Poorly aged hinges creak and crescendo- the sound of a heavy iron door opening and slamming shut. The consecutive click of leather-bound heels against bare stone. One after the other. A swishing of silk. A soft breath - the signature sigh of the self-important.“O Siltrin Khazid'hea; vel'uss lodtynus l'tresk'r
Vel'uss morfel udossa dal l'olathurl khaul
Usstan satiir elakar tahcaluss
Elliya Lolthu…
Test me, Dark Mother. Test me.”
A gentle exhale. Another sigh"Between you and me, my Goddess, if I were a more presumptuous and far less devoted follower I might ask of you a different test. Is it my willpower you doubt- casting me to this world of rivvil and darthiir and other colnbluth? I will cast my web wide and strong and they shall all find themselves trapped within it before they even suspect that I am the hunter. Is it my strength? I will break this World Above apart with my resolve. Do you doubt my devotion? Living hearts shall be yours, O Carver, and their pained cries will be all the sweeter for the love they thought they held for me.
But- and this is just my humble opinion, Dark Mother, a few more dhaerow would not go unappreciated. I will do all I can, great Lolth, but I can only have
so many Rilyn’ae children.
I remain your eternal servant, O Carver of Worlds. This one will be yours in time.”
