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lawful-evil-novelist · 1 year

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So @thespacelizard said they’d love to get a solid list of the Despana kids in order so I figured I’d give you a rundown of them.

The Despana kids are Malavon Despana’s children by various mothers, there are actually eleven in total by 1372 DR, but during the events of A Lesson Well Learned and A Dangerous Conjuration (1368 DR), Viconia’s youngest sibling, Vizeran, hadn’t been born yet.

All eleven of the siblings share a few common traits:

They all inherited their father’s white-blond hair, though it’s not super distinctive they are all blond-haired.

They all have either blue or red eyes. Malavon has blue eyes himself.

Malavon named all of them after drow he hated, with a general preference for wizards and priestesses. If he didn’t want to use or didn’t know the target’s name he usually just used one of their family members.

Malavon crafted special hair ornaments for each of them. The ornaments are wrought from white gold in the shape of an unsleeping eye–Malavon’s personal symbol–and the eye is inset with a stone that matches his child’s eye color. The ornaments are enchanted to help the wearer focus when casting, and fortifies the caster’s hold over the spell. I actually do have stats on these items they’re insanely powerful with the caveat that Malavon crafted them to only attune to the child he made it for.

All eleven were born on a full moon or new moon, often one of some significance.

Malavon experimented on his children, so all eleven have latent magic he has trained them to master. The elder eight have all been formally trained and trained in their latent magic, meaning they’re all multiclassed. Yasraena, his ninth, has only been trained in her latent magic. The other two aren’t old enough to be trained.

So, in order, here are the Despana children as of 21 Eleint, 1372 DR (which, if my math is right, is roughly the date Dissolution begins):

Nym Despana

Namesake: Nym of the Frozenfar, a drow merchant Malavon worked with regularly.

Birthdate: 1 Flamerule, 1218 DR

Age: 154

Height: 5’3”

Class: Cleric (Trickery Domain)/Bard (College of Whispers)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Dallnothax

Sabanna “Anna” Despana

Namesake: Tsabanor Oblodra, Patron of House Oblodra and the only Oblodra Malabon thought he could get away with naming a child after.

Birthdate: 2 Hammer, 1236 DR

Age: 136

Height: 5’1”

Class: Cleric (Light Domain)/Sorcerer (Divine Soul)

Deity: Eilistraee

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Waterdeep

Rai’gy “Rai” Despana

Namesake: Rai’gy Bondalek, who Malavon hates because honestly he hates most other mages that aren’t related to him and also Priest of Lolth.

Birthdate: 6 Marpenoth, 1281 DR

Age: 90

Height: 5’4”

Class: Sorcerer (Lunar)/Wizard (Conjuration)

Deity: Eilistraee/Vhaeraun (both, literally he worships both and pisses off both churches in kind)

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Ust Natha

Bael’baste “Baela” Despana

Namesake: Baeloth Barrityl, AKA Baeloth the Entertainer, a sorcerer Malavon has a particular beef with and Baeloth doesn’t actually know what that beef is, all he knows is that Baela is his daughter now too.

Birthdate: Midwinter, 1297 DR

Age: 75

Height: 5’0”

Class: Sorcerer (Wild)/Wizard (Evocation)

Deity: Malyk

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Baldur’s Gate

Zarafae “Zara” Despana

Namesake: Zaknafein Do’Urden, Malavon has beef with the Do’Urdens I haven’t actually figured out what it is. He just has beef.

Birthdate: 10 Eleint, 1312 DR

Age: 60

Height: 5’5”

Class: Rogue (Assassin)/Wizard (Bladesinger/Necromancy)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Ust Natha

Viconia “Nia” Despana

Namesake: Viconia DeVir, probably actually an offshoot of Malavon’s beef with Vizeran DeVir and has nothing to do with Viconia herself.

Birthdate: 17 Uktar, 1318 DR

Age: 53

Height: 5’1”

Class: Sorcerer (Draconic-Deep)/Wizard (Illusion)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Rilauven

Residence: Menzoberranzan

Nalfein “Nal” Despana

Namesake: Nalfein Do’Urden, just more Do’Urden Beef.

Birthdate: 17 Nightal, 1345 DR

Age: 26

Height: 4’11”

Class: Sorcerer (Wild)/Wizard (Enchantment)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Menzoberranzan

Maya Despana

Namesake: Maya Do’Urden, Do’Urden Beef part 3

Birthdate: 17 Nightal, 1345 DR

Age: 26

Height: 4’10”

Class: Rogue (Assassin)/Sorcerer (Shadow)

Deity: Vhaeraun

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Minauthkeep

Yasraena Despana

Namesake: One of Lichdrow Dyrr’s daughters because Malavon’s too chickenshit to call Dyrr out directly.

Birthdate: 27 Ches, 1357 DR

Age: 15

Height: 5’0”

Class: Sorcerer (Aberrant Mind)

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Ust Natha

Phaera Despana

Namesake: Yes, this is Pharaun, one of Malavon’s daughters is named after Pharaun. Did you think anyone was safe?

Birthdate: 22 Marpenoth, 1361 DR

Age: 10

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Ust Natha

Vizeran Despana

Namesake: Vizeran DeVir, Malavon really hates this guy, it’s surprising it took him this long to express it.

Birthdate: Midsummer, 1370 DR

Age: 2

Birthplace: Ust Natha

Residence: Ust Natha

If there’s interest I might make an updated list that notates their status as of 1492 DR but this is what it looks like as of the War of the Spider Queen. Feel free to ask questions as well.

#original character #drow original character #oc: viconia despana #long post #read more

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aspiringfictionwriter · 1 year

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A Light in the Darkness: Chapter Three

Trigger warnings: Major character death, temporal paralysis, morbid themes (please notify if there is a need for an update)

Arachne was nose deep in a book, as she always was, despite the disturbing news of a raid against the Fifth House of Abburth, House Caddath. Or what remained of it, as House Eilservs had taken their position overnight at their successful raid against the seemingly secure House.

That night, the remains of House Caddath would be destroyed. From the architecture of their beautiful, ornate, home, to the children that remained. Some priestesses, not descended from Matron Angaste Caddath, would be admitted to House Eilservs, perhaps even lower or higher Houses should the tide of luck allow it to be.

As such, she was admitted into the room she was now, her only guard being the Elderboy of the House, Bemril, a warrior holding much honor and strength (and second hand to K’yornl, the leader of the forces of House Coborial and Head Teacher at the warrior school of Slaekmia), who Matron Aunerae had put in charge of her firstborn daughter’s protection as she and the army destroyed the remains of House Caddath.

Despite her Bemril being much older than her, he understood his place as below her in the grace of Lolth and their Matron, and as such more important than he ever could be despite his age. Although, the two had a structured relationship in which they entertained each other in basic swordplay, as it happened quite frequently in the time that Arachne had to be watched, and in turn, Bemril’s responsibility to protect her.

A triumphant feeling it was, as the two sat down, holding in laughter they knew, if heard, they would be chastised for, it would be dangerous for both of them. Bemril for sacrifice, and Arachne for another week of discipline in the underground caverns below the House, meant to torture and strike fear in the hearts of females.

Setting her wooden sparring stick to the ground, that acted as a bastard sword or rapier, her smile faded, realizing how inappropriate this was should they have been caught. Bemril did the same, instead sheathing his own bastard sword.

“By chance, would you be hungry, dear sister?” Bemril inquired, rubbing his wrists from the long session. While she wasn’t too good, Arachne, it was long and hard work to hold back even just a little bit.

Settling back into her seemingly superior state, Arachne sat back in her cushioned chair, “Yes, I would be.” she replied simply, watching as her brother opened a parcel of food, of which seemed to contain mushrooms. She had to convince herself not to cheer in joy, and instead nod in approval, as mushrooms were her favorite food. Especially those from just outside the city.

Handing the fine silken handkerchief (embroidered with the pattern of a spider’s web, as all things in the Underdark were) to her, she politely ate despite her craving for the soft vegetable. Ignoring the urge to shove each mound into her mouth, she ate one bite at a time, her front teeth breaking into the soft cushiony skin of the vegetable, that, curiously enough, they [the drow] and the surfacers shared.

“How is the book?” Bemril asked between her next mushrooms, sitting up straight on his rigid chair, opposite to her own cushioned one. It was a question he asked frequently, seeing as whenever she wasn’t with her tutor, Elarra, she was in the library studying ancient text, history, religious lore, and even the few fiction books the library possessed. Arachne couldn’t possibly wait until she could go to the library in Gloufmarth and read their even more varying archives, although more catered to spells, they had more histories and lore on the surface, that of which she was the most interested at the moment.

“Quite interesting, actually. It describes how we liberated ourselves from the elves and, in turn, found our way to the original city Telantiwar, and follows as the four main cities were created. Abburth, Aleval, Rilauven, and Fanaedar were all founded by Houses that were long since snuffed out by the passage of time.” Tapping her chin for a moment, Arachne continued, “We liberated ourselves almost two million years ago!”

“Interesting. Did you know our Spider Queen has two children?” Bemril asked, a look of anticipation adorning his face. Raising a brow in confusement, she shook her head, urging him to speak further. “Now, Her son is named Vhaeraun, God of Thievery and a devout servant to Lolth.”

“How strange.” Arachne admitted, shrugging, “How much chaos that would cause is unbearable if we did worship Him!” He almost let loose a chuckle, instead being snuffed out by anticipation in interest.

“And Lolth’s daughter is named Eilistraee, Goddess of the Moon and Music.”

“Moon? What’s that?”

“Something the surfacers have, a glowing ball in the sky that shimmers silver in the light of the night, and, like the candlelight of Mystérieuse when it is lit. Although it marks the surface light hours, the light that is emitted by the flame in the day is of a similar gleam of their moon in the night.” Bemril explained to her, eyes wide and twinkling with joy.

“But why don’t we learn about Eilistraee, then, if She has the domain of two of the most wonderful things?” Arachne inquired, picking at her cuticles in confusion.

“As most rebel drow worship her.” Her brother replied, warranting a nod from the young dusky skinned girl, who held her chin tall. “And she turned away her Mother’s love and blessed touch.

“How curious. Why would She turn away Lol–” Her sentence was cut off by a sudden feeling of her muscles tightening up as she spoke, mouth caught agape.

Fear shot through her body, the scenerios of murder flashing through her head faster than she could speak, if she could even fathom such a task in her current state. Was it Chadra?, she thought, as her sister reveled in her skill with poisons and was proud of already being forgiven for her Original Sin, as she had killed a drow elf with her spider-headed whip that they had both been gifted at age six. But she wouldn’t yet dare, as Arachne was one of the most guarded children in the House, due to her importance and status.

So it had to just be Bemril, acting alone…

Watching as Bemril approached her, a culpable frown on his face, he ran his hands down her cheek, crimson eyes looking into her lavender ones for a moment before opening his mouth to speak his final words to her, in which she felt ring inside her head longer than any words she thought would.

“And those who turn Lolth away are heroes to all of us, followers of Eilistraee. And they will find us at the other side of this damned cavern.” Bemril cooed, and as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her stark white hair, her dearest brother took out a burlap sack from within one of the many hidden pockets within his pitch black cloak, embroidered with the House Crest in glistening silver strings on the back; eight symmetrical eyes hidden inside a diamond-shaped gem, most likely a ruby of some sort.

Unclipping the cloak from his collarbone, he wrapped it around her, skillfully tying it so as to ensure she remained both fettered and bound by the hands, and, she hoped, to keep her somewhat warm in whatever journey he was about to traverse on with her, albeit involuntarily.

With some difficulty, he lifted her in the sack, whispering arrays of apologies and assurances that did not aid in Arachne’s worry and fear, reassuring her that all would be safe once they “escaped.” Whatever that may have meant, it seemed more impossible than it was safe, as he tried to tell her it was. Even escaping the House would be near impossible…

But everyone else is gone due to the eradication, except for Chadra and Xarann. Arachne realized, her already widened eyes increasing their size. Today was the best time to try this; as the only people outside of the House were those under Bemril’s command who knew not of his obligations to protect his sister, and would just assume he wasn’t at the eradication ceremony at the central plaza simply because Matron Aunerae commanded it, and therefore would not even dare to question him.

From Arachne’s position, she saw as the sack was tied shut, and what humans would call darkness, she had just experienced. Not even her darkvision could spare her from the enclosing darkness that surrounded her as she felt Bemril begin his walking, the up and down sequence becoming rhythmic before he ceased walking and began to talk in an empowered tone.

We’re at the door already…

“Step aside, Matron Aunerae wished me to complete some business for her.” Bemril stated, and Arachne almost prayed that the guards wouldn’t fall for his deceit and smooth words, but instead stop him or ask what was inside the sack. Realistically, though, she understood that no one would wish to cross him, as he could have them killed.

“Yes sir!” The two drow elves spoke in unison, no hesitation weighing down their tone. Arachne wished, at that moment, that she could scream for help, order the guards to set her free so she need not fear.

Bemril began to walk again, and after what seemed like an eternity of anticipation and fear, he began to run, darting past what Arachne recognized as the sounds of her House, or perhaps she was falling asleep. She couldn’t tell, not in the darkness she was encased within.

When Aunerae arrived at the Coborial House, a swarm of guards and priestesses behind her, protecting her flank, she felt as if a strange predicament was amok. It was strange, as nothing could have possibly gone wrong, as the eradication had gone smoothly, seeing as all children, soldiers, and family members of House Caddath had been killed, as per the procedure.

But, yet, she could not shake the feeling that something was amiss. As if something was going on without her knowledge, and Lolth was warning her. Narrowing her eyes, she turned to Elarra, her right hand for the time being until Arachne and Chadra came of age, who returned her gaze the moment she felt it set upon her.

“I sense as if something is not quite right.” She began, her voice lowered to a small whisper, “We will be going through the guards who stayed here immediately.” Aunerae ordered, warranting a nod from her subordinate before she stepped forward to open the large, spider encrusted, metal double-doors of the House, that were further guarded by a black ivory gate that stood the tests of time by about ten thousand years.

Almost at the exact juncture of the last drow being pulled into the House, Aunerae had disappeared with Elarra, marching their way towards the back doors of the House for a report. No one would question her paranoia, as it was normal to be as such when your next in line daughters were only seven years of age, and could barely defend themselves from the predators that lurked within the shadows of the Underdark. Always.

When they had come to the back door, not as glorious as the front, as it was meant as a discreet military escapeway, Aunerae towered over the two meager males standing below her. She could tell on their face, and it brought her much satisfaction, that they were attempting to hold strong despite their indisputable fear.

“Matron Aunerae, for your knowledge, Ser Bemril has just recently headed out on the business you wished him to complete.” One said, a deep and strong voice wavered from below her gaze and glorious beauty; silky white hair tied back into a helmet that framed her face, whilst she wore glimmering plate mail made to worship her Queen with all of her might and power.

“I sent him on no such business. What did he have with him?” Aunerae hissed through clenched teeth, as she found herself hoping that her fears were incorrect and he simply just went to get Arachne the mushrooms she so cherished; but either way he would be harmed severely and tortured accordingly, although if he had done something else, sacrifice was the only liable option.

“A sack, Matron Mother.” The second stated, bowing his head.

“Was it filled with something?” She inquired curtly.

“Yes, Matron Aunerae. It appeared lumpy and heavy, as Ser Bemril’s stride was slowed. I have seen him walk many times, and it was at a much faster pace than he had been moving.” The second soldier replied, standing up tall as he looked up at his Matron Mother with certainty adorning his features, coupled with a swell of pride, as he understood his contribution to the House.

“Then show us where he went.” Aunerae demanded, narrowing her ruby-like eyes.

Arachne had felt the movement cease quite a time ago, as Bemril hummed small songs that sounded as if they were hymns from a far off place. When they had originally stopped, her brother had been panting, desperately needing air to enter his lungs, so, she supposed, he took a break, tucked away in a secluded corner of the city.

Most likely near Lowtown, Arachne figured, as the bustle of the Other Races were noticeable from just a ways off, as they always did in the lower parts of the city, in which the lower, weaker, Houses and Other Races dwelled. Bugbears howled and brawled amongst themselves for their women or for their dinner, whilst Duergar hammers hit against anvils as a sign of power and dominance. Strangely enough, it was an unfamiliar environment that she knew so much about, it was startling.

Arachne still could not move, although, unlike how she had at the beginning, could blink and open and close her mouth, despite the fact that her tongue and vocal cords remained still and unmoving. It brought some comfort, despite the fact that she still hadn’t the faintest idea of what Bemril intended to do with her. There were indications of a few things, yes, but she had always been taught to not make sudden assumptions unless they would save her life. Elarra was still teaching her such things, although from her own reading exploits she had developed some sort of inner voice directing her to the understanding of complex things.

The assumptions Arachne had already acquired were rather simple, and she refused to believe that her eldest brother could stop to those lows of meager plans. Most were plans of her own demise, but one idea stuck out to her like a hidden gem amongst the black cobblestone that surrounded her whenever she prayed to the Spider Goddess. That of which regarding the last word her brother had uttered to her. About followers of Lolth’s rejected daughter, Eilistraee.

“And those who turn Lolth away are heroes to all of us, followers of Eilistraee. And they will find us at the other side of this damned cavern.”

The use of the pronoun “us” suggested the unthinkable, that of which Arachne couldn’t fathom. That of the crime of blasphemy, which was an even more major offense than anything else in the Underdark, as the society was heavily driven by their devotion to Lolth and her ways. Anyone found to be guilty of such an unspeakable offense was then, after their gruesome sacrifice, considered to never-be-named again, as their disgrace against their House and blood was something that no one wished to restate in words.

If she could move, she would have been shaking. Arachne couldn’t even wrap her head around the almost impossible idea that Bemril, someone so devout to Lolth that he had gone to a meditative retreat to strengthen his connection with Her, would do such a thing. But then again, with his previous statement fresh in her own mind, he could have used that as a facade to worship the other Goddess he spoke of– Eilistraee.

Arachne, caught out from her thoughtful spell, was lifted out of her fabricated prison by her brother, who looked down at her with softened red eyes, a look of which was foreign to her. All she saw was a hardened glare that asserted fear in the hearts of the weak, and even possessed such a look herself; either that or a look of petrifying fear before the victim’s airways were severed from their very being.

Her numbed legs naturally laid themselves out so Bemril’s knee was similar to the like of a chair, as her arms splayed outwards to be adjusted by her brother’s own hands to wrap around his neck. Arachne had never been so close to anyone before physically, (although Bemril took the award for the person she was closest to emotionally as well) as such contact was almost unheard of in the violent society, and as such, the closest she had ever been to anyone was being cradled by her mother’s arms as a babe for feeding.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Bemril inquired, knowing full well he would not receive an answer back, “Don’t worry, Arachne, you don’t need to hide it here. Not anymore. Where we’re headed, you can be whoever you want, you don’t even need to be a priestess. You could be a scholar of the highest esteem and learn all about the surface world and the truths of this one. Or perhaps you could be a musician. I’ve seen your eyes light up as music played in the arena before the bloody finale.” Chuckling, he stroked her hair with affection that she had yet to understand. “Eilistraee judges no one, dear sister.”

It was a confirmation of her worst fear. Bemril was, indeed, a blasphemer, a martyr, and a traitor to Lolth and the family bloodline. There was no doubt that if they were caught, he would be brutally sacrificed in front of no one but Matron Aunerae and Arachne, who would be forced to participate in it as she was the one who suffered from it and would be expected to harbor disdain.

“And perhaps when we reach the surface, we can live in harmony with the surfacers, as brother and sister. They can respect that, right?” Bemril was absentmindedly speaking, as if he had forgotten the severity of which the surfacers despised their race for the constant pillaging and murdering. Not to mention the hatred that the elves nursed for them, due to the corruption of the elven name.

Arachne so badly wanted to correct him, but she also found herself wishing for these same things. Peace and harmony, where she could live in an equal society with anyone who she crossed paths with that was not the same gender as she, without the worry of a flogging should she deny the need to assert her power and strike fear in the hearts of her lowers.

As she closed her eyes, accepting her fate, almost anticipating the whiff of freedom that may be given to her if they even made it out of time, Arachne heard the undeniable voice of her mother splitting her train of thought and whispering into her mind as if she was directly adjacent to her.

“Arachne, where are you? Where is Bemril? What is he doing? Did he leave you? Can you leave where you are? Respond back immediately.” The voice of her mother demanded, the imprint of her voice lingering in Arachne’s own head as if it was pending a response.

Willing herself to do so, Arachne used what little archaic power she knew how to manipulate to respond to her Matron Mother’s questions, deciding her response to be brief, to mimic Matron Aunerae’s message, as she didn’t know the limitations to whatever spell she hoped was cast. “Border of Lowtown, I think. He’s with me, and is saying he’s going to take me somewhere out of Abburth. No, I’m unable to leave.”

Due to the strange anomaly, Arachne wondered if it was because of the use of a clerical spell that she had seen in the use of books, for the distribution of military orders. Or perhaps it was in desperation that she was hearing the voice of one of the only people who was in the power of saving her and bringing her home, as any of the Other Races could take her away, but there was no guarantee that she would be brought home. The Houseless were unreliable and selfish, as were the Lower Houses of Abburth, who may just kill her to hinder Matron Aunerae’s strength. So, in truth, her mother and the people in her House, mainly a select few, were the only people who could save her and guarantee her safety.

Hoping that it was, indeed, something that she could foresee all Arachnecould do was lean into the warmth of her brother’s arms and accept the foreign feeling of what she believed to be platonic affection (as described in her books of religious rules, and how platonic affection as well as romantic ones (although also forbidden) should not sway your dedication to Lolth and Her ways.) It was a strange concept– affection. Caring for someone so much that you would do anything to ensure their safety above all else was something the young drow elf could not fathom nor understand. Your own survival and power should be your utmost priority… right?

At that moment was when the slow stroking of her long white hair ceased, although she could feel a lock being intertwined by the gloved finger of Bemril, although all his own movement had stopped entirely. Arachne then felt a cold hand against her cheek, pulling her stiffened chin to look up into her own mother’s cold and enraged crimson eyes.

Despite the immense pit that had grown in her stomach, Arachne felt her body reinvigorated with the sudden loosening of her tightened muscles and the twinge of discomfort caused by the numbing of her tendons and joints soon dissipated as a strange feeling of warmth erupted through her being. Pulling herself away from her mother’s grip and from Bemril’s own paralyzed hold upon her (with some minor difficulty), the young drow stood again, restabilizing herself on the hard ground before she looked up at her mother, who was in a rare form of rage.

“Explain to me what happened this instant.” Matron Aunerae demanded, looking towards someone behind her, who emerged from an impenetrable shadow that Arachne could not see past, most likely through the magical darkness the drow could cast, and made herself known as the young heiress’s tutor, Elarra.

Moving to the side to not be a hindrance in the conversation, she began to bind Bemril with thick ropes and confiscated his weapons with a tantalizing pace, as if to flaunt his failure more than Matron Aunerae undoubtedly would, either after his death or before it, to squander his memories before death. Arachne once recalled her mother telling her that she enjoyed imagining that in the cases of sacrifices, she was always the last thing they saw before their demise, she almost related it to a sadistic pleasure.

“I can only guess that the means of my paralysis was because I ate the mushrooms Bemril gave to me, and when I couldn’t move, he mentioned something about drow rebels and then put me in a sack and ran.” Arachne decided to leave out the part about the children of Lolth, instead trying to not pile on more reasons for a more painful sacrifice, and of course for the fact that she rather liked the idea of being the only one who knew of their existence. It seemed like quite the fun game.

“Then you will have no issue in taking the final breath from him?” Matron Aunerae stated roughly, looking down at her, fully expecting the honor to be accepted with the enthusiasm she was allowed to show. But, instead, Arachne felt herself perplexed by such a demand, a feeling of great sorrow filling her heart, a feeling she seldom felt, as her heart, numbed from torture and discipline, was trained to only have her feel when she needed to show anger.

Arachne had to pause a moment, to carefully choose her words, and yet a stutter still plagued her speech, and therefore she cursed herself for showing what little weakness she had. “B-but don’t we need to sacrifice him properly? Wouldn’t it be in our best interest to increase our favor with Lolth?”

Her mother stormed up towards her, metal breeches clanking against the hard stone of the ground, her thin and strong hands grasping onto Arachne’s collar, lifting her up enough that her feet grazed against the stone. “You will do as I say. You are my eldest heir and your hands remain free of blood, unlike that of your sister’s. You will kill this traitor, otherwise your blood will be spattered upon on the ground beside his.”

Forcing herself to nod her head, Arachne felt her feet touch the ground once more, and as she looked up at her mother (of whom she had thought to be perfect and wise before all that had happened not even a moment ago), she spoke with a clear voice, feigning her disregard to the whole situation. “Yes, Matron Aunerae.”

Pulling a knife from her boot, she looked down at her still held brother, whose eyes were wide in fear and smitten in sorrow. A content smile remained on his features, undoubtedly from when he was initially held, causing an immense feeling of discomfort to surround her feelings, so much so that it felt like it was only her and Bemril, and the rock of which his body was propped up against. His hands, although suspended by their mother’s clerical magic, were shaking from fear and anticipation; and there Arachne knew that the way his eyes shone was how she always looked.

Feeling Matron Aunerae’s eyes burning through her skull, Arachne held the knife in her own smoothened, untouched hands, flipping it through her own hands once or twice before looking down as she stood on her knees. Whispering the two small words that she knew in the common tongue of the surface, far too quiet for her mother or tutor to hear, even if they had meticulously studied the first chapter in a book about the surface word and how they said something when they felt remorse for something, it was unlikely they would remember. So as she whispered these words, she prayed that Bemril would remember when she showed him the book and spoke such words to him.

“I’m sorry.”

___________________________

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alightinthedarkness1 · 1 year

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Chapter Three

As such, she was admitted into the room she was now, her only guard being the Elderboy of the House, Bemril, a warrior holding much honor and strength (and second hand to K'yornl, the leader of the forces of House Coborial and Head Teacher at the warrior school of Slaekmia), who Matron Aunerae had put in charge of her firstborn daughter's protection as she and the army destroyed the remains of House Caddath.

Despite Bemril being much older than her, he understood his place as below her in the grace of Lolth and their Matron, and as such more important than he ever could be despite his age. Although, the two had a structured relationship in which they entertained each other in basic swordplay, as it happened quite frequently in the time that Arachne had to be watched, and in turn, Bemril's responsibility to protect her.

"By chance, would you be hungry, dear sister?" Bemril inquired, rubbing his wrists from the long session. While she wasn't too good, Arachne, it was long and hard work to hold back even just a little bit.

Settling back into her seemingly superior state, Arachne sat back in her cushioned chair, "Yes, I would be." she replied simply, watching as her brother opened a parcel of food, of which seemed to contain mushrooms. She had to convince herself not to cheer in joy, and instead nod in approval, as mushrooms were her favorite food. Especially those from just outside the city.

Handing the fine silken handkerchief (embroidered with the pattern of a spider's web, as all things in the Underdark were) to her, she politely ate despite her craving for the soft vegetable. Ignoring the urge to shove each mound into her mouth, she ate one bite at a time, her front teeth breaking into the soft cushiony skin of the vegetable, that, curiously enough, they [the drow] and the surfacers shared.

"How is the book?" Bemril asked between her next mushrooms, sitting up straight on his rigid chair, opposite to her own cushioned one. It was a question he asked frequently, seeing as whenever she wasn't with her tutor, Elarra, she was in the library studying ancient text, history, religious lore, and even the few fiction books the library possessed. Arachne couldn't possibly wait until she could go to the library in Gloufmarth and read their even more varying archives, although more catered to spells, they had more histories and lore on the surface, that of which she was the most interested at the moment.

"Quite interesting, actually. It describes how we liberated ourselves from the elves and, in turn, found our way to the original city Telantiwar, and follows as the four main cities were created. Abburth, Aleval, Rilauven, and Fanaedar were all founded by Houses that were long since snuffed out by the passage of time." Tapping her chin for a moment, Arachne continued, "We liberated ourselves almost two million years ago!"

"Interesting. Did you know our Spider Queen has two children?" Bemril asked, a look of anticipation adorning his face. Raising a brow in confusement, she shook her head, urging him to speak further. "Now, Her son is named Vhaeraun, God of Thievery and a devout servant to Lolth."

"How strange." Arachne admitted, shrugging, "How much chaos that would cause is unbearable if we did worship Him!" He almost let loose a chuckle, instead being snuffed out by anticipation in interest.

"And Lolth's daughter is named Eilistraee, Goddess of the Moon and Music."

"Moon? What's that?"

"Something the surfacers have, a glowing ball in the sky that shimmers silver in the light of the night, and, like the candlelight of Mystérieuse when it is lit. Although it marks the surface light hours, the light that is emitted by the flame in the day is of a similar gleam of their moon in the night." Bemril explained to her, eyes wide and twinkling with joy.

"But why don't we learn about Eilistraee, then, if She has the domain of two of the most wonderful things?" Arachne inquired, picking at her cuticles in confusion.

"As most rebel drow worship her." Her brother replied, warranting a nod from the young dusky skinned girl, who held her chin tall.

"How curious. Why would She turn away Lol–" Her sentence was cut off by a sudden feeling of her muscles tightening up as she spoke, mouth caught agape.

Fear shot through her body, the scenerios of murder flashing through her head faster than she could speak, if she could even fathom such a task in her current state. Was it Chadra?, she thought, as her sister reveled in her skill with poisons and was proud of already being forgiven for her Original Sin, as she had killed a drow elf with her spider-headed whip that they had both been gifted at age six. But she wouldn't yet dare, as Arachne was one of the most guarded children in the House, due to her importance and status.

So it had to just be Bemril, acting alone...

"And those who turn Lolth away are heroes to all of us, followers of Eilistraee. And they will find us at the other side of this damned cavern." Bemril cooed, and as he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her stark white hair, her dearest brother took out a burlap sack from within one of the many hidden pockets within his pitch black cloak, embroidered with the House Crest in glistening silver strings on the back; eight symmetrical eyes hidden inside a diamond-shaped gem, most likely a ruby of some sort.

With some difficulty, he lifted her in the sack, whispering arrays of apologies and assurances that did not aid in Arachne's worry and fear, reassuring her that all would be safe once they "escaped." Whatever that may have meant, it seemed more impossible than it was safe, as he tried to tell her it was. Even escaping the House would be near impossible...

But everyone else is gone due to the eradication, except for Chadra and Xarann. Arachne realized, her already widened eyes increasing their size. Today was the best time to try this; as the only people outside of the House were those under Bemril's command who knew not of his obligations to protect his sister, and would just assume he wasn't at the eradication ceremony at the central plaza simply because Matron Aunerae commanded it, and therefore would not even dare to question him.

From Arachne's position, she saw as the sack was tied shut, and what humans would call darkness, she had just experienced. Not even her darkvision could spare her from the enclosing darkness that surrounded her as she felt Bemril begin his walking, the up and down sequence becoming rhythmic before he ceased walking and began to talk in an empowered tone.

We're at the door already...

"Step aside, Matron Aunerae wished me to complete some business for her." Bemril stated, and Arachne almost prayed that the guards wouldn't fall for his deceit and smooth words, but instead stop him or ask what was inside the sack. Realistically, though, she understood that no one would wish to cross him, as he could have them killed.

"Yes sir!" The two drow elves spoke in unison, no hesitation weighing down their tone. Arachne wished, at that moment, that she could scream for help, order the guards to set her free so she need not fear.

Bemril began to walk again, and after what seemed like an eternity of anticipation and fear, he began to run, darting past what Arachne recognized as the sounds of her House, or perhaps she was falling asleep. She couldn't tell, not in the darkness she was encased within.

"I sense as if something is not quite right." She began, her voice lowered to a small whisper, "We will be going through the guards who stayed here immediately." Aunerae ordered, warranting a nod from her subordinate before she stepped forward to open the large, spider encrusted, metal double-doors of the House, that were further guarded by a black ivory gate that stood the tests of time by about ten thousand years.

"Matron Aunerae, for your knowledge, Ser Bemril has just recently headed out on the business you wished him to complete." One said, a deep and strong voice wavered from below her gaze and glorious beauty; silky white hair tied back into a helmet that framed her face, whilst she wore glimmering plate mail made to worship her Queen with all of her might and power.

"I sent him on no such business. What did he have with him?" Aunerae hissed through clenched teeth, as she found herself hoping that her fears were incorrect and he simply just went to get Arachne the mushrooms she so cherished; but either way he would be harmed severely and tortured accordingly, although if he had done something else, sacrifice was the only liable option.

"A sack, Matron Mother." The second stated, bowing his head.

"Was it filled with something?" She inquired curtly.

"Yes, Matron Aunerae. It appeared lumpy and heavy, as Ser Bemril's stride was slowed. I have seen him walk many times, and it was at a much faster pace than he had been moving." The second soldier replied, standing up tall as he looked up at his Matron Mother with certainty adorning his features, coupled with a swell of pride, as he understood his contribution to the House.

"Then show us where he went." Aunerae demanded, narrowing her ruby-like eyes.

Arachne still could not move, although, unlike how she had at the beginning, could blink and open and close her mouth, despite the fact that her tongue and vocal cords remained still and unmoving. It brought some comfort, despite the fact that she still hadn't the faintest idea of what Bemril intended to do with her. There were indications of a few things, yes, but she had always been taught to not make sudden assumptions unless they would save her life. Elarra was still teaching her such things, although from her own reading exploits she had developed some sort of inner voice directing her to the understanding of complex things.

"And those who turn Lolth away are heroes to all of us, followers of Eilistraee. And they will find us at the other side of this damned cavern."

The use of the pronoun "us" suggested the unthinkable, that of which Arachne couldn't fathom. That of the crime of blasphemy, which was an even more major offense than anything else in the Underdark, as the society was heavily driven by their devotion to Lolth and her ways. Anyone found to be guilty of such an unspeakable offense was then, after their gruesome sacrifice, considered to never-be-named again, as their disgrace against their House and blood was something that no one wished to restate in words.

If she could move, she would have been shaking. Arachne couldn't even wrap her head around the almost impossible idea that Bemril, someone so devout to Lolth that he had gone to a meditative retreat to strengthen his connection with Her, would do such a thing. But then again, with his previous statement fresh in her own mind, he could have used that as a facade to worship the other Goddess he spoke of– Eilistraee.

Her numbed legs naturally laid themselves out so Bemril's knee was similar to the like of a chair, as her arms splayed outwards to be adjusted by her brother's own hands to wrap around his neck. Arachne had never been so close to anyone before physically, (although Bemril took the award for the person she was closest to emotionally as well) as such contact was almost unheard of in the violent society, and as such, the closest she had ever been to anyone was being cradled by her mother's arms as a babe for feeding.

"You're scared, aren't you?" Bemril inquired, knowing full well he would not receive an answer back, "Don't worry, Arachne, you don't need to hide it here. Not anymore. Where we're headed, you can be whoever you want, you don't even need to be a priestess. You could be a scholar of the highest esteem and learn all about the surface world and the truths of this one. Or perhaps you could be a musician. I've seen your eyes light up as music played in the arena before the bloody finale." Chuckling, he stroked her hair with affection that she had yet to understand. "Eilistraee judges no one, dear sister."

"And perhaps when we reach the surface, we can live in harmony with the surfacers, as brother and sister. They can respect that, right?" Bemril was absentmindedly speaking, as if he had forgotten the severity of which the surfacers despised their race for the constant pillaging and murdering. Not to mention the hatred that the elves nursed for them, due to the corruption of the elven name.

"Arachne, where are you? Where is Bemril? What is he doing? Did he leave you? Can you leave where you are? Respond back immediately." The voice of her mother demanded, the imprint of her voice lingering in Arachne's own head as if it was pending a response.

Willing herself to do so, Arachne used what little archaic power she knew how to manipulate to respond to her Matron Mother's questions, deciding her response to be brief, to mimic Matron Aunerae's message, as she didn't know the limitations to whatever spell she hoped was cast. "Border of Lowtown, I think. He's with me, and is saying he's going to take me somewhere out of Abburth. No, I'm unable to leave."

Due to the strange anomaly, Arachne wondered if it was because of the use of a clerical spell that she had seen in the use of books, for the distribution of military orders. Or perhaps it was in desperation that she was hearing the voice of one of the only people who was in the power of saving her and bringing her home, as any of the Other Races could take her away, but there was no guarantee that she would be brought home. The Houseless were unreliable and selfish, as were the Lower Houses of Abburth, who may just kill her to hinder Matron Aunerae's strength. So, in truth, her mother and the people in her House, mainly a select few, were the only people who could save her and guarantee her safety.

Hoping that it was, indeed, something that she could foresee all Arachnecould do was lean into the warmth of her brother's arms and accept the foreign feeling of what she believed to be platonic affection (as described in her books of religious rules, and how platonic affection as well as romantic ones (although also forbidden) should not sway your dedication to Lolth and Her ways.) It was a strange concept– affection. Caring for someone so much that you would do anything to ensure their safety above all else was something the young drow elf could not fathom nor understand. Your own survival and power should be your utmost priority... right?

Despite the immense pit that had grown in her stomach, Arachne felt her body reinvigorated with the sudden loosening of her tightened muscles and the twinge of discomfort caused by the numbing of her tendons and joints soon dissipated as a strange feeling of warmth erupted through her being. Pulling herself away from her mother's grip and from Bemril's own paralyzed hold upon her (with some minor difficulty), the young drow stood again, restabilizing herself on the hard ground before she looked up at her mother, who was in a rare form of rage.

"Explain to me what happened this instant." Matron Aunerae demanded, looking towards someone behind her, who emerged from an impenetrable shadow that Arachne could not see past, most likely through the magical darkness the drow could cast, and made herself known as the young heiress's tutor, Elarra.

"I can only guess that the means of my paralysis was because I ate the mushrooms Bemril gave to me, and when I couldn't move, he mentioned something about drow rebels and then put me in a sack and ran." Arachne decided to leave out the part about the children of Lolth, instead trying to not pile on more reasons for a more painful sacrifice, and of course for the fact that she rather liked the idea of being the only one who knew of their existence. It seemed like quite the fun game.

"Then you will have no issue in taking the final breath from him?" Matron Aunerae stated roughly, looking down at her, fully expecting the honor to be accepted with the enthusiasm she was allowed to show. But, instead, Arachne felt herself perplexed by such a demand, a feeling of great sorrow filling her heart, a feeling she seldom felt, as her heart, numbed from torture and discipline, was trained to only have her feel when she needed to show anger.

Arachne had to pause a moment, to carefully choose her words, and yet a stutter still plagued her speech, and therefore she cursed herself for showing what little weakness she had. "B-but don't we need to sacrifice him properly? Wouldn't it be in our best interest to increase our favor with Lolth?"

Her mother stormed up towards her, metal breeches clanking against the hard stone of the ground, her thin and strong hands grasping onto Arachne's collar, lifting her up enough that her feet grazed against the stone. "You will do as I say. You are my eldest heir and your hands remain free of blood, unlike that of your sister's. You will kill this traitor, otherwise your blood will be spattered upon on the ground beside his."

Pulling a knife from her boot, she looked down at her still held brother, whose eyes were wide in fear and smitten in sorrow. A content smile remained on his features, undoubtedly from when he was initially held, causing an immense feeling of discomfort to surround her feelings, so much so that it felt like it was only her and Bemril, and the rock of which his body was propped up against. His hands, although suspended by their mother's clerical magic, were shaking from fear and anticipation; and there Arachne knew that the way his eyes shone was how she always looked.

Feeling Matron Aunerae's eyes burning through her skull, Arachne held the knife in her own smoothened, untouched hands, flipping it through her own hands once or twice before looking down as she stood on her knees. Whispering the two small words that she knew in the common tongue of the surface, far too quiet for her mother or tutor to hear, even if they had meticulously studied the first chapter in a book about the surface word and how they said something when they felt remorse for something, it was unlikely they would remember. So as she whispered these words, she prayed that Bemril would remember when she showed him the book and spoke such words to him.

"I'm sorry."

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that-spider-witch · 2 years

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Shitty D&D character idea: An elf who used to be an Oath of Conquest Paladin of the god Shevarash... until one day he realized his Church’s ultimate goal was one of complete genocide of all drow elves, whether they had individually done anything wrong or not. This shakes him to the core, and he starts to doubt his Oath and his God for allowing these extremists to do these actions in His name.

In a wild series of events, he then saves a young drow thief from his Church after finding out he was just an urchin stealing to eat and both of them end up taking refuge in Rilauven to escape from them, breaking his Oath and becoming an Oathbreaker Paladin who serves Vhaeraun afterwards.

#lol #dnd #dnd 5e #D&D #D&D 5e #d&d 5th edition #dnd elves #dnd paladin #drow #elf #dnd ocs #Vhaeraun #Shevarash #oathbreaker paladin #oathbreaker #shevarash is lawful evil at best. fight me.#Forgotten Realms

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lizaoverlord · 4 years

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Family portrait of House Hekar from Menzoberranzan.

It was really interesting to draw Deimos’ family, seeing an echo of his upbringing. And now this portrait is an item that exists in our DnD campaign world I suppose! :O

- Sabanna Hekar

The matron mother of House Hekar. While she’s ruthless and cruel, she genuinely loves her husband Moros Hekar. She married him because of that love, even though he’s from a non-noble family. Sabanna is proud of her sons but hopes for a daughter, because the line of succession in drow society goes through the women.

- Moros Hekar (formerly Moros Olyrr from Rilauven)

A charming man from a smaller drow city. Moving to Menzoberranzan was daunting for him but he easily grew accustomed and made a name for himself due to his terrifying combat abilities.

- Phobos Hekar

A prodigy in the art of fencing. Doesn’t have the killer instinct yet that his mother would like to see. Enjoys chess. He’s calm and collected. Phobos is often said to be the spitting image of his handsome father though much more refined than Moros because Phobos grew up in the upper class life.

- Deimos Hekar

The second son of House Hekar. He mirrors his mother more than his older brother Phobos does. Deimos is not very strong in combat yet. But occasionally beats his brother at chess. Shows promise of being a great strategist.

#dnd art #dnd #dnd drow #drow #menzoberranzan #darkelf #dark elf #dnd oc #dnd oc art #Dungeons and Dragons

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sharpestasp · 4 years

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Chapters: 5/5 Fandom: Forgotten Realms, The Legend of Drizzt Series - R. A. Salvatore Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Drizzt Do'Urden & Zaknafein Do'Urden, Drizzt Do'Urden & Vierna Do'Urden, Vierna Do'Urden & Zaknafein Do'urden Characters: Vierna Do'Urden, Drizzt Do'Urden, Zaknafein Do'Urden, Original Characters Additional Tags: Family Feels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, drow do not undertand what love is, but they feel it, and it hurts in a good way, Proud Father, brave daughter, strange son, Minor Injuries, Injury Recovery, Monsters, lustful thoughts about a naive character, Drow Culture, Worldbuilding, Nonbinary Character Series: Part 1 of Carving a Place Summary:

As they make their way through the passages of the Underdark, and even higher regions, the trio learn better how to be a family as well as a team.

#legend of drizzt #forgotten realms #drizzt do'urden #zaknafein do'urden #vierna do'urden

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lunastrophe · 2 months

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Drow Lore 🕷️ Sorn and Nadal, Drider Brothers (part 1)

Yet another deep dive into drow / drider lore - this time inspired by two drider characters from Icewind Dale 2: Sorn and Nadal, formerly sons of a noble house from drow city Rilauven.

As driders, they guard the entrance to one of the Underdark locations and they can be talked to. In fact, Sorn does practically all the talking, often showing wry, somewhat bitter sense of humour. Nadal's change, on the other hand, left him a little less drow than most - he has trouble with articulated speech, as well as with controlling his thirst for blood.

Sorn, when asked about his past, can share his and his brother's story. Scraps of information about their fate can be also picked up from other sources in game, giving them an interesting background - here is my attempt to reconstruct it.

So, if you like (sad) stories about driders... here is the first part:

🕷️ Before Transformation - Sorn and Nadal are brothers and former members of a noble drow house ...which shall remain nameless. They were both sons of the Matron Mother of their family, so their social status was probably quite high, and they had at least two sisters.

They lived in Rilauven. It is a drow city located in the Northdark, below the region of Icewind Dale, somewhere under Dorn’s Deep – the ancient dwarven stronghold.

Rilauven is neither as big, nor as old as Menzoberranzan, but still, it seems to be quite prominent. It has the academy of magic (Sorcere), the academy of martial arts (Melee-Quartha), the society of merchants (Belaessar) and at least several old noble houses, collectively known as Ultrinnan Qu'ellar.

To 1282 DR, Rilauven was a typical Lolth-sworn drow city with matriarchal society. Then the local followers of Vhaeraun conducted a successful and relatively bloodless coup, overthrowing Lolth's matriarchy and altering the local power balance.

The brothers did not participate in these events, though.

🕷️ Wizard and Warrior - Sorn and Nadal - given their station and the abilities they managed to retain after transformation - probably graduated respectively from Rilauvenian Sorcere and Melee-Quartha.

Sorn was most likely a wizard since even as a drider, he is an arcane spellcaster. His name means literally "enchanted" or "spell". Nadal was likely a warrior. His name, possibly reflecting his character, is assembled from prefix Nad- ("cunning", "genius", "mind", "thought") and suffix -al ("lunatic", "maniac", "manic", "rage").

Their mother and sisters apparently deemed them competent enough to entrust them with executing their plans - at least until...

🕷️ Scapegoats - sometime before 1282 DR, the noble house Sorn and Nadal belonged to became ...involved in a botched attack on a rival house. The house they attacked could not identify theirs to retaliate, which was a small mercy, but still, the whole operation was considered a fiasco.

According to Sorn: To cover up their poor tactics, our sisters blamed their failure on the execution of their plans. Naturally, we were responsible for that. Our beloved Matron Mother did not question their judgement and promptly had us transformed.

🕷️ Among Lolth-sworn drow, transformation into a drider is associated with failure and punishment - but apparently, it is also possible to be changed into a drider because of someone else's incompetence and intrigue... especially when you are a male 😔

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

#drider #drow lore #dnd lore #lolth sworn drow #drow #drow culture #dark elves #Icewind Dale 2 #Rilauven #cursed to find a random drow or drider character #and then to whimsically write a whole thesis on them

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lunastrophe · 12 days

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To be half drow. Ooof Lolth isn’t too fond of them and her Drow don’t like them.

That is correct - most half-drow in Lolth-sworn drow societies lead precarious life and struggle to survive, and even if they manage to avoid the fate of slaves and build a career, they cannot really hope to be treated as equals.

But some half-drow manage to make a name for themselves, both in the Underdark and on the surface.

I played Icewind Dale 2 recently and I found there a story of an interesting and quite heroic half-drow character: Valas the Black Raven. Valas was born in drow city Rilauven and he was known there as Valas Belaem del Pharm - "Valas, slave of Pharm".

He was a slave of drow House Leun at first, but at some point, when he was still a young adult, House Leun lost him in a bet with rival house and Valas became a slave of House Pharm. He was already known of his strength and normally, any drow house would be hesitant to keep him - since dangerous slaves had a habit of turning against their masters. House Pharm, though, decided to keep him just to spite Leun.

For years Valas fought in the city arena where he developed his unique fighting skills. Ultimately he became the greatest arena champion in Rilauven - for all this time remaining a slave of Pharm.

At some point, Valas managed to free himself. He escaped Rilauven and his cruel masters, fighting his way through the Underdark with his bare hands and with chains that once bound them. When he reached the surface where the Black Raven River spilled from the River Caves in the Spine of the World, he encountered there a group of Black Raven barbarians - they attacked him, but he managed to defeat every one of them.

Barbarians, in awe of his battle prowess and his unusual appearance, took him for an otherworldly being who was sent by gods to teach them humility. Because of his black skin and fiery red eyes, they bestowed upon him the name of Black Raven.

Later Valas travelled, freeing slaves, fighting imprisonment and collecting many followers along the way. Sometime before 1182 DR, he returned to the place where he reached the surface world and founded the Black Raven Monastery there. After his death, his followers carried on his ideals of self-reliance, opposition to slavery and imprisonment, and martial perfection.

#dnd lore #drow lore #drow #dark elves #half drow #rilauven #icewind dale 2

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lunastrophe · 4 months

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🕷️ Drow Lore

Hello! Here is the list of my posts about D&D drow lore, organized thematically - it will be regularly updated. Feel free to take a look if you are interested in a particular character or topic, or if you are looking for inspirations for your fanfiction or artwork 🙂 I also have Ask Box open.

☕ Ko-fi - link for those who feel like leaving a tip. It is totally not obligatory, though - all my posts are free to read and everybody is equally welcome to send a question!

🕸️ BG3 Drow Lore:

🕷️ Character: Minthara

• Minthara's Social Station in Drow Society

• Minthara About Slayer

• Minthara's alurlssrin

• Minthara's ust-nor

• Minthara's Tattoo

🕷️ Character: Nere

• Nere's Social Station in Drow Society

🕷️ Character: Araj

• Araj's Past and Ambitions

• Araj and Her Army

🕷️ Character: Dhourn

• Dhourn's Social Station and Past

🕷️ Character: Kar'niss

• Kar'niss' Past: Szarkai Theory

• Kar'niss' Past: Eilistraean Theory

• How to Feed Your Drider

🕷️ Cult of Lolth:

• Prayer to Lolth

• Sacrifices and Adjuration to Lolth

• Order of Soul Spiders

🕷️ Cult of Eilistraee:

• Prayer to Eilistraee

🕷️ Other:

• Eliette / Phase Spider Matriarch

🕸️ Drow Culture:

🕷️ Language:

• Glossary from Drow of the Underdark (2e)

• Official and Unofficial D&D Drow Scripts

• Drow Names (sources)

• Common Drow Phrases / Sayings (and their translations)

• More Drow Phrases and their translations

• Drow Phrases from Icewind Dale 2 drow sound sets (and their translations)

• Prayer to Lolth (translation)

• Prayer to Eilistraee (translation)

🕷️ Sign language and gestures:

• Sign of Dead Spider (quote)

🕷️ Drow social relationships:

• Gender Roles

• Transgender Drow + Typical Professions For Noble Females

• Hierarchy of Noble House

• About Pregnancy and Labour in Drow Culture

• Education of Drow Children new

• Drow Bards, Sorcerers and Warlocks

• Drow Terms of Address: Companions, Superiors, Subordinates

• Drow Terms of Address: Lovers

• Matron's Love: Zhindia and Sornafein

• Love in Menzoberranzan (quote)

• Favors and Debts

• Drow Diplomacy: Invitations and Hostages new

🕷️ Drow spirituality:

• Lolthite and Eilistraean Clergy and Dogmas

• How Eilistraee Feels About Lolth new

• Followers of Other Gods in Lolth-sworn Drow Cities

• Eilistraeans in the Underdark new

🕷️ Drow cultural values and worldview:

• Eilistraean vs. Lolth-sworn Drow Worldview

🕷️ Drow and surfacers / other races:

• Drow And Sunlight

• Drow as "Beautiful" People

• You worship what? (quote)

• Drow And Slavery

• Half-drow in Drow Communities

• Valas the Black Raven, half-drow from Rilauven

🕷️ Drow free time:

• About Menzoberranzan Festivals and nedeirra

• Drow Games: Sava And Charhylniss

🕷️ Drow appearance and fashion:

• About Drow Height

• Drow Fashion and Hairstyles - various information

• Drow Textile Markets

• Drow And Spider Silk: Part 1 , Part 2

• Drow Haute Couture - Matron's Robe

🕷️ Food and drink:

• Poisoned or Not?

🕸️ Driders:

🕷️ Driders in drow culture:

• Driders of the House Melarn

• Sorn and Nadal, Drider Brothers: Part 1 , Part 2

🕷️ Habitat:

• Cavern of Driders (quote)

🕷️ Feeding habits:

• How to Feed Your Drider

🕸️ Drow Lore in D&D History:

• Drow First Mentioned (D&D 1e)

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lunastrophe · 17 days

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I wonder how it is for Seldarine Drow in the Underdark. I imagine most would stay away from Menzoberannzan or any of the other Lolth cities if they can.

Seldarine drow / Lolth-sworn drow concept introduced in BG3 is a huge oversimplification, but yes - generally, drow who do not follow Lolth avoid heavily Lolth-oriented cities. Visiting Menzoberranzan as a drow who does not worship Lolth would be a risky business, since open worship of any other deity is forbidden there.

On the other hand, servants of other divine powers sometimes infiltrate cities of Lolth-sworn drow. For example, Jhelnae Horlbar, a noble from House Horlbar from Menzoberranzan, was secretly a follower of Eilistraee - and she was officially priestess of Lolth and the First Priestess of her House! This discovery started a war between several noble houses.

In every major city of Lolth-sworn drow, there are most likely followers of Eilistraee, Vhaeraun and other drow gods who work undercover - to gather information, or to guide and support new followers, for example.

In Rilauven, followers of Vhaeraun ultimately gained so much power that they managed to overthrow matriarchy of Lolth - although later, drow from Rilauven began to worry that Menzoberranyr drow will send their army and destroy them one day, to punish them for apostasy.

#drow #dnd lore #drow lore #lolth sworn drow #drow culture #seldarine drow

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lunastrophe · 1 month

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YEARS ago (probably early 00's), I downloaded a fanmade Drow Dictionary. I figured you may be interested in the Google Docs link? I unfortunately don't know who originally made this, I think I got this off the Drizzt Fansite Lavender Eyes.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/0B-jAd_LMTKAzTkVmU0ZhVURIemM/edit?usp=drivesdk&ouid=100374253663229161100&resourcekey=0-LqPXDIEWKSyQfslvgRRJ8g&rtpof=true&sd=true

I know this one, and I like this dictionary a lot 😃 It differenciates between words from canon sources (written in caps) and fan-created content, which is awesome. There are some minor mistakes here and there, but nonetheless, it is a great source and obviously a lot of work was put into creating it.

This dictionary was created by Larenil. I have a pdf version (Version 3, March 1999) in which there is a note on the first page - the version from Google Docs lacks it, for some reason:

Commissioned by the Most Honored Nedylene, Queen of the Drow of Rilauven

Completed by the Arch Seeress of Sorcere, Larenil

Dedicated in memory of the Honored Matron, Innelda Isher Lylyl

With many contributions from Karlin Mott, Apprentice of Sorcere

#drow language #drow

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lunastrophe · 1 month

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Drow Lore 🕷️ Sorn and Nadal, Drider Brothers (part 2)

(Part 1 can be found here)

Drider's life in the Underdark is not easy. It is not exactly known what happened to Sorn and Nadal after they were transformed, but given what typically happens to driders - they were most likely driven away from the city and joined other driders that lived beyond the borders of Rilauven.

One thing is certain, though: the brothers stayed together. Their bond, whatever it might look like before the trasformation, was most likely reinforced by shared fate, suffering and need to survive.

🕷️ Life In Dorn’s Deep – in 13th century DR, there was already a number of driders transformed and driven away from Rilauven. They most likely inhabited areas around the city, probably even creating some kind of a community.

Sometime after 1281 DR, the packs of Rilauven driders move further away from the city, claiming the lower areas of Dorn’s Deep as their territory (the same area the player characters can visit and clean in the first Icewind Dale game). Soon there were dozens of driders there, spread throughout the entire region. Sorn and Nadal were among them.

🕷️ Driders' Community And Drow – around 1292 DR, driders from Dorn’s Deep were (re)discovered by the drow from Rilauven who, having stabilized the situation in the city after the revolt, were seeking to expand their influence in the Underdark.

Rilauvenian drow followed Lolth no longer, so they did not necessarily hate the driders - they blamed the curse of Lolth and the previous Lolthite rulers of the city for the driders' horrible state. Despite of that, they saw driders as monsters and at least some of the former priestesses of Lolth still thought that driders deserved their fate.

There was no true friendship between driders from Dorn's Deep and drow from Rilauven - it was more like a strained non-aggression pact, at best, that lasted for about two decades. Soon it became clear that driders were not content to live off of scraps offered them by Rilauvenian drow. They sought to be recognized and treated as equals. The drow were reluctant to do so, though.

According to Sorn, driders were generally seen as ...freaks to be laughed at or killed out of fear.

🕷️ Alliance With The Legion Of The Chimera – around 1312 DR, driders from Dorn’s Deep led by Ginafae, former priestess of Lolth transformed into a drider, formed an alliance with the Legion of the Chimera. They saw it as their chance to finally be perceived and treated as equals, not as monsters.

On the request of the Legion's leaders, driders openly turned against the Rilauvenian drow. They left Dorn’s Deep to secure the strategic locations in the Underdark and prevent the drow from Rilauven from interfering with the Legion’s plans.

Driders moved to the caves near the old drow stronghold, Z’hinda citadel in the Underdark, somewhere below the Spine of the World. There Sorn and Nadal were appointed with guarding the entrance to the Drider Lair - the place the player characters can meet them and talk to them in game.

Soon it became clear, though, that the Legion did not really care about driders and their cause - they were only using them to achieve their own goals 😔

🕷️ About Sorn - Sorn is an example of a drider who managed to retain most of his sanity after transformation. He sometimes hisses, but only when agitated or angered and most of the time, he expresses himself fluently and coherently.

He also retained a lot – or maybe even the entirety – of his drow personality and memories, as well as at least some of his spellcasting abilities. He keeps his drider instincts in check remarkably well and when necessary, he is even able to restrain his brother who possesses far less control over his hunger.

Sorn is intelligent, cautious and suspicious of the outsiders. He does not hesitate to attack the enemy, but at the same time, he is smart enough not to risk his and his brother’s lives without being given a good reason to do it. He is also loyal to his leader Ginafae and to the driders’ cause. For once in our dismal existence, we driders can deal with others as equals, he states. He also does not care that the driders’ allies, the Legion of the Chimera, pose a threat to the inhabitants of the Ten Towns on the surface. He says: I would not give a drop of blood to save one of those pathetic humans in need.

Sorn shows a great amount of honesty towards the outsiders and unlike many other driders in the nearby caves, he is not hell-bent on killing them on sight. He even warns them that he may be “the most amiable drider” they are likely to meet. Still, he has no mercy for arrogant drow who try to boss him around, or for drow allies who seek to harm his leader or to destroy the Legion. He also loses his patience when somebody calls the driders abominations in his presence, or tries to appeal to the authority of the gods while dealing with him. He seems to be disgusted by gods in general, as well as by their servants – which is probably not surprising, considering the divine source of his curse.

🕷️ About Nadal – Nadal is an example of a drider who had lost most of his drow personality and sanity. He communicates mostly in hisses and clicks, having trouble with articulated speech. He apparently retained some memories of his past – for example, he seems to remember that he had only two legs once – but it is not really known how much of his old self resisted the trauma of transformation.

Nadal does not control his drider instincts very well and typically …drains the blood out of humanoids on sight. When he is hungry, he is ill-tempered and the thirst for blood consumes his mind. Nonetheless, he obeys his brother, even to the point of refraining himself from attacking an outsider.

Similarly to his brother, Nadal does not sympathize with humans from the Ten Towns and, in fact, he would not mind to see them all killed. He is loyal to the Legion of the Chimera, convinced that its survival is connected to the survival of driders.

• So... yeah. These two guys are just clusters of pixels in a relatively old game, but since BG3 (and Kar'niss) apparently made many people interested in drider lore, I thought that it might be nice to share their stories here 🙂

For more of my drow lore ramblings, feel free to check my pinned post 🕷️

#dnd lore #drow lore #lolth sworn drow #drow #drider #Icewind Dale 2 #dark elves

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