#nylothstarter

The body had been discovered amidst the drow's own storehouse, it was a clean kill, and an efficient one. No witnesses, no discernible trace of magic, but a daughter had inherited her father's wealth, a competitor had grown their business, and a corner of the Merchant's Guild had been consolidated. So many pieces in play, so many ways to point the finger, who could it have been? Not that it mattered. No witnesses, no crime, that was the law. "Praise Lloth, mother." Evanuris pronounced as she strode almost gleefully into the temple Nyloth and her sisters had dedicated to Lloth. "A male has been killed." It had been ages since the drider had long pig for dinner. Bound and stitched with silken threads that kept the body suspended and preserved within the air behind Evanuris, she brought the body to the altar. They weren't animals, naturally the filth of the male would need to be cleaned, cut, and then properly prepared.

News would be coming soon of a reform and a return to the old ways, men and the priesthood did not align, as much as it pained Felandaris to admit it but Ayi'ig had been wrong about that. It suited Felandaris' needs nicely, mystically talented males were welcome in his order, while Nyloth could tighten her circle and focus on the dominant sex. The triumvirate was a give and take, Felandaris and Faerinaal wanted Severon executed for his crimes, Nyloth's advocacy for her son had saved him. Instead they destroyed his works. "I don't imagine the announcement will come with much fanfare," but it was for the best just the same. "are you attending the memorial?" Felandaris intended to, if only to watch these peasants weep.

Lloth's high temple in the new Court was reserved for women of the priesthood alone, so naturally it was where Evanuris felt most at home. The Handmaiden was but an epithet of their dreaded Weaver, one who spoke directly with their goddess in the same manner that Ayi'ig or the matron mothers did. Nyloth's prayer had blotted out the sun itself above Sky Home, securing the victory for the drow before their people ever landed. Now for the first time in history the soratami had been brought collectively under foot, but the work of a Mother was never done.

From an alcove she observed the rites of one of the priestesses as they slaughtered one of the captive creatures and offered his rebellious life to Lloth as tribute. Wasteful, to some, but power was never given freely. Sacrifices and fealty needed to be made, all victory was gifted at the hands of Lloth. Dressed simply in loose, darkwoven fabrics, the Handmaiden made herself known as the observations were drawn to a close. Incense burning through the dim light of the temple, the darkness was never something to be feared, but those that lingered within were terrifying.

"Oloth vendui', ilhar." Evanuris welcomed: Darkness greets you, mother. She had little patience for the men of Queen Ayi'ig's Court, less interest as well. They had their uses as men often did, but there was no such thing as loyalty among hungry dogs.