Fable - Ask The Umbral Matters of Umbral Masters

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Hebemarri

High Priestess of Maelzafan
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It had been several days since the coronation of Vyx’aria Tor’Rahel as Queen of the Drow, and the grand temple was abuzz beyond its chiseled stone walls. The priesthood was in a definite state as the bloody ordeal of Vyx’aria’s ascension had affected them greatly. Between all of the priestesses an high priestesses lost to disagreements on whether a deposed queen still held a claim to the throne, as well as the rising economic debates of how the cost of the coronation should be fairly split between the state and the priesthood, things were liable to be busy for quite a while, at least until a new generation of priestesses could be fully trained to lighten the load.

Hebemarri’s situation was no different. Living hersel in a room alone, so that she could take a form she would prefer no one knew about, the dragon priestess of Maelzafan was looking over documents left over from one of her high priestess sisters who died loyal to the previous regime. This was a task usually meant for a scribe, but the writings of high priestesses were holy, and thus only permitted to the eyes of those of equal or greater station.

Most of it was junk. Hebemarri had no interest in preserving coy letters between now-executed drow, or documents that seemed written only to give the high priestess something to do in her free time. Whatever still had a use or at least a place worth considering, was put together to be filed down to an ordained document censor and then the archives.

“Truly, this is the price of one’s devotion to Maelzafan.” Hebemarri sighed as she skimmed across a scroll on beeswax blessing, which had been borrowed from the archives and never returned. She then placed it on one of many sorting piles.

“At least this disgusting form has some sort of use, papers are served so much better by hands than magic or claws—even if those hands leave so much to be desire.”

Hebemarri plucked another document from the top of the slowly shrinking pile. This one was a recent one, received only shortly before Vyx’aria’s return. In the top right corner was the printed insignia of the scouts, with a title reading "Findings Report: Blyn’fal Steam Corridor investigation". The report was rather short but as Hebemarri read it, her eyes widened with a smile creeping onto her face.

Her study doors burst open as Hebemarri strode into her main quarters in her true draconic form. “you” she said to one of the four-armed maidenly umbrals that stood guard over her private space. “Go and fetch me Vairos and My Flower. I have need for them and it cannot wait.”
 
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Of course Kiyari would be the first to respond to their Mistress's summons. They were always nearby, after all, never far from her beckoning claws or her whims. Her Flower would plod gentle, obedient steps to her private chambers and stand just inside the doorway. They were mildly surprised to see their Mistress in her detested form. No doubt a choice of pure utility on her part. But not letting their gaze linger Kiyari would bow respectfully, their unkempt hair falling like a tattered curtain to hide their eyes as they bowed low and respectful.

"I am here, Mistress."

Came their murmured answer of obedience. Their motions smooth, their posture immaculate, their demeanor calm. It was a better day than most for Kiyari, the steady rhythm of servitude and lack of thought required on their part settling over them like a suffocating, warm pool of thick honey that they did not even desire to emerge from. Not in her presence, anyhow.

Hebemarri Vairos
 
Much louder footsteps followed the pitter-patter of the flower's gentle treading but a minute later. A servant had called Vairos in the name of the high lady of the priesthood, and, with the exception of the Valsharess, this was the one being that he would not decline an order from. The dragon who'd earned his begrudging respect in the hour of his awakening.

Vairos stepped into Hebemarri's main quarters, folded his umbral right arm across his chest, and gave a stuff bow of his own.

"You call and I answer, Mistress," he greeted her before returning to his full height. It was only after he'd done so that he realized the other favored skall in the room, his eyes sliding downwards in recognition. It was all he could do not to sneer at the wretch. That Kiyari, as the wretch called itself, was also skall was...sickening.

Yet he would not speak on the matter. Not in the dragon's presence.

"How may I serve?"
 
“In due time” Hebemarri said, paying no attention to Vairos’ troubled glances. With a magical hiss long limbs made of shadows produced the paper report and placed it between Hebemarri and her "servants". “This parchment was found on the desk of a dearly departed high priestess, whose mistakes caught up with her. It is a report from the scouts under private commission to investigate the Steam Corridor beneath the Caverns of Rain.”

The Caverns of Rain was a region well known to the drow. It was a place of water found beneath lake Crobhear. There water rained, pooled, and trickled downward—reaching the depths where magma flowed beneath the spine and sent the water back up as steam and fog. This place of volatile transformation was known as the steam corridor. A remarkably hazardous region not tamed since the days of ancient dwarves.

“I will not trouble the two of you with the bureaucratic elements.” Hebemarri continued. “But this report speaks of pit-born spotted in sizable numbers down within the Corridor. No doubt, our late lady was planning to reap the marvels a pit-born hive is known to come with. Gloam infused metals, purified essences, greater Umbrals, Shadow mother crystals.”

Hebemarri lost herself for a moment in the dream of all that could be there, before snapping back to attentiveness in a way that suggested the whole display was just for show.

“A terrible shame then that she put in all that effort to die so unceremoniously upon the new queen’s return. Though it does now leave a hidden wonder still ripe for the plucking.”