#shandriz

Denton couldn't help bursting into laughter when he noticed his purse missing. That fucker was insane, or she had some impressive guts. Or, he realized, it could have been just a coincidence, and that made him laugh even more.

They robbed him. They. Robbed. Him. How long had it been since it last had happened? Urian all-permitting, it was almost refreshing to remind that such things could happen. He also appreciated the boldnes. True, they could have picked a more approachable target, but what was the point in living at all if you didn't aim high? Such boldness almost deserved a reward.

Almost. Of course, it wasn't actually enough to let it slide, let alone reward it. There was, after all, a very solid reason if people didn't do things like that, and he'd rather had things staying that way. Being known as the “Fleshgourger”, after all, was only good if you could live up to your reputation.

The concept of “pious” had always been open for debate.

The followers or Good-oriented deities, of course, claimed that it should have only been used for following their tenets. Of course, the implications of faith being more or less true depending on the target were not lost to priest of demanding gods such as Cayran, Seiro or Tarazne. The rationale for that claim was a supposed intrinsic superiority of Good, which was contested by the claim that the Dame and Onashar, first among the Creators, were Neutral forces. This usually spiraled it all in a pointless discussion about who were the “most powerful” or “principal gods”. Generally, unless you wanted a long debate and a headache, it was agreed that sincere faith toward any god was a valid definition.

And Denton was really pious. He knew that restrain was no virtue, but one of the worst sins, since it was willingly distancing oneself from the Consumption. Only when it led to a more thorough experience restrain was an acceptable sacrifice. Else, it was either foolishness, or weakness.

Sadly, Denton knew of his weakness. He had defended it as cleverness, but the two weren't exclusive. You always had to avoid picking fights you couldn't win, but if such fight existed then you failed to consume enough, to become as great as you could.

He focused on the work, trying to occupy his mind and quell his bloodlust, on how easy it would have been cracking the head of the elf on the zylsat's wood and paint it with blood. It would also have been a stimulating challenge, seeing how far he could go before the blood stopped flowing.

On some days, it almost seemed worthy. To lose every ally, all the support, and turn against everyone. Many deities praised such things, framing it as glorious, going away with in a blaze, but it was foolish. Accretion was the point of Consumption, and such acts would have only denied the possibility.

Restraining to get a more thorough experience, yes. That was acceptable. The need to ally was still weakness, but soon he'd have reached his destination. He'd have atoned after that.

The first day, he saw it had been the tengu (or kenku, as they called themselves on Rollmav), a colleague of Cinder, although acting on his own (even against Cinder's judgement, aparently).

That was still good: they knew where they came from. By the time they reached their destination, he saw that the kenku actually lived in Lavsten. That put a sincere smile on his face. He was singing, when he got off the zylsat, back on land.

~~~~

“We have to leave.”

Shandriz’s hand was on the knife she kept at her bedside table even before she came out of the half-slumbering haze of evening meditation. It took her a moment, so dazed and surprised, to realize that the voice belonged to Erov. Males were not supposed to be on this floor of the compound unless one of her sisters or her mother had brought them into their chambers for mating purposes. Certainly no male was ever to set foot in -her- rooms.

And her brother had only arrived home last night after her mother had sent him to the surface to raid for supplies following their successful mission against the kobolds. He’d been gone for weeks and he hadn’t even had a chance to say hello to her since his return.

“Erov?” she asked quietly, but he put a finger to his lips, indicating that they should make no sound lest they wake one of the slumbering females in another room. Drow were conniving, deceitful creatures and evil besides. Shandriz had learned from an early age to rely on no one but herself- her sisters would as soon slit her throat as any if they perceived her a threat to their own plottings. But Erov, she knew, was different. As long as she could remember, she had relied on him to keep her safe. He would never lead her wrong. He alone was worthy of her trust.

And so as he led her from the Compound, she followed him despite the panic rising in her chest that when he said “Leave” he had really meant -leave- and that her entire world was about to be turned upside down. He grabbed the packs that they usually took for hunting, handed her her weapons, and took her by the hand- red meeting violet as he claimed her gaze, “I want you to come with me,” he said quietly, “There is so much more out there in this world for you. I knew from the moment I saw you, facing off that bugbear when you were just a baby. Please, little sister.  You were destined for better than this.”

The girl bit her lip to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. She had been -right-. She didn't know why he was leaving, or how they'd survive in the Underdark on their own, or what destiny he had in mind for her. What she did know was that she would follow him to the ends of the earth, because he believed in her. If she stayed here, what sort of life would she live? Buried under the dark earth young because one of her sisters had killed her, most likely. She knew she wasn’t a match for any of them with their power struggles. And while she craved power of her own, what she wanted was not what Lolth could give her. She wanted freedom, adventure, excitement. Not subterfuge and death and decay. Somehow, she knew that Erov could help her find that.

“I’ll go.”

Her heart clenched in fear, but she pushed through it. Shandriz was used to fear- here in the Underdark it was her constant companion. She knew how to shove it aside, keep moving, pretending that everything was all right.

Erov squeezed her hand gently, a small smile on his face, “Then let's go.”

They traveled then in silence. She wanted to ask about why he had come to her so suddenly, in the middle of the night, but got a definite feeling that now was -not- the time to ask.  The deeper they traveled through the caverns, the louder even her silent footfalls sounded to her ears. Anything and everything could be lurking out here, and it was just the two of them against the world.

She kept close to her brother’s side, cringing at every rustle of fabric, peering desperately into the gloom as though she could see through the cavern walls to all the threats that they might hold. After several hours, her brother motioned with one hand, and the two of them tucked themselves into a niche so small they could barely sit side by side.

“We should be safe here for the moment,” Erov began quietly, “I've been here before, during journeys to the surface- none of the others know about this spot.”

The girl nodded, shifting uncomfortably, “Brother…” she looked down at the ground, not certain she wanted the answer. What was she going to do if he said something crazy, leave? Go home? She didn't even know if she could find her way back at this point- they'd never ventured this direction before. And she couldn't betray him like that- if she returned home without him, they would want to know what happened.

“I am afraid I have been keeping secrets from you,” Erov began, his own gaze mirroring hers as he looked down at his hands, “I hated lying to you, but if they found out..if I told you, they'd assume you were part of it, they'd kill you.”

Shandriz’s heart skipped a beat. Secrets? From her? But she had -trusted- him!

“Not all of my journeys to the surface have been raids. A few months before I became your guardian, I discovered a priestess of Eilistraee when separated from my raiding party on the surface. Since then, I have become one of her Devoted Followers.”

Shandriz gasped. Her brother was a traitor! Her skin started to crawl as though the eyes of a million spiders were now watching them, watching her, ready to shred her apart if she betrayed Lolth by refusing to kill Erov on the spot. The girl shivered in revulsion at the idea of those horrible creatures- or worse, Lolth’s horrifying hybrids the driders, coming after them.

She bit her lip, hard, so as not to cry out when her brother touched her arm again. This was -Erov-. He had loved her as no other ever had, had taught her and trained her and believed in her. She owed him her life, and he was offering her freedom. How could she condemn him in hatred?

“You are still so young,” he continued softly, “and you have seen so much evil, lived so many lies. Let me show you truth and beauty. I wanted to wait until you were old enough to choose your own path, but Matron Lo’rel knows. She tried to have me killed. I'm sorry, Shandriz, I really am.”

Her violet eyes filled with tears. She was so confused. She wanted to stay with Erov, but she was afraid to turn her back on the only life she had ever known, terrified of the wrath of their evil goddess, unsure whether or not she was strong enough to walk her brother’s path.

“I'm scared,” her voice was small and quiet, and Erov’s features softened visibly as he pulled her into his arms, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but I will protect you. We can stay in the Underdark for now. Just us, until you are ready to leave.”

The girl nodded, allowing herself a moment of weakness. One minute, sixty heartbeats, a few slow, deep breaths.

“I'm with you.”

He squeezed her then, and let go of her while he pulled blankets out of his pack and wrapped one over her shoulders,  “I will keep watch. You rest.”

Shandriz’s lip trembled slightly as she met his eyes with her own, “You won't leave me?”

~~~~~

The glow of fungus underneath her feet reflected soft light on a slim neck as she tilted her head, the violet eyes of a Drow girl not yet grown tracing the movements of the kobolds below the ledge she stood on. After a moment, she rose to her feet and retreated further into the cave that opened into the rocky outcropping. She was far enough away - and had not mastered the secret Drow hand signals more commonly used on the field- so she spoke quietly as she looked to her brother for confirmation, “Are these the ones?”

The man nodded and she looked him over for a moment. He was a tall figure with a small and secretive smile he saved only for her, long silver hair not unlike her own, ebony skin just a slight shade lighter. Shandriz Vo’Dur had always been a precocious child- not that she sought out trouble, but instead possessing a curiosity that came naturally to her. When she had been barely old enough to walk she had once wandered out of the compound which her mother and sisters ruled with an iron fist and her drive to explore the world around her had nearly resulted in her death. A roving bugbear came across her- some slave of another house perhaps, or even one of their own. They never had done a very good job of keeping track of the creatures, leaving them to do as they wished as long as they stayed within their part of the compound.

After her close call, her care was given to the man who had saved her life- the second son of House Vo’Dur and the child's older brother. Old enough that now, while she was perched precariously between childhood and adulthood, she realized that he could have as easily been her father as her brother. Though it displeased her mother greatly, she had recognized only a decade ago that Erov was correct in his suggestion that Shandriz ought to be taught basic survival skills in addition to her training as a priestess of Lolth. Here on the outskirts of society, her drive to explore was as good as a death sentence without them. And the number of daughters a Drow Matron had following the path of Lolth was a symbol of status. Losing one would mean losing face- no matter how irritating that child could be.

“These are the ones, little sister,” he said quietly, “How should we go about eliminating them?”

He knew the answer,  of course. This was part of her training- a test of how well she'd taken to her lessons. She tugged at a loose strand of hair while she mulled the situation over in her head. Erov had told her that it was best to tie her hair back when out hunting- the strands would only get in the eyes, and a second’s delay in reaction time because your hair was in the way could cost you your life in a fight. And so she’d pulled it back into a rather messy ponytail, with wild strands scattered here and there around her face. They hadn’t really had time for her to pull it back properly, and she could only hope the little that slipped from the tie wouldn’t interfere with their upcoming battle.

They could charge into the fray and probably make it out alive. They were only -kobolds- after all, and not terribly intelligent ones at that. But there was the possibility that the sight of the two Drow would cause the creatures to flee, and defeat the purpose of hunting them down to begin with. If they lost track of them now it was unlikely they would find them again to extract justice for their crimes.

“Take your time,” he assured her. While thinking on your feet was important as well, Erov always reminded her that she must first learn how to explore her options before she could summon them quickly. Just like reading- you had to learn how to pronounce the words before you could recognize them in a sentence without a thought. They’d worked through a countless number of theoretical exercises, of course, but it was different being presented with an actual problem solving situation.

And so she did take her time, making her way back to the ledge and watching as the tiny, ugly beasts set up their camp for the evening. They had been tailing them for a week now- following tracks and scratch marks and discarded waste. After the raid on House Vo’Dur, Matron Lo’rel was perfectly content to let Erov handle the situation, though she had been less than pleased with his insistence that Shandriz ought to accompany him.

“She will never learn from words alone- she must experience it herself. You yourself know how difficult it is to teach her strategy.”

He wasn't wrong. The young Drow had ever been a more hands-on learner, most lessons going in one ear and out the other without more tactile representation. She got more out of her lessons with Erov than out of any of the boring lectures on the glories of Lolth her sisters provided. And her mother had learned that the best way to teach her the cunning ways of her people was to involve her in the goings-on around the Compound, show her how to manipulate and intimidate firsthand. Shandriz didn’t have much interest in dealing with people, but she was decent enough at recognizing the strategies her mother used. Mostly, though, she was too young to interact on behalf of the House anyway.

Slowly, the girl unwrapped the strand from her fingers, meeting her brother’s eyes once more, “Stealth,” she answered finally, “We separate, cover the exits as best we can, and take them out one by one after they go to sleep.”

Pride blossomed behind his crimson eyes as he nodded, “Exactly. We do not want to damage the goods they stole, and we do not want to lose any of the kobolds. Waiting for sleep is the best course of action.”

She knelt down next to him, settling in as he continued, “and what if they were a raiding party, not yet having stolen anything?”

Shandriz pondered this briefly, “We could eliminate them with less caution- if I were a full priestess I could summon power to do it in one fell swoop.”

Something like anger flashed across his features,  but she would not have caught it if she hadn't known already that he would react so, “But you are not yet a priestess of Lolth.”

The girl nodded, the hair from her long ponytail sweeping across her shoulders as she did so. “True. So instead we could take them out from here with our crossbows. Eliminate some, let those who escape serve as messengers- show them that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated.”

“Shandriz,” her brother’s voice was tentative as he placed a hand upon her arm, “Do you even want to become a Priestess?”

The girl blinked, pulling away to look at her brother incredulously. Did she -want- to become a priestess? How was that even a question? What else was she going to do? She was a female, and fourth daughter or no, females trained in the ways of the Spider Goddess. What she -wanted- wasn’t important, even if she knew what that was. She’d never really thought about it before. If you wanted to survive in the Underdark, you studied and worked and plotted and prayed and hoped that Lolth would be merciful upon your soul. And so there was no surprise etched across the man’s sharp features when she responded with a bewildered, “What?” rather than answering the question.

His eyes softened as he watched her, shaking his head and sighing, “Nevermind, little sister.” And in the space of a moment he was gone from her side, peering over the ledge to see if the kobolds had yet fallen asleep. She watched him carefully,  thoughtfully, til he motioned her forward. “You take the front- there are only a couple of them there. Use your crossbow to eliminate as many as you can from a distance. Take out your sword only if you must. I will handle the rest.”

The girl nodded wordlessly. While she still had questions for him, she had learned to keep them to herself when out in the wilds of the Underdark. She might be able to ask him when they returned home, but there was no guarantee of that, either. They weren’t often around each other when no specific training was going on. Not now that she was old enough to know better than to go exploring the Underdark alone.

Their approach was swift but silent as the kobolds slept on. The soft ‘thunk’ of a crossbow bolt into the soft flesh of kobold skulls was the only sound as they slowly made their way through the camp. After she had eliminated the ones on the outskirts, she made her way to the ones near the cart. That was when she made her mistake. It would have been a small one if she were perhaps a seasoned warrior like Erov. But with her minimal experience in swordcraft, it was nearly their undoing. A kobold yelped, loudly, as she miscalculated her attack on the sleeping form. Her crossbow bolt clattered uselessly into his arm, instantly waking him- and all those kobolds surrounding him.

She managed to finish the job with him and take a few of them out with further bolts. But her minimal experience hadn't prepared her for overwhelming odds in the middle of a kobold camp. She spotted Erov, across the camp with a fierce, unreadable look on his face as she pulled out her shortsword- the light of the torches the kobolds had set up glinting off silver steel.

She took a hit from a dagger as she put the weapon into play, slicing cleanly across one of the creature's torsos as she struggled to block another dagger with her arm guard. The knife dug into the leather there as the one she'd struck fell to the ground and she pushed it away, swinging her sword around to strike the creature with its hilt.

Outnumbered 5 to one, she held off the worst of the attacks, but she was clearly still in trouble as the numbers dwindled slowly. Another one down, and the next took its place. A crossbow bolt sank into one just as a knife was about to go into her side, and she would have spared a glance to see how close her brother was if she had any seconds to spare, but a sword replaced the knife and her own swung down to clip the knees of a kobold while blocking its strike and there simply wasn't any -time-.

She heard a roar then, and the bolts flew faster as more and more kobolds came towards her. They stopped abruptly and she knew that Erov must be close now, using his sword against the few that were trying to protect themselves against the more difficult foe, rather than jumping on the easy target.

“Shandriz! I'm coming!” the voice bolstered her, giving her strength to continue fighting even though her arms were getting tired and there was stinging pain in a dozen different spots where the horrible little monsters had gotten past her armor and her weapons.

There were only half a dozen kobolds left, and Erov was almost to her side when things got worse. The roar sounded again and a giant, lumbering arachnid charged into the cavern. The Umber Hulk must have been nearby and heard the commotion, because it now lurched towards Shandriz , locking her in place with its glare.

“No!”

The Umber Hulk swiped a couple of kobolds out of the way in its charge, and it managed one good swipe at the confused girl’s chest- knocking her on her back just in time for Erov to launch himself at the monster.

The last few kobolds darted away as Erov locked into battle with the creature while Shandriz struggled to recover from both the blow and the creature’s stare, “Eh..”

She clambered to her feet, watching as the thing slashed down towards her brother, “Stay away from it!” he shouted desperately as he ducked under another attempt to take his head off. The girl swayed a bit as she reached for the crossbow that had been knocked from her grasp when she hit the ground, but everything was moving in slow motion. The Umber Hulk swiped at Erov again, and it took everything she had not to scream in terror as she watched the man who meant -everything- to her collapse, bleeding to the ground.

She dropped the crossbow and darted in, shaking away the confusion, before the thing could spin around to go after her. Then she slashed at its soft underbelly, ignoring the ichor dripping over her hands, the bruises on her ribs, the dozens of tiny cuts all over her body.

“Erov!” she grasped her brother by the shoulders, tears in her eyes, “Please be okay.”

He had to be all right. She couldn't bear to live without him. Their training sessions,  these hunting missions, his friendship was the one thing she couldn't manage without. They kept her from going mad when Yirza locked her in the study for hours poring over boring texts about the history of Menzoberranzen or the glories of Lolth. They gave her an escape when K’sel threatened to slit her throat if she didn't master a technique by tomorrow.