Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

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Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Wed May 11, 2016 5:07 pm

Redone because I lost half of the intro and the last posting was just the second half.

Llurth Dreir was a dark and dismal place. Awash in the perpetual stench of rotting vegetation and soft dirt, the three vaults of Llurth Dreir looming above, luminescent lichen on the ceiling giving the caverns a perpetual, looming glow.

Black basalt towers loom in the distance, safety from the occasional raid and the lairs of the fourteen houses. Rauvlin was a smith for house Fre'lyl, and her smithy was thankfully close to the relative safety of the house tower.

Scrounging what metal she could. Rauvlin had spent the last few years preparing her exit strategy. Armor for herself, a shortsword... a dagger... and saving every ounce of gold she could. Even going so far as to risk death by shaving off tiny amounts of metal from projects to embezzle the material.

She was a drowess of average-ish height for a female, but higher than average strength, an impressive physique really, honed by years of toil at her forge. Her hair was kept cropped short, to keep out of her face and away from the heat of her work. She wore it as a side-cut because she liked the look. Her crimson eyes stared back at her in the reflection of the dagger she was sharpening, and at long last, she slides it home into its sheathe and straps it to her belt, a nervous smile on her face.

At long last, she was ready, she was skipping town. Caravans from Llurth Dreir to other settlements were farely rare. The only exports of the large city being slaves... and thats about all.

Far removed from drow society save for the occasional caravan passing by from T'lindhet, news and stories only occasionally trickled into the dismal vaults of Llurth Dreir. There was often talk of a new city. Andunor, built on the ruins of a drow city called Udos Dro'xun, where heroes and famous adventurers were forged and artifacts discovered. Rauvlin planned to make a name for herself. She would not die a sacrifice, nor a nameless corpse for a war's mass grave for slimes to feast upon.

Rauvlin vanished as subtly as she could. Claiming to be moving off to gather coal, she quickly made for the last known site of a caravan she had heard was stopping to collect water and additional slaves before heading to Dunspeirrin.

It took some convincing, but Rauvlin managed to convince the caravan mistress to allow her to come along as an additional escort. No pay but food, and Rauvlin was expected to pay for half; Highway robbery! But if it meant getting out of Llurth Dreir, so be it.

The caravan headed north, past the Pit of Jhaam, a yawning abyss easily 30 miles wide and unfathomably deep. They stuck to the road carved into the side, skirting the edge as the wind, howling in a low thrum like an orcish baritone, theatened to tug the wagons into the darkness.

A blessedly short trek through the vault of conjured madness... as pleasant as it sounds... it was a full cycle of travel through what seemed like an intense, horrifying feverdream. The place crawled, in some places literally, with undead and ancient summons that had found their way out of the ruins. Some of the slaves and two of the caravan guards didn't make it.

When at last the caravan arrived at the deep reach, a vast underground lake as still as glass, and unfathomably deep, Rauvlin and company breathed a collective sigh of relief. Water, typically a dangerous thing to be around too much of in the underdark, was a blessed escape from the maddening caverns behind, and better still, there was a ferry across.

Unfortunately, the ferryman was Rauvlin's first encounter with duergar, and doubly so, this duergar spoke a gutteral dialect of undercommon, and was rude to every passenger in turn. The fee was astronomical to cross, for a poor drowess at least, and Rauv had to sacrifice her helmet for passage. Luckily, she had a hood. Best to remain anonymous, you never know when it might be a good idea to not have your face seen.

The ferry across the deep reach was slow, and Rauvlin was incredibly tempted to shove the duergar controlling the winch overboard into the eerily still water, surely home to some sort of predator... or he'd sink... He was wearing armor after all... but no. The rather large guard post and small contingent of heavily armed Duergar waiting on the other side to recieve the ferry were an effective deterrent to any rash acts of violence. The duergar would live to be rude another cycle.

The garrison for the ferry turned out to be a rotating patrol and escort for caravans into the city of Dunspeirrin, and the trip to the massive, smoggy fortress was uneventful.

The visitor's district of the city was small, cramped, and stank of burning charcoal like the smog overhanging the entire city coating everything not indoors in a thin layer of soot. She had to keep her mask up to breathe easily.

She quickly seperated herself from the slaver caravan, lest they get any funny ideas, and found and secured a job as part of the escort to a caravan headed from Dunspeirrin to Guallidurth, shipping fine duergar weapons and the returns from a successful slave shipment. Treasure always needs more guards, and they were keen to hire Rauvlin after she named a rather modest price for her services, mostly in the form of food, drink, and a rather small sum of silver.

The caravan left the next cycle, westwards, towards Loobishar, the city of secrets. A rather friendly city to all, it was the best source of fresh water for hundreds of miles, far superior to the polluted swill in the duergar city. The caravan reached it quickly, and all were assembled to line up single file before entering the city.

As a sharran city, there was but one toll. A secret, whispered, into the ear of the Kuo toa guard captain. When Rauvlin finally reached him, she murmered a secret revelation about the murder of a foolishly wandering child in house Fre'lyl for its fine dinner. Far from her first kill, it was her most petty, but that sweet slime filled danish was definitely worth it!

The water was delicious, and also definitely worth the secret. The caravan stocked up on a great deal of water, for several cycles travel, and headed south. They gave Rinnoroth a very wide berth, the deserted, ruined dwarven town famous for being very, very strewn with traps, and purported to be the lair of a red dragon, or so the rumors went. It was unconfirmed, but a red was known to be spotted in that area a lot, and that was reason enough to avoid it.

The trip south was quiet, until a very quiet, low, rumbling could be heard, and were it not for its persistance, one would be sure it was simply the shifting of tectonics or a distant rockslide. It grew in intensity as the party ventured further south, staying a bit below a whisper until the tunnel opened up to the Rift of Dhalnadar.

A massive chasm, a half mile wide, two deep, and 250 miles long, the rift was enormous, and quickly revealed the source of the rumbling. Waterfalls, hundreds of them, opened up from the sides of the rift and in some cases the ceiling, life thrived on the sides, the plant and fungal life giving the cavern a misty but... Rauvlin wouldnt know the words to describe a foresty smell, but you get the idea. The bottom of the chasm was obscured by the mist of the falls, though deep below, Rauvlin could see dim light filtering through in places, and one of the caravaneers told her it was from the Lake of Radiant mists, which spans for miles underneath.

The caravan appoached the Dhalnadar Span, a collosal and ancient stone bridge built by the dwarves of Old Shanatar, 50 feet wide, with massive arches and impressive columns, Rauvlin was in awe, but her wonderment turned to brief terror when a huge deep dragon appeared from seemingly nowhere at the head of the span.

Malla Harl Valsharess they called her. Am enormous deep wyrm who made her home in the cavern on the other side, which the duergar called Brightaxe hall. once a throne room for the great king of old shanatar, it was now a lair for the dragon, who fattened her horde with each traveler that passed to pay her toll.

Rauvlin lost her armor paying it.

The caravan was permitted to cross, and the rest of the trip to Guallidurth was uneventful. Rauvlin managed to swipe a diamond from the caravan on the way, and the traders didn't seem to miss it either.

Guallidurth was an awe inspiring city, with stalagmite and stalagtite minarets from hundreds of temples and shrines to lolth, it seemed like a thriving city compared to home. 21 major houses ruled this city, and 200 smaller ones. All one faith and dozens of different sects of it. Rauvlin had never seen so many spiders in architecture before.

Reading a sign, Rauvlin instantly knew she did not have anywhere near enough wealth to buy her passage to the vault of Arelith, where old Udos Dro'xun and Andunor sat...
Buuuut... priestesses seemed to get free travel.

A cycle later, and she had traded her stolen gemstone for a vast tattoo, a spiderweb over her entire form. Selling her shortsword and buying a steel dagger, she bought some red cloth, and soon she had a priestess' raiment. The unlucky slave that she forced to sew for her at knifepoint was slain as a matter of tying up loose ends, and finally her disguise was complete.

Approaching the dock, an acolyte of lolth, indistinguishable from most, demanded passage for her holy journey to Andunor.

Standing at the prow of the ship, Rauvlin rested her hand on her hips, one curled around the hilt of her dagger, the other sitting on the wooden railing as she stared off into the silent, still, and almost entirely uncharted undersea known only as the Dark Depths. A bell tolls, and the ship lurched slightly as it launched from the dock, sailing a half mile into the still blackness before a light at last is seen. A faeriefire beacon on one of the many collosal pillars holding up the ceiling miles apart. Markers that guided the journey to Andunor.

She had done it. She would reach Andunor intact. Her journey was complete, but her adventure... her adventure had only just begun.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Mon May 30, 2016 10:42 pm

The tolling of a bell awakened Rauvlin from her slumber. A thump, and the ferry lurched to a stop. The movement of feet outside the door heralded the contingent of slaves unloading the ship's cargo. Rauvlin took her time gathering what little she had before she made her way to the main deck.

As Rauvlin made to leave, she was stopped by the boatswain, who offers her a job doing some one-time deliveries. Her, a (supposed) acolyte of Lolth! The audacity was incredible, but the orog's glazed over gaze was enough to know he was just goading her into ending his misery. A death worthy of gruumsh, probably better than he could expect working a ferry. A quick glance at the others in the ferry informs the drowess that a quick skirmish here could end poorly, very poorly indeed, so she elects not to bother. She takes the packages and ascends to the deck and then the docks.

Once on land, she did her deliveries, before using the small proceeds to get a bite to eat, and a change of clothes. Not knowing much about Lolth, It'd not do to keep up the Lolthite priestess masquerade if she wasn't actually going to go to temple to become a priestess. By now though, she was rather fond of her tattoos. Why not keep showing them off?

During her initial deliveries, it was a pleasant thing to find that the city had an oozemaster. Within his dwelling was a shrine to Ghaunadaur, and the male even sold some Llurth Dreir style boiled slime jelly. Best of all, SLIME MOLD JUICE! Da best!

She returned to her old diet of fungus and jellies, the more flavorful of which needed to be boiled into a goo and slurped like a thick brew.

She spent a great deal of time those first couple cycles at the cloak and dagger. A hole in the wall tavern off the west wheel. Good drinks, mediocre service, but the deep fried bat wings were fairly delectable. Where better to learn about work to be had, adventurers, and the famous in the city than a tavern right?

She learned of a great dragon. Massive, powerful, and immensely wealthy. They said that it made off with much of the hoard that was used to build Andunor with its partner Jhared, some duergar apparently. Word is he used to own the trade post the city was built upon. The old drow she spoke to said the dragon killed him, and was hoarding the gold. That it could be found high inside of the mountains.

A shadow dragon. With a massive trove.

To Rauvlin, this sounded like a good aspiration. The old drow declared that he would never dare challenge such a creature. But what do heroes do but dare?

She declared that she would slay the great wyrm. She would become a heroine among her people. Famous! Wealthy! Powerful! The male, Yasdia, called her a fool and told her she would never be able to do it.

Ha! Not yet of course. She was wearing silk and had a dagger to her name. No. She needed equipment and she needed training. She was no herione yet. no true adventurer, just a smith with aspirations.

But she would work on that.

A couple cycles later finds Rauvlin affixing her bronze merchant's shingle to the granite slab/sign she stole from some old abandoned mining claim. It was a pain to drag into the city, but she managed. It being stone made it seem more official, more in good taste than a wooden sign. Conveniently, the bronze plate fit neatly over the lichen covered sigil of Clan Ironguard to display Rauvlin's makers mark; A pair of crossed shortswords with a spider's web stretching between the blades.

"Rauvlin's Smithy. The finest forgeworks and ingots in Andunor since 117AR" It proudly proclaimed.

Well... Its a good start.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Thu Jun 30, 2016 5:50 am

Founding the smithy was a great idea.

Having spoken with the locals,it was immediately apparent that there was a shortage of qualified smiths in Andunor, and that the few that existed only worked with their own races. This meant that a smith that would do commissions for both sides of the racial dichotemy had the potential to make many, many gold spiders.

But... you have to have money to make money. She was a smith with no smithy, and that had to change first. She needed work. So she set herself up as a mercenary to start, taking her place with the other mercenaries in the hub.

Her first client was, interestingly, an immaculately wealthy drowess named Vasiira Mae'rahel who hired her to babysit a new, weak wizardry apprentice for the conclave. She was to escort them, and carry their burdens because their arms were noodly and weak. Escort duty is the pits, especially if she had to risk her lives for, of all things, a male, and a wizard at that! but the pay was good, so she took the job.

Boss. The nickname was said in jest, but in xanalress, it came out as Vass. Vasiira, Vass, the name sticks, and contrary to the archmage's reputation, she doesn't vaporise Rauvlin for it. She even seemed mildly amused.

Vass it is.

The money from this contract quickly pays for a forge and an anvil, and soon, very soon, Rauvlin's smithy is ready.

It turns out Rauvlin's hunch was correct. The smithy is a great success, and it was not long before she was reaping a small degree of fame as Rauvlin 'The Smith' Del'Llurth Dreir.

Fame, among the drow, meant prestige attached to your works, as well as being a somebody, instead of a nobody. That meant attention from on high, and opportunity to advance.

Up until this time, Rauvlin Del'Llurth Dreir had been houseless. She figured you don't go groveling to join a house, you make yourself desirable so you can make demands when a house asks you to join it. Matron Lomith Grelles, 'The Aco-lock' as some called her, was the first to break the ice with Rauvlin. She was a rare warlock that claimed to be pacted to lolth, or one of lolth's handmaidens. A lofty claim that Rauvlin didnt put a lot of stock into, but she was a matron, a smith, and seemed to have a decent head on her shoulders.

The terms were as follows. Rauvlin would join, and have the resources available that any normal member of the house would get. She would retain her smithy business, and all the profits therein, and she would serve as a warrior in the house. Much to gain, little to lose. Rauvlin took the deal.

So she was now Rauvlin Grelles. Still a gaunadaurite, but that probably wasn't a problem right? I mean, theres a shrine to him in the city that isn't desecrated in the oozemaster's house, and a priestess that comes to town from time to time. Sure it seemed like it might be a marginalized faith, like Selvetarm, but that didn't mean it'd be a problem... right?

No. It would most defintely prove a problem... and soon.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Mon Sep 19, 2016 11:07 am

House Grelles was a pretty solid position to be in. No longer with need to rent a room in the spider's web, expenses were down, profit was up. Business was good, and Rauvlin was on the up and up, or so it seemed.

Being the only competent smith in the city that accepted orders for repairs and commissions for both drow and lessers and commanding a perfect location for a business, life was good, and for the first time, Rauvlin was well and truly happy and enthusiastic about her prospects.

She landed a couple large commissions, and with an increase in her prosperity, so too did she spend more time at the shrine of Gaunadaur, giving thanks and tithing meat to the slimes. She also came to realize that Gaunadaur worship was viewed as a heresy, but she was just a smith. Nobody would take notice of that right?

Rauvlin did much business with the temple, entertaining several Yath clients with new gear, usually acolytes looking to have blessed iron armor that would attune them with the divine to grant slightly more blessings per cycle. Being the only smith that dabbled in such things was lucrative.

It was one such contract that she thought she was in for when she first met matron Talyrrae Xun'viir in person. She had seen the matron many a timea before now, always in passing, always with the matron with one or more minions.

Those Xun'viir. Magnificent to behold, marching in lockstep cadence like a true militant force, uniformed, stylish, one could tell by looking at them that they were well trained and highly disciplined.

The Ilhar approached her smithy and rapped her knuckles on her anvil with a clank of her adamantine gauntlet, and Rauvlin turned from the ingot tray she was filling with molten darksteel.

"Walk with me. We've business to discuss." It was not a request, or an offer, it was a command as authoritative as if Ghaunaduar had burbled up from a sewer pipe and commanded Rauvlin give him her lunch. It was an order Rauvlin followed, grunting once in assent before she put the ingot tray to the side to cool and then following her.

She follows the matron to the temple, where she is led to the inner chambers and instructed to sit. The matron sits across from her and pours herself a glass of wine, and it begins to go downhill from there.

The matron settles down with a solemn compusure that was almost too flawless, too practiced. Something was up.
"You are a valuable asset to this city. A good smith, judging from the amount of work you get from customers." The matron began.

"Clearly, the Spider Queen has gifted you with her favor," The matron commented with a gentle smile, before a rather ominous quality seeped into that kind, encouraging voice. "Yet, I haven't seen you thanking her in the temple."

Rauv's blood ran cold, like ice in her veins. She hadn't actually been to the temple. Not that that was a requirement right? She had heard Gauanadaur was frowned on in the city, but hadn't been told it was an outright crime to worship the great slime here. Then again... she'd only met one other follower, aside the oozemaster himself.

"I hath.. shown my devotion by making sacrificial daggers for the clergy." Rauvlin states, looking to the side, a little nervousness creeping into her voice. There was not much she was afraid of, but Matron Taly made her very uneasy, in all her terrible beauty.

"I see." The matron replied with a vague, distant tone, her gaze drifting to a far point in the room for a moment or two-- pensive. Then she returned her focus to Rauv and offered a warm smile. "Perhaps we should have a look at one of those daggers, you and I, sometime soon." She then puckered her lips slightly and shrugged her armored shoulders. "Or... maybe not."

Rauvlin pauses, a twinge of something running through her. Something unpleasant. "Matron, why hast thou brought me here?"

The matron let out a soft sigh of dissaproval, and peered at rauvlin with a theatrical rendition of fake concern. "You know why. We all hide things, But some can be more problematic than others... for you, in this instance. I already know everyting, but I'm giving you a chance to confess, so you might avoid the worst."

Rauvlin is uneasy, and when she is uneasy and grasping for words, she becomes a terrible liar. "I... I know not what thou couldst be speaking of." She says unconvincingly. Yes, so original.

Talyrrae deadpans at her for a moment before sits back a moment, gesturing at Rauvlin's greaves. "You have slime stuck on your armor." She remarks with a soft, cordial manner, gesturing to the drowess' thigh.

Rauvlin seems to become quite pale, a dusky gray. She must have missed that slime from when she was kneeling in the slime pool in front of the altar earlier!

"I-I must have spilled some drink!" She stammers, she never stammers. Not a good, nor convincing sign. She tries to almost casually wipe it off, but she's no nervous she's trembling.

Matron Taly's clawed wargauntlets grip the edge of her throne's armrests dangerously, and she pushes herself up, standing. As she does, Rauvlin seems to freeze. *Clank...Clank...Clank...Clank* The metal boots resonate on the stone floor as though in slow motion, and soon the imposing matron looms, grabbing the back of the chair and leaning in over Rauvlin's shoulder before whispering into Rauvlin's ear in a way that suggested it was her last offer.

"Confess."

Rauvlin trembles visibly and she shakes her head, swallowing audibly. "T-to...uh... what?"

The matron's expression becomes grave, heavy, almost smothering to bear, and she just peers down to Rauvlin, staring at her with a "We both know you know" Look. Seconds seem to fly so fast suddenly, and the matron seems to get further away, as though turning away from Rauvlin to leave.

Rauvlin's resolve cracks, like a besieged wall being pounded by ballista, and she parts her lips softly, whispering...

"F-fine."

"Fine what?" The matron's tone firm.

"I... I confess."

"Let it out, admitting guilt is the first path to salvation. You know why you are guilty. Say it."

Rauvlin hesitates. "I... I worship the great slime."

The dread matron bobs her head calmly and places a gauntleted hand on Rauvlin's shoulder. The metal was cold and hard, and the fingertips ended in sharp talons, but the gesture felt soft, protective, forgiving. "You've done well. You will repeat these words with me by your side to the Valsharess, then you path for redemption shall commense."

Rauvlin swallows and seems to sag a little, hanging her head. "What will become of me?"

The matron is silent a moment. "That depends on you. But the chance you will be given is real. You will start the trials of torment."

Well crap...
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Tue Oct 11, 2016 10:05 am

The trials of torment weren't as bad as one could expect.

They were significantly worse.

Not that Rauvlin helped, after all. She definitely made them worse. She had taken the time to punch the matron in the face while she was being restrained, and slipping that dagger she was hiding on her person between the matron's ribs probably didn't do her any favors, but what could she say? She panicked. What was odd, was that the matron hugged her, even as Rauvlin twisted the dagger in her side.

She was disarmed shortly after, and then passed out when the matron channeled negative energy through herself and nearly killed Rauvlin. Turns out, that would happen a lot for the next couple cycles.

In the dungeon, there was no passage of time. In the bowels of the dungeon, far from the sounds of civilization, there was nothing to distract Rauvlin from the torture. It seemed for Talyrrae, torture was more than a hobby, it was more of an art form. Moments of excruciating pain followed by a line of dogma and healing, followed by more pain. Rauvlin was learning though. Over time, the pain seemed to blurr and dull into a constant sensation with spikes of intensity, one that the drowess kept a bay by counting. She had a number to hit, and by focusing on that, the progression of numbers, she could keep herself from going crazy during the endless cycle of torture and healing, torture and healing.

Focus on breathing was key, breathing and numbers. She did NOT make that long, arduous trek from Llurth Dreir just to be tortured into madness and die here!

In...3456...3467...out...3458...3459...in...

Much to her credit, Rauvlin outlasted her tormentor many a time. After expending all of her magic casting harm and other associated spells and curses on the poor, bound drowess, Talyrrae would take breaks, taking the time to lecture Rauvlin on the tenets of La'laskra, and how absolution is possible through repentance, and how pain is nescessary for mental and physical discipline, which in turn leads to personal growth.

Rauvlin could understand that. Even now, she was growing more resilient to the pain inflicted on her before. What was a sharp, stinging agony before was more of a tingling ache, something she could push through with concentration.

Then, the matron said something that would define Rauvlin's life forever.

"I used to be just like you"

"Eh?" Rauvlin was taken aback. Surely the matron had mis-spoken.

"When I was a young jalil, I too worshipped the great slime. My matron stopped me from my self distruction by bringing me on the path of absolution. She made me what I am today, just as I wish to make you a paragon of our faith. I see myself in you, the fight, the determination, the potential for something greater."

Rauvlin was taken aback, but inspired. If the matron was a heretic like herself in a time long past, then surely she could do great deeds herself. A change of perspective might be healthy, and the dogma did make sense.
She grunted and spit some blood to the side before looking up at the matron with a slight smirk curling at her bloody lips, gazing up at her with fire in her crimson eyes.

"Teach me then."
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Tue Oct 18, 2016 11:46 am

Her smithy was destroyed.

Burned with abyssal fire, her smithy had been utterly destroyed. Her forge crumbled, the flue with a massive melted hole in it. Her anvil had been knocked over, and her armor stand a smoldering pile of splinters. Nothing was functional, and some black flames still flickered. The acrid smell of suphur lingered, whilst Rauvlin's business rival Sjarfelk smirked with amusement from the other side of the hub market.

Only one drow would have done all this to her smithy...
...in apparent anger...
...With abyssal flames...

Matron Lomith Grelles.

No fire in the hells or the abyss could match the heat of Rauvlin's rage at this. Her smithy was her everything. Her living. Her child. She had built it up from nothing, and it was destroyed.

She would have her vengeance.

The drowess grunts, itching under the collar around her neck. She had been clamped degradingly, forced to wear a heretic's collar for the purpose of shaming her while she prepared to take the final trial of torment.

Initially, she did feel shame. That was until people kept on assuming she was a slave and trying to order her around. Shame was replaced with irritation, then rage, and then, (two corpses and many angry conversations later, when it died down as people finally started to figure it out,) serenity.

Rebuilding the smithy was an undertaking. No drow would do business with the heretic, and Rauvlin lacked the know-how to perform competent masonry. She could design armor fit for a valsharess, but she could not design and build a smelter that would not either explode from pressure, or collapse from heat expansion playing with flaws in design, or without inadvertently melting it.

Of course, Rauvlin melting it was not a problem. Two cycles after she finally got a new smelter, someone did that for her. She returned to the hub to work to find that the smelter had been melted through from the top, and noxious bubbling acid lay pooled in the coal pit. It would be the second of seven times she would need to rebuild.

Rage at the destruction of her smithy gave way to exasperation, as it was destroyed again, and again. Two more times before the fateful cycle where she would undergo her final trial.

The killian named Phaer came for her. He had been named inquisitor for rauvlin's case, and, with an underling with him, he had come to collect Rauvlin.

She did not resist, merely braced herself for the agony to come as she allowed herself to be led to the outpost prison, like rothe to slaughter.

The inside of the facility was sparce, with a couple of cells, and a large antechamber of stone that echoed eerily with her footsteps and the clanking of armor. The door shut behind her with an ominous boom, like a drawbridge being raised decisively and thudding against the gate.

The room was chilly, damp too, and she is led to a chair. A chair of obvious purpose, with all manner of restraints on it. She still did not resist as she is strapped in, her expression grim, teeth gritted in determination as she tried not to let any of Phaer's dung-eating grin get to her.

Her head is tilted to the side, and her hair cut to get it out of the way, leaving one ear skyward, before the inquisitor pulled out a little green glass vial. It glowed gently, ominously, and Rauvlin could not help but swallow in trepidation as Phaer switched to holding the vial with a pair of tongs. A funnel was placed into her ear, and she shivered from the cold metal, but also with fear. Whatever was in that vial... it was to be poured into her head!

The agony was incredible, but brief, and after a couple seconds of excruciating pain, Rauvlin felt... nothing. She could smell something burning, but other than that, she could not feel any of that ear, and her vision was getting hazy. She felt light headed, dizzy, and her speech when she inquired the process was slurred. It was like being drugged.

"Hmph. She is still alive. Most don't survive having part of their brain chemically dried up and burned." Phaer remarked, sounding suprised.

Rauv was vaguely aware of healing potion being poured into her head to fix damage, and her binds were undone. She was ordered to stand, and she did, and she was told she was free. Free. That was a word she knew, yes. She stumbled, walking forward and running into a wall, before sagging against it, unable to maintain her equalibrium enough to leave. She drooled a bit against the brick and mortar, and she ended up being carried back to the Xun'viir manor, which was the shipyard at the time. She is dimly aware of this, awash in the chemicals as she is, and she passes out.

When she awakens in the manor, lying down on a bed. She reaches up sluggishly to touch her throat, to find that her heretic's collar has been removed, and her eyes slowly flicker open to see Matron Talyrrae Xun'viir standing over her. The matron pats Rauvlin's chest lightly, almost in a congratulatory fashion, and rauv could swear she saw the hints of a smile tugging at the corner of the matron's lips.

"You made it. Welcome home."
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Mon Oct 24, 2016 11:16 am

Rauvlin was a model house soldier.

Immediately after her conversion she was accepted to house Xun'viir as part of their retinue of warriors. As per the laws of the drow, she was drafted into the spider legion.

The Spider Legion was the spiritual child of the old Melee-Magthere. Where the magthere answered to the council of matrons, the spider legion answered directly to Valsharess Zestra, whose right to rule was mandated by lolth as her archpriestess, and validated by all four extant houses swearing fealty to avoid a massive civil war in years past. The legion also involved the sorcere, in that it absorbed the magi into its ranks. The temple and Killian yath also trained with the legion as a provisionary part of it.

With her skills as a blacksmith taken into account, Rauvlin was immediately assigned to be the legion Quartermistress. She would smith arms and armor for the legion, and she would be paid, handsomely, for her expertise. Her position had many benefits. One thing it did was make her famous as a smith. She was not only 'The Smith' of Andunor, she was now the Legion's smith, and the steady stream of recruits was immensely good for business.

In time, her position resulted in her becoming a Draada, or captain, of the legion, and she was given access to the spider legion bank account, for purposes of paying the soldiery and paying herself for her own smithing. Highly abusable, and she skimmed a great deal off the top by inflating her prices for the legion. Its the drow thing to do after all, especially since she paid her own salary.

So here she was, immaculately wealthy well beyond her expectations, with business booming so much she was actively seeking apprentices to help her run her business, or run it in general so that she could focus on her burgoining military career. Among those who helped her with her smithy was Fadri, an elven slave that had been well thoroughly broken.

Fadz was afraid of other elves, and had been brainwashed to think of herself as more of a half-drow and happy servant of drow than the elf she obviously was. She was owned by the temple, ostensibly to be used as a weapon against the elves or for some ritual sacrifice down the line, but in the short term, she served the spider legion. She was inqusitive, submissive, and eager to learn and help, and Rauvlin could not help taking a shine to her, a rare occurance for a person, much less a slave. Every cycle Rauvlin would collect the soot from her forges and jar it, giving it to Fadri to rub into her skin to make her as black as the drow. As far as Rauvlin was concerned, Fadri was a better drow than many of the males in the legion, and so she encouraged the girl. That, and it drove Phaer absolutely insane to have Fadri getting dirty, which was a plus for Rauvlin, because she hated that male with a passion.

Life was good for Rauvlin, but all was not well.

Fumavhid was persecuting her faith, mostly in the form of Dirzva. Dirzva was a haughty drowess, an officer in the legion, she was(misguidedly) tasked with training new recruits. Any openly non-lolthite was persecuted or killed outright, either for imaginary infractions or by being brought on suicide missions and not raised when they died. Needless to say, she was a problem. That problem got out of hand when she slew a La'laskran Killian yath named Iimeth Xun'viir.

Naturally, house Xun'viir was enraged, but the valsharess ignored their demands for justice, shielding her from their retribution. Over the next couple of cycles, Dirzva Fumavhid and Kel'var Fumavhid began slaying many of the new recruits to the house, often without provocation or warning. Not even a fellow officer of the legion was safe from the madness.

Rauvlin was in the hub, doing business with Sslack the lender, when she was addressed from behind.

"Greetings captain."

The drowess turned to look over her shoulder, and there stood Dirzva, weapon drawn as always. Over to the right of her were two of the temple slaves, Fadri and Guster Kaline, presumably resupplying for another resource gathering mission.

Rauvlin grunts and salutes. she made efforts to be at least cordial to her fellow officers in the legion, and at this point, the killings had only just begun, and Rauvlin had heard not a word of the goings on as of yet.

"Your matron said my days are over, you know anything about it?"

Rauvlin arched a brow. "Eh?"

"I am sorry then you don't know. Do not take it personally, you are just in the wrong house then." Dirzva stated, before she lunged at Rauvlin and impaled her with her blade. Mercifully, the lightning enchantment on it made Rauvlin black out before she could fully appreciate the pain of being run through.

When Rauvlin came to, she was in the district house, looking at the ceiling, with the Valsharess speaking with Fadri and Guster, who had apparently recovered her body and reported the matter. They were discussing how many Xun'viir had already been targeted. It took a moment for Rauvlin to remember what happened, but when she did, righteous anger took over. She patched herself up, and then sat up, standing unsteadily before she confronted the valsharess directly. She did not bow, she did not spare pleasantries, she immediately vocalized her anger.

"What action will be taken to rectify this assault my queen?" Rauvlin's tone was demanding, she wanted an answer immediately.

"The temple will look into it." Valsharess Zestra casually stated.

"There is nothing to look into. Thy slave already gave thee a report. I was brought in dead. And this is not the first time this has happened?" She looks over at Fadri, who nodded.

"The temple will look into it. Calm yourself." The queen stated again. Rauvlin's head was pounding. In pain from the aches of being raised from death, blood boiling with rage, Rauvlin had had enough.

"So you will shield her then from us? Allow us to be killed one by one with impunity, while the temple does nothing to put a stop to it? I should have expected such betrayal of a loyal vassal house from a Lolthite. Thou art content to see those not of thy faith get killed, whilst thee shield her." Rauvlin's tone simmered with ardent rage and growing hatred.


The queen at last seemed to break her impassive facade. "Mind your tongue Rauvlin, you are coming dangerously close to heresy. Listen he-" She intoned with a low tone, a warning that Rauvlin ignored as she pressed on and cut her off.

"I'VE HEARD ENOUGH! She bellowed, silencing the queen. "I've seen enough! Thou hast allowed this to go on long enough, with Dirzva murdering and harrassing the faithful of lolth's vassals for too long. Thy inaction is endorsement to continue." Her eyes blazed with a murderous anger, a burning hatred that caused the queen to rest her hand on the hilt of her blade with unease and a bit of anger at the defiance. Rauvlin was unconcerned. Her house was already being attacked, angering the queen would not make her any less safe than she already was. Hell, attacking Rauvlin would have been a politically unwise move anyways, as it would've vindicated her concerns and made worse an already precarious political situation which risked turning this unrest into a full blown religious civil war.

"I hath served the legion loyally for a long time now, but I am not going to sit back and watch as thee allow mine house to be slaughtered with impunity, much less train and arm thy army whilst thou hast neither the will nor ability to enforce discipline on thy own minions. " Rauvlin nearly spits the words like they're a vile taste in her mouth as her words bite deep. "Until thee bring thy lapdog to heel, thou canst train and arm thy soldiers thyself. Effective immediately I resign from my position and the legion, and all of Xun'viir leaves with me." It was a very credible ultimatum, as house Xun'viir made up signifigantly more than half of the Legion's manpower, and this was a known fact. The only reason Dirzva was not dead already was that none of the senior warriors of the house had found out yet. She was still going after the new recruits.

Rauvlin sneered then, openly, at the queen before she marched angrily towards the district house door. She grabbed her legion pin and ripped it from her cloak, throwing it at the queen's feet in a very disrespectful show of contempt. Its clattering on the floor echoed in a chamber so stunned into silence one could hear a pin drop. She turned to leave but was paused when the queen called out after her.

"Don't make a mistake you will regret later." The queen intoned, a barely veiled threat. Also a feeble one as far as Rauvlin was concerned.

She snorts and spit to the side. "Worry not. I won't. Tis clear what side thee favor in this matter, but rest assured..." She turned back towards the door and pulled her helmet on, glancing over her shoulder one last time to spear the valsharess with one final glare.
"... If Fuma'vhid wants a house war. We'll give them one."
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Sat Nov 12, 2016 8:46 am

The war against the Fumavhid was as brief as it was brutal. Within the cycle Xun'viir had mustered and engaged in several major skirmishes with them around the city. The ancient Fumavhid were strong, but Xun'viir was well trained, disciplined, and had the advantage of overwhelming numbers. Two cycles later, the Fumavhid had all but been wiped out, with their surviving members either fleeing the city or abandoning the Fuma banner.

House Fumavhid of Udos Dro'xun, that had survived two cataclysms, the flayer war, and countless other house wars...had fallen at last.

With the destruction of the then first house, Xun'viir ascended to first house status, with Vharcan as second house. With Del'orbb not contributing, and Fumavhid destroyed, the spider legion consisted solely of Killian yath and unaligned drow for a short time, Rauvlin eventually rejoined it, months down the line.

Warlord Tyal had been livid when Rauvlin petitioned to rejoin, commanded to by her matron. She no longer felt any degree of loyalty to the valsharess, but orders were orders. Rauvlin received a hefty beating, a berating, and a demotion. She was back to being just a quartermisstress, no longer Draada(captain).

Outside the Legion, Rauvlin's holdings grew. She came to control the Silver mine, placing it firmly under Xun'viir control. Before long, she had a contract with the district to provide hundreds of metal ingots for city maintenance, for a nominal fee of course~. Several key members of Xun'viir had acccess to the mine, as did Valsharess Zestra, and Ty'al and his slave, Fadri. Of those with access, Fadri spent the most time in the silver mines with Rauvlin. The elf slave was good with her hands, and Rauvlin utilized her skills and willingness to serve at the forge, and... secretly, in the bedroom.

Officially, Fadri was off limits to all drow in that regard. Something about being kept pure for some purpose or other, but Rauvlin did not care about that particular edict of the Lolthite church. She was La'laskran after all, and the taboo of using temple property for this purpose, and an elf at that, thrilled her in ways she'd be hesitant to mention. Fadri was kept nominally pure, in that Rauvlin never really defiled her, ensuring that Fadz did all the work was perfectly acceptable to the hedonistic drow. To a degree, she was actually growing rather fond of the slave's company, and not just for that purpose. She was more like a pet to Rauvlin.

Seduction was a game of power and intrigue in drow culture.
If found out, one's reputation could get a boost if it was found that they had topped a higher ranking drow(especially a female), or could take a hit if it was found that they had submitted to one of lower rank(especially a male). This was universally part of the game. Expose your conquests without being killed by them, or leverage their continued secrecy for personal gain. For this, Rauvlin already had a few natural advantages; Her strength, her scars(Typically considered sexy), her tattoos, and most importantly, a confidence which often bordered on arrogance. She was intimidating, imposing, and had a certain charm in being an atypically gruff female. Her position of warrior afforded her the advantage of being perceived as no threat to a higher ranked female's title in the temple or a house, and thus not competition.

Using her many advantages, Rauvlin had already, as a mere warrior, managed to dominate a couple of priestesses in exchange for minor favors(armor for one, a new weapon for another), a matron(taking her submission as a bribe for a steep discount on the sale of a building Rauvlin had owned at the time), And several warriors and magi of equal rank within her house and without. She leveraged her gains as best she could, but while they were the goal for some drow, for Rauvlin, the information and favors she could leverage from her sensual dalliances were simply icing. Truth be told, Rauvlin had a weakness for her hedonism, and the game was her favorite outlet. She had never had to submit yet, and she had her sights on a couple specific higher ranked females of late. Her own matron, which would probably gain her some signifigant favors if she succeeded, and the Valsharess herself. Why settle for anything less than the highest seats the city had to offer? And just imagine the advantages to be gained from that bed.

Rauvlin was not the only one she knew of playing the game. A male who recently joined the house Ilmryn, also played. She and he had a rivalry of sorts that had spawned from legion service while he was freelance, and only intensified when he joined her house. Each was trying to one-up the other, and he was trying to bed Rauvlin and find a way to make her submit. It was only natural she would be pursued, with her attitude, but it did not make his attempts any less irritating to her.

Rauvlin's pursuit of her matron was fairly straightforward. She was the most useful member of the house she could be for her, and that afforded her signifigant time alone with the matron, which seemed to be earning her some fondness. She would have to be Talyrrae's favorite to accomplish the win.

The Valsharess, she would have to play her cards carefully. It had been about a year since the Fumavhid war at this point and Rauvlin had recovered her title as Draada of the legion. Inwardly she still hated the Valsharess, but conquest had always been on her agenda. Its not like she was trying to fall in love or some drivel regarding feelings, she just wanted the prestige and gains afforded by such an action. She had been dropping some pretty heavy hints of her interest to the valsharess, and she had been picking up hints as well. Finally, when they were alone, She very bluntly propositioned the valsharess directly. Such boldness is not without its dangers, but it was well recieved.
The Valsharess chuckled, seeming amused when Rauvlin leaned in a bit and placed a finger on the drowess' lips.

"Your boldness is admirable, if poorly concieved. I do not invite a mere Draada into my bedroom. Get promoted again, then... we may revisit the idea~."

Well, that was an interesting demand. There was no rank above Rauvlin's except for the warlord himself. Did the queen intend for her to depose him as a test? An attempt to have the warlord killed out of hand? Was it an attempt to get her to get herself killed? Who knows these things but the goddesses themselves.

It was not long before she was delivering her yearly report on the Spider Legion to her matron, and as she stood by in the meeting hall, she was given new orders from Talyrrae Xun'viir.

"I want our house to seize control of the Spider Legion. I expect you to see to it. Secure the warlord position, using any means nescessary."

Coincidental, convenient, certainly a stroke of providence, or perhaps La'laskra was lining up the circumstances to give her a big win? Either way, She had a goal to fulfill.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Fri Dec 09, 2016 3:30 am

Lolthites. Followers of the spider queen were a blight on drow society, endlessly undermining the potential of the drow to utterly dominate the underworld and take the surface by storm, the true enemy of the drow race was not their weak cousins, the elves up above, but its own self serving members. A lolthite would happily destroy a perfectly functioning system for a minor advancement in rank, and that made them a problem. No... That made them the enemy.

This was Rauvlin's take on her religious counterparts in the city, and her philosopy was borne of her Matron's words in private. Nothing shy of heresy, but the logic rang true. lolthite culture was, at its core, unsustainable for growth. It must needs be supplanted for the race to reach its true destiny as the rightful rules of elvenkind.

So why had her matron taken to spending time with a Lolthite warlock?

At this point, Rauvlin had not yet met Nathryna. She knew her by reputation only, and what she heard did not sit well. A female claiming to be pacted to a Yochlol, she immediately knew she was not to be trusted, and aught be killed sooner than later most likely. However... Rauvlin was willing to trust her matron's judgement on this so far. The house had another warlock that it used to work with frequently when Rauvlin had first joined, and that had worked out well.

Asb'el, the infernal warlock.

Asb'el was born the wrong race. She would have made a magnificent La'laskran had she been born of superior lineage. Sadly, she was a human, but as a human, she knew her place in the hierarchy in the underdark. She was polite, knowledgable about the customs, and docile. A true asset to any house, and Xun'viir was lucky enough to have her employed as a retainer. She was also immensely powerful, normally an issue in the hands of a human, she was restrained in its use, and did not like to start trouble.

Rauvlin and Asb'el had been working together for a while. The former occassionally gathering or carrying things for the latter, and the latter powering her forge with hellfire to get it to the point needed to easily smelt adamantine. Rauvlin enjoyed Asb'el's company about as much as a drow could enjoy the presense of a reliable associate.

The sharp contrast between Asb'el and Nathryna concerned her. Nevertheless, she had other things to worry about, like seizing the warlady title.

For Rauvlin, this proved much easier than she thought it would.

Ty'al was a killian yath first, a warlord second. The former he dropped for a time to join house Del'Thalak, which proved fairly ephemeral. During this time, Rauvlin was Draada, but effectively warlady in all but name, but that conquest was not to come for a little while.

Her next conquest would be within the house.

Having already long since secured the loyalty of Aniewiel by seducing, dominating, and showering her with good equipment, Rauvlin found herself in a position to possibly take advantage of another of her house, possibly for gain, but more likely for its own sake. Another notch on the belt.

Word was, Mebrith was planning on retiring to T'lindhet. By a stroke of luck, Rauvlin was able to encounter the house shadowmistress before she left while she had Fadri with her. Inviting her back to the Xun'viir controlled silver mines was easy, after all, she had something to give her as a parting gift. The meeting turned into a get going away party of sorts, with copious amounts of wine drunk by all. Rauvlin drank Mebrith under the table, and some things led to other things, and Rauvlin propositioned a very drunk Mebrith. Fadri was an excellent assistant, and before long Mebrith was tied up in Rauvlin's bed, giggling drunkenly as the house smith made her last cycle in the city quite memorable.

Conquest aside, it was a bit saddening to watch Mebrith go. Rauvlin was the last Xun'viir officer in the spider legion after she left, and when Ty'al vanished to go on pilgrimage later, the spider legion was laid down at Rauvlin's feet to command. Would she be able to do better than Ty'al in running it though? With its dwindling membership outside of house Xun'viir, would it even last?
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Fri Jan 13, 2017 9:02 am

Ilmryn was growing on Rauvlin. Over time, the male had shown that he was a reliable fighter. Sure he had an attitude problem, and talked far more crap than Rauvlin believed he could back up, but he knew when to back down, knew when to shut up, and when to take orders. Spending a great deal of time with him in the field also meant she got to know him. On occasion he would still make sexual advances on Rauvlin, but by and large, he had come to realize that if there was to be anything there, it would be done on Rauvlin's terms. In no way did that mean Ilmryn stopped being a flirt, and that was alright.

The spider legion was having problems. Not long after Rauvlin became warlady, Dartak the Kobold loudly deserted the legion, decrying drow rule and taking virtually the entirety of the spider legion Auxilliary with him. With little arrow fodder, and the Fumas gone, the new upstart houses didn't seem to have enough manpower to contribute meaningfully to the spider legion, and though Rauvlin managed to build a camp and training yard just outside Sin's Gate, lack of regular patrols led to the dismantling of the old magthere camp in the flood plains. One positive thing the legion would do though is build the granite road; a series of beacons marking the path from Sin's gate through the flood plains cavern to the marble quarry on the far end in the northwest. It was so named the granite road because of the three granite quarries it passed on the way.

The matron was spending more and more time with Nathryna. Recently she had gotten some Lolthite tattoos. This was both shocking and alarming to many in the house. Talyrrae had always been hateful towards Lolthites, if not in public, then in private. Nathryna herself seemed aware of this, and seemed perpetually smug. It was all Rauvlin could do to not beat her to death if she caught her in private. The female was enjoying the protection of the matron, and honestly, it felt as though Talyrrae had been charmed or hexed. The inability to remove this girl was vexing. Moreso was the matron beginning to change her point of view on Lolthites in general, inviting a couple to join the house, among them, a Yathrin named Valythra, whom Rauvlin proceeded to immediately not get along with.

Ilmryn and Shairin seemed to share in Rauvlin's growing unease as the most faithful of the La'laskrans in the house. That unease only grew when the Lady Asb'el departed the house on some sort of business, leaving Nathrya to neatly slide into her role as an advisor to the matron. The woman was a snake, and it was seeming more and more like she had gotten her fangs into Talyrrae. The question was how deep would the matron allow the poison to run?
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Mon Feb 13, 2017 10:22 am

Running the spider legion was proving to be fairly easy, because it was barely there. The vast majority of its membership were Xun'viir. Proud warriors, competent and disciplined, but that was a problem. If the entirety of the spider legion were Xun'viir, was there any point to it existing? Moreover, Ty'al had betrayed the legion and cleared out nearly a million spiders from its coffers, leaving it destitute. Rauvlin couldn't even pay her underlings, much less fund their equipment and enchantments. Without funds, it was hard to incentivize new recruits. Drow were noncommital unless there was personal gain invovled.

Something else was bothering our smith. Rauvlin was having trouble sleeping. She kept having the same recurring dream; She would be on a patrol and look down at the corpse of a drow on the granite road. Looking up, she was suddenly elsewhere, staring up at a large drow city, replete with spires aglow with faerie fire and parapets of sharpened stone, the distant thunder of war drums reverberating in her ears as she approached the gates. The crest of T'lindhet stood out proudly upon the keystone of the looming entry arch, The symbol of La'laskra emblazoned opon a vast fortified stalagmite, lit up brilliantly with magic. The glow from the structure held its own warmth and the glow intensified, prompting Rauvlin to raise an arm to shield her vision from the light. The glow dimmed and she lowered her arm, finding herself in front of a forge, feeling the heat of a good cycle's labor. Her arms were heavy from working for cycles, and she tilted her head down to gaze upon her project. A dagger, indescribably beautiful, it sang in her hand. She heard a hymn to the drow war goddess reverberating in the background and knew it time to pray, closing her hand around the still glowing darksteel and closing her eyes, hissing in agony as her flesh burnt away...

And therin lay the issue. Most drow do not dream. They had long lost the art of it. For most drow, reverie was becoming rarer and rarer, and sleep, the subtle art of slipping into oblivion for a short period, became the true refuge from the nightmare of their day to day. Surely this had to be a vision.

She would always wake up at that instant, feeling restless. With a burning need to do SOMETHING. A week passed, with the same dream over, and over again, and Rauvlin finally decided it was a divine call. There was simply no other explanation. She had to go on pilgrimage to T'lindhet.

She informed her matron of her impending trip, and the archpriestess Zestra too, since she happened to be there, and prepared for her journey with Talyrrae's enthusiastic blessing. For the first time since she had arrived she looked at the ferryboat with aprehension and excitement. She felt like that young drowess that had arrived in the region with wide eyes and excitement again. She left the city with a spring in her step, eager to return with wonderous tales from the city of her house's origin, where the main branch was headquartered.

She would return to find a very different house than the one she had left behind.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Wed Mar 01, 2017 10:41 am

The trip to T'lihdhet was long but uneventful. Her time in Andunor had honed this fine blacksmith into a proficient blade. Her hard, glowering expression and strong frame kept most of the drow from asking questions. Being armed to the teeth and decked out in armor more expensive than many of them would make in a lifetime ensured inquisitive minds kept their attention on her, but their eyes elsewhere when her gaze swept her traveling companions.

The great cavern of T'lindhet could be heard well before it could be seen. A smaller city as far as drow metropoli go, seven banners hung side by side atop the heavily fortified gate that made up the entrance and first line of defence for the stronghold. The sounds of militant drilling were heard loud and clear, and it seems the training grounds were intentionally close to the gates. No hostile force would catch this place undefended.

Rauvlin made a beeline for the Xun'viir citidel, the headquarters for the house in the underdark, and explained her arrival, swapped news, and was swiftly given access to the house forge... after her loyalty and story were tested through magical means, of course. She could finally get to work.

And work she did, as though in a trance, tirelessly for four cycles she toiled nonstop, pausing only to eat and hydrate, for the sweltering heat of the forge did make her as a naiad for how she glistened with perspiration. The design had come unbidden to her mind, and she had gotten to work; no schematics, no measurements, as if by instinct she know exactly how it was to be made. The fatigue went unnnoticed entirely as if by divine design, like the goddess had been smithing using Rauvlin's limbs as her own. Rauvlin worked until at last she collapsed under the exaustion and magnitude of the task she had performed, a finished dagger clutched in her gloved hands.

When she awoke, she was in a small furnished cell, rather spartan by design, it had the bed, an armor stand, and a small table. Nothing else...well... nothing else save for a stool, upon which sat a Yathrin of the faith. Yathrin Gausrae planted a hand upon Rauvlin's chest as she sat bolt upright.

"The dagger..." She started groggily.

"Is safe. The temple is protecting it until your departure."Gausrae informed, insistantly pressing her down onto the bed. "For now you are to rest. You've been out for two cycles."

"I need to get back."

"You need to rest."

"I had a dream of Andunor. I must return."

"So then you shall. Rest. I shall retrieve you at the changing of the guard, and you will be on your way. I will supply you with provisions for the journey and retrieve the blade. May our holy mother guide your path."

Rauvlin would find she was very much in need of guidance upon her arrival back home. The trip to Andunor was nothing special, save for a persistant feeling of forboding. A lingering sense of dread that Rauvlin had not felt since the first time she took the ferry to Andunor, a fear of the unknown future that befell her. She watched the lights of the city come into view between massive columns and tried to shake the feeling that something was wrong, very wrong indeed.

Back at Xun'viir mansion, Rauvlin's fears were confirmed when Nathryna answered the door and smiled; a smile that raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

"Rauvlin, do join us. We are about to head to the temple for a ritual." Boomed matron Talyrrae's commanding voice from the great hall beyond. "You will accompany us."

The butterflies in Rauvlin's stomach took flight. She had a sinking feeling she was about to know why she felt the way she did.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Fri Mar 31, 2017 2:03 pm

Rauvlin had never had much reason to go to the temple, in fact, she generally avoided the place. Her last experience at the temple had not been unpleasant; A proud moment for her at the time, being blooded into Xun'viir in a ceremony. It was at that ceremony Iimeth was inducted into the Killian yath, and he had been executed for such by that shit of a drow Dirza almost immediately afterwards. Zestra's temple had never shown Xun'viir love, and there was no love lost between Rauvlin and those within her stone walls.

Rauvlin would never even consider joining the Killian Yath, not matter what an honor it was considered to be.

The outer doors of the temple opened slowly, emitting a deep grinding sound as the heavy stone, designed to be impressive and fortified against attack if anyone had ever built up the gall to attack the seat of lolth's power in the city, swung inwards. Matron Talyrrae led the column, followed by Nathryna, Rauvlin, and Ilmryn taking up the rear.

The interior of the temple of lolth was small, at least, as far as the public was concerned. The public antechamber was a small affair. Some braziers, the spiked altar of La'laskra on the left, the marble hand of Kiaransalee on the right, Lolth's altar the largest and most prominent, dominating the chamber, these drow walked right past it into the inner temple proper.

Rauvlin had only ever been in this room once before in her life; When she had been on trial for heresy. She had no need for lolth or her temple, the house had its own shrine to La'Laskra, and she herself had her own shrine to her goddess in the silver mine, why would she linger in the house of the trecherous goddess needlessly? What care had she for the sermons within these walls? For the lectures and hymns? She had none to spare on lolth and her clergy. They were unimportant; at best a stone in the path of the drow race on its journey to unity and greatness. Someday, this building would be known as the temple of La'laskra!

But not today. Today, they were going to a Lolthite ritual, and how pleased Talyrrae was at the prospect was... disturbing.

Rauvlin kept her opines on her matron's recent shift towards Lolthism and the goddess herself quiet in her house of worship. She might be hot headed and impetuous, but even she knew better than to risk a charge of heresy again.

They approached a large door in the back of the inner temple and the hair rose on the back of Rauvlin's neck. She had only ever heard of the room beyond. The inner sanctum of the temple of lolth. The holiest of holy places in Andunor, and indeed for the surrounding hundred miles or so of cavern, going up or down into the vaults. Even if she didn't follow the divinity who's presence filled this room like a haze of dust, she could FEEL the oppressive goddess' presence here.

Rauvlin did not pay close attention to the beginnings of the ritual. It was an abyssal affair, and spoken in such, which she had only a very, very, verrrrry basic understanding of. Able to pick out the odd word here and there. No, her attention was on the room itself.

Oval in shape, the floor of the inner sanctum glowed red with abyssal runes and the design of a VERY large spider, steps rising to a dias, upon which an altar sat. Behind the altar was a sacrificial pit, the blackness of the yawning maw lending only the imagination to guess how deep it ran. The ceiling was vaulted, and aside from the altar and statue of Lolth dominating the room, it was rather spartan.

Rauvlin looked over at Ilmryn as it became clear that he was not to be sacrificed. That was here without being a sacrifice was incredible; she had heard that males were not permitted into the inner sanctum unless they were Killian Yath. Any male back here was to be sacrificed, sometimes a task the Killian themselves bore. Her attention was distracted, as Talyrrae asked a question to the open air in abyssal.

And she recieved a divine response.

One moment Rauvlin is looking over at Ilmyrn across the room, the next it feels like she is gut punched as an opressive presence descends on the room like a crushing weight, driving everyone but Talyrrae to their knees. Rauvlin feels a moment of stark terror and cold as fear grips her at this encounter with Lolth herself, the goddess' voice booming out of the darkness, echoing off the walls of the chamber as the air seems to ripple above the dias.

Waves of power buffetted Rauvlin, raw energy, freezing and burning hot at the same time, flowing over the drowess like the heat of a blast furnace, actually scorching her skin as surely as any fire and blistering it as successive waves of power dried out her flesh and made it crack.

Talyrrae said something to Lolth again, and the goddess' response sounded, and felt, enraged. Blistering power rippled through the air and Rauvlin felt as though her chest were being squeezed, finding herself forced down onto her hands and knees now as Talyrrae seemed the target of the goddess' ire. The drowess' matron was forced to her knees, and she seemed to take on a more desperate tone in her bargaining. It was clear she was trying to curry favor from Lolth, but her overtures seemed to be failing.

Unsuprising, given Talyrrae was a highpriestess of La'laskra.

Rauvlin scraped her nails against the floor as the whip of Lolth's rage flowed across the room, striking all with an invisible force as she feels the breath forced out of her again, looking to Talyrrae as her matron began to beg, beseeching the goddess for power. Rauvlin knew what she wanted the power for. To lead, to begin a campaign against Myon and take the fight to the surface and their long hated enemy, the elves.

From lolth, Rauvlin heard another slew of Abyssal, but she caught a couple key words. "Renounce." and "La'laskra".

Alarmed, she looks to Talyrrae, a tear streaming down her own cheek from the constant pain of being subjected to the presence of the goddess, and Talyrrae met her gaze. Rauvlin shook her head slightly.

Don't do it! She urges in her mind, balling her hands into fists as she held Taly's gaze.

Talyrrae hesitated, her eyes uncertain, frightened. She appeared like a child that had levitated up a stalagmite and held on for dear life, unable to get down safely, but trying her best not to show off how vulnerable she was. "I..."

Matron, no! Please! Don't do this! No! Rauvlin begged mentally, rivulets of tears streaming from her eyes to see her matron, her mentor, her mother figure, breaking like this. It was breaking her heart, and she railed against it with every fiber of her being, but helpless to move to stop it. What could she do against a goddess, much less one of the strongest in existance.

A single tear flowed from Talyrrae's eyes as Rauvlin's matron closes her eyes, averting her gaze in shame as she steeled herself for her next words. Rauvlin's heart leaps into her throat, and she shakes her head more insistantly as she watches the lines of Taly's throat swallow, before the matron opens her eyes and looks squarely at the altar.

"I...renounce...La'laskra..." Rauvlin clearly made out, followed by some long spiel in abyssal. But Rauvlin had heard enough. Her heart was breaking, breaking like Talyrrae's resolve had in the face of Lolth. Breaking like her fidelity to her goddess. It was the single greatest betrayal Rauvlin had ever witnessed, that moment where Talyrrae turned her back on the goddess she had trained Rauvlin to follow so zealously. That moment when Taly turned her back on her faith, on her principles, on those who had, in turn, believed in her.

Lolth's tempest subsided suddenly, and the goddess' abyssal nearly purred in triumph.

From atop the dias, it appeared. Rising as though from the floor, a blob of stone formed into the shape of a breathtakingly beautiful drow.

A yochlol, one of lolth's handmaidens, had arrived in the flesh.

Rauvlin felt a wave of revulsion and hatred flow though her, coupled with awe and fear, as the Yochlol beckonned Talyrrae to approach, the once La'laskran Matron approaching in what could only be discribed as a walk of mixed feelings. Triumph and sorrow, the latter hidden under the veil of the matron's seemingly self assured smirk, though visible in a glimpse in her eyes. It looked like her ambition had won the cycle, she would get what she came for, but at great cost.

Talyrrae's eyes widen in terror as her thoat is suddenly slashed with an arc of crimson, blood trailing from the fingernails of the Yochlol as her grinning visage regards her.

Rauvlin gasps audibly at the sight as this twist of fate happens before her eyes. Talyrrae's eyes bug out of her head as the matron sinks to her knees, clutching her throat as she chokes and drowns on her own blood. Rauvlin can't bear to watch. She focuses on the floor, trying to shut out the pathetic wet sounds of blood cascading onto stone and pitiful wet gasping.

After a moment, silence, not even the sound of a corpse hitting the floor. Rauvlin looks up to check, and the Yochlol is levitating the matron's body with one hand as she channels energy into her with the other. It isn't clear if Taly is alive of dead until the matron gasps the breath of life again!

The Yochlol seemed to smirk, and said something in abyssal, before her form faded into a puddle that seemed to evaporate almost instantly, leaving Taly on her knees and looking perplexed at the development. The matron flexed her hands and arms as she felt newfound power, and Rauvlin's mouth dried as she caught a glimpse of Taly's eyes. Malignant, seeming to... glow... subtly.

The yochlol is not truly gone.

Matron Talyrrae rose then, brushed herself off, and strode purposefully towards the exit, curtly telling her minions to follow. Rauvlin feels a vibrating sensation at her belt then, and her hand curled around the hilt of her dagger. The Dagger! The holy dagger she forged to show Taly. She was too late! Or was she?

It vibrated, SANG, in her hand as she glanced over at Nathryna, who was still rising in her cumbersome robe, and Rauvlin looked over at Ilmryn, who met her gaze. Rauvlin's eyes slid back to Nathryna and she drew the dagger, Ilmryn shook his head, before Rauvlin gave him a subtle nod. An affirmation that what is about to happen is going to happen, wether he approves or attempts to intervene or not. This is all Nathryna's fault, and for it, she will pay in blood.

Ilmryn took a hint, and turned away. After all, if it wasn't seen, it didn't happen.

Two steps and the crisp, clear ring of darksteel sliding from a sheathe, and Rauvlin was upon her. There was a flash of stark terror on Nathryna's face but no sound emerged from her throat but a soft squeak of suprise. Rauvlin was too fast for that.

"Thou hast earned this." Rauvlin hissed in a tone that dripped with raw hatred and seethed with rage.

Her initial strike was so brutal it paralyzed the girl; a blade through the throat, severing her vocal cords and cutting short the inhalation for a scream. Rauvlin's other blade slipped between some ribs and the shortsword is then used to hold the Yochlol-pacted Handmaiden of the temple up like a kebab as Rauvlin stabbed her again, and again, and again, and again, and again with the holy dagger. It was incredibly cathartic, the way the warlock's form tensed anew with each impalement with the blade, her flowing robe slicked and soaked in blood, Rauvlin's own armor soaked with errant spurts.

At long last she pulled both blades from the warlock and watched her limp form crumple into the slurry of blood on the cold black tiles. The vengeful drowess sheathed her blades and hooked her fingers around Nathryna's neck as she dragged the corpse along the stone, leaving a smear of blood, to the sacrificial pit and hurled it inside with contempt. Sacrilige on top of sacrilige. She had just murdered a handmaiden of the temple of lolth inside the temple's most holy chamber in the name of another goddess, compounding it by tossing the corpse where sacrifices belong.

Ilmryn gives her a horrified look and she shakes her head. "My fate is my own." She murmered gruffly, pulling a lense from her bag as she spoke. "I will go to Sibiyad and lay low around there. Seek me should you survive."

She attuned the lense to the leyline she desired and cracked it, sinking into the portal as she slipped into another place in the prime. Rauvlin could not tell which terrible divinity it was, but echoing in her ears as she abruptly departed the chamber is laughter; the malicious, amused laughter of a goddess.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Sat May 27, 2017 12:14 pm

Heat and sand.

This is the essence of the sibiyad desert during the day. The abyss is more welcoming.
Teleporting into the sibiyad desert in the morning was a mistake, Rauvlin understood that now. The light was blinding, even with her hood as low as possible and her helmet on under it and an arm up to block the hellball, she could barely see. The light was unforgiving on her bare skin and dark adamantine armor. Before long the hellball had risen further, like an avenging avatar, of pain, and Rauvlin felt like she was cooking alive. How vexing it had been to get attacked by Yaun-ti she could barely see, but their propensitiy to hiss while breathing, and their jeered insults gave away their position. Rauvlin had trained to fight by sound alone, and though she sustained some minor wounds, she left her overconfident enemies bleeding out in the sands.

Walking in sandy terrain is the worst; One's footing is loose and unstable, hot sand pours into sabatons and whips across skin with the wind. Unable to see, Rauvlin found herself wandering the desert for hours, the hellball only burning down hotter, truly feeling like the divine punishment it was meant to be for her people. Her hands shook, and she bled through her water supplies very quickly. Eventually, near a rocky bluff, she collapsed into the hot sand and just lay there for a time and prayed silently to La'laskra to give her the strength to last the day. The mantra of her faith crossed her mind as she slipped out of conciousness.

Strength in pain.

----------------------

Something was touching her. Hands, scaly ones scraping against her armor, trying to relieve her of her protective shell. Rauvlin was acutely aware that her eye was not covered, and so she opens her eye a slit, to see a lizardfolk looming over her. The hellball was well on its way to setting, and the twilight had begun setting in. What was a bright ball of agony now was about as bright as a torch. It could be looked at, albiet painfully. But what was important was that she could see again. She waits for the creature to roll her onto her side before she lets her wrist fall a bit more than it needs to, checking if she is bound. She is, but her legs aren't. A fatal mistake for her unwitting victim.

Its end is swift and brutal. A kick knocking it onto its back with a shout of alarm before a heavily armored boot ascended and descended rapidly, connecting with the creature's face with a dull crack. Rauvlin is nothing if not thorough, and after a couple more softer, wetter sounding cracks with her heel, the drowess rolls over onto her knees and shuffles over to where her victim left its weapon. As the adrenalyn began to wear off, the drow feels the lethargy and headache of the blood pounding in her head and the dizzyness of dehydration set in again. She hurriedly, if a bit clumsily, cut the ropes binding her wrists, immediately prioritizing and siezing the lizardfolk's waterskin.

Having sated her immediate need for water, Rauvlin checked the bag on her belt. Her rothe cheeze had melted, becoming an unholy, sticky mess along the interior of the bag, and it had begun to stink. Her jerky was salvagable, if she ate it immediately, but the degree of salt was unhealthy in a desert. It was simply too hot, and water too scarce. The lizardman's provisions appeared more or less edible... though Rauvlin had no idea what they were, or if they were poisonous to drow or now. BUT... she did have a potion of antidote. She filled her belly and drank the potion for good measure, her face grimacing at the flavor. Truly, what tastes bad is good for you.

Despite her nourishment, it takes Rauvlin the better part of the entire night to find the jewel in the sands. Sibiyad, it is called. A sandy cesspit of merchants, mercenaries and, slavers, brimming with the vice associated with trade posts, namely drugs and a number of prostitutes visible in the market before Rauvlin was even stopped by the mercenary by the well.

The Merc held up his hand as she approached wearily, the pair facing off just six feet from eachother; Her, looking like she'd just had a trip to avernus, him between her and sweet sweet freshwater.

"What business do ye have here in Sibiyad drow?" He asked warily, not unused to denizens of the underdark visiting the trade town, but ever wary, wisely so.

"Moi business be moi own, but oi'm not 'ere fer trouble."

"Thats good, because the merchant league won't tolerate trouble in the town, much less the market. Keep yer nose clean and we won't have trouble."

"Yeh, das da plan." Rauvlin knew how this sort of thing worked, and she pulled out a little pouch; She jingled it in front of the guard before she tossed it to him as she made to pass. A blatant bribe, but in a lawless town like this, standard.

"Ye didna' see meh." She intones, her meaning clear.

"See who?" The guard asks with faux innocence, earning a dry chuckle from Rauvlin as she passes, heading into town.

After drinking an invisibility potion, Rauvlin found her way to the temple behind the waterfall. A temple to Sharess it seems, but almost entirely empty, with plenty of space and alcoves to hide in. Stealing a blanket and using some throwing knives embedded into the stone to make a makeshift tent, she manages to build a camoflaged enough lair to be disguised as a local seeking shelter... at least for the day.

Rauvlin knew she could not stay indefinitely, but when night fell again, she would be able to find better lodgings without worrying about dying in the desert, and with that in mind, the drowess set a trap at the entrance of her almost pillow fort, and fell asleep.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Tue Jul 11, 2017 7:52 pm

As far as settlements went, Sibiyad most resembled the sharps at night. People scurried about their business, there were a very few wealthy that called the shots, and the rest of the settlement was largely impovershed, providing services needed for those wealthy few. The town had a bathhouse carved into a natural spring high in the cliff face, which suprised Rauvlin, as humans were not known to bathe often, and the drowess made use of the facilities, her weapons always in reach, a gonne pointed at the door.

A day passed, two, before Rauvlin saw him.
Ilmryn, shopping in the market. The male hadn't bothered disguising, almost asking for trouble, but he was fully armored, and imposing. Ilmryn had always been so, that was part of what little charm he held for Rauvlin. Rauvlin called out to him, and he moved over to her. Leading him to the 'hall of respite' or whatever the locals called it, it was a temple to sharess so she really could care less, she looked around to see if they were being followed as she led him behind the waterfall and into the oddly warm halls. Were it not for the colors of their skin, the pair could be mistaken for a couple on rendezvous for a tryst, but that was not likely; No... The hall of respite was a hall of refuge, even if the priestess that lingered in the back wasn't aware. Its privacy served.

"Why art thou here Ilmryn? Orders to kill me?" Rauvlin hissed quietly in her rough voice. Her throat, forever scarred by drinking acidic slimes, ever tinged her voice with a sort of gruff texture.

"Hardly. I'm here to check on you."

"For the matron?"

"Nau, there has actually been no reaction to what happened. Nathryna was returned by lolth and we've heard nothing of what happened in the inner sanctum."

Rauvlin had mixed feelings. On the one hand, she would be able to come home. On the other hand, executing Nathryna once was not enough to kill her. She would have to plan on killing her again after assessing the damage. The viper could not be permitted to live to bite again.

"I see. I'll return in a couple more days, just to be sure I'm not walking into a trap."

"Your choice. Its not like I was sent to bring you back."

Rauvlin pauses. Ilmryn had a solid chance to go back and bring a death squad after her. She needed to secure his loyalty further, just to cover her bases.

"No... you weren't, but just the same... I think it time you recived a reward for your loyalty." ...And an incentive to serve further, since I'll need your help fixing the matron .

The drowess smirks, and pulls back the flap of her blanket fort. "Thou wilt get what thou hast been pining for for some time... strip and get inside."

Ilmryn blinked, seemingly thinking it a joke before he looked around. "You're joking."

Rauvlin chuckled. "Thou dost remember, I said twould never happen on thy terms. I never said twould never happen. Thou wilt nay be entirely naked. There wilt still be ropes."

Really, those ropes were the most important part. How embarrassing would it be to recieve the spider's kiss from a male?, and moreover, Rauvlin and Ilm were nearly equally matched. In truth, he was the better fighter, but she was careful never to admit it, nor duel him to let others know either. Appearances were everything, and she was worried what should happen to her should anyone, especially he, figure that out.

Ilmryn grumbled at the stipulation about there being ropes, but in the end, lust won out for him, and he dutifully slipped into the blanket fort. Weapons close within her reach, Rauvlin confirmed what she had first discovered with Mebrith. Ropes did make things more fun in the bedroom. She relished the control they gave her, the power to dominate even those physically beyond her and ensure her safety in the most dangerous game. A game both of them enjoyed as the scene faded to black.

--------------------------

The drowess kept an eye on the mercenary as she pulled the bucket up from the well. The municipal water was not as clean as that sold by the water-seller on the outskirts, but Rauvlin avoided that pair, mainly so that she would not have to kill Ranulf the quest knight. He had already charged her once and she left him bleeding from his gut into the sands, his employer running to aid him. Still, she had left him alive, so as not to draw the ire of the locals moreso than she did simply by being.

She refilled her waterskin, attaching it to her belt next to her new sword, the blade of a paladin that fell when Light Keep was destroyed. Given to her only moments ago by an infernal tiefling named Marya, Rauvlin had what she needed to enact her new plan, or so she thought.

Severing a pact between a warlock and its patron or matron, in this case, was a tricky thing, but it could be done by entreating a duke of the hells. It was my mere fortune that Rauvlin had run into a tiefling, and a devoted servant of Glasya at that. Having explained the situation with the matron and her pact, the infernal was only too happy to assist the drow in severing an abyssal pact, and it was sure that the duchess herself would be all too happy to spit in the eye of lolth by breaking one of her servant's pacts.

When in doubt, turn your enemy's enemies loose on them. This had all been started by an abyssal warlock. Nathryna the Yochlol pacted, handmaiden of the temple. This would be ended by Rauvlin, whether she needed to pact or not, she would save her matron's soul, and the house, before the damage could be wrought.

I can only hope I'm not too late.

She set off home to the dark with a new purpose, one she would surely need help with besides the dark powers with which she intended to gamble.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Mon Oct 02, 2017 8:20 am

The trip back to Andunor, despite its brevity, was perhaps the most nerve wracking one Rauvlin had ever taken. Traveling to Andunor from her original home was exciting. Once she had been on the boat, she had been hit with a wave of exileration! Her life was going to improve, she was free!

This was nothing like that.

The trek to Andunor was nothing short of forboding. Was it a trap? Would she be captured on arrival? Would she be executed? Enslaved? Tortured?... or worse, would the temple perform a second inquisition? Too many questions, and each required stepping into the trap to know that it was a trap at all. A tactical nightmare.

Arriving in Andunor was quiet. The city bustled, as it was wont to, with slaves scurrying to deliver wares on their mistress' bidding, the crack of a whip and a scream somewhere, the deep bellow of rothe by the gates and the clank of armor. The peacekeepers looked as impressive as ever, the massive, purpose bred half-orc soldiers in their gleaming armor and sharp halberds. For a moment, Rauvlin felt relief to be home; She felt safe from the threat of being killed by a mob of surfacers.

But what about your own people? A voice whispered in the back of her mind.

The fuzzy feeling of familiar surroundings evaporated like water in a quenching barrel as red hot darksteel is introduced to it. A splash, a hiss, and its gone faster than a kobold pickpocket that just slipped a silver ring off a Yathrinshee's fingers.

She crossed the bridge into the Devil's Table district with aprehension in her heart. For once, she was more than thankful for the oppressive heat of her spore mask and hood beneath her helmet. Her expression was probably like that of a drow caught on the surface being led to the cordor chopping block. Luckily, it was obfuscated from the public view. If she was to be killed in the drow district, or even arrested, she would do so without looking fearful. Her pride demanded this much at least.

She entered Xun'viir manor with her heart in her throat, her gaze sliding from the guards standing by the pillars to the human steward slave who answered the door. Reaching the door on the far side of the room, she extended her hand to open the door when it was flung open by none other than Nathryna, back from the dead. The drowess took a step back, her hand slipping behind herself under her cloak and grabbing the hilt of her blade, before she saw her matron was following Nathryna out. She looked... different.

Gone was Talyrrae's armor, every uncomfortable looking. This new drow matron looked elegant, but in a decadent, sultry way. As though she were on her way to a gala, rather than off to conduct business. Rauvlin could not believe that this was the Talyrrae she new, and she was guarded.

"There you are. We're going to blackfin rock. Get well supplied and meet us at the shipyards." Talyrrae commanded in her usual imperious tone. That didn't change at least but... that was it?

Did Nathryna not say anything? Does Taly not know? Rauvlin rubbed the back of her neck and grunted her assent to her matron, before she turned to follow. She was perturbed, and she was almost sure it was visible. A "Welcome back." from Jezrala, and Shairin, and a knowing nod from Ilmryn were all she got out of the ordinary. Phaeryln simply stared at Rauvlin more than usual, those cold, calculating eyes observing her every move, as though she were peeling away the layers of Rauvlin's calm facade to seek the answers within her. It was uncomfortable.

As the house mustered at the shipyard and the skiff was hoisted aboard by crane, Rauvlin could not help but watch her matron with calculating gaze and wonder...

Is the Talyrrae I know still in there, or am I too late?
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Mon Feb 05, 2018 11:42 am

They had to get the matron to the hells.

There was no way around this fact. In order for this plan to work optimally, Matron Talyrrae needed to be in the hells when they attempted to summon Glasya. A fiend's power is ever stronger at home, and by comparison to the prime, it would be several orders of magnitude stronger. There was only one issue. How does one convince a matron to come with you to the hells? Such was nearly impossible, but such was the mission.

As Rauvlin and Ilmryn approached the mansion, she ran over the plan in her head. They would have only one shot at this, and either it would work, and the house would be saved from the cracks that were already beginning for form in it, or they would probably be killed in the process. It was a gamble with powers well beyond any of them, and Rauvlin was neither a priestess nor a mage, so the odds were not exactly in her favor, but they were the odds she had to work with, and they would have do to. The plan, thankfully, wasn't too complex.

Step 1: Acquire all components needed to complete the ritual.

-A corrupted paladin's blade: Check.

The blade was heavy at her waist, and chill to the touch. Just the scabbard brushing against her thigh made her skin crawl, every fiber of her being wanting to shed that skin like a molting spider shedding a husk and crawling away into some crack to hide until the feelings passed. But there was strength in pain. She would endure.

-A silk sash bathed in the blood of an innocent and dried: Check.

Inside Rauvlin's satchel at her waist sat this particularly gross item. As a bolt of cloth soaked in dried blood, it crinkled, cracked, and filled her bag with the fine particle dust of dried blood in cloth, with some flakeyness included. Her bag would need a thorough cleaning to get the powder, and the smell, out. Procuring this was easy. Like the corrupted blade, Marya had given it to her directly, free of charge. It was unusual why an infernalist would carry such things on their person to just hand away to strangers, but it was never clear why anyone would willingly worship fiends.

-Enough rarified ruby powder for a single large ritual circle: Check.

Acquiring the dust for a ritual circle had been problematic, because for both Ilmryn and Rauvlin, neither was known for magic, or even magic potential. The project had been kept quiet. Nobody but they, and Marya, knew it was going on. The fewer people know, the easier a secret is to keep. Less fun, but safer in the long run, when dealing with matters that constitute high treason. Talyrrae had gone ahead and assassinated Zestra by now, and it was known she had declared herself queen. A pair of warriors purchasing dust would raise a few eyebrows, especially if they were cagey about what it was for. It had taken longer than nescessary, but after spinning a yarn with a local mage about trying to expiriment to infuse ritual dust into an alloy to make enchanting a blade easier, Rauvlin secured her pouch of powder.

-Fresh blood from someone tainted by the abyss(not the target of the ritual)...

Rauvlin glanced to the side at the warlock she had befriended expressly for this purpose. The drow was young, naiive, and eager to please the smith that was making her Darjaava chainmail, also known as greensteel. Were this not being done for a higher purpose, Rauvlin might have felt a strong pang of guilt at the intended betrayal of her new ally. In an ideal world, she could remain entirely true to La'laskra's teachings and remain honorable to all her companions, but that aside...

-Fresh blood from someone tainted by the abyss(not the target of the ritual): Check

Now came the harder parts.

Step 2: Bring the ritual target to a place of power in the hells, or failing that, somewhere in the prime where the veil between the planes is thin.

Ilmryn and Rauvlin tried to get Talyrrae to come with them to Dis. Claiming they had found something of interest to their matron had, however not been suitable bait. Talyrrae had an aversion to the hells, even staying as far from house Freth as she could it seemed. Baiting her to the hells was impossible. She was adamant she would not go. Did she know about the plan? How would she? Rauvlin had barely even told Ilmryn the plan, and she had only gone over the details once. Just once!

Thankfully, Rauvlin being a smith, and a fairly famous one at that, meant that she had another means with which to lure the matron... into the basement at least. She invited the matron to take a look at a new suit of adamantine plate she claimed to be working on in the barracks forge. It was craftsjalilship fit for a valsharess or the goddesses themselves, she had bragged. Rauvlin had much right to brag too; She was known far and wide within the city and without, as far as Guldhorand and Cordor even, as the best smith in Andunor. With a smithy she had been running in the hub for nearly a decade, Rauvlin had forged dozens of weapons and armor pieces of quality and style quality that had not been seen in Andunor since its advent. Many named weapons that would surely be considered artefacts in their own right after her death. She was sure of it.

The matron, having taken the bait, followed Rauvlin and Ilmryn down the steps into the basement. On their heels was the warlock that would be their blood sacrifice. Everything was set. As they walked through the basement training room, Rauvlin could feel herself become tense, and she looked at Ilmryn, who looked right back.

Step 3: Subdue the target.

What probably should have been the hardest part of the plan went off without a hitch. A slight nod, barely imperceptible between Rauvlin and Ilmryn, and immediately the back of a heavy gauntleted fist collided with the unarmored base of the matron's skull. Her eyes rolled back briefly and shut. Talyrrae was knocked out cold. The warlock surrendered without a fight as soon as Rauvlin drew her blade.

They had now committed high treason and embarked upon the most important mission of their lives. Binding and gagging the matron and the warlock with mithril chains and silk cloths, Rauvlin and Ilmryn secured their captives, and Rauvlin was acutely aware of the weight of the components for the ritual she had on her belt.

With a single blow, they were committed. They could not afford to fail.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Tue Aug 07, 2018 3:25 pm

Ilmryn was a good little minion; He dragged the subdued matron to the middle of the sparring arena in the manor basement while Rauvlin set about carefully preparing the ritual circle. Everything needed to be done perfectly, and Rauvlin was the furthest thing possible from a mage. Beyond her innate abilities as a drow, he had no experience in spellcasting. There was a very real possibility something would go awry, and they would both be executed, but she couldn't think of such things now.

She had just finished the circule when the thud of a door behind her was sounded.

"What in the abyss is going on here?!"

Rauvlin's heart sank; That was Jezrala's voice. She was fairly fond of Jezrala as well, but the girl's faith was in question. She still worshipped lolth as one of Talyrrae's heretic converts, as far as Rauvlin could tell. She could not be trusted; not before, with knowledge of this ritual in advance to be involved, not with the performance of the ritual itself, and not with being let go before it was done. Rauvlin shared a grim look with Ilmryn, and with a nod of his head, he confirmed what both of them knew; Jezrala could not be allowed to leave to sound the alarm.

"I'm sorry that you had to see this Jezrala, but now that you have, I'm afraid we cannot let you leave or interfere." Rauvlin stated with melancholy in her voice.

With two of the house's better fighters setting upon her at once, Jezrala did not stand a chance. She died, confusion, fear, and betrayal in her eyes, as Rauvlin sank a pair of blades into her chest. The way she gripped Rauvlin's arm while her own blade fell from her hands left Rauvlin feeling hollow, guilty. Jezrala was her friend. As close to a friend as one could be with a Lolthite, that is. She could still sound an alarm. Warned the voice in the back of Rauvlin's head. It was right of course. Rauvlin elected to spare Jezrala, both out of a pragmatic desire to remain undetected, if lolth should ressurect the female, and because she had never wanted to have to kill Jezrala in the first place. Even if this succeeded, there would be backlash from Jez. They would have to enforce her silence, but if this worked... if this worked, the house would be saved, and Talyrrae would compel Jezrala to keep silent.

The woman was bound, and set against a pillar next to the terrified warlock sacrifice, before Rauvlin used a scroll and raised her. She brushes a strand of hair out of Jez' face as the female glared at her.

"I'm sorry." The smith said softly.

Rauvlin didn't elaborate. They didn't have time for it. This ritual had to be underway before any more house members showed up and became casualties or disrupted it. The circle was complete, Talyrrae was in place, it was time to begin. Rauvlin placed the crusty bloodstained sash in its place in the ritual circle, before she began walking counterclockwise around the circle, She cut her hand and added a drop of blood, loudly calling out to the hells, that they would hear her plea.

"I denounce you gods, I denounce you goddesses. I denounce you Shar, Mask, Vhaeraun, Ghuanadaur. I denounce you Tiamat, Lolth, Cyric, and Bane..."

Rauvlin went on for two perimeters of the circle, denouncing every god she could think of save for La'laskra. She had been told that the more she blasphemed, the more likely her cries were to be heard by the forces forsaken by the gods.

"I call upon you Glasya, duchess of the sixth, princess of the hells! Hear my plea, and accept my blood offering! I give you a warlock of the abyss, her blood to taste, as I beg for an audience."

It was at this point that Rauvlin motioned at the warlock, and Ilmryn helpfully dragged her over. The poor thing looked absolutely terrified, thinking she was going to have her throat cut onto the circle, but Rauvlin did not need so much blood. She had Ilmryn secure one of the female's arms while she cut her wrists free, using her greater strength to hold her wrist over the circle while Rauvlin slices her dark skin with the tainted blade of the paladin. It nearly sang in her graps as it tasted the abyssal taint of the warlock, and the circle lit up further as the droplets soaked into the ruby lines. Rauvlin roughly shoved the girl back away from the circle as Ilmryn set to binding her again, the backsmith, excitement burning in her eyes, continued the ritual.

"By the power of this tainted blade, soiled with the blood of the innocent and the abyss alike, I invite you here, that WE... MAY... HAVE... AN... ACCORD."

Rauvlin's voice grows stronger as she finishes the ritual, the bloodstained sash on the other side of the circle suddenly combusting and burning into ashes as bright red light beams up from the ritual circle, lightning arching from the five points of the pentagram to meet above Talyrrae with a deafening crash. Goosebumps rise across Rauvlin's skin, and the hair stands up straight on the back of her neck as a dark red cloud forms on the other side of the pentagram, a rift, smelling of brimstone, opening up and a lithe, sensual figure stepping through.

The fiend is not how Rauvlin would expect. She expected someone taller, breathtakingly beautiful, with wings. Not exactly what she got. The devil, given away by the horns atop her head, wore a white blouse, with blood red trousers and very stylish black boots. She looked like any tiefling that would be at home in a tavern along the sword coast, with red skin and dark hair, and burning crimson eyes.

"I am Vomka Myoka, handmaiden of Glasya, here as her representative. She has heard your plea, and has sent me to bargain. She is intrigued. Its not very often we deal with drow." The fiend says with a voice soft as velvet and smooth as silk. It was almost... no... she was as sensual as she was terrifying.

"I imagine not." Rauvlin retorted, doing her best to appear confident. She had summoned this fiend, she could definitely send her back, after all, she had made the sigils and the circle correctly... probably.

"Our matron has pacted with a Yochlol. She is tied by her soul to her agreement with the vile demonic servant of Lolth but if she is stripped of her boon, can her contract be broken and her body, mind, and soul released?"

"Mmm. You were wise to come to us, madame drow, the severance of an abyssal pact is of great interest to us, but... what have you to offer us?" The fiend did seem amused at the prospect of spitting in the eye of a greater demon like lolth by severing her pact. That is what Rauvlin had been hoping for, to titillate the devils with their longstanding feud with the abyss.

"Souls. The souls of my first and secondborn sons." As always, male drow are expendable. If all went according to plan, Rauvlin would breed twice, and sacrifice both children. No big loss. She consoles herself.

The fiend grinned. Not one, but two souls in the deal; a faustian bargain if ever there was one. And so ruthless too. It was deliciously evil, but very good business. Rauvlin could see the wheels turning in the devil's head, could practically hear her communing with her mistress, before the fiend nods.

"We have an accord. Now... lets see about this pact."

Vomka took a couple of steps towards Talyrrae, and so too did Rauvlin, triumph singing in her veins, a pleased smile on her face at a deal completed, a plan going off without a hitch... she thought. The fiend suddenly stopped short, her lips curling in a look of disgust; Something was wrong. Time seemed to slow down as Rauvlin saw the fiend's fingers shift into claws, and the sound of a blade ringing from its sheathe could be heard...

And everything went to hell from there.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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Re: Rauvlin: A Surly Smith's Tale

Post by Durvayas » Sat Dec 29, 2018 8:54 am

They say that regret slows down one's perception of time, so that a full reckoning of the moment a decision bites them in the Snuggybear can be seared into one's memory to be looked at bitterly until the moment death releases them from it. Rauvlin was never a believer of that saying until the ritual.

As though struck by a slow spell, Rauvlin watched as Vomka Myoka lunged at the bound Talyrrae, her own blade sliding from its scabbard as she dove between the fiend and her matron, protecting the latter from a very quick death. The claws raked across Rauvlin's armor, cutting into the adamantine like a hot knife through butter. Agony lanced through Rauvlin as she was thrown by the impact, sailing ten meters through the air to strike a pillar.

A splash of claret escaped her lips as she was winded by the impact, the crunch of bone audible. She was struggling to breathe. She tasted blood. Her vision swam. None of that was important; The clank of blade on blade, bone on adamantine, in this case, rang through the chamber. Ilmryn had managed to intercede between the fiend and the matron by now, Rauvlin's valiant(if poorly thought out) attempt at stopping Vomka having bought him the time needed to bring his shield and sword to the ready.

It was hard to focus, but Rauvlin had planned ahead, in the event something went terribly, terribly, wrong. Any great or aspiring great warrior had a contingency plan, and she was no different. Sliding back a plate on her bracer at the underside of her arm, a scroll of banishment was revealed, and though her head spun and her vision blurred, the drowess managed to accurately utter the incantation.

The scroll burst into ash as the runes lit up, the air rippling visibly like heat in the desert as the weave changed on its way to the battle. The fiendish servitor of Glasya's will recoiled as though she had been struck, visibly taken aback by the GALL that these drow were trying to repell her like some lowly imp. How dare they!!

Vomka lunged, ever more agressively trying to get at Talyrrae to slay the yochlol pacted matron while Rauvlin recited another casting of banishment. The fiendish handmaiden shimmered and distorted, her connection to the prime weakened. The fiend released an unholy screech when the second casting struck her, her figure wavering as the magic anchoring her presence to this plane was severed and she was sucked forcibly back from whence she came. The building shaking as the earth swallowed her.

As suddenly as things had gotten out of control, things calmed... sort of. Rauvlin's vision blurred, and she collapsed in a slurry of her own blood, dimly aware of the sound of many armored feet, and shouting as house warriors poured in from upstairs, drawn from the noise and the shaking of the earth. The smith's vision grew dark, and she saw the blurry silhouette of Talyrrae rising as she was freed. The matron was safe, but she had failed. Rauvlin could barely see her blurry arm reaching out for the matron as she felt the last vestiges of her strength leave her. Her head hit the floor, and everything went dark.
Plays: Durvayas(deleted), Marco(deleted), Hounynrae(NPC), Sinithra Auvry'ndal(rolled), Rauvlin Barrith(Active), Madeline Clavelle(Shelved)

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