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Vyx'aria

Drow Queen
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Character Biography
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“I will not risk another female mage and that’s final.”

Vyx’aria was bristling with rage, and it bubbled just underneath the surface. There was nothing she could say about it, not when it was the warlord addressing her. Vyx’aria had taken Alvyana with her to the surface, but the woman had proven too cowardly to help in the raid. Despite explaining the circumstances, the warlord was displeased at losing a sorceress - a female one at that.

The only other mage Vyx'aria had somewhat tolerated was Alak, but he had turned to the surface. Vyx’aria had a shortage of mages, and the warlord was not willing to risk any other women for the surface raids. Going above ground brought with it countless risks, and well trained females were too valuable to lose. She simply pursed her lips and kept silent, nodding in agreement.

“Take a man. I’m not going to say you can’t raid,” The warlord said, “But we have some men that have shown...promise.”

“I do not trust men,” Vyx’aria said quietly.

“No need,” The warlord grinned, her eyes glinting, “They are obedient. The men from the mage academies go through extra obedience training to follow commands. They will serve you well. Alak was…” She sighed, “An unfortunate surprise, but we sacrificed several men to the goddesses to make up for his insolence.”

Vyx’aria sighed took her leave after that, making her way towards the mage halls. The women here had the best quarters out of anywhere within Zar’Ahal. The male mages had the best living situations out of any other male, though still nowhere near what the women enjoyed. At her behest, the male trained enough to potentially go on surface raids were lined up before her.

With a bored expression on her face, she rolled her eyes and let them present and demonstrate their skills. Vyx’aria twirled her blade in her hand, waving away yet another man that tried too hard to impress her with petty illusions that ultimately wouldn’t cause any damage to anyone. She was beginning to regret killing Alvyana if the quality of the males was this terrible…

Painus
 
Szordryn stood assembled outside with the other hopefuls in the halls of the mages. Around him were peers and rivals with whom he had spent a considerable amount of time competing and studying with. Countless nights of pouring over proscribed tomes and ancient scrolls, hoping to glean whatever scant information was available, led up to this singular moment. They had gathered to prove themselves before one of Zar’Ahal’s newest military commanders in the hopes of being selected to join her warband in their excursions to the surface.

Szordryn very much so desired to be the one selected to fill the magic void in Vyx’aria’s warband. More than the others here, he was certain. They were all whelps of varying degrees of arcane affinity, but none of them mattered. Their desires were to please their female mistresses and to raise their station in life. He craved the forbidden lore of the surface just as much as he craved to be known as more than mere meat. Szordryn was gifted – or cursed – with a certain harsh beauty that often landed him in bed with the females as little more than a plaything, an idle distraction from the rigors of life. He was a sorcerer, not some sack of flesh fit for pleasure! His indignation sat buried beneath a façade of ritual obeisance.

The halls went silent with a curt shush! from one of the senior mages as Vyx’aria entered, striding in with an air of authority that Szordryn felt compelled to respect, whether out of fear or obedience, he was not sure. Immediately, he bowed his head, not daring to make eye contact with the woman, lest he become the object of her ire.

In time, she began assessing the mages present on their abilities for the arcane. None thus far had proven very impressive; cheap parlor tricks or displays of magic that could cause no harm. He snuck a peek and noticed her bored expression and grinned to himself, plotting for when his turn would arrive.

Such a moment came when the man in front of him was dismissed for conjuring an illusory sword, something that would never kill. As he walked away, Szordryn felt the gaze of the commander upon him. The previous mage passed by and Szordryn gently brushed his hand against the bare flesh of the man, spitting out a curt, hushed, ”Shinsi.” At the command, he sent a psychic lance into the man’s mind, forcing the suggestion upon him. Almost instantly, the failed mage halted, a confused look on his face as he wondered what it was that compelled him so.

Szordryn kept his head bowed and barked out a quiet, ”Kûtsi dzis niwizkas.” It was a foul and accursed tongue, but one that he had learned when deciphering ancient scrolls they had ransacked from another settlement decades ago. It took Szordryn a considerable length of time, and the simple act of doing so caused him plenty of fretful nights where bouts of sleep were punctuated by haunting nightmares. Even now, as he said the words, his nose began to bleed – only slightly – and he stood stock still. The man beside him, however, coughed violently, clutching at his throat. His ragged breathing quickened, and he seemed to panic for a moment, but it was pointless to fight. He fell to his knees, face rapidly turning black, veins bulging like thick spiderwebs, and looked towards Szordryn pleadingly. The diminutive dark elf looked at him and spat out, ”Ros,” and the man collapsed, screaming, his eyes liquefying and oozing out of their sockets as he finally died.

It was more so a test of his own theories than it was an attempt to please the commander. Thus far, his speculations of the dark magics seemed correct, and the idea of controlling their profane power pleased him greatly. Szordryn looked up at Vyx’aria at the conclusion of the ordeal and gestured to the man’s corpse, blood trailing from his nose. ”An offering,” he said meekly, looking ahead and avoiding eye contact. Everything had a price, and he hoped this was hers. He steeled himself for further testing but, so far, he had been the only one to inflict any measure of pain upon another being in the room.

Sreeya
 
Vyx’aria rolled her eyes once more, exhaling her breath loudly as she prepared to simply turn and leave. This was a waste of her time, and all of these men were utter trash. She turned away by the time the next male came up to demonstrate. However, she paused when she heard some guttural noises that indicated one of the men was in distress. She turned to look, watching the man fall to his knees and his face contort as his eyes bulged. He looked disgusting, and he looked pleadingly at the other male that was clearly doing this to him.

The blade in her hand stopped spinning, and she had her full attention on the display. Was the man slowly killing another? Her eyes flashed over to the mage, watching the way he kept a calm resolve, as if he were doing something as simple as giving her a routine inventory report. The man on the ground became a hollowed shell of himself, slumping to the ground dead. She flashed a quick look, seeing the way the other men in the entire line cringed and gave the mage in question angry looks.

A smile slowly spread across her face as she approached the mage. She glanced down at the dead drow, kicking him lightly with her foot. Vyx’aria towered over the mage, cutting an imposing and hulking figure with her athletic build and years of being a warrior.

“Deadly,” She said quietly, probably the only time her voice didn’t sound harsh, “What’s your name?” Vyx’aria reached her hand out and slowly traced a finger down the side of his face, curling it under his chin to lift his face to look at hers, allowing him to look her in the eye, “And pretty to look at. Think you’re brave enough to crawl out into the surface?” There was a mix of amusement and fascination in her tone, and with it an icy chill that was always dangerous. There was never anything gentle about her regardless of how subtle the gesture.

Painus
 
Szordryn remained still, his breathing ragged and staccato-like, as the room went silent. He felt Vyx’aria’s eyes fall upon him, her dagger twirling coming to a halt as he killed the man beside him to seize her attention. Such was the harsh reality of life underground for males in Zar’Ahal; survival was a constant struggle for supremacy, alliances were tenuous if they existed at all, and everyone was out to kill everyone else if it meant protecting their own hide. Szordryn was no stranger to this, and he knew that if he wanted to secure passage to the surface, he needed to be ruthless and uncaring of the lives of his peers. They were all vying for her approval, and if they were too cowardly to do what needed to be done to ensure such, then they were not fit for the warband.

The dead mage’s dying rasps finally faded away and he laid there, blood leaking from his eye sockets. Szordryn continued to gaze ahead, even as Vyx’aria approached him. He could feel the cutting glares from the others, both because of the woman’s interest in him, and because of his execution of their peer. He didn’t care. They were not his concern. It was their fault they didn’t have the wherewithal to do what he did.

Vyx’aria towered several inches above him and cut an impressive figure, but he dared not look up. Instead, he stared directly ahead at her chest, awaiting whatever punishment she saw fit to deliver. That punishment did not come, however, and, rather than scold him, she spoke in a calm, callous voice that chilled even Szordryn. There was an unsettling allure to it, like being caught in a spider’s web. A venomous undertone accompanied it, and he felt a tinge of fear course through his body as she addressed him.

”Szordryn,” he said as she traced his face, lifting it by the chin so that they could make eye contact, Szordryn Zaphresz, mistress.” Much like her voice, there was some kind of inexplicable danger and allure that the woman possessed. He had to admit, there was a degree of pride he felt in being allowed to lock eyes with her, and he knew the others watching would be jealous, though none of them would voice their grievances so long as she was fixated on him.

”I live to serve however I must,” he responded to the woman, not daring to take his eyes off of her, ”If that is on the surface, then I shall follow, mistress.” He hated the obsequiousness with which he had to act, but nearly two centuries of maltreatment by the women in his home settlement drilled in such a mindset of inferiority that, no matter his ambitions, he could not shake the belief.

Sreeya
 
She grinned at him, her own crimson gaze meeting his own. All eyes were on them, and they were a mixture of jealousy and rage all at once. Men had very little way of moving up the hierarchy, and catching the attention of a female that wanted something more than just pleasure for the evening was highly coveted.

She didn’t release him just yet, the same finger tracing back up his jawline and brushing smoothly over his lips as she grinned, “Sssssszoordryn,” She purred, “I like how that rolls off the tongue,” Vyx’aria finally stepped back and once again settled into the ruthless demeanor she always carried. She flashed her eyes over to the other men, “Clear out, maggots. I have no need for the rest of you.”

Vyx’aria spun on her heel and began to walk, “Come, Zaphresz,” She commanded, leading the way out of the chambers. Her focus was back on the raid at hand, and she walked towards where the rest of the soldiers she gathered were waiting. It was a group of women - just as she always preferred. The women all looked disgusted at the sight of a man walking back with Vyx’aria, but she was unconcerned by this.

The women all stood at attention when Vyx’aria arrived. The drow looked over them all before she began speaking, “This is our mage,” Several eyebrows raised, and the women shifted uncomfortably. Vyx’aria ignored it, “He will be joining us on this raid. He is to be protected and defended at all times,” She looked over at five of the women, the remaining ten her elite frontline warriors, “By all of you. If he has commands to give, you five are to follow them.”

Their jaws tightened, fury coursing through them. One of the women, however, huffed and began to protest audibly. Vyx’aria moved like lightning, grabbing the woman by the throat and slamming her harshly back against the cold stone wall behind her. The woman began to choke and sputter as Vyx’aria lifted her clear off the ground by several feet, her blade coming up to rest against the woman’s chest, “Do you have any concerns about my orders?” She spoke through gritted teeth.

The woman continued gasp and choke, a display of complete humiliation - especially in the presence of a man. She would never recover from shame such as this. Vyx’aria released the woman at last, the drow landing in a slump and grasping at her bruised neck. She wouldn’t be speaking for days after this.

Vyx’aria stepped back and looked over the others, all keeping their gazes trained forward and their faces devoid of expression, “We leave in two hours. That is when the great fire in the sky descends. The next person to disobey me will die a very slow death.”

Painus
 
The woman in front of him was, like most women he encountered, extremely unpredictable. At a moment’s fancy, her idle fascination could turn worse, and he could find himself on the wrong side of a sword very quickly. He was expendable; all the men were, to an extent. Their existence was a necessary unpleasantry for the women so long as they desired their population to survive. A cold chill ran through him once again as her finger trailed along his jaw and over his lips. He did not fight it, but rather sat there and held his eye contact with her. Szordryn was not unused to the touch – he was pretty, and others enjoyed that aspect of him. This, however, was not the typical touch that occurred when a female took a liking to him. This was him rising above his peers, if only marginally. The other mages had not been chosen, only Szordryn, and it was only he who rose in prestige from such a simple touch.

Szordryn bowed his head once again as she broke contact and stepped back, commanding the others to leave. Like mice being discovered, the mages scurried away back to their quarters to sulk and plot, humiliated and indignant. He stood like a statue, face impassive, until Vyx’aria spun on her heel and beckoned him along. He took two steps for every one of her strides, hustling through the ancient, cyclopean corridors of their home. Eventually they arrived at the raiding party – all women – and Szordryn suddenly felt the gaze of fifteen displeased pairs of eyes fall on him. His presence alone was an affront to the way they operated, and he knew that no matter what he did, he was little more than a whelp to them.

At his introduction by Vyx’aria, Szordryn raised his head slightly before lowering it once again, clasping his hands in front of his body and letting his arms hang loose. At least Vyx’aria saw fit to have him be defended; that little knowledge boded well, he surmised, but he knew how unpleasant the women would be about performing their duty. Five of the fifteen, she announced, were his to command and the corners of his lips curled upwards ever-so-slightly. This truly was a step up on the ladder of power.

One of the five protested, though it was short-lived, for Vyx’aria struck like a viper and had her hand firmly clasped around the protestor’s throat. Szordryn raised his head almost imperceptibly, straining his eyes upwards to catch the action without being obvious about it. The commander was powerful, and, after watching her lift the woman clear off the ground, he made a mental note to not vex her any further. He knew it was humiliating for the other woman to be dominated in such a way in the presence of a male and he fed off of her shame.

They were leaving in two hours, giving him time to prepare his body and his mind for the upcoming raid. This was his first time going skyward, and he did not know what to expect, truly. So, rather than focus on the fear of the unknown, he decided that the present demanded his attention. He took a step forward and looked at the woman still lying on the ground against the wall, silently rubbing her neck. ”Get up,” he ordered, though it was more of a suggestion, testing the waters of his newfound authority. The woman flicked her eyes towards him and glared, but defiantly remained seated. Szordryn paused, collected his mind, and then sent a gentle probe into the shady recesses of her mind, using the recent ordeal as an open doorway into her psyche. Promptly, she stood up, believing full well that it was her idea all along. The other women looked between the two of them, then went about their pre-raid preparations. That was a good start to establishing himself.

He turned and walked off to the other side of the room, alone, and sat down to collect himself and rest up.

Two hours passed by and Szordryn promptly stood up, returning to the assembly. He waited for Vyx’aria, idly glancing over the five under his command, not daring to look at the others. After locking eyes with one and sensing the immense disgust, he promptly bowed his head and looked back down almost instinctively, afraid of the consequences for his lingering gaze. He would do well to remember that he was insignificant and merely filling the void of someone who was dead, he reminded himself.

Sreeya
 
Vyx’aria was prompt, arriving when it was time to leave. The five assigned to the mage were no more thrilled than before the two hours. They stood a short distance away from him, refusing to move any closer. Vyx’aria on the other hand paid this no need, and neither did the remaining women that didn’t have to follow his commands. They took it all in stride, finding great amusement in seeing a man boss around some of their brethren.

“There is a great, wide opening above once we go above ground,” She addressed the male drow, knowing he was the only one that hadn’t gone up before, “They call it...'sky',” She struggled with the word in the common tongue, “It changes on a whim. Sometimes there is great light that streaks down, and then it growls and roars. No one controls this. Sometimes it even causes water to fall,” Vyx’aria recalled the storm they had been caught in, “And for much of the time, there is a great ball of fire in this ‘sky’ that hurts our kind. You must never go up when that ball is there,” She knew all of this would be bizarre information, and she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it for herself.

“There is much to learn about the world above, but do not run if something alarms you,” It irritated her that she even had to mention this, her gaze roaming over not just the male, but everyone else in the group, “I will not hesitate to kill like I did with Alvyana. Your status here will not excuse you.”

With that, she turned and began the journey through the tunnels that led up into the outside world. It was quite a bit of a march, though most of the women here had done it before. Szordryn was flanked by the five women even here, though it was mixed with several of the remaining ten. Vyx’aria was up at the front, her gaze trained ahead.

For Szordryn, this journey would be a mixture of reactions: The five women went out of their way to bump into him with their shoulders, purposely shoving him into the wall painfully as they passed him. The others, however, dropped lewd comments and gestures now and then, highly amused to have a man in the group. One of the women shamelessly reached out to give him a squeeze on the behind, along with an invitation to her quarters after this raid.

Vyx’aria was oblivious to it all, and she didn’t care. Her soldiers could use him as they pleased - she just needed him fit for her missions. After a long while, there was a subtle shift in air that indicated they had arrived at the opening that would lead them out. Vyx’aria gestured for them to be quiet, and she listened for any noises from the outside.

After ensuring nothing was there, she took her blade and traced runes against the stone in front of her. After a moment, the tracings began to glow, and there was a quiet rumble before the slab of stone broke away to reveal a doorway. Vyx’ria crawled up through the opening, taking in a breath of the surface air. Even she had to admit - the air here was strangely refreshing.

She stepped out, her feet sinking into the grass and mud. It was a sensation she would never quite get used to. Vyx’aria began to walk, slowly to allow everyone else to climb out and catch up.

Painus
 
Szordryn lifted his head as he heard the dull thud of footsteps heading their way. His crimson eyes fell upon the hulking figure of Vyx’aria, and he immediately turned his head and looked back down. Decades of obedience training had been drilled into his mind, and, regardless of the situation he found himself in, he dared not press the limits. His position was tenuous at best. The judging, displeased glares of the women surrounding him spoke volumes of his worth, but it was Vyx’aria’s command that kept them from simply outright abusing him. From within the tormented recesses of his mind, Szordryn thanked the woman immensely for affording him this opportunity.

Vyx’aria began to address him, but he kept his head bowed and simply listened. She described the great “sky” above, going into detail of how it changes, glows, and growls. He scoffed at the idea that nobody controlled it and doubted that it was as great as she claimed. Szordryn needed to see it for himself to believe the stories. She spoke of the great fireball that hangs above and he began to wonder what manner of wizard was capable of sustaining such a spell. Surely it was someone of immense, terrible power who sought to keep their kind underground.

”I would sooner die than flee, mistress,” he asserted coolly, studying the stone slabs upon which they stood. At that, he turned and joined the raiding party as they began the trek to the surface, finding himself flanked by the five women under his command. At first, he thought it would be a pleasant, uneventful trip skyward.

Sadly, he was mistaken.

Even as he walked, Szordryn saw the disdainful glances that followed the rough shoves and shoulder bumps. He didn’t dream of fighting back, instead taking each check in stride as the women abused him at their leisure. Others cooed and called out to him, jeering at and inviting him for lewd acts, asking him all manner of personal questions. They were enjoying themselves greatly, he could tell. A surprised yelp snuck out of his lips as he felt his butt grabbed and he quickly nodded to her invitation, his response humorless and tired.

The torment ended after what felt like an eternity with Vyx’aria halting and silencing them. Szordryn stopped and waited, listening to the sounds of water dripping in the distance. Vyx’aria began to trace runes against the stone with her blade, and he craned his neck over to watch, which promptly earned him a slap to the back of the head from one of the veterans.

The party began to file out of the doorway one by one, with Szordryn somewhere in the middle. The air tasted sweeter than below, and he took in deep, full breaths of its intoxicating aroma. Once he stepped in the mud, he quickly looked down as he sank, then back up at the surroundings. They were in a place with tall, powerful columns made of some kind of brown material. Above them was a natural ceiling to this strange cavern made of intersecting green plants and offshoots of the cavern. Szordryn stared around him, mouth agape, as the other warriors filed out.

A quick shove to the shoulder shook him from his stupor and he closed his mouth, looking around as he hustled to catch up with the taller warriors. Strange creatures croaked and wailed in the distance, and a cacophony of chiming insects assaulted his ears. He wondered if the great fireball existed to stop this damnable racket but noticed that it was not hanging overhead.

”Mistress,” he spoke quietly, ”Forgive my foolish ignorance, but what lives up here?” His voice was calm, but a tinge of concern framed it. Szordryn kept alert, curious as to what could possibly inhabit such a large cavern. He couldn’t even see the ceiling! Typically, that did not bode well, for the largest, most deadly things lurked in the recesses of the deepest caves.

Sreeya
 
Vyx’aria paused look down at the ground for traces of footprints. It was then that she tilted her head up, catching the look on Szordryn’s face as he took in all his surroundings. There was a child-like awe in his features that surprisingly brought a faint grin to her face. It disappeared as soon as someone bumped into him and he quickly composed himself. Vyx’aria returned to what she was doing, sniffing the air for that familiar scent of humans.

She looked up at the ‘sky’, spotting the millions of shimmering lights that stretched out for miles as far as the eye could see. What was the purpose of all this? She had been so used to gazing up and seeing nothing but stone - the sight of this great blue blanket was always a shock to her system. Vyx’aria found herself gazing up at it for a few moments before she looked back at the traces of prints on the mud.

As the man asked his question, one of the other veterans promptly elbowed him in the ribs for speaking out of turn. Vyx’aria eyed him for a moment, and it was unclear whether she was preparing to hit him or not. In the end, she looked away, “Countless beings,” She finally answered, “Humans, other elves, creatures that can soar high above the ground and closer to the ‘sky’,” Vyx’aria looked up, “It is a place large and beyond measure. The soil is different wherever you go, and the air is different too. Some places are warm, some places are cool.”

She began to walk, even allowing him to walk near her. There was no denying that this world fascinated her in many ways. A brutish war commander or not, this was quite a bit to take in, “The continued survival of treacherous drow up here suggests to me that we can, over time, withstand the effects of the ball of fire in the sky,” She explained, “Otherwise we need to rely on magic to be able to tolerate it.”

Vyx'aria crouched down and pointed to the imprints on the ground, “These were caused by humans. They and the surface elves have rule over all these endless lands. I wish to expand our people’s cause far beyond the limitations of the underground. That is precisely why I’ve been launching these raids. I want to learn about the world here and learn how to defeat our enemies,” She tilted her head to look at him, “And that is precisely why I sought not simply a mage, but a scholar as well.”

Vyx’aria rose to her feet and began to walk once more. They were on a path that led towards a human village. Up ahead, the group would be able to see some lights that suggested there was civilization. Most of the village was asleep, and there was only the occasional guard pacing around here and there. They would have to quietly go in and take out any torches or lanterns first, and then move to raid the village.

Painus
 
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Szordryn grunted and gasped in pain as he was elbowed in the ribs, promptly lowering his head in apology and muttering apologies. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought to himself, remembering his place. He was nothing more than a tool to be used, not someone fit to speak to the others of the raiding party as if they were equals. He clutched his hands and wringed them nervously, expecting some degree of retribution for his insolence, steeling himself to the incoming abuse.

Such abuse did not find him, however, and he simply walked along, eyes on the path ahead and the legs of the warriors with whom he traveled. Szordryn watched how they left minor imprints in the mud, aiming to minimize their presence, and he became acutely aware of his own ineptitude in that area. Too busy focusing on how to act, the dark elf sorcerer forgot his own talents at stealth. Now making a conscious effort to not leave larger footprints, he could focus on Vyx’aria’s words as she answered his question. He found this all very fascinating; humans, surface elves, countless species all survived in the great cavern outside of the caves. He had read about their societies, though most of it seemed to be conjecture. There seemed to be a consistent belief that humans were giants who ate the flesh of elves. That bothered him.

Szordryn walked alarmingly close to Vyx’aria as she explained that even their own kind managed to go rogue and survive up here. The aid of magic, no doubt, helped them in that endeavor, and he longed to know how to resist the harmful influence of the sky fire. There was a great deal to learn about this new world, and he desired to know it all. The target of their raid surely would have some kind of proscribed lore for him to comb through.

He remained silent as the commander explained her desires, nodding affirmatively at her remark of bringing both a scholar and a mage. Szordryn could help her in that area; he would help her in that area. He had no other purpose but to serve her, after all. This was why he was selected to accompany them on the raid. There was a great deal to prove to them.

Having learned his lesson of speaking out of turn, Szordryn simply remained quiet, responding to Vyx’aria with a light affirmative hum. The group continued along and eventually there were signs of civilization ahead. The lights in the distance were blinding, even despite their diminutive size at range. Bothered by the minor flares illuminating the village, Szordryn lifted his head and began whispering in that foul and profane tongue once again. ”Ytipû sis kûrja ir jina'tis,” he gasped out, each word painful to utter with his lack of familiarity with dark magic. Shortly thereafter, a haunting breeze blew by, an umbral choir of accursed whispers on the wind, and traveled towards the sources of light. One by one, the lanterns in his line of sight went dark as the malefic tendrils reached them, enshrouding the area in total darkness. Above, only the great glowing stone and its twinkling children provided any measure of light for the humans.

A small stream of crimson blood began to seep out of Szordryn’s nose again and he felt physically drained from just invoking the foul magics, but he remained on his feet, looking towards the warriors. He kept his mouth shut, the warmth of the blood trailing down his lips. He would need to keep the use of such use of the profane to a minimum and rely on his other magical talents, he surmised. Many had perished from overuse without the proper preparations. Szordryn wiped the blood away with the back of his hand and gestured towards the village. He was growing giddy with the prospect of the raid. The prospect of forbidden lore.

Sreeya
 
The village was theirs for the taking, the dwellers asleep. Vyx’aria didn’t differentiate between men, women and children. In her eyes, they were all expendable and in need of extermination. All of this land belonged to the dark elves, and that was the will of the goddesses. Vyx’aria had a very narrow view on this, and she had no desire to expand that view. She was smarter than the average military drow, but that didn’t mean she was exactly philosophical enough to ponder on the morality of killing children vs. adults.

She approached the village quickly with her warriors, and she prepared to set up archers at specific points to set up to take out the guards with the lanterns. However, their mage acted more swiftly than she could have predicted. She held a hand up for her warriors to stand down, watching as the man got to work and one by one the unnatural lights went out. Vyx’aria’s eyes went wide, impressed at the sight.

The other women were more than a little taken aback at the display. Vyx’aria turned to them, “Move in move in!” She hissed, urging them to take advantage of the turn of events. Vyx’aria moved in closer herself, but not before she paused before the mage. She had a curious look on her face, “More to you than appears.”

She noticed the blood on his face, and she caught his hand as he raised it to wipe it off. There was a sinister grin on her face, “You will do anything for this, won’t you?” There was a mixture of amusement and cruelty in her words. She didn’t give him a chance to respond. Vyx’aria leaned in and casually licked off the blood that traced along his lips, and all along that space between his nose and mouth. She relished that coppery taste, and she didn’t offer any explanation, withdrawing back from him and giving him an animalistic look, “Be sure not to get yourself killed. I want you around.”

With that, she gave out a series of silent gestures to rally her warriors. The women all moved into the village, quiet assassins under the cover of darkness. Vyx’aria was at the front, moving light on her feet as she came up behind a guard and made short work of him. She moved like a shadow, moving from one guard to another, taking down anyone in her way. She was mesmerizing to watch, always light on her feet and working as if she danced. She twirled and spun, slashing her blades out and leaving a body in her wake wherever she went.

Their goal was to massacre the village and steal their resources. The surface world would know that drow existed. And they would know that drow were here to stay.

Painus
 
Szordryn stood idly by as Vyx’aria commanded her warriors to go off and begin the slaughter. Giddy with bloodlust, they happily set about their work, descending upon the village with silent precision. He was pleased with himself; the commander seemed caught off-guard by his initiative in taking out the lights. This had to boost his image, he was sure of it. One step closer.

Vyx’aria halted in front of him, delaying her participation in the massacre. At first, his mind immediately turned dark, and he thought he had made a mistake in opening the attack. His muscles tensed reflexively, and he was certain that this would be it. Such was the power the females of his people had over the males that even the prospect of displeasure made them flinch and await abuse, even when it was clear that it would not come their way. This encounter, for example, showcased that very relationship between sexes. Right before Szordryn could wipe the blood from his face, Vyx’aria caught his hand. Instinctively, he looked up at her face, then immediately back down, avoiding eye contact.

Before he had a chance to respond, the commander leaned in and licked the blood clean from his face in one fluid motion. He gasped uncomfortably, completely unprepared for the gesture, and stood there while she did the deed. It was an unusual sensation, especially here on the battlefield, and he was not sure what to make of the situation. It did, however, reinforce his belief that this woman was particularly unpredictable and that he was nothing more than a toy to them. Were it not for his arcane affinity, he would likely have found himself whored out to be used for centuries. He much rather preferred this current scenario than that unsettling prospect. This one at least had a hope of improving his station.

When she was done, Szordryn simply nodded in response, offering up a quiet ”Yes, mistress,” in response. He was indignant, he figured, but the prospect of being desired alive thrilled him. Standing like a statue, Szordryn watched the drow descend upon the village like wraiths, hacking and slashing through civilians and guards alike with unnatural grace. Where they rushed in with weapons drawn, he stalked forward, alert, and took in the surroundings.

Caring little for the architecture or the village itself, Szordryn walked up to the nearest home and tried the door handle. He jiggled it a few times, but it did not budge. With a sigh, the sorcerer stepped back and raised his left hand towards the door. His hand began to glow softly with the most distressing light. It had no color but was all colors. It was a hue one could only mix up in a nightmare. The knob inside and outside the door melted and ran down the frame and wall like liquid tar. They began to hiss and burn the wood and the floor. Szordryn could feel the heat and smell the scorching. The glass in the door turned to dust and blew away. With a light push against the remaining wood, Szordryn entered and was met with a frightened family of four.

He stared for a moment, then raised his hands, eyes set upon them with murderous intent.

Sreeya
 
“Please don’t!” A woman shrieked at Szordryn in the common tongue. She shielded her two children behind her. The man had rushed to the kitchen, coming back with a knife. He would be a strange sight to Szordryn - a member of his sex that stood taller than most women in Zar’Ahal. His wife was much smaller and appeared to cower behind him for protection. The man played a clear dominant role, the entire family using him as cover.

The man didn’t say anything, letting out a growl and charging towards the elf with his knife. The woman screamed, the children began to cry for their father, and the entire scene was utter chaos for an elf’s highly sensitive ears.

Vyx’aria continued the charge, happy to have the lights out of the way. By now, several houses were cleared out, bodies left in their wake. This town was the perfect staging point to begin other campaigns deeper into human territory. It was bold to consider actually setting up base above ground, but it was necessary if the drow ever hoped to rule in the surface world.

She pulled her blades out from the chest of a guard, glancing around. She couldn’t spot the mage, a grimace appearing on her face. Had he abandoned the party? Vyx’aria made eye contact with one of the five women he was to command, and she simply nodded and rushed over to seek the mage out once more.

Painus
 
Szordryn did not understand the annoying banshee shrieks of the woman in the room. Behind her, two younglings cowered, and none of the three seemed to want to defend themselves. This was completely alien to the drow, who fully expected this woman to be an accomplished warrior or mage. Instead, she just sat there and cried, screaming all the while. It was all very frustrating. Off to the side, he spotted the silhouette of a much larger person charging him with cutlery, a desperate bellow escaping his lips. He was far larger than the female and, it appeared, he was the only one fit enough to defend the four of them. These surface dwellers seemed woefully unprepared for the harsh reality of life. Szordryn would help teach them.

With the shrill cry of the mother, the dreadful wails of the children, and the roar of the father, Szordryn was becoming very annoyed and very overwhelmed. Instinctively, he cupped his hands and spat out a quick ”Q'ua w'ksa!” before turning them forward and jutting them out towards the man running at him. Electricity arced between his fingertips, and, within fractions of a second, a great lightning bolt erupted forth from thin air and leapt forward towards its target.

The blast punched a hole clean through the man’s abdomen, and he continued to stumble forward a few steps before looking down and seeing the hole. Blood and viscera began to seep out, and his guts fell down from gravity and spilled out onto the floor. He gasped and crumpled to the ground like a sack of vegetables, a mirror of blood quickly forming beneath him. This only caused the woman and children to scream at even higher octaves than Szordryn thought physically possible. The sonic assault on his highly-sensitive ears caused him to recoil and hiss, putting his hands up defensively to cover them.

Desperately wanting the noises to end, he defaulted back to that foul language which he spent decades studying. Szordryn spent more than five years familiarizing himself with the basic vocatives and palate sounds, and he knew that there were certain ways to invoke darker, more profane spells, if he were bold enough. He hissed out one of the words he had read about in an ancient underground vault. It sounded like shhhfkkt.

The cranium of the shrieking mother burst in a splatter of gore, brain-matter, and spinning bone fragments. Szordryn’s tongue cracked and began to bleed. The two children simply dropped dead and collapsed in a heap together, overwhelmed by the spell’s effects. Szordryn stumbled backwards and spat out blood, the ringing in his head finally coming to a stop. The drow wiped blood from his mouth, spitting on the ground again, and turned around to find one of the women staring at him from the doorway. He instinctively looked back down at her feet and waved his hand in a shooing motion, muttering, ”…G-go… Kill- keep killing.”

Unfortunately, despite Vyx’aria placing her under his command, she was loyal foremost to the commander, and some whelp of a mage would not boss her around like such. She grabbed Szordryn by the forearm and yanked him forward violently, turning and dragging him behind her as she traveled back towards the commander, throwing him forward at her feet. Szordryn stumbled forwards and tripped in the mud, falling to his hands and knees before Vyx’aria, eyes on the ground as he scrambled back to his feet, blood dripping from his mouth still.

”Caught him taking his time killing a few,” she spat out, looking at the commander, ”He’d do more good here where he can see how to really kill them.” Around them, the other women were mercilessly running down and slaughtering civilians, regardless if they were sleeping, fleeing, fighting, or anything in between. It was a beautiful display of carnage.

Sreeya
 
Vyx’aria quirked an eyebrow at the mage that was dragged out before her. He looked weak and pathetic, but she had been taught that was how they usually were. She almost pitied him - having powerful spells at his disposal but always at a cost. Vyx’aria looked up at the woman that brought him over, a snide grin on the soldier’s face as she expected to see punishment doled out.

Instead, the commander drew out an extra blade on her hip and tossed it at his feet, “Do you know the basics of combat at least?” She grinned slightly, “You stick ‘em with the pointy end,” A light chuckle escaped her as she shook her head and turned her attention to a man that was rushing towards her with an ax raised. Vyx’aria shifted past the mage and jerked her blade up to meet the ax. She allowed the man to press into the attack before abruptly pivoting out of the way. With his forward momentum and weight behind the attack, he stumbled forth.

Vyx’aria was already spinning and coming up diagonally behind him, her extra blade swinging in to jam into the side of his neck. Blood spurted out and she was already moving onto the next target by the time his body hit the mud. She was a whirlwind of motions, all of her warriors unleashing hell on the village. There were humans that scrambled in all directions, many realizing it was fruitless to stay and fight. Women and children rushed away, the men remaining to fight. It was a bizarre concept, but Vyx’aria knew everything was backwards up here.

The attack had been successful, the village having fallen. Her warriors were looting all the resources they could find. Vyx’aria was at a building that looked important - a town hall. She silently began to ponder her decisions, rubbing her chin in thought.

“Mage!” She called out, “Come here. I seek your counsel,” He was a scholar, and male or not she would respect that, “Should we retreat back to Zar’Ahal or should we hold fast to keep this place even throughout the time when the fire in the sky rises?”

Painus
 
Szordryn wiped mud off on his clothes, spitting out another fat, wet globule of blood onto the ground. It disappeared into the muck below, hidden by darkness. His mouth tasted like copper. He grimaced and bowed his head in a servile, apologetic manner, unflinchingly ready for whatever punishment Vyx’aria saw fit to deliver, clearly used to the predicament. Again, however, it did not come, and he began to wonder what fate the goddesses had in store for him. Surely some foul creature lurked in the vast expanse above, ready to pounce on and rend his flesh from bones for such insolence, even though he committed no crime. Whatever his perceived infraction was, he was certain the judge, jury, and executioners of his society would deliver justice upon him at some point. Thankfully, that point had yet to come.


He kept his eyes to the ground, flicking his gaze up as a blade entered his periphery and landed at his feet. Szordryn cocked his head to the side bemusedly and looked up at Vyx’aria’s feet, then bent low to pick the weapon up. ”I know how to fight, mithtreth,” he responded, his words slurred due to the crack in his tongue. Small flecks of blood flew out again. He weighed the weapon in his hands, turning it and acquainting himself with it.


In the meanwhile, Vyx’aria had engaged another foe who foolishly charged at them, dispatching him with ruthless, savage grace. Szordryn looked on and clutched the dagger tightly, observing the commander as she danced from target to target, a deadly, unseen dervish in the darkness. The warrior who had dragged him to her dashed away on her own, rejoining her sisters in the fight, leaving the wretched Szordryn alone once again. Just as he began to move towards a fleeing group, a body slammed into him, knocking him backwards a few paces.


Szordryn instantly snapped his eyes to the figure and saw a man clutching a child who was clearly in the act of fleeing, tears streaming down his panicked face. He must not have seen the drow in the darkness, and the sudden impact caused him great distress as he noticed the diminutive figure clutching a blade. The man whimpered and backed up, setting the kid down – who promptly began to run away – and raised his hands, either to fight or to beg mercy, Szordryn didn’t care to know. He set upon the man, enraged at his indignance and inability to please the commander.


Stab, stab, stab.


Szordryn stabbed and slashed and cut and hewed, piercing the man every which way, venting his frustrations and bloodying his new blade. Gore splattered up on his clothes and face as the man fell back, toppled by the drow, who then straddled his body and continued with his butchery. By the time he had finished, the man’s corpse was little more than an unrecognizably-abused sack of flesh, blood seeping from a new cluster of holes all over. Szordryn spat out his own blood, panting, and stood back up.


Vyx’aria called out to him, and he ran over as fast as his legs would allow him, halting a few paces shy of her in order to allow a respectful distance. ”We can uthe this plathe, mithtreth,” he said, gesturing to the sacked village around them, ”There ith much to learn here, and,” he paused to spit out some collected blood, ”it can be fortified before the fire rises. We can take from the buildings and create defenses.” He bowed his head and raised it, looking at the impressive building before him, ”And use this place as a forward base for raiding, mistress.” His eyes lowered again and a small dribble of blood – his or the human’s, he wasn’t sure – traced down his cheek and onto the ground. The sounds of fighting were beginning to die down and were replaced by the agonized wails of the wounded being tortured or the gleeful, mocking cries of the warriors doing the act.


Sreeya