Dark Flower Ch. 3 (previously entitled A New Life)

[Mikayla]

The following continues the tale of the heretic drow priestess, Sheyreiza Auvryndar, first detailed in the story "Snowfall." As in "Snowfall," the story relates ingame events, though "Snowfall" took place on the OAS and this story has occured in Live. The transition between the two took place in the follow on story, "Landfall", that is in the "Snowfall" thread. For those wondering, nothing but the story followed Shey from OAS to Live (no exp, no items, nothing) - I simply used what happened on the OAS as background for my Live PC.

***

Sheyreiza Auvryndar shut the door to her chamber and walked slowly towards the bed. As she walked, she shed her armor, piece by piece, letting it drop to the floor. She was too tired to do anything more with it. She paused before the dresser and looked into the mirror. A stranger’s face stared back at her. No, on second thought, it was not a stranger’s face; it was a dead woman’s face. It was the face of Elvaelaeyl Tlabbar.

Elvaelaeyl was a daughter of the Menzoberranzan house of Faen Tlabbar, third house of that city. She had come to Skullport for reasons Sheyreiza did not know. What Sheyreiza did know was that while in Skullport, Elvaelaeyl had fallen under the sway of some iblith whore-masters. The Tlabbar priestess’s actions were inexcusable – the slut had brought dishonor to herself, her House, her city, her gender, the Ilythiiri nobility, the clergy of Lolth and the Spider Queen herself. Sheyreiza, though a heretic of Kiaransalee at the time, had been outraged. She vowed to end the Tlabbar priestess’s blasphemy and devised a plan that would not only erase the crimes of the Tlabbar, but would erase Shey’s own heresy.

The Tlabbar priestess acted first however. Elvaelaeyl walked out into Beggar’s Rest, an area known for its hostile undead. There, the Tlabbar priestess was slain. She found honor in death she could not achieve in life.

Sheyreiza and the remainder of Elva’s patrol fought their way through the undead and recovered the body. They took the corpse to an altar and there, Sheyreiza put Elva’s body into the sacrificial flame. Sheyreiza made a vow that cycle, and a sacrifice. She gave unto Lolth both the blashpemer that was Elvaelaeyl and the heretic that was Sheyreiza. Both would be snuffed out, and a new, righteous, loyal Yathrin would take their place. From the death of heretic and blasphemer would come loyalty and faith.

With the help of a wizard, Sheyreiza transformed her body into the likeness of Elvaelaeyl. The transformation was perfect, except for one thing; Sheyreiza’s sapphire eye. All other scars and marks had disappeared, but the gem remained, a reminder of the iblith woman who took Sheyreiza’s first life and the Valsharess who gave it back.

Now, Sheyreiza held herself out as Elvaelaeyl Tlabbar. No, she was Elvaelaeyl now, or at least, she was what Elvaelaeyl should have been. She had turned back to Lolth, and had done so with fervor. She took command of the patrol in Skullport and gave them the leadership they needed.

The patrol flourished, slaying enemies and carving out a niche for itself in Skullport. They had fought goblins, crawlers, iblith, shadows, heretics and the undead minions of a Yuan Ti necromancer. They made allegiances and they made enemies; they recruited and they died.

Sheyreiza coughed as she looked into the mirror and she saw fine droplets of blood hit the glass. While the patrol flourished, Sheyreiza, now Elvaelaeyl, did not. The patrol had been forced into some dream world, a place of shadow, and too escape that abysmal place Sheyreiza had sacrificed her health. Now she was often feint, weak, and tired. Worse yet, she could never get warm. Sheyreiza feared little as much as she feared the cold and now, her body seemed unable to get warm. She spent hours sitting by the fire in the inn chambers from which she commanded her patrol and even just inches from the flame she could barely keep from shivering.

Anger welled up inside of her. Anger at the shadows which had taken her health; anger at the heresy which claimed her former life; anger at the iblith who claimed her eye; anger at the Valsharess who enslaved her; anger at her mother for her vampiric life; anger at everything. The anger grew and she balled up her fists so tight her long nails drew blood from her palms. The anger grew and she closed her eyes to shut out the vision of the blasphemer’s face. The anger grew and she clenched her teeth to suppress a guttural growl that threatened to erupt from within. The anger grew and she began to shake with rage.

The anger grew and she was warm.

The anger would not restore her health or slay her enemies, but it could keep her warm. All she had to do was stoke the fires of hate that perpetually smoldered within her. And that was something she was only too willing to do.

In the darkness, Sheyreiza Auvryndar gave into the anger that threatened to consume her, and sought solace in the warmth of hate. She was Elvaelaeyl Tlabbar now, a princess of Qu’ellar Faen Tlabbar and a loyal priestess of Lolth. Hate would be her comfort and warmth. Hate would be her meat and drink.

Hate would be her life.

In the darkness, Elvaelaeyl Tlabbar smiled wickedly, her exquisitely beautiful face betraying a malice so great one would have thought it born in the abyss - and of course, it was, for it was in the abyss that Lolth, Elvaelaeyl’s goddess resided, and it was through priestesses like Elvaelaeyl that Lolth sought her vengeance on the world. For her part, Elvaelaeyl was only too happy to serve; the hate would keep her warm.

[Zakharra]

Thanks Mikayla. I appreciate that.

[Cayssan]

arr good story mik, you should write more of our group arr!

And I see no mention of the plucky duergar in this at all hmmph