.

The Matron screamed, throwing her hands over her eyes. Vic`imar walked over and placed her hands on the woman's stomach, pumping pain in for revenge upon her sisters. When a warning look was given by Iymalstra, Vic`imar retreated obediently.

Unravelling her whip of Chaos and Darkness, Iymalstra let loose the wrath of Lolth, beating the ex-Matron mercilessly. The others watched on as their victory was made permanent.

Hel`viret was Second House.

Their cries had echoed the victory.

Oloth mir dos.

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Re: NEW- Questionable Posts

Post by Jayne » Mon Apr 18, 2016 9:49 am

Author: Raymond Christopher Whaley
Date: 21 November 2003

<<Warning: Gore, violence, its pretty bad I think.>>

Only a beeswax candle flickered in the small, barren room. A figure lay in the darkness, chained to a heavy wooden table. It smelled like blood and sweat. The candle flickered over the bare, pine walls that seemed suck up the light. The room was smoky because the wooden shutters were locked tight. The figure didn't move heavy iron chains wrapped around its arms, waist and legs. They were rusty and jagged, already lacerating the thing's naked chest and arms. The creature seemed sedated or unconscious. There was a distinctive antiseptic smell mixed with the sweaty, bloody scent. A smaller chest sat on a smaller end table next to the one holding the creature. Several pieces of vellum sat on the table along with a large, wooden box. The creature's face was contorted with pain, even its sleep.

The sound of the floor creaking and heavy boots scraping against the floor's wooden panels announced another figure's presence. Appia wore a heavy, blue, blood-stained smock. Grasping her cane with one hand she slowly came upon the table holding the prone figure. Clearing her throat, she narrowed her eyes down at the body. Reaching down, she began adjusting a stool; its metallic whine seemed to cause the creature to stir. Taking a small metal key from her hand, which flickered in the candlelight of the murky, dark room, she slowly entered it into the keyhole of the lacquered, black box sitting on the table. It clicked, and quickly flipped open. A mass of dingy, sharp, jagged and oddly shaped tools greeted her. As she repositioned herself on the stool, it creaked once more and caused to creature to stir once more. Reaching a pale, calloused hand over to the creature's nose, she slowly pulled its mouth open exposing the vampire's long, demonic fangs. She dunked a sponge in water from a greenish looking bottle and let it just sit there, slowly sucking up the murky, dirty looking water. The candle flickered over the greenish and reddish liquids in misshapen bottles and cast its light on Appia's face it was covered by a scarf, also sullied with the orange stains of old blood and bits of tissue.

Two small bolts stuck up out of the table on either side of vampire's head. She took a heavy metal wire from a small, velvet lined jewelry box and fed it through one of the bolts. Tiny Menxvan symbols were carved from iron and gently jingled against one another as she stringently went about the work at hand. Attaching the now dripping sponge to the middle of the wire, she attached it to the wire with several pieces of silvery twine. Her calloused hands flitted about with a purpose, and they belied a certain amount of knowledge about whatever it was she was doing. Her head slowly canted toward the creature's neck. Narrowing her eyes, she grumbled a bit and painfully stood. Grasping a wide manacle from a glass cabinet that smelled of disinfectant and other sour, chemical smells, she hobbled back over to the creature and carefully fit the manacle around its neck. Taking to errant pieces of chain from the cluttered, musty floor of the small room, she threaded the through the neck manacle and attached them tightly to the ?operating? table. Now the creature was fully immobilized. Grasping the unattached end of the wire she slowly maneuvered around to the other end of the table. The wire flitted over the creature's head for a moment until Appia pulled down quickly and attached it to the other bolt.

The wire sliced several inches into the sides of the creature's mouth before catching. Ripped tissue and skin clung to it, attempting to stop its violent descent. The creature?s cheeks and mouth stretched out, a narrow, canyon like depression oozed blood where the wire was secured tightly to the creature's mouth. Where the jagged, Menxvan symbols cut into the creature?s face, small plumes of acrid looking, yellowish-gray smoke slowly puffed up as the skin blistered, sizzled and slowly melted away. Appia sniffed the air; the putrid smell of burning skin assaulted her nostrils.

She had soaked the sponge in holy water before she used it to gag the abomination. The sizzling sped up and seemed even louder, the sound of bacon sizzling in a heavily buttered pan. More smoke rolled off the creature's face. Its yellow eyes shot open, betraying pain, rage, and fear. It struggled with the chain, attempting to break them with its strength. It showed its true fangs, fangs descending even further, digging into the sponge. The chains, which smelled of brimstone, garlic, assorted herbs and another, imperceptible church scent?incense and cleanliness, held fast, allowing the creature almost no movement. It growled in pain and anger, narrowing its eyes at shadowy figure looming over it. Suddenly a wave of holy water washed over the vampire's entire face, like throwing gas on a burning fire, it caused the sizzling and the smoke to only increase. Puss filled, reddish-blue blister began to slowly rise on the creature's lips, forehead and nose. The lips seemed to be slowly melting. It whined like a kicked dog, gritting its fangs further into the sponge and thus, allowing more holy water to seep into its mouth.

The vampire looked about wildly, its golden eyes flying to the other figure in the room. It wasn't a menacing figure the sound that came from it was the scratching of pen on vellum. A thin, feminine hand slowly tipped a basting brush into a metal mesh cup. Wheeling the chair back to the vampire, spectacled, gray-blue eyes gazed down at the creature, eyes narrowed in thought, brow creased in concentration. She slowly brushed holy water down the creature's chest, searing hairs and leaving a deep, reddish blister in the wake of the brush. When she was finished, the mark traveled down the chest and wrapped around the creature's sides. Then, there was scribbling on the vellum.

The sound of metal clinking against metal and metal pieces rolling around in a wooden box startled the half conscious vampire. Grasping a well cleaned, metal scalpel that had just a bit of rust on it, Appia turned back to the vampire and slowly lowered it to the mark on the creature's chest. It seemed to be frantically attempting to lower itself further and further as its back was slack against the table, its eyes wide with fear, pain, and exhaustion. Appia forced the scalpel in the vampire's leathery skin, having to push quite hard to rend some of the muscle. There was a pop, a watery slick sound as she deftly rent the skin asunder. Grasping a long, shined and polished bar of some kind slipped into the now completely cut. The vampire was drifting in and out of conscience. Wrenching on the bar several times, she could hear rib and bone cracking. Finally, she had the creature torn asunder. Grasping some wooden, carpet tacks, she quickly pierced the open skin, holding the incision open. The vampire lie with the skin of its chest and ribs tacked off at its side, its un-beating heart open to Appia's inspection. She clucked her tongue, narrowing her eyes at the heart. Grasping a wider, thin knife, she took some tissue and organ samples. Throwing some holy water onto the exposed heart, she winced when the creature bellowed. She took the heart, removing it and dropping it into a bowl. When it didn't die, she made some more notes.

Mixing some herbs, various goopy looking, colorful sludge and some other items together in a bowl, she wandered back over to the vampire. Taking a thin metal pin, she slowly coated it with the smelly liquid in the bowl. She pierced the vampires lower intestines with it and they quickly turned scabrous, sooty black, and shot puss and whatever else was in the vampire's intestines up like an artesian well, staining the ceiling, walls, and Appia's smock. Walking up to the creature?s head, she looked down at it. The vampire looked fevered and blue, sick. Black, sooty bile and pus oozed from its veins and arteries.

"Hmm? It works." Moving over to the vampire, a set of sharp, metal pliers in her hand, she deftly yanks the vampire's fangs out of its mouth. It couldn't even scream at this point. Depositing the bloodied fangs and their roots in a jar, she turned back to the creature's heart. Poking it with a metal pin holding her previously made poison, it was ashes to ashes and the creature was gone. There was gore everywhere, her hair was even thick with it.

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Re: NEW- Questionable Posts

Post by Jayne » Mon Dec 05, 2016 8:19 am

Praising the Darkness, Berating the Light, all is well in the Underdark.
Author: Kel Russell
Date: 12 November 2003

Disclaimer. again. A bit more nudity, a bit more violence and torture.
Same as always.

The darkness was so thick you could almost taste it. The Shadow was occupied this moment, by quite a few of the more violent and evil of the elfin race. The Drow.

Molshalee was shackled by the same living snakes that had once held Cormllenaa ... twice in his lifetime. Her head hung low, black-dyed hair dripping with her own blood, her ebon skin naked to all who could see. She'd been forced to remove the black bits that coloured her eyes, revealing the all-too-common red of the Drow. Those eyes were trained upon the blood pooling around her on the floor. A male stood before her, wielding her own whip.

Iymalstra stood off to the side, out of the soft light of the Faerie Fire, her other daughters around her. There had been a time when more of her clan were alive, before one died in childbirth, and the other was murdered. Alak`qualyn and Elkaste were missed, but nothing could be done. Or so she mused at the moment.

G`eldvyr watched as Molshalee was punished by the male, a sadistic smile growing across her venomous lips. She'd been the one to apprehend Molshalee this time, with the aid of her sister, Vic`imar. When she spoke, it was soft, and aimed at her silent sister. "How did you get her free, sweet whispering sister?" Green eyes stayed trained on Molshalee, enjoying her pain with all that she was.

Vic`imar's own crimson gaze, too, was amused at the pain Molshalee was feeling. Ironic, really, that Molshalee should hate this. The small one usually loved the feel of the whip against her skin. When given by a male, she hated it. "I made a deal with the law." The tell-tale whisper of Vic`imar permeated G`eldvyr's ears. Vic`imar always whispered.

"Oh? Do elaborate. I feel your efforts may have just helped us." Lifting a hand to her lips, the Yathrin of Poisons half-hides her overjoyed smile, watching Iymalstra give the male orders on how to punish their petite sister.

"Simple, dear venomous sister of mine." Vic`imar moved a little closer to G`eldvyr, placing a hand around the other's hips to pull her over. "After you had pulled her into the Shadows, I stayed behind. Come to find out she had poisoned one of the guardsmen topside. He looked like a lizard-man, which furthers the ludicrous undertakings of the surface." She scoffed before continuing. "Dryder, no less. So, he asked me for the antidote. He actually thought I would give it to him." She laughed, and heard G`eldvyr chime in. "Of course, I required a price. Pardon Molshalee and halt all pursuit of her. He would turn in Valshalee in her place, claiming he had gotten the name wrong."

"Brilliant, Silent One." G`eldvyr rested a hand over Vic`imar's watching Molshalee writhe in pain, the silent shield spell placed just before the other Yathrin saving their ears from bleeding. "What next, then?"

"Well, he agreed. His companion, some little bitch waif of a creature, claimed she would if requested. Slyly, the guard told me she agreed. I would have none of that. Of course, I told him to request it of her, so he did. She agreed." A wicked smile blossomed over her lips as she recalled the encounter. "He trusted me to give him the antidote. Of course, doing anything but would have marred our chances more than anything Molshalee could have ever done. I cured him, but told him if he ever did not uphold his end of the bargain, I would kill them both. His captain of the guard should be expecting a note pardoning Molshalee officially."

G`eldvyr relished this, shivering against Vic`imar. "Oh, sister, you are cunning. Not only do we have Resque working with us, but we now have a black hand upon the Guard. Delicious." She leaned over and gave her younger sister a nuzzle with her cheek, the other returning it.

"Yes. I was trained by some of the best, sister. Too bad Alak`qualyn is not here to view this." She looked sad a moment, missing the eldest of the Yathrin for but an instant before gesturing to Molshalee with her chin. "Look, I believe it is over. Our turn, sister."

Iymalstra moved to allow G`eldvyr and Vic`imar passage to Molshalee. The two took the offer, but no whips were drawn. The hard heels of their boots clacked on the floor, G`eldvyr's black, and Vic`imar's white.

G`eldvyr knelt upon one side of their beaten sister, Vic`imar on the other, both of them lifted her head with one hand each.

"Poor Molshalee, you did it again. You very nearly ruined any chance we had with gaining any influence upon the surface," G`eldvyr said sweetly, her thumbnail biting into Molshalee's cheek. The smaller Yathrin flinched.

"But, in the end, you gave us a hand in the law, sweet Molshalee. If not for your mad antics, we never would have coerced that guardsman to aid us." Vic`imar's whisper echoed more than G`eldvyr's normal speaking tone. "Your poison made me give him the Dryder antidote. We have a fist within the law, Molshalee, and it is all thanks to you."

Molshalee lifted her head to look from G`eldvyr to Vic`imar, hope plastered in her weary and pain-filled eyes. "Really? Molshalee ... helped her sisters?" She'd always been excluded from undertakings given by their House, because of her crazy mindset and smaller stature.

"Yes, Molshalee," G`eldvyr crooned. "You helped. However, you are not to go back to that inn ever again. We cannot risk you ruining this card for us. We gamble in a very dangerous and fickle game. Stay out of that inn."

Molshalee nodded and went slack, unconsciousness taking her as her sister stood.

"Do you think she will listen?" Vic`imar stood, gazing down at their sister with disdain.

"Yes. I believe this time she will listen." G`eldvyr answered her whispering kin before turning and leaving the Shadow.

Iymalstra just drank all of this in, smiling to herself as she, too, left the Shadow. Molshalee would wake up by herself, and take herself back to her own room. Amalvier, her youngest daughter, was no where to be found just yet. This annoyed Iymalstra after having Cormllenaa down here.

The Matron Mother entered her chambers, laying upon the pile of pillows in the center of the room. She only wore a long, solid skirt, with a gauzy robe overtop, her naked torso visible to all who would look. As she lay there, she thought. That is, until Vic`imar entered the room.

"Matron, I feel you have words you wish to speak of. Tell me." Her white-booted feet clack to Iymalstra, her alabaster-clad body sinking into the pillows.

"How astute of you, daughter. Yes, I was thinking about Cormllenaa. Where is it that you placed him?" Iymalstra lay back lazily, eyes watching the high ceiling.

"I placed him outside of Stygian's home, Matron. I felt that, if we put him there, he would be healed and forced to live with our graces. If we left him at that inn, he would die. Torture his mind and his will, Matron, and he will be ours." Vic`imar smiled and lay back as well, watching as Iymalstra grinned.

"Oh, how wicked. I was just thinking how nice it would be to have him as a mate again. He was always so agreeable. And look at the offspring he gave us. Despite her being half-blood Drow, Amalvier is more ruthless than Molshalee." Her slanted eyes shift to her daughter, questioning her for her opinion.

"Yes, she is, Matron. Cormllenaa was one of the more ... agreeable Patrons we have had. He was the only one not to end in death." Vic`imar really had enjoyed the reign of the surface elf, having had her share of his body to herself, with Iymalstra's blessings. "Quite agreeable."

"Good. I shall think on this and we may have to retrieve him. After all, a strong Patron would do us good when we make our move upon the Second House." Iymalstra waved her daughter away before closing her eyes. She would rest, now.

"As you wish, Matron." The whisper of the Yathrin echoed as she left the chamber, smiling to herself. She would have to get Cormllenaa back before Iymalstra could decide. What better gift for her Matron? Stygian would have a black visitor sooner than he would think.

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