#ixthus

It is a week before they find the spot where Samhain had turned off the road; at least, where they think he did, per the map. After so many years, the path is beyond overgrown. Axel pulls out a knife, and Stramonium his battleaxe, and the party begins chopping their way through the undergrowth.

Just before nightfall, they stumble into a clearing; the orange rays of the setting sun filter through thick layers of cobwebs in the trees up above, and the door seems to be the only part of the shrine bare of the sticky webs. Lolth's children, it seems, had reclaimed the building.

"Well, Ixthus," Ryvon whispers, staring up at a hulking drider perched on the roof. "Now's your chance to shine."

The sight of the bigger drider sends a chill down Ixthus's spine. In the spider world, the bigger you were, the more likely you were to eat those smaller than you. He swallows down his nerves, and steps out where he can be seen.

"Um," he calls, and flinches when all the drider's eyes fall upon him. "Hello there," he squeaks.

"Hail, Ixthus of Mayweather," the other returns in a baritone rumble. "My Lady bade me wait for the day of your return."

"That's comforting," Sidhe whispers, and Ixthus recognizes her panicked sarcasm.

"I have no weapons," the large drider continues, "and I mean no harm to you and your companions. May I approach, so that I might go with you into the shrine? My Lady bade me wait for you."

The small party looks to Ixthus. "It's your call," Axel tells him. "But he does seem to know something."

"Well, you know my name," Ixthus calls. "Seems a bit rude not to know yours."

"Apologies, Ixthus," he receives in return. "I forget myself. It has been a long vigil, and I've only had the spiders for company. My name is Volex. The priestess here was to be my wife."

Sidhe and Ixthus share a sombre glance. "I'm sorry," Ixthus tells Volex. "But you probably know she's dead."

"I made peace with it long ago," Volex sighs. "But My Lady is guarding her spirit, now. Risalka is not alone while she waits for me."

Savelle clears her throat. "I'm sorry if I've misunderstood," she starts, "but when you say 'My Lady,' do you mean--"

"Mistress Lolth," Volex confirms. "She guards us and ours in life and in death, long may she last, I won't bore you with the rhetoric the non-transformed drow insist we spew to newcomers. Lolth does not care, as you are in the company of one of the children.

"You said you knew the priestess?" Stramonium is careful with the interjection. "You must have really loved her, if you would have married her."

"And she loved me," Volex says, a soft smile on his spidery face. "May I?" he prompts, motioning to the ground by Ixthus.

"Let's go in," Ixthus agrees, starting across the clearing. "When was the last time you saw her?"

"Just before she was transferred here," Volex answers as he crawls down the side of the shrine to stand by the door. He's easily a head and a half taller than Ixthus, and has a spiked carapace. "I should have come with her. The previous shrine was strict on pregnancies, terribly so, and she discovered she was with child--" Volex passes a hand over his face, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I should have come with her. The two of you should not have been alone."

Ixthus's legs stutter to a halt just outside the door, his hand already resting on it. He looks up at Volex in shock. "You?"

"Not what you were expecting?" Volex sounds apologetic.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Ixthus answers, and looks Volex over. "I wasn't expecting to find some of my birth family so soon, for sure. But I guess I'm glad I did."

The door lets in a gust of air as it opens, and dust swirls up into the fading light. Ixthus is surprised there are no cobwebs inside. In the middle of the floor, arm outstretched toward the alter at the other end of the room, lays a skeleton draped in the robes of a priestess of Lolth.

"Risalka," Volex murmurs, choking back tears.

'So this was my mother,' Ixthus can't help but think, moving across the room to examine the wicked-looking dagger sitting on the floor under her ribcage. It sends a jolt of hopelessness through him. He had known when he and Sidhe had set out he would never get a chance to meet her, but to see the proof of that here in front of him…

Stramonium and Ryvon brush tender hands across his back. "From the position of the dagger, it would have been quick, at least," Ryvon comments. "She did not suffer for long, if it is a comfort."

"It is," Volex sighs, lowering himself to the floor on the other side of Risalka's skeleton to carefully slip the necklace she wore out of her bones. It is an amulet with Lolth's symbol. "She would have wanted you to have this," the larger drider murmurs, and carefully drapes the chain around Ixthus's neck and fastens it, careful of his hair. "It was through Lolth's services that we met, and Risalka had always been grateful to Our Lady for the chance to meet me."

Ixthus can only nod mutely, his emotions choking him. He looks around the small space, and then goes silently to the alter. It was such a small space behind, Ixthus has a hard time believing he would have ever fit, even as a baby. He must have still been very small, indeed.

"Would you like to meet more of your family," Volex asks as he helps them set up camp in the shrine that night.

"That is why I came," Ixthus tells him with a bittersweet smile. "To try to find any family I have left. My friends have been very kind to come along."

"Introductions are in order," Volex remembers.

"This is Sidhe," Ixthus starts. "She is my adoptive sister."

"And I thank you and yours, Miss, for helping keep an eye on Ixthus," Volex intones and bows to her. Sidhe waves him down and smiles.

"He's been a very good brother to me," she assures.

"Miss Savelle and Axel here are a pair of siblings who would travel with my adoptive father, though he was alone at the time he found me," Ixthus continues, motioning to the two siblings, who nod to Volex. "As were Stramonium and Ryvon's parents, and they've been--" Ixthus feels himself blush-- "very good to me."

"Nice to meet you," Ryvon says, "circumstances considered."

"Your son is a good man," Stramonium assures. "He helped us on the road here just as much as he claims we all helped him."

"Bandits find him rather intimidating," Ryvon chuckles.

"You are all welcome to tag along," Volex explains. "Your assistance would be appreciated; the Underdark has only gotten more dangerous since I have been here."

"We would be happy to come along," Savelle agrees, "though I don't doubt Samhain and Jezebelle would like to meet us here and come. They would like you, and I'm sure they'd love to meet you, if you don't mind waiting here a few extra days."

"I would not mind," Volex admits. "I would like to thank them properly, and the extra time will let me give Risalka a proper burial. I do not wish to leave her bones unseen to any longer."

The horse is a strong bay, and huge. Ixthus doubts it can feel the weight of the cart much, though it seems a bit nervous of him until he skips it an apple from on of the produce stalls. Ryvon chuckles, and when Ixthus sends the tiefling a questioning look, Ryvon smiles.

"You have a way with animals, it seems," the healer murmurs as he joins Ixthus.

"I grew up on a farm," Ixthus tells him with a shrug. "I picked a few tricks up."

Ryvon glances to where their companions are loading a few essentials into the cart and clears his throat. "Do you really plan on flirting with my boyfriend and I?"

Ixthus can't read Ryvon's expression. "Didn't realize you two were together. But the two of you are striking. If it will make either of you uncomfortable, I won't," Ixthus answers honestly.

Ryvon bites his lip. "I -- we don't mind. Stramonium and I think you're, ah, striking, as well."

Ixthus laughs and smiles at Ryvon, and the tiefling blushes a pretty lavender. "Well, in that case, beautiful," Ixthus purrs, "I'll just have to flirt with you two more often."

Ixthus watches Stramonium start over toward them over Ryvon's shoulder, while the healer snorts and rolls his eyes. "I'm hardly what most would call beautiful."

The dragonborn's hands settle on the tiefling's hips. "Nonsense, 'Von. You're gorgeous." And the comment has the healer blushing darker and whining and gods, Ixthus wants to hear that sound again.

"Having both of you seducing me," the tiefling hisses without heat, "is going to make this trip very frustrating."

"Both?" Stramonium frowns at Ixthus, and the drider sets a hand on a scaly bicep. "Oh. Oh."

"So," Ixthus sighs, making his voice as breathy as he dares, "while we're on the road, do you want to," he shifts and sighs again, and both men away after him, "see where this goes?"

"Please," Ryvon whispers, and Stramonium's hands are curling around his hips tighter, breathing fast and shallow, both their eyes blown wide.

'Wow,' Ixthus thinks to himself. 'Oh, I'm so fucked.' Ixthus swallows and smiles and whispers back, "You two are so good, can't wait to--"

"Ixthus, quit flirting for a few, we have to go!" Sidhe leans out of the cart to glare at the three men, and the trance is broken. All three jump guiltily and laugh, shyly smile at each other, and go join the other three in the cart.

Suddenly, Ixthus has a conundrum. Most of the time, when Ixthus had worked up the courage to make an advance toward one of the local boys (and it had been so easy with these two), they usually expressed displeasure at being flirted with by Ixthus. So having both men encourage his affections left Ixthus at a bit of a loss. He's never gotten this far and so now has no idea how he is meant to proceed, turning shy and nervous for their first day on the road.

But here again, Stramonium and Ryvon prove much too good, picking up on what, to them apparently, is an inconsequential fact and meeting Ixthus halfway. Ixthus is surprised, how easily how easily leaning into a broad chest comes as he laughs at a funny story, Ryvon smiling as Ixthus fawns over Stramonium and Stramonium smirking as Ixthus lets Ryvon hold his leg up to examine the finer hairs, the joints, the claws.

Ixthus felt like he was floating with every glance. Sidhe seemed to pick up on the change in her brother and quietly teased him around midday halfway through the trip, but hugged him tight.

The next morning, Ixthus wakes up in a bed that isn't his to an unfamiliar ceiling. It takes him a brief, panic-filled moment to remember where he is and what is happening.

'I hope Sidhe slept better than I did,' he thinks as he carefully sits up and looks around. There is greyish, pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains; it reflects weakly in the pitcher of water by the beds, and Ixthus is grateful he had the presence of mind to get that last night. He always needs a good drink after grooming. He starts with his frontmost legs, lifting them up to rub them between his mandibles, taking special care around his toes and the tree claws on each foot. He works his way back, craning around to get his back legs, which also made for a nice stretch for his sore muscles.

While just pushing two beds together worked in a pinch, Ixthus found a curving nest most comfortable, so he could settle into a position that wouldn't strain his spine trying to lay flat. It wasn't the best night of rest he'd ever had, but the stretch of grooming certainly helped. Ixthus supposed he'd have to get used to this, while on the road. And grooming in front of others.

Now that is an idea Ixthus is still trying to become comfortable with. While his family knew the general principles of how Ixthus groomed, and had talked him through the basics, Ixthus had picked up most of his self-care practices from the spiders in his father's garden. Of course, breathing through his legs poses the unique challenge of not being able to submerge himself in water to bathe his upper body without risk of drowning. Even rainy days pose a mild threat, though the fine hairs on his legs do help keep most water drops away from his lamellae; and while he could breathe like an elf, through his nose, losing the two sets of spider lungs, even briefly, could weaken him. As such, most days he ends up running a damp, soapy cloth over his upper body and wiping the soap away.

After he's clean, Ixthus silently pushes open his door and peers out into the hall. In the next room, he can hear Sidhe begining to move around herself, always rising just after him without fail.

He can hear his four new adventuring partners murmuring to themselves in the kitchen -- Ixthus can pick up still-sleepy tones from Axel and Ryvon, but Savelle and Stramonium sound like they've been awake for a bit of time already, likely from the training they'd both received, different yet so similar, in the ways of soldiers.

He move quietly into the main living area of the house, and gets a tired wave from Ryvon, a slurred greeting from Axel, a nod from Savelle, and a bright smile and a 'good morning, Mister Ixthus' from Stramonium.

"Sidhe's coming," he tells them. "It sounds like she was just starting to move around when I passed."

"That's alright," Savelle murmurs, smiling. "I doubt the two of you have ever had to get up this early before. Now, Ixthus, I'm sure it would help Ryvon's job as the party's healer if you let us know of anything… particular you require, as far as nutrients or medicine are concerned."

"We might have to write it down for him to read later," Stramonium teases good-naturedly, and Ryvon jerks his head back upright.

"I'm awake," the tiefling blurts.

"Of course you are," Stramonium snickers.

"Ixthus," Savelle prompts.

"As far as medical assistance goes, I'm no different from an elf, from what I've noticed so far, and I can survive on a similar diet to an elf's," Ixthus says. "And if I spin any webs, I can eat them and reuse the material for more webs. I can also take in food in a liquid form. Like a, ah, a spider. About once a week or so I do need a larger meal, with more proteins to it, beans, nuts, fruits, that sort of thing."

"And when was your last big meal?" Ryvon has woken himself up a bit while Ixthus was talking, clearly interested; Ixthus supposes he understands, as Ryvon seems to take his job as a healer seriously.

"'N if we run into other spiders," Sidhe yawns, shuffling sleepily into into the room, "let Ixthus deal with them. Spiders really like him compared to us non-spidery folk. 'Specially the big ones. Probably think he's one of them."

"I had one just before we left," Ixthus answers Ryvon, chuckling at Sidhe blinking owlishly around. "So I should be alright for a while."

"Let us know," Savelle orders gently. "We're here to help."

"Let's take a look at that map Mister Samhain drew up," Stramonium suggests. "We should decide the best way to go ahead of time."

"Savelle picked up a cart and horse before dinner last night," Axel supplies, still sounding a bit drowsy. "So if we pick up anything interesting on the way--"

"We aren't stealing anything," Ryvon and Savelle snap in unison, and Stramonium looses a rumbling chuckle at Axel's antics.

"If we pick up anything interesting," the dragonborn concedes, "we can certainly bring it back for appraisal."

"Don't encourage him," Savelle groans.

"No, do," Axel counters, and his sister elbows him for it.

"So, let's head for the shrine," Ryvon sighs. "And see what we can find. You have the map?"

Ixthus silently pulls the map out and unrolls it on the table. His new companions lean over it excitedly, and Savelle's face falls.

"It's on the Old Merchants' Road!" She leans back and shares a miffed look with Axel. "Bandits aren't as frequent these days, sure, but that road is a bandit's wet dream. It's the fastest way across the kingdom, so traders and caravans prefer it, and draw a lot of unwanted attention from less-reputable types in the process. We will need to be ready for a fight."

Stramonium strides into the center of the room, where a bear skin rug dominates the floor. The dragonborn reaches down to pull it aside to reveal a trapdoor. Inside is a storage space containing a massive battleaxe Stramonium lifts with ease.

"We will be," he growls, a predatory smirk on his face that makes Ixthus's mouth go dry. The dragonborn reaches back into the space to retrieve a bag with a long staff lashed to it; Ryvon squeals.

"Oh, it's been a while since I used my travelling healer's kit!" the tiefling cries as he skips over to take the pack from Stramonium, remaining sleepiness disappearing instantly.

From out of some hidden pocket, Axel pulls a wicked-looking knife. "Don't you worry, Sis. We'll be just fine."

"'M gonna flirt with a dragon," Sidhe slurs.

"Absolutely not," Ixthus and Savelle cry in unison.

"Your parents would skin me," Savelle tries to placate when Sidhe whines.

"I'm not letting you flirt with anything dangerous," Ixthus tells her.

Sidhe shoots him a glare, then smirks and teases, "But you'll be flirting with Stramonium and Ryvon."

Both men flush embarrassingly bright, and Ixthus knows if he owns it, it'll shut Sidhe up for a bit from shock.

A week later sees the the siblings at the gates of Mayweather, where they are greeted by the first of their companions.

Savelle Renaldise is a tall human woman with blonde hair and a sword almost as long as she was tall. Her armor was immaculately maintained, gleaming and in good repair. She is beautiful, and kind, though from her speech and mannerisms, Ixthus can tell she is strong in her conviction. He is nervous of what Savelle might think, but she doesn't comment on his legs or mandibles or too-many eyes.

Axel, by contrast, is a mousy man with greasy black hair and weaselly, black eyes. He's thin, whip-like, with a sharp tongue and sharper wit, and Savelle has to stop him from picking pockets several times as they make their way through town, Axel chuckling darkly as he points out various homes and businesses that he's robbed in the past, much to Savelle's exasperation.

In the center of town, they're greeted by a tall half-elf tiefling in a bright coat and blue skin. Ryvon has half his hair cut short, and a long braid on the other side of his head that's bright purple. He bows to them, a light laugh and sly smile lifting the travellers' weariness like a potion. A healer Ryvon is, of both body and soul, and he purrs like a cat who got the cream when Ixthus smiles back at him.

On the other side of Mayweather, a house sits away from the others -- clearly, it used to be the main of a long-abandoned farm plot, the lawn around the small home growing wild. Ryvon leads them up the stairs to the porch and opens the door with a flourish and another bow. "Welcome to our humble bachelor pad."

Stramonium is a tall, green-scaled dragonborn with a pair of wings too small to be much use and a tail that seems strong enough to beat a man just as handily as fists. He greets them with an apologetic smile that's only slightly threatening due to his draconic features. He's quiet and charming, greeting them as 'Miss Sidhe and Mister Ixthus'; Ixthus smiles at him, too, and Stramonium's answering grin could have lit up a room, natural and uncaring and 'oh no,' Ixthus worries. 'He and Ryvon are perfect.'

"We have spare rooms set up for you, Miss Sidhe and Mister Ixthus," Stramonium explains. "You must be weary. We can leave tomorrow."

"What, no bunk for lil' ol' me?" Axel leans over the table to smile smarmily.

"Axel, go sleep in your own bed!" Ryvon snaps. "Now, we'll meet up here tomorrow morning. Good day, lady Savelle. Axel." And with that, the tiefling hurries them out the door. "Now, we thought you would want a separate room from your brother, Sidhe; we gave you the room closest to the nice bathroom with the bathtub. Stramonium and I are used to… alternative bathing practices."

"Of course," Sidhe chuckles. "Ixthus can't really soak either, I get it. My thanks, Ryvon."

As Ryvon leads Sidhe and Ixthus down a hallway, the dragonborn calls a reminder to 'show them where we keep the spare blankets, as well, 'Von.'

Stramonium cooks a hearty meal, a thick stew with venison and potatoes and crusty bread; Ryvon and Stramonium -- and Axel and Savelle when the theif invites himself and his sister for dinner -- press the two siblings for the purpose of their journey.

Ixthus and Sidhe explain, as best they can, the tale of their father finding Ixthus and his desire to find any family he might have been lost to. Stramonium makes a noise of sympathy deep in his throat.

"You and I have something something in common, it seems," Stramonium reveals. "Though, I always knew where I came from. My clan was wiped out by a wild dragon, a huge beast from the north. My -- my mother tucked me into a hollow log and told me to stay there. When father came back from trading here in Mayweather, he found only me left alive."

"My god, Stramonium," Savelle murmurs. "I'm so sorry."

"After this quest is over, let's go kill that dragon," Axel growls.

"No," Savelle grunts.

"Nevermind!"

Everyone laughs, and Stramonium Pat's Axel on the shoulder good-naturedly. "Thank you, Axel; but the dragon has gone back to its home in the north. It can stay there and rot."

"Well, Axel and I will let you four get some rest," Savelle says after a moment of companionable silence. "You four should get to bed. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"Thanks for the meal," Axel chuckles on his way out the door behind her.

Sidhe and Ixthus excuse themselves to get ready, Sidhe slipping into the bathroom as Ixthus heads straight for the room Ryvon had showed him earlier.

'We don't really have a bed for a drider,' the tiefling had apologized. 'So we pushed two beds together, I hope that's alright.'

'Don't worry about it,' Ixthus had replied. 'My parents had to do the same thing while my bed was being made.'

Ryvon had giggled, a sound that had bubbled its way through Ixthus and left him feeling warm.

'Well, that's a relief,' Ryvon had told him, leaving to help with dinner.

The room was small, humble. Rustic in it's furnishings, all woody browns and white sheets and curtains with blue decorative sticking along the neat hems. It wasn't that different than his room at home, minus all the little nick-knacks scattered around, and the vanity and mirror his mother had gotten him for his birthday several years ago.

The familiarity sends a jolt of homesickness through him, a feeling he is wholly unfamiliar with. He can hear Sidhe going into the next door down, and Ixthus suddenly needs his sister's presence.

Ixthus knocks, and Sidhe opens the door, hair damp and braided. "Ix?"

"Could I just hang for a minute," he asks. "I--"

She motions him inside. "I could braid your hair?"

Ixthus,

Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Stramonium. My father was an adventuring partner of your's -- Maculata -- and your father mentioned to him that you were planning an adventure. Your father said your a mage and an archer -- I can swing a greatsword and a battle-axe, and I'm strong. I would consider it a great opportunity if you allow me to accompany you.

--Stramonium Matt

Ixthus,

My name is Ryvon, my mother was an old companion of your father's, and a dear friend to your mother. I'm a healer, and would be honored if you would allow me to accompany you on the journey your arranging. I live in Mayweather with Stramonium -- he said he was writing you, he's a great man -- and would very much like to meet you.

--Ryvon Lavellon

Dear Ixthus,

Name's Axel. Your father helped me out of a few scrapes once or twice, and I'd like to return the favor. Course, he ain't adventuring anymore, so I s'pose the next best thing is helping his kid. Keep me in mind -- I've got some quick fingers.

--Axel R.

My dearest Ixthus,

Terribly sorry we haven't had the chance to formally meet before now -- a tragedy, to be sure. I was the palladin that helped deliver your sister. Your mother tells me you and Sidhe are going on your first adventure, and I would be grateful if you allowed me to tag along to keep an eye on my idiot brother, Axel.

Kind Regards,

Savelle Renaldise

P.S. Do not tell Axel I wrote to you, please, rather that you reached out to me.

"Four offers?" Sidhe is sitting on Ixthus's bed, looking over the letters with him in interest. "Four whole offers?"

"Four," Ixthus repeats, grinning. "And Father's vetted them all."

"They all sound really nice," Sidhe says. "And I've met Miss Savelle a few times. This Axel fellow can be a handful, from what she says, but there's no one better in a pinch."

"And Stramonium and Ryvon already know each other," Ixthus adds, lifting Lavellon's letter. "He seems to get along with the warrior."

"So, you'll use magic and your bow," Sidhe starts, counting off on her fingers. "We've got a warrior, a healer, a palladin, and someone I suspect is a theif of some sort. And a bard."

"A bard?" Ixthus chuckles. "And what instruments can you play, oh mistress of song?"

"The lute, the drum, and the nellophone."

"The… nellophone?" Ixthus arches an eyebrow. "Sidhe, they're fifteen feet tall."

"I got one soul-bound," Sidhe sniffs. "I've got this."

"They're twelve feet wide!"

"It's imposing!"

The siblings burst into giggles.

"But really?" Ixthus continues after their mirth has subsided. "You got a soul-bound nellophone?"

"Of course I did!" Sidhe smacks his arm lightly. "It's fifteen feet tall and twelve feet wide!"

The two spend another minute laughing.

"To each his own, I guess," Ixthus chuckles as the two calm. "You really want to come, though? You aren't just coming along because I am, are you?"

"Of course I want to come," Sidhe says. "I don't want to spend my whole life on the farm, Ix. I want to see the world." She smiles cheekily. "And someone has to make sure you don't get too distracted by a pretty face."

"Sidhe--" Ixthus starts to scoff.

"Kids? May I speak with you for a moment?"

Jezzabelle is a stately woman with flame-red hair and a kind smile. Ixthus and Sidhe grew up under her watchful gaze to be curious and adventurous children, and there were many nights the two would come home, mud under their nails and sap in their hair, to 'raid' her kitchen. She would scoop them up, their pilfered treats stuffed into their cheeks, and laugh even as she scolded.

"Yes, Mother?" Sidhe replies easily, she and Ixthus smiling as they shift around on Ixthus's large bed to greet her.

"It's about this adventure of yours," she says. "I just was wondering where you were going. There are still some wild places in the world, and both my children going out there, on their own…"

"Out past Mayweather," Sidhe replies, lying by omission only. "Nowhere too dangerous. And from there, we aren't sure. We were going to see when we get there."

"Well, you will be careful for your mother's sake," Jezzabelle orders fondly.

"Of course, Mother," Ixthus assures. "Now, Sidhe, would you mind showing me that nellophone?"

"You go on outside, Sidhe. I need to have a quick word with Ixthus alone."

Sidhe does as her mother asks, and Ixthus stands to face his mother.

"Your father told you," she chastises, "and you're taking your sister with you to that damned church."

"Sidhe knows full well where I'm going," Ixthus tells her, tensing. "She insisted on coming."

"I don't see why you need to go in the first place," Jezzabelle sighs.

"I want to know where I came from," Ixthus says. "What if there's someone out there who knew me or he priestess? Who cared about us, and has spent all this time wondering what happened to us?"

"I'm your mother," Jezzabelle starts to snip, but Ixthus steps forward, eye-to-eye with her, before she can finish.

"How would you feel if Sidhe had a child and disappeared?" It comes out perhaps a bit harsher than he intends, but he's angry enough at her for the first time that he does not care. "And you spent nearly twenty years not knowing where she was? Where the child was?" He takes a breath and forces himself to calm. "I have a right to know. Whether I will still be your son after I find my answers is your choice."

"Idiot boy," his mother hisses, and it's the first time Ixthus has ever heard a bad word for anyone come out of her mouth. "You will always be my son, no matter who or where you came from."

Ixthus is suddenly ashamed. "I'm sorry, Mother," he murmurs. "I thought--"

His mother hugs him then, fiercely, and squeezes gently. "Wrongly. Please, Ixthus, just promise me that you'll come home after you find your answers."

“Ixthus, wait for me!” Sidhe pulls herself on to the next branch up.

“Really, sister,” Ixthus smoothly calls back, perching two-thirds of the way up the tree. “It isn't my fault I'm a better climber; you just don't have enough legs.”

“It's not her fault she only has two legs, Ixthus,” their father says sagely from the topmost branches.

“Father? Why do I look so different?” It is a question Ixthus has asked before, and his father gives the same answer as always.

“You just came from a different place.”

Sidhe finally pulls herself level with her brother and sighs. “But you never say what that means,” she complains. “And I'm sure Ixthus would like to know.”

Ixthus nods. “Father, I'm seventeen. Almost a man. I want to know.”

Their father sighs quietly and glances back toward the house, nearly a half-mile off. “I suppose you're old enough to know,” he murmurs. “But you can't tell your mother. She doesn't want to upset you.”

He leans back in the tree and gets comfortable. "It was just a bit after Sidhe was born. I was still a ranger back then. I was coming back from a job and--"

Their father swallows. "Sidhe, dear, go check if your mother needs help with dinner."

"But," Sidhe starts to argue.

"Ixthus can tell you later, if he wants," their father tells her. "But it will be his choice if he tells you anything."

Sidhe sighs dramatically and starts climbing back down. "You better spill," she whispers to Ixthus in parting.

After she's gotten halfway back to the house, Samhain turns to his son with a sigh. "You have to understand, Ixthus, before I tell you any of it, that they were much darker times back then."

"The times are still dark," Ixthus reminds his father in return. "The roads still see the occasional bandit troupe."

"It was even more common back then," Samhain murmurs. "It was also very common to find victims of unfortunate circumstances dead off the side of the road." Samhain bows his head, seeing some tragic scene from long ago. "It was getting dark. I was looking for a place to camp for the night. And I came across a shrine to Lolth hidden off the road."

"The spider-goddess?" Ixthus cuts in, leaning forward with interest.

"The very same. The priestesses had been killed, by what, I didn't stick around to find out. You'd been tucked behind the alter. The poor Drow had given her life protecting you, I couldn't just leave you there."

"So you took me with you," Ixthus finishes. "Father," he asks after a moment. "I'm not really an elf, am I? I have too many legs."

"You may have been a Drow originally," Samhain whispers, pulling a copy of Volo's Guide to Monsters out of his coat and flipping it open to a dog-eared page. "But either way, that priestess gave her last breath to beg Lolth's blessings upon you."

The page Samhain held out to Ixthus showed a sketch of a being who could have been Ixthus's blood relative. 'Drider,' the top of the page proclaims in large letters.

As Ixthus skims the page, he feels a weight drop into his stomach. "It says here 'man eating'," he murmurs.

"A local legend, more than anything," Samhain explains. "I went to the underdark and looked for weeks until I found a few of the spider-people. They don't actually call themselves driders, you understand, but they do recognize that that is the common name for their people. I explained that I had found you, taken you in, and they were more than happy to help explain how to take care of a drider properly."

"So, I'm an," Ixthus starts to clarify, "aber-ration," he reads off the page.

"I kept the blanket I found you in. It's yours, if you want it," Samhain tells Ixthus softly. He sets a warm hand on his son's shoulder. "But Ixthus, no matter who you are -- who you could have been -- your mother and I love you dearly. We always will. And no matter what comes, we're with you."

"Father," Ixthus says, smiling. "Think you could mark the shrine down on a map? I think it's time for an adventure of my own."

A bit of a recap, as well, for you all.

---

It was just starting to grow dark when Samhain came upon a small opening in the trees. The ranger was looking for a place to lay his head for the night, away from the road, and the small path leading into the forest -- no wider than a woodcutter's way -- seemed to appear to him as a godsend. He turned on to it, and followed it for a few hundred yards before the path opened into a clearing; the small shrine had been completely invisible from the road, the forest’s trees growing thick around it. Samhain's eyes fell upon the spiders carved into the woodwork, the cobwebs hanging low over the entryway, and shuddered. The half-elf would prefer to camp anywhere other than a temple of the spider-goddess, Lolth.

As he was turning to go back to the road, Samhain's ears picked up a small sound from inside. The soft gurgle of a baby.

Samhain's mind immediately turned to his own baby daughter back home. Her mother would be giving her a nightly bottle of warm milk to help send her off to sleep. Samhain winced and used the head of his travelling staff to clear away the cobwebs from the door and eased it open. The shrine only had one room, and he glanced around it warily. In the dying light, Samhain could see a single priestess, sprawled on the middle of the floor, covered in blood.

The poor drow was clearly dead.

A whimper drew his gaze across the room toward the stone altar. A corner of blue cloth was just behind it, wriggling slightly. The priestess had given her life to protect the child -- perhaps an orphan, perhaps her own -- and Samhain could see that one bloodied a was extended in a final reach for the infant, maybe begging the spider-goddess to save the child.

Perhaps Lolth had prompted the baby to make their presence known to him. Samhain would rather not help Lolth, but for the sake of a child, alone in the world--

The half-elf crossed the room, cautious; he did not want to scare the babe. The bundle the infant was wrapped had been tucked into the shadows under the back side of the altar. Samhain drew him out into the open, and the small drider boy began to wail, as if knowing already -- instinctively -- that his mother was dead, the sound ripping itself from between his mandibles. Samhain lurched back, terrified, but leaned forward to gingerly scoop the boy up. The tremors and cries calmed when Samhain held him closer; one tiny fist curled in Samhain's cloak.

'Ixthus,’ a corner of the cloth had been stitched to read. Orphaned, potentially twice now, the boy was cold and hungry. But Samhain had him, now.