Open Chronicles The Return Of The Queen

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria gave a smirk at his boldness though appreciated the fact that it was done in relative quiet.

I'm just glad to have done my part, she said, and although it sounded like a canned line, it was the truth in her case. Zathria's own ambitions were limited compared to the Queen. She was just a soldier, but she was glad to have played her part in the return of her people's glory.

Don't stray too far, Salamander. After all, I might need you to pay me back for that healing potion once the celebrations are underway, she said, smiling with pure mischief in her eyes as she said it.

Sazalam

 

[Nyssiel]

It was a day of merriment, or perhaps as close as drow got to such a thing. Nyssiel had never had a whiff of standing with the houses. So he only understood vaguely it was important. The hand that held the leash had changed was all it signified to Nyssiel.
Still old Quarro's had told them to put a quick end to anyone who might lessen the glory of such an occasion.
What exactly they were looking out for seemed to be in the eye of the beholder. Nyssiel figured they were patrolling there much as a deterrent rather than to actually sniff out trouble.

It was rare that Nyssiel had the opportunity to do such low stakes work. It was almost like having a day off.
The city was alive with much more smells and sounds than usual. The hounds had been ordered to keep watch and so he was....albeit it in a meandering bit of onlooking at the commotion sort of way.

When his ears caught a few familiar voices. There he caught a pack of hounds two of which who seemed to have taken this day of rest as an opportunity to bolster their coin, and Alywin siblings. He had arrived early enough to have some idea of what the fuss was about.
At the moment it seemed their customer was satisfied but Zairyn seemed to be teasing Slaine. A potential recipe for a fist fight at the very least. He stood on the fringe deciding if this little gathering required his intervention or if he could slip by to avoid the trouble.

 

[Sazalam]

"There were two healing potions Commander and I am pleased to say that I have recovered fully from the siege in both mind and body."

While his voice was calm his had to steady his ears at the use of her pet name for him with a motion he masked by tucking his hair behind them as his eyes scanned the guests in the plaza so as to not let her visage trap his gaze. She looked so magnificent in her armour and leathers it was hard for him to imagine the Queen herself matching its splendour of form and function.

"You would easier part with your shadow than with me this day Commander."

His eyes even spotted humans among them as well as Dark-dwarfs from the UnderKings court. The emissary, a master jeweller of renown, had woven jems of green and purple into her long braided beard and carried a staff of Darkwood which was hard to cultivate and topped with a head of gleaming hell brass which was again adorned with gemstone ornaments.

The smallest human looked a bit lost and wore the colours denoting him a guest of Zathria, she had spoken of surface allies.

"The crowd is mighty. I daresay not a soul in the Underrealm will sleep tonight for all the revelry."

The idea made him smile, they were all due a little happiness and relief from the horrors of the Usurper and her agents of destruction.

Zathria At'Arel

 

[Xunari Auceus]

Xunari was not someone given to enjoying displays of wealth or ceremony but she understood why it was required. In the end, she knew that her position as the head of her house meant that she needed to attend more of the type of functions that she hated than not. Because if she let her cousins attend in her place, they would likely try and use it as a way to gain allies at Court to plot towards her demise.

It was how she had started life with 7 cousins and now she had only 4 remaining.

But even if she hadn't "needed" to be in attendance as a head of a house, she would have attended regardless. Vyx'aria was the woman she had sworn to follow into a war on the surface. She was the woman to whom Xunari had pledged the service of herself and her house until the ending of her line.

On her way in to take her seat, she had spotted Nimruil and nodded in his general direction in acknowledgement but did the same with a smile when she acknowledged Zathria. Zathria was many things but an ally of ages past she was and a more dedicated follower of their shared queen did not exist in any plane of existence.

Her own procession was much smaller than Beksesha's - and had only a trio of banners rather than a plethora that the matron's had - but she still made sure to acknowledge the Matron of the Third-House with a minor nod. A display of acknowledgement and respect without even implied servility - though already she could hear two of her cousins whispering to each other about how it meant she was weak.

Gods but family were just the worst.

Striding forwards, Xunari clicked her fingers and two of her other cousins - the two not stupid enough to try and "plot" within earshot - held up their hands and began to fling burning brands of runes into the air. The runes arranged themselves in the air into clearly legible script, each of them exultations and celebrations of the Queen that were released into the air, brightly dancing through the air of the city as a whole so that people not even within a mile of the coronation would be able to see the well-wishes and jubilation of her House.

Xunari moved ahead of her family, claiming the seat reserved for herself ahead of the bulk of the house-members. An area reserved for those within a house who had caught the Queen's attention. She was close enough to see and hear something she had thought to be a myth - Zathria flirting and enjoying herself.

"Oh my Zathria... I don't think I've ever seen you in such fine fetter. Care to share the source of your good cheer?"

Totally talking about a drink, absolutely.

Zathria At'Arel Sazalam

 

[Theceran]

A fist collided with his chest as he cast an offended and hurt gaze towards Slaine Aylwin. His hand coming to run his chest as he heard the comment made by the mushroom salesmen.

He leaned in, Slaine would feel a dagger slide into her waistband on her back. “It’s a good thing one of us is always armed.” He whispered before beginning to move to get the pair a shroom, he was addressed by another male drow. His gaze looked him up and down, he didn’t rightly recall him, but his statement…

He must’ve been watching when he let off a sunburst in the fight against the Queen. He offered a smirk, “I fear the underrealm lacks the primary material that magic requires.” He stated as his head tilted, “Are the shrooms good?”

Nimruil Zairyn Slaine Aylwin

 

[Alak Rasivrein]

A celebration of a coronation? And one of his former commanders at that who he absolutely always gotten along with and never gotten on the bad side of. Well, now the key was to making himself indispensable again. His insufferableness had only survived as long as it had because he was so good at what he did, and that made him ideal for the Hounds.

The Hounds, however, did not get invited to the upper ring of society, so instead they were down here and he already had a pair of ales in hand as he walked the streets to find the familiar faces of the other troublemakers in his new pack.

Have a drink with me, he said, handing one of the ales to Nyssiel and downing a gulp of his own.

This party sure is bringing out the absolute worst in everyone. I think I love it, he said as he took another drink.

 

[Zathria At'Arel]

Zathria liked watching him squirm just a little bit, trying to keep his ears from showing what he truly thought. She suppressed a grin.

Yes, you're right. You owe me for both. I'll hold you to that, she said as he mentioned staying close to her.

Moments later, Xunari arrived and Zathria was thrilled to see her as well, reaching out an arm to pull her sister in arms into a half hug. Yes, Zathria was practically glowing with excitement, so unusual compared to her typical situation.

And why wouldn't I be? The Queen is returning to her rightful throne, Zathria said, though they both knew that was only a part of it.

Sazalam, this is Xunari, one of my oldest and dearest sisters in arms. Xunari, this is Sazalam. A loyal soldier who helped us take the gate at Shay. He's also just informed me that he plans to keep me up all night, Zathria said, the words quieter so that only the two of them would be able to hear it. She didn't need everyone knowing what was up in her business, but Xunari was family. More of a family in many ways than her own blood had been.

Xunari Auceus Sazalam

 

[Nimruil]

He must’ve been watching when he let off a sunburst in the fight against the Queen. He offered a smirk, “I fear the underrealm lacks the primary material that magic requires.” He stated as his head tilted, “Are the shrooms good?”

"I am yet to try them. But if this one is to be believed, they will not only allow you to witness the Queen's aura, but to take in the priestesses' fragant perfumes and sweaty armpits from a safe distance. The mind boggles at how such zealous worship might tantalise the nose. Or what nimbus might reveal itself around the Valsharess' crown."

Nimruil hardly smiled. Quite a deadpan delivery to Theceran. The only indicator of a jest lay in the repeated absurdity of the words and the arch of a single eyebrow.

 

[Zairyn]

Lowtown​

Zairyn weighed the coins in his palm, the clink sweet as any lullaby. Satisfied, he swept into an exaggerated bow toward Nimruil, one hand pressed to his chest, the other flared wide as if the whole of Lowtown were his stage.

“Pleasure doin’ learned business with you,” he said lightly.

Then he was gone from the stall in a few long strides, slinging an arm around Din’s shoulders with familiar ease. The coins jingled as he shook them near Din’s ear, grin sharp and delighted.

“You’re a proper fuck, you know that?” Zairyn laughed. “Tryin’ to test me like that in front of that highborn princess.” He leaned in, voice dropping conspiratorially. “But I reckon you can make it up to me.”

His brows waggled. “You still got some of that… spirit you brew? That cloudy shroom moonshine nonsense you cooked up in a latrine or a piss trench that knocks us all on our asses?”

Without waiting for an answer, Zairyn turned, raising his voice. “Oi! Slaine! Alak! Theceran! Nyss!” He waved them over with a crooked finger and an irreverent grin. “You lot look like you could stand to get properly ruined. Shrooms and fine questionable liquor, on offer, while the city’s still singin’! Courtesy of our boy Din!” He smirked, "Don't give me that look Nyss, I know your ass is tempted!"

As the crowd shifted, Zairyn caught sight of Dante stumbling his way through the lantern-glow, swaying like a man already halfway to the Veil. Zairyn tilted his head, watching him with open amusement.

Only gave him the gutter-fungi, he thought. Stuff grows outside the walls after a wet night.

Apparently, belief did half the work.

He straightened, flashing Dante a grin. “Well look at that. If it isn’t my favorite satisfied customer,” Zairyn called. “Come on over, yeah? If you liked the starter, I’ve got better stock waitin’ for you.”

The coins jingled again as Zairyn laughed, Lowtown’s noise and music swelling around him. He glanced briefly at Nimruil, “You going to keep moving to the Plaza, or dare to partake with us rats?” He asked with a grin.

Alak Rasivrein Slaine Aylwin Theceran Nimruil Nyssiel Dinien

 

[Nimruil]

The coins jingled again as Zairyn laughed, Lowtown’s noise and music swelling around him. He glanced briefly at Nimruil, “You going to keep moving to the Plaza, or dare to partake with us rats?” He asked with a grin.

It was tempting, truly.

Nimruil had no doubt he would prefer a night out in town with questionable characters, forgetting his woes and responsibilities in an addled night, rather than attend a newborn court of daggers.

At least these scoundrels wore their dishonesty plainly. Perhaps that was why he had stopped here in the first place; a brief yearning to be of a lower station again, once more a fresh-faced apprentice who could blend in with the rabble of Lowtown.

But he had already delayed enough. Duty called. The coronation awaited. Nimruil waved with good-natured dismissal.

"Go on with you. I am bound for the plaza, I fear." He lifted his new mushroom, sagely. "I shall partake in spirit."

 

[Dinien]

Dinien gave Zairyn a truly iblith-eating grin.

“Abban, I can do you one better than that! Or I could, if only you weren’t stuck on duty like me… Oh! That reminds me, actually.”

He tossed a pie toward Slaine with a wink.

“Thissun has only smaller pieces, Ventash’ma, stewed extra long. All the flavor, I promise! But none of the gagging. And I tucked it in a corner, so it’s still mostly hot!”

He mock clandestinely pulled a flask from his satchel, unstoppered it, and began to raise it to his lips.

Slaine Aylwin
Theceran
Alak Rasivrein
Nyssiel

 

[Vyx'aria]

Last Of Her Name - The Tower​

Vyx’aria sat alone upon the edge of the dais, shoulders bowed. Her hands came up slowly, as if they weighed too much to lift, and she buried her face in them.

The sound that escaped her was small. Broken. A quiet, shuddering breath that fractured into tears she could no longer command back. They slipped through her fingers and traced paths down her cheeks, warm and unbidden.

A presence lingered beyond the door.

Boots. Stillness. The unmistakable voice of the Houndmaster Quarro, loyal and unyielding.

She did not answer.

Her hand trembled as it reached for the flask beside her. The metal was cold against her skin. She drank anyway, too much, too fast, liquid fire burning down her throat as another sob tore loose, sharp and soundless. The taste did nothing to dull the images that rose uninvited: blood slicking stone, eyes gone glassy, bodies broken in devotion or defiance. Names she would never unlearn.

This is the cost, whispered the hollow space inside her chest. This is what crowns are forged from.

Her weapons master’s voice surfaced unbidden, as sharp and merciless as it had been then.

Never let them see you weak.

She lowered the flask, lips trembling as she repeated the words aloud, each one dragging free with effort.

“Never… let them… see you weak.”

Another swallow. Another breath that shook her whole frame.

But weak was what she wanted now.

What she chose.

The Surface had taught her something the Underrealm never had. That strength did not live only in stillness. That power did not demand silence. That to feel, to truly feel, was not always an indulgence, but a reckoning.

So she allowed it.

She let herself break in the quiet. Let grief coil through her ribs and press tears from her eyes unchecked. Let the weight of the dead, the living, and the unborn future settle fully upon her shoulders.

Soon, she would rise.

Soon, she would wear the crown and stand before them all. It would be a time of unity, of order, of a new reign carved from necessity and blood. A regime that would either splinter the drow beyond repair… or bind them at last beneath a single will.

But not yet.

For now, she remained in the tower, alone with her ghosts, drinking and weeping in the dark, gathering herself piece by fragile piece before Zar’Ahal demanded its Queen.