I glare at the vile, horribly disfigured countenance belonging to one of Ched Nassads many orc guards as he seems to be barking something completely incomprehensible at me. “Xurhth tlalrlar barktlr!” the profoundly hideous brute manages to excrete from the tooth filled rectum he probably calls a mouth. He has large scars, no doubt from countless battles running diagonally down what might be conceived as a face. His eyes are as black as the damp rear end a particularly tasty little treat named Fal’iene kept shoving in my face just the cycle before.
My mind wanders.
I met her in a secluded winery on the lower levels called The glowing goblet. I normally would not conceive of venturing down to the seedy lower levels but I heard a rumour from an associate named Xer’thlar that all the finest commoner females tend to frequent that particular establishment. Xer’thlar was apparently no stranger to the affectionate caresses of willing
commoner females anxious to receive the gracious attention of noble males.
I had met Xer’thlar on the cycle I arrived in Ched Nassad and was greeted by the unwelcome shrieks of a noble yathrin hellbent on taking out frustration with her impotent sexual partner on me. Xer’thlar was among the crowd that day, and as I showed the yathrin my badge of noble affinity with house Claddath, and her consequently ignoring it and expeditiously referring to me as a liar, he stepped in between us and somehow managed to sway the Yathrin’s murderous rage from me and at a random commoner
watching the spectacle.
I must admit watching the hideously malshaped spiked mace of the yathrin splitting open the commoners skull because of my arrival amused me.
Some cycles later, upon entering the glowing goblet and ordering the most expensive wine in the premises garnering the attention of the nearest females, I smoothed my meticulously groomed hair back and scanned the main room for the most desireable female present. Once locating my quarry, I palmed the glass holding the most expensive wine the locale had to offer and moved over to her.
I was particularly satisfied with the way I looked that evening, my hair was perfect, I had just had both a manicure and pedicure done and my outfit, a delicious black and yellow three buttoned vest, complimented by a neck band made out of pure mithril, and a pair of yellow striped black pants made by the hands of X’rertlar of the merchant conglomerate Rarthiir. The entire outfit cost significantly more than I expected but also helped elevate my appearance that cycle to perfection, something which made the exorbitant amount of gold seem like a small price to pay. After all, perfection is what we all strive to achieve, is it not?
After using and disposing of the commoner whore, I returned to my quarters and soaked myself in a long, hot bath.
But I am getting sidetracked I fear…
The orc’s greasy green skin nearly pulsates as its worm like black tongue beats about its stinking cavity, producing a sound my ears find most unpalatable. “Xurhth tlalrlar barktlr!!”, the orc wails again, only louder and accompanied by a wad of saliva which shoots at me.
I dodge the blackish spit and promptly answer his bellowing mutters with a scowl so foul it could frighten a Darthiir to commit suicide. “Listen… I did not STARE at the mistress Silv’Ila! I was merely casting a glance in her general direction!” The oafish brute stares dumbly at me as it no doubt is piecing together what I just said in its miniscule mind, black saliva hanging from a canine protruding from its bloated lips.
I feel like vomiting.
The horrid creature merely stares at me for what seems like several eternities and my mind screams at me to feed it its own testicles. My fingers dance happily on the hilt of one of my serrated daggers, which is nearly begging me to shove it in the orcs face and twist the blade, tearing the oaf’s pathetic excuse for a face in half.
“Tell her… That I meant no offense, and that she has my deepest apologies if I somehow stepped out of line..” I am of course lying, and as the disgusting vermin turns towards the noble female standing behind it, I deliberate on the consequences of her not believing my words and I smile. It is not often a male can walk away from staring openly and blatantly at a noble female… Unscathed. The pounding of my heart tells me I am inches from death this cycle but my mind is whispering me sweet praises of glory and honor.
So I calm down.
The moment seems to extend for another eternity as I somewhat detachedly await the impending judgement mediated by something which is less than I am. This is the curse of being born an Ilythiiri male, to await judgement dealt by fickle tongues and unsympathetic eyes. I suppose I cannot complain, after all I am a noble born into a noble house, born into relaying the will of the yathrins just like the wretched greenish creature before me.
The comparison with this lowly minion makes my stomach reel with disgust and my hands seek to deal my mind a lesson in pain for producing such a vile train of thought. My eyes move from where they had previously been fixed on the ground, to the hated decrepit life form now so ungracefully lumbering towards me. “Go… “ It manages to spew at me and I do not hesitate to seize this act of unimaginable generosity, so I turn on my heels and make it my business to place as much distance between me and the yathrin as is possible in all reasonable discretion. I would perhaps have moved a bit slower were it not for the summon I had received from my Yathallar D'slevia just before. D'slevia strikes me as being a profoundly fickle and sadistic bitch yathallar of lolth and nothing could be further from untruth. After being introduced to her by a fellow noble male named Valen I got the impression that there is something peculiar about her though, something illusory, a sense that in her floats a dull drop of that most vile substance some refer to as “fairness”, spilled carelessly into an ocean of boiling, righteous wrath.
Pondering the ramifications of this epiphany, and the depth of this particular train of thought as I portal up to the hallway outside her chamber, I inhale slowly and purge the notion from all consciousness.
“This is merely a test, do not fail it and you will do fine” my mind tells me, I find it difficult to believe. Nonetheless I slowly enter my yathallar’s chamber.
Serenity becomes me.
S'slevia is wearing a rather tight fitting black and blue buttoned outfit with matching blue and black gloves and a pair of curious black stilettos, the part barely covering her torso is no doubt tailored to enhance her busom for I find it particularly bloated this cycle, not that I am complaining.
“Ah… Hatchling, you have come so soon. Excellent” the yathallar speaks with a voice softer than anything my ears have heard before, slicing through my practiced exterior with its meticulous underlying layer of sharp menace, reducing my peace of mind to uncertain paranoia. I merely nod my head as I prepare for the next onslaught of words to ram their way down my ear-ducts. “I have a task for you.. It seems a hunt is being organized this cycle, and I wish you to represent house Claddath.” I nod from where I am kneeled on the hard marble floor, a position intended to humiliate and humble the servant of the yathallar. “I will not fail you, most exhalted Yathallar”. She simply gives me a dismissive wave, making my mind scream at me to run over and shove my rigid manhood into her freshly excavated left eye cavity, though I resist this particular urge with ease seeing as my being is reduced to a quivering mass of submissive reverence right now.
Festering humiliation returns me to myself.
Leaving with my manhood firmly in my single buttoned black and blue vest, matching black pants and cloak fastened with a mithril pin piece shaped like a very small dire spider, everything from X’clathar R’haluth, I make my way to the fourth level of Ched nassad and enter what is arguably the most repulsive collage of undesireables in the whole of the underdark. The house unnamed. The very name ushers forth mocking thoughts of neutrality and its vile effect on Ilythiiri society. There I find an equally revolting collection of freaks. Two representatives of house auvryndar and a commoner.
I reluctantly lessen the distance between us. I find the two Auvryndar’s are a devotee of Lolth by the name of Faerylene and her guardian, Vedo. The commonor, who I am not paying particular interest to is apparently called Phaeraun. Though he might have seemed moderately interesting had I elected to grace him with my presence of mind, I pay no heed to such thoughts. The rather large male named Jax gives us our chore wrapped in a contest.
“This is the hunt for this cycle, so pay attention noble Auvryndar and claddath..” I notice he refers to the Auvryndar’s before myself and I feel my grip on sanity slipping again as he continues. “On each layer of Ched Nassad is a bugbear, each bugbear is marked with a red spot. You are to kill as many of the creatures as possible, and the ones returning with the most wins. Simple” I mock his conclusion with raising my left brow and eye my competiotion. The two auvryndars have obviously already teamed up. The Female and her groweling pet. That leaves me and the commoner, and though I would ordinarily snort at such a dubious pairing, something in my mind tells me I am not going to regret it.
We make our introductions, well as far as the commoner giving me his name and a rather brief background, and me giving him close to nothing in return.
The hunt is long, my hands are soaked with sweat and my throat burns as we progress through the levels. But we have killed five bugbears up till this point, the other five have been taken by the hated Auvryndar. Now we have to make our way to the lowest level to kill the last wretch. We make our way down as fast as our legs can carry us, which brings on a fit of exhaustion. Realizing the need for rest, we slow our run to a steady walk as we make our way down to the lowest level.
“There…” Pharaun indicates a lone bugbear in the outskirts of the level. We close in around it, and I loosen a round from my single action crossbow fashioned from wood and steel imported from the surface lands. It hits the bugbear clean in its bloated neck and makes it topple over into a firm sleep. Pharaun, who has been more than successful with his tactic of blanketing the area with darkness before striking, lunges in for the kill.
Concluding the bloody ordeal with a swift sweeping motion, Pharaun does the bugbear the favour of depriving it of a head and thusly its pitiful existence. I ponder the hilarities surrounding such wonderful subjects as life and death a moment before returning to the current, and we begin our trek upwards to the house unnamed. On the third floor we encounter the Auvryndar’s.
“Did you have a successful hunt?” The petulant priestess questions with an air of rhetoric about her, something I have come to loathe. I answer in kind: "We have enough" The females face turns from pitch black to a lighter shade of pure unadultered envy, and this spectacle amuses me to no end. She sees a goblin slave lingering upon the edge of the great level we currently are located and takes the opportunity of giving it a last swift and exiting death by way of plummeting to the cavern floor countless meters below. Together we make our way upwards to the fourth level, and the house unnamed, where much to my delight and to the Auvryndar’s disappointmet, which are really one and the same, I and the commoner are named victors of the hunt and awarded some menial reward for our efforts. In an almost unfathomable gesture of generocity I elect to share the reward with the commoner rabble.
There is something about that one.
Upon my return to Qu’ellar Claddath I am praised as a genuine success by my Yathallar who by curious coincidence is holding the chain fastened around the neck of the first male to greet me in Qu’ellar Claddath, Valen. I silently mock his predicament as the Yathallar seizes me as her own, leading me to her chambers for a nights amusement.
I find, I can not complain...
Two: The chase of the hunt
Two: The chase of the hunt
Last edited by Mord on Mon Dec 12, 2005 3:42 am, edited 7 times in total.
<GF|sleep> I'm just glad that now when I get diabetes from drinking the sweet, sweet tears of republicans I can go to a doctor ;o
<spiderjones> Actually every sink except the kitchen one is horribly clogged and shoots out blood and sometimes excrement
<spiderjones> Actually every sink except the kitchen one is horribly clogged and shoots out blood and sometimes excrement
